As she rode east, through the sage and the thin chaparral, Maria wondered about herself. Why was she traveling so far, for a boy who didn’t care about anyone but himself? She should just let Joey go. There was a hopelessness in what she was doing, and Maria felt it strongly. She should stay at home and help Rafael and Teresa, for they were loving children. With them, even though they were damaged, she could be happy as a mother, and they could be happy too.
But Joey was different. He would not yield her even a moment of affection. She wondered if he blamed her for Juan Castro, and for the fact that he had been sold to the Apaches. It seemed to Maria, remembering before that time, that Joey had been a good boy. He played with other children, and she could tease him and hug him.
But when Joey came back, there was no touching him, and he never smiled, unless he was looking at himself in the mirror. Maria wondered if it was wrong to blame the change in Joey on the Apaches. Perhaps the coldness had been in him earlier. Perhaps it came from her grandfather, a cold old man who did not speak a word to his wife, Maria’s grandmother, for seven years, because he blamed her for the death of their first son. What was in Joey could have come from that old man.
Maria rode on toward Crow Town, across the great, empty Texas plain. When she came to the Pecos, with its steep banks, she followed it north for two days, before she could find the courage to cross it. Since the time when the lawmen tied her to the mule and almost drowned her in the Rio Grande, she had had a fear of water that she could not control.
But she knew that Crow Town was east of the Pecos; she would have to cross it somewhere. As she rode along, fearing the river, Maria felt her motherhood to be a cold chain linking her to Joey, who wanted nothing from her and had no love for her or interest in her. If she drowned crossing the Pecos, Joey might not ever know, and might not care if he did know. Why did she think she had to risk the water, in order to warn him that the famous lawman was coming after him? Was it only because she had given birth to him? Did that mean she could never be quit of the pain of such a son? Would her obligation always be so hard and so unredeemed?
Grasshopper did not like the Pecos, either. Every time she found a cut in the brushy banks and tried to force him down it, he balked, sulked, whirled, tried to resist. Because Maria was so frightened herself, she let the spotted horse defeat her, several times. They went on up the plain, following the west bank of the river.
The cold was deepening, ever deepening. The clouds were gray, like the sage grass. Maria awoke so stiff with cold that she could hardly mount. In the mornings, the chaparral thorns were white with frost, and the water in the Pecos was black from cold.
One morning, Maria decided to cross. She felt that if she didn’t cross that day, she would give up and stop trying to be a good mother to Joey and go home. It might be for the sake of her father’s memory, and her brother’s, that she was coming to warn Joey. He might not care himself; he might think he was a match for Captain Call. He might even feel complimented that such a famous man had been summoned to kill him.
Maria broke a limb off a dead mesquite tree to use as a whip. Rarely had she needed to strike her horse, but this morning, when he refused to take the water, she beat him with all her strength until, finally, unable to turn in a narrow cutbank, he made a convulsive plunge into the dark water. It was so cold that Maria feared she might pass out. Her fingers became too numb to hold the bridle. She hung on to Grasshopper’s neck with both arms as he struggled out of the water and up the thin cut in the east bank.
On the whole journey, she had not allowed herself a fire. She did not feel it was wise to build a fire in the Texans’ country. A fire might bring her someone she didn’t want. It might bring her cowboys, or killers, or lawmen.
But this morning she built a fire, in order not to freeze. Sleet began to blow, and her clothes were wet. She was so numb in her hands and feet that she thought she might die if she didn’t get warm. The air felt cold inside her when she breathed. She broke off small limbs of mesquite and made herself a little fire, while Grasshopper grazed on the cold tufts of grass.
Suddenly, Grasshopper threw up his head and neighed. Maria was too cold to stop him. She knew there were wild horses in Texas. Perhaps he had only neighed at one of them. She had the revolver Billy had given her in her saddlebags. She got it out, but her fingers were stiff from the cold water. She might not be able to shoot well, if she had to shoot.
Then, to her relief, the old Kickapoo Famous Shoes appeared out of the sleet. He moved, as always, at his own gait, a walk that was almost a trot.
