“She’s carved her face into a grotesque mask. She’s a gazing-stock. That scar will always remind you of how much she hates you.”
“I’m attracted to her in ways you don’t understand.”
“You’ll have to explain that to me.”
“You look for one thing in a woman, Yago, and it’s strictly physical.”
Garza pointed his finger: “You’re no different.”
Salazar leaned back in his chair. “You and I have a lot of years between us. You may feel differently when you’re my age.”
Garza’s blood was fired, and he slammed both fists down on the desk. “You’re not thinking clearly; you’re in a fog. You’re not aware of what you’re doing.”
“I am aware!” Salazar shouted, his mouth spraying saliva. “I know exactly what I’m doing. She’ll learn to love me.” He took a deep breath and waited several moments to regain his composure. He raised his brandy and in a calmer voice said, “I’d like you to be my best man.”
Garza jumped up and hurled his glass at the liquor cabinet, shattering the front pane and half a dozen glasses inside. “I want no part of this. You’re jeopardizing everything we’ve worked for, everything we’ve built. I won’t sit back and let you throw it all away.”
“You can’t stop me.”
Garza stormed towards the door. “Watch me,” he said with a hiss.
“Don’t forget,” Salazar said. “If Diego and Paco don’t show up tonight, you’ll start searching for them first thing tomorrow.”
Garza watched his cousin swivel to look out the window and gaze at the foothills. He left the room and slammed the door behind him.
CHAPTER 23 MARIANA’S DREAM
“Lean back, Emmet,” Mariana said in a soothing voice, “and let’s get that boot off.”
Emmet pressed his back against a rounded boulder and said, “That bullet ain’t gonna improve my dancing.”
Mariana laughed and then looked over to the girl. “Lucita, would you bring us some water?” The girl, eager to be useful, hurried over to the supply wagon, pulled out a metal bucket, and raced to the pond.
Mariana grabbed the top of Emmet’s boot with one hand and the long heel with the other. As she wriggled it off, she dislodged Emmet’s boot knife.
“I didn’t even see it there,” she said.
“That’s the point of packing a gambler’s dagger,” Emmet said. “It’s hard to detect a sleek weapon like that hidden in a boot.” He picked up the double-edged knife and bounced it flatwise in his hand.
“I assume you know how to use it,” she said.
“No point in having a weapon unless you know how to use it,” Emmet said as he set it on the grass. “Abe taught me good. I’m almost as good as him.”
Mariana examined Emmet’s leg. The bullet had entered one side of his calf and exited the other.
Emmet pointed to the holes in his boot. “Damn, those custom-mades used to be waterproof,” he said.
She turned the boot upside down to let the pooled blood drip out and then rubbed her hand against the smooth skin. “Armadillo,” she said. “Expensive.”
“Miss Mariana, there’s two items I’ve always been willing to spend considerable money on. One is a good saddle and the other, good boots. That way I’ll be comfortable whether I’m riding or walking.”
Emmet winced when she peeled off the blood-soaked sock but didn’t make a sound. Mariana lifted his foot and studied it. “You were standing on it before so it’s not broken; no bones were hit.”
Lucita lumbered over holding the bucket with two hands, sloshing water over the sides. “Why is water so heavy?” she asked as she set the pail on the ground.
“Thank you,” Mariana said. “Could you bring me some bandages? They’re in one of the small gray boxes.” The girl returned to the wagon and rummaged through the crates.
Mariana rolled up Emmet’s pants’ leg, dunked the cloth in the bucket, and with gentle strokes wiped the blood off his calf. “It’s a clean wound,” she said. “Nothing complicated.”
Emmet watched her as she worked. She was wearing a tiered cotton skirt with a floral print border and a simple, fitted bodice. The straight neckline was embroidered with yellow flowers. “Miss Mariana, looking at you is as easy as eating striped candy,” he said.