Famous Shoes saw at once that Maria was almost frozen. He thought he had better make coffee. Fortunately, Maria had coffee and an old, bent pot with her. She was trembling from cold. She had made a fire so small that it warmed only part of her.
When Maria saw Famous Shoes making coffee, she felt relieved. The old man was peculiar; he appeared and disappeared at whim. But he was competent. He had offered to take her deep into the Madre once and hide her from the lawmen, when they were being rough with her. Maria had refused his offer. She would not be driven from her children by any lawmen. If she ever had to go to the Madre, she would take Rafael and Teresa with her.
Then Grasshopper neighed again, looking to the north, where the sleet came from.
Famous Shoes saw Maria’s concern, and understood it. There were many bad men in Texas. He gave her a cup of boiling coffee. Just holding the hot cup would make her hands feel better, and the coffee would warm her insides.
“I am traveling with Pea Eye,” Famous Shoes said. “His woman is going to teach me to read. His horse is a little slow. I was looking for a place to cross the river when I found you.”
“Who is this man? I don’t know him,” Maria said.
“He is a friend of the Captain—you remember?” Famous Shoes said.
“The Captain who hung my father?” Maria asked.
“That one,” Famous Shoes said. “Now he is looking for Joey. Did you know that?”
“Why would I be here, freezing, where the Texans could get me, if I didn’t know that,” Maria said. “I am on my way to warn Joey. Now you bring me one of the men who is going to kill him. Why didn’t you let me freeze?”
“Pea Eye doesn’t know you,” Famous Shoes assured her. “Joey is in Crow Town, anyway. We didn’t go there because if we had, one of the bad men might have killed us.”
The coffee made Maria feel a lot warmer. The tin cup was so hot she had to hold it with a part of her skirt or her hands would have burned. When she realized what Famous Shoes was telling her, she grew angry.
“Why are you bringing men to kill my son?” she asked. “I thought you were my friend.”
“I have been to the Rio Rojo,” Famous Shoes said. “I was looking for my grandfather, but his spirit had wandered off. I don’t know where it lives. I was coming to Ojinaga to see you. I thought you might have some corn. Then I met Pea Eye, who is my old friend. He doesn’t know where he is going. I don’t want him to get sick, so I am helping him.”
“I don’t care if he gets sick. I don’t want him to kill my son,” Maria said. “How far away is he?”
“He is a few miles north,” Famous Shoes said. “He wanted to sit by the fire and drink more coffee. I came on to the river to find a crossing.”
“Here’s the crossing—you found it,” Maria said. “Go on across it and go away, and take this killer with you. Don’t be bringing killers to murder my son.”
Famous Shoes felt irritated. He had built up Maria’s fire, and made her coffee. Now she was demanding that he leave. While she was talking, telling him to leave, he remembered something that had almost gone out of his mind while he was traveling. Seeing the track of Mox Mox, The-Snake-You-Do-Not-See, had made his mind too busy to work properly.
As he was nearing the Pass of the North, Famous Shoes had gone to see old Goat Woman. She was a woman who had the power to see ahead to the future. Maria knew her. When her mother had been dying in Agua Prieta, she
had gone to see old Goat Woman, to find out how long her mother might live. Goat Woman went to the river and caught frogs and read their guts. Famous Shoes found it strange, that the guts of frogs could show the future, but he knew it was true. Old Goat Woman had been right too many times. She lived with her goats in a little dwelling of sticks, not far from the river. Famous Shoes always went to see her when he traveled through the Pass of the North. It was good to stay in contact with people who could see ahead. When she had a great need to see far ahead, not just a day or a week or a month but years, Goat Woman didn’t rely on frogs. She killed one of her own goats, and read its guts.
What she had told him on this visit was that Maria’s son would kill Maria unless someone killed him soon. Goat Woman had seen this in the guts of a frog and had become so worried that she killed one of her own goats, to check the information. But the guts of the frog and the guts of the goat agreed: Maria’s son would kill her.
Goat Woman liked Maria. She had known and liked Maria’s mother, too. She did not like the news the guts gave her. Famous Shoes didn’t like it, either. He wasn’t even sure he believed it, although he knew Goat Woman had strong powers.
“You might be wrong,” he suggested. “We are all wrong, sometimes. Maybe the guts are trying to fool you.”
“Maybe,” Goat Woman said.
“Do they ever try to fool you?” Famous Shoes asked.
“No,” Goat Woman replied. “But sometimes, I get confused and don’t see what is plain.”
“Can anything change the future?” Famous Shoes asked. He rarely got a chance to talk to Goat Woman, who knew about many things he would like to understand.
“Yes, the stars,” Goat Woman said. “The stars can change the future. But I don’t think they’ll change it for Maria.”
Now he was actually with Maria, who was wet and cold beside the Pecos. He knew what old Goat Woman knew, and Maria didn’t, although it concerned Maria’s own death. She didn’t want him to take the killers to her son, but if he didn’t do it and do it quickly, her son might kill her.
It was a dilemma that made his mind tired. Usually the sleet freshened him, but this morning he did not seem very fresh. He didn’t know what to do.
Maria was warming up, and as she grew warmer, she also grew more and more angry. She had been grateful to the old man for saving her from freezing. But when she discovered that he was leading Captain Call’s deputy, she stopped being grateful. She wanted the old man to take the deputy far away.
“I want you to go,” Maria said. “This deputy might show up any time. If he sees me here alone, he will figure it out and tell the Captain.”
“The Captain will figure it out anyway,” Famous Shoes said. “I can’t fool him. He’s the Captain. All he does is kill men.”
“Maybe, but you don’t need to help him,” Maria said. “Let him catch Joey himself, if he can.”
“All right, I will leave,” Famous Shoes said, very annoyed.
“Thank you for your help with the coffee. Now go away,” Maria said. “I don’t want this man to see me. I have to help my son.”
“If you are in Juarez, you should see Goat Woman,” Famous Shoes said. He was outraged. He had kept the woman from freezing, and now she was sending him away, all because of a boy who would kill her someday. She didn’t seem to understand that he was old and had to make a living. Also, he wanted badly to learn about the tracks in books. Pea Eye’s woman might teach him, if he stayed with Pea Eye and brought him home.
But he couldn’t say much to Maria, without revealing what he had heard from old Goat Woman.
“Next time you cross this river, you need to build a bigger fire,” he said.
Then he remembered the tracks, near Agua Prieta.
“The-Snake-You-Do-Not-See is alive,” he said. “You need to be careful. Don’t let him get you and burn you.”
“The-Snake-You-Do-Not-See?” Maria asked. She remembered hearing that there was such a man, and that he was evil, but she didn’t know much about him.
Famous Shoes turned back up the river to find Pea Eye. It was a nuisance. He had been happy to see Maria, when he found her soaking wet and freezing, but she had been disagreeable and had made him feel confused. If he took Captain Call to Joey Garza, it might save her life. But if he took the Captain to Joey, Maria would hate him, although Joey was a bad son and meant his mother no good. It was a confusion that he didn’t know whether to mention to Pea Eye. He would have to think about it when he found him.
Maria stayed by the fire until she was dry. She thought at one point that she saw a rider to the north; perhaps it was the man Famous Shoes was with, Pea Eye. She didn’t know what to do. She thought she might try to slip away quickly, on Grasshopper. But then she lost sight of the man—if it had been a man. She wasn’t quite sure she had seen him. Perhaps it had only been an antelope. The air was still full of sleet, and it was hard to see clearly, very far.
No rider appeared, so Maria wrapped up in her poncho and made her way into the sandhills, toward Crow Town. The sleet rattled on the chaparral bushes, but soon, over the rattling, she heard the sound of crows, and began to see them, sitting on the cold bushes or in the little skinny black mesquite trees. The crows cawed at her as she rode. Grasshopper didn’t like it. He would have liked to go away from the crows, but Maria wouldn’t let him. Soon there were crows all around them, in the trees and in the air. As she got closer to the settlement, the wheeling, gliding crows seemed thicker than the sleet.