The glow in her face grew brighter, and her left eye twinkled. “Do you believe in omens, Emmet?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“A couple of years ago,” she said, “I had a dream where a giant eagle appeared in the sky and spoke to me. I know it sounds crazy, but the bird told me to wait for its return because it meant a deliverer was at hand who would avenge my husband’s murder. So I waited. And waited. Last week, I was visiting Miguel’s grave in the San Lazaro cemetery when I saw an eagle float into a treetop and look down directly at me. I knew it was the sign I’d been waiting for. I told my father, and the two of us went to town looking for strangers.”
Lucita returned with a thick roll of gauze. Mariana took the knife from Emmet, sliced a long piece off the roll, and wrapped the ankle with slow delicate motions before she continued her tale.
“Major Kingston arrived in Santa Sabino that same day. When I saw his big gold ring with the eagle carved on it, I knew he was the man.”
Emmet knew the ring—the King received it when he graduated from West Point—but he figured it was best not to tell her about its origin or interrupt her story.
“We approached Major Kingston and learned why he had come to our town. At last, after ten years, a man had arrived who seemed willing to take on Salazar and Garza.”
She threaded a needle and stitched the gauze to hold it in place.
“It all makes sense now,” Emmet said. “It explains why your father was so willing to risk his life to help Major Kingston. That’s quite an omen. I had me an omen back in the war.”
Mariana finished stitching, broke the thread with her teeth, and leaned back in a way that invited Emmet to tell his tale.
“Not long after Chickamauga, the Yanks stormed Lookout Mountain and planted their flag on top of it, which was shocking to every rebel soldier who saw it. How we lost that high ground I’ll never understand. But never matter, we lost it.”
“Where is Lookout Mountain?” Mariana asked.
“Tennessee. Even though we were dug in good and deep, many of us couldn’t shake the feeling that things weren’t right—that something bad was about to happen. Soapy thought the big guns weren’t positioned well and told Major Kingston, but General Bragg wouldn’t listen to the major. There was a total eclipse of the moon that night. Its color turned from white to deep red. Most of us figured it was a bad sign that more blood was about to flow, and it was most likely gonna be ours.”
“I think I know how this story ends,” Mariana said.
“The Yanks attacked the next morning. They overran our trenches and, as we retreated, cut us down like corn stalks. Major Kingston lost both his brothers that day.”
“And now he’s lost his sister,” Mariana said.
“Faith is all he has left. Ever since that day, I’ve never made fun of anybody’s beliefs in signs from above. And I bet your belief in your dream was as strong as my sense of dread when I stared up at that red moon on that November night back in sixty-three.”
“I’m not sure what my dream means now that Major Kingston’s been captured,” Mariana said. She handed the gauze back to Lucita, who returned it to the wagon.
“In fact, Miss Mariana, I find your dream reassuring. I take it to mean that there’s something bigger going on here that caused me and the fellers to show up in Santa Sabino exactly when we did. It’s a good feeling, like we’re destined to be here, too.”
“What do you plan to do?”
“I ain’t sure.”
“You must take Major Kingston’s place.”
Emmet grabbed the boot and slipped it over his toes. “There’s a reason I was in the army for five years and never made sergeant. I like to
go my own way. I’ve never been comfortable being in charge. Who am I to tell other folks what to do?”
“This is different. You know Major Kingston’s attack plan.”
“Yes, but . . .”
“But what?”
With a small grunt, he eased his foot the rest of the way into the boot. “I don’t ever want to put myself in a position where people can question my judgment again.”
Mariana helped Emmet stand. She wiped the fronts and backs of her hands on her dress and said, “You told me once that you believed my Miguel died for love.”
“I believe he did.”
“So let me ask you, would you die for love, Emmet?”
“I reckon I would.”
“Would you kill for love?”
“Why are you asking a question like that, Miss Mariana?”
“Do you have feelings for me?”
Emmet swore that he did.
“Then kill for me. I tried to forgive Garza. Truly I did, because that’s what Father Ramirez taught us. And for a long time, I thought I had, but Garza’s wickedness only grows.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Lead these men against the cousins. Put Garza and Salazar out of their misery.”
“Miss Mariana, I’d do anything for you. But you need to know there’s a side to me that some folks believe ain’t worth knowing.”
“I know about the Baxter girl.”
Emmet grimaced. “Who told you?”
“Frank.”
“Why would he do that?”
“He has feelings for me, too. He said he wanted me to know what kind of man you are.”
Emmet’s face flushed, and the hairs on his neck bristled. “And what kind of man do you think I am?”
She reached out and clasped his hands in hers. “A strong one,” she said, “and a merciful one.”
“Miss Mariana, I thought that little girl’s death would fade with time. It’s difficult to outrace your past, but what’s done is done and can never be erased. All we can do in this life is to weather the pain that comes our way.”
“You have a chance to redeem yourself.”
“Don’t mistake yourself. I need no redemption. At the trial, I told the judge and jury that I was filled with regret because that’s what people wanted to hear. And I believe saying those words cooled everybody’s rage and kept me out of prison.”
“What are you trying to tell me?”
“Those words I said in that courtroom were lies, because if I was dropped into the same situation again, I’d do the same thing—without blinking. I know that settles hard in most folks’ ears. You want to know what kind of man I am? That’s the kind of man I am.”
She released him and wrapped the rebozo tighter around her, as if she caught a sudden chill. Emmet gave her a few moments to let his words soak in.
“What do you think of me now?” he said.
Mariana grabbed the bottom of his forearms, squeezed them, and looked into his eyes. “I think you’re an honorable man,” she said, “and I believe that honor sometimes requires telling a few lies along the way.”
Emmet took enormous comfort from her words. He knew there weren’t many women who could listen to a terrible truth like the one he had just served up and not walk away.
The next thing he knew, her hands had moved up to his face, had enfolded his cheeks, and her lips were on his. He smelled lilac soap on her skin, and her kiss tasted as sweet as honey butter. In that warm embrace, Emmet knew he would need no further persuading.
They released each other, and he said, “Killing that little girl was a terrible hard thing. But killing Garza and Salazar will be my personal delight.”
“You’ll lead these men?”
“Yep, and I promise you, I’m gonna do my best for your sake, and for Miguel’s sake and for the major’s, and for those girls’ sakes and their families, and for the sake of any other person Garza and Salazar have hurt or tried to hurt.”
“Thank you,” she said, and she pressed her forehead into his chest.
“Miss Mariana, when this is all over, I’d like to ask you a question.”
She smiled and looked up. “I hope I’ll be able to answer it.”
He returned her smile. “But right now, you’ll have to excuse me. I got some battle plans to finalize.”
“Do what you have to do,” she said.
He saluted her and started limping up the hill.
CHAPTER 24 GATHERING WOOD
Emmet had asked Abe and Chiquito to get firewood for the campfire, so they grabbed hatchets from Soapy’s wagon and ventured into the deeper woods. Slats of sunlight slashed through the trees, and the air was sweet with the smell of sap. After walking ten minutes on a carpet of soft pine needles, Chiquito pointed to a heap of downed timber to his left.
“Plenty of fuel here,” he said. “Let’s grab some.”
Abe joggled his head. “I shouldn’t be helping you,” he said. “My brother hates Apaches.”
“You said that earlier, but you never said why.”
“He got caught in an Apache ambush. Hid out to save himself and saw a group of them torture a defenseless cowboy. Witnessed the whole thing. They fashioned a small metal cage from barrel hoops and cooked him over a fire.”
“I’ve never done that to anybody. As for you and your brother, prejudices are what stupid men use for reason.”
Abe lifted a six-foot length of pine, its bark rotted off, the trunk as smooth as a saddle, and set it against a rock. With a fierce stomp of his boot, he snapped the log in two. “An Apache’s upbringing ain’t Christian,” he said. “You people are savages, so that’s why I think you’re so clever when it comes to torture. In fact, you redskins must spend a lot of time dreaming up new ways to make people scream.”