The settlement, when she came to it, was just a few bumps on the plain. There were several low houses, none of them much higher than the hills of sand. Smoke rose into the air, mixing with the sleet, rising high with the crows.
Joey’s house was easy to find, because his black horse grazed behind it, hobbled to a long rope. There was not much to graze on, just a few little sage bushes and a tuft or two of grass. The horse lifted its head when it saw Grasshopper. The two horses had met the last time Joey was in Ojinaga. The black horse neighed, and when he did, a chubby young Mexican woman came out the door. When she saw Maria, she quickly retreated. A second later, a white woman came out. The woman was shivering; she wore only a thin housecoat. But she waited politely for Maria to speak.
“Is my son here?” Maria asked. She did not dismount.
“Joey Garza,” she said, in case the woman was stupid and could not think who her son might be.
“Joey, yes,” Beulah said. “He’s here, but he ain’t awake.”
“Wake him and tell him his mother is here,” Maria said. “I have some news he needs to know.”
“You can come in. I ain’t going to wake him,” Beulah said. “He don’t like it when people wake him up.”
Maria got off Grasshopper and pushed into the little house. The white woman had a smell. It must not be easy to wash, in such a place, where there was much sand and little water, Maria thought. She did not look like a bad woman, the white woman; she was not young, and she was frightened.
Inside, two fat Mexican girls sat on a pallet, trying to huddle under one blanket.
There was another room. The low door to it was shut, but Maria pushed it open. Joey, her boy, was asleep, under many blankets. The room was dim. She could just see Joey’s face, a young face, so young that for a moment she saw him merely as her son, the child she had borne, the child she loved. He was still only a young boy. Perhaps it was not too late to save him, to help him become decent.
“Joey, wake up, you need to leave,” she said, touching his shoulder.
Joey did wake up, and the moment he looked at her, the hope that had been rising in Maria sank again and vanished. There was only bottomless cold in Joey’s eyes.
“This is my room. I don’t like women in here,” Joey said. “Get out.”
Maria felt anger surge up. She wanted to deliver the slap that would make him good, or at least make him realize he was in danger. She had ridden five days and crossed the freezing river for him, and all he had for her was a look that
was as cold as the black waters of the Pecos. It was not a thing she could take patiently—not from her own child.
“Goddamn you, leave!” Maria yelled, slapping him. “Get up and leave. They’ve sent the great killer for you. Call. Go down into the Madre and go quick, or you’ll be dead!”
“You leave,” Joey said. “Don’t come where you’re not invited, and don’t hit me again. You’re a stupid woman. You’ve ridden all this way to tell me what I already knew. I know about Captain Call.”
“You don’t know about him,” Maria said. “You just know the name. He took my father. He took my brother. Now he will take my son, and it’s because my son is stupid, so stupid he thinks he can’t die.”
“No old gringo will kill me, and no old gringo will make me run to the Madre, either,” Joey replied.
“Then you’re dead, if you think that way,” Maria told him. “I will go home and tell your brother and sister that you died. They love you, even though you don’t care about them.”
“You’ll tell them a lie, then,” Joey said. “I won’t die. Call will die, if he comes here. He’ll die before he even knows that his death is coming.”
Maria turned away. She went back to the room where the three women waited, uneasily. She saw that they were all frightened, the two fat girls and the tired, smelly woman.
“Is there any man here he listens to?” she asked. “Is there anyone who can make him listen?”
“John Wesley Hardin, if it’s anybody,” Beulah said. “John Wesley’s killed all those people. I think Joey likes him. But John Wesley’s crazy.”
“I don’t care. Where is he?” Maria asked.
“He never sleeps, I guess he’s in the saloon,” Beulah said. She felt afraid of the Mexican woman. Her eyes were angry. When she came in from the storm, her dress and her hair had been covered with sleet, but she hadn’t seemed to care. She had walked in and awakened Joey, which nobody did. Maybe the woman was his mother, maybe she wasn’t, but in the eyes of the three women, she was scary. Gabriela was so scared, she wanted to hide under her blanket; Marieta was too cold to care. She shivered and sniffled. Not many women came to Crow Town. A woman who appeared out of an ice storm might be a witch woman.
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