Chiquito raised his hatchet and hacked at a rack of dead branches spiking out of another log. “We redskins can be quite resourceful,” he said, with a sneer. “But red, black, or white, never underestimate man’s ability to be cruel.”
“My brother said the man screamed for hours before he gave up the ghost,” Abe said. “Is that how long it usually takes? Hours?”
“Already told you,” Chiquito said. “Never done it, so I don’t know. I guess it depends on how big the fire is.” He stooped to pick up another branch but then stopped and straightened up. “Wait a minute. You’re not upset about the guy who died; you’re actually curious about what it’s like to roast somebody alive.”
Abe shrugged. “It ain’t wrong to be curious.” He set his boot on the log a second time and let the weight of his body break off another piece. “You folks do it for fun, but imagine if you had somebody you really hated perched over that fire.”
Chiquito held up his right hand. “Shhh,” he whispered. “We’ve been followed.”
Abe spun around but saw nothing. He fixed his eyes on the tree line and listened. The wind swept through the upper pine boughs, and a bluejay squawked before taking flight. Otherwise, nothing. Abe turned back to Chiquito. “I don’t hear nothing,” he said, but Chiquito had disappeared into the forest shadows.
Now Abe heard a familiar voice snarling at him from behind.
“Who you talking to?”
Abe turned on his heel again, but this time found himself face to face with Danny Brown, who was pointing a Springfield Indian carbine at his stomach. Abe was stunned and put his hands up.
“So, we meet again,” Brown said. “Now, which red-headed sack of shit are you?”
Abe swallowed hard. “Does it matter?”
“Not to me. Where’s your injun friend?”
“What do you want with him?”
Brown laughed. “What do you think we want? The price on his head.”
“He’s a wanted man?”
“Hey, Lonnie,” Brown yelled. “Looks like we got ourselves a real scholar. He don’t even know he’s hanging out with an outlaw.”
Brown’s blond-haired companion limped from behind a swath of thick underbrush
clutching a Winchester, his straw hat scrunched on his head. Lonnie sluiced a stream of spit between his two front teeth. “That’s funny, given you said his pappy was an outlaw. Got himself hung for robbing a stage, ain’t that right, Danny?”
“True enough,” Brown said. “Spent the stolen money buying drinks for everybody in a saloon only four towns away. A vagrant spending money like he was a banker caught the attention of a couple of U.S. marshals.”
Abe’s body trembled with rage, but he had to wait for Chiquito to make his move. In the meantime, he figured he’d best distract the bounty hunters.
“Hunting down men is the lowest job I know,” he said.
“It pays real good,” Brown replied.
“How’s the leg?” Abe asked Lonnie. “I intentionally missed the artery when I stabbed you. I wish I had it to do over again.”
Lonnie squinted and said, “Hand over the hatchet and your pig-sticker.”
Abe tossed them both on the ground.
“The boot knife, too.”
Abe did as he was told.
“Know how an Apache gets into an honest business?” Lonnie asked.
Abe shook his head. “Don’t know, Goldilocks, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”
“Through an open window,” Lonnie said with a laugh. “We were tracking another wanted scoundrel when we got news your friend Rago was headed this way. A red nigger perched atop that much killing power was sure to draw a lot of attention. A buddy of ours rode all the way up here from Sweetwater to tell us. Pocketed twenty dollars for his trouble.”
Danny Brown scratched his stubbled chin. “Never would have put you and the redskin together in a million years. You going red? Or is Rago going white?”
“You sure have a problem with names, don’t you, Brown,” Abe said. “His name is Chiquito, not Rago.”
“Enough of your sass!” Brown yelled and brought the stock of the rifle down on Abe’s head, dropping him to the ground. “Tie him up.”
Lonnie set the Winchester down, removed a small coil of rope hanging from his belt, and bound Abe to a nearby tree in a sitting position.
“Now we’ll see how loyal an Apache is,” Brown said. “He was just here, so I know he’s within the sound of my voice. Rago,” he yelled at the treetops. “You’ve got two minutes to get out here. Otherwise, we’re going to do some serious damage to your friend.”
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