by J P S Brown
Kane told Benigno to wait again in the right-of-way by the fence and rode after the bull. He tracked him into the corner where he jumped him again. He drove down the fence but the bull sensed Benigno in the right-of-way this time and cut away in front of Benigno, taking the same route back toward the corner.
Kane stopped to let Pajaro breathe.
"He takes that same trail down the fence pretty well," he said to Benigno. "Let's build a trap there. I'll go start him again. You go down the fence from the right-of-way and build a trap on the trail." Then Kane rode after the bull again. Benigno rode back to the fence, got off his mare, took down his reata, and walked up the fence. It was so quiet in the monte. There was complete silence and loneliness. No one may walk this trail again for years, he thought. A palo fierro, ironwood tree, stood on the edge of the trail. It had a fine trunk. Benigno wondered if anyone had ever noticed it before or if anyone would ever use it again for anything but firewood. Two sets of the bull's tracks marked the trail between the fence and the tree. Benigno tied the tip of the 70-foot rawhide reata to the trunk. He noticed how the wraps of the rope knocked off the little loose fringes of bark leaving the trunk smooth, used now. Then he spread a big loop vertically from the branches of the tree over the trail. He was fixing the bottom of the loop so that it was about three feet clear of the ground so it would catch near the bull's brisket, when he heard the bull coming swiftly through the monte.
The time he took to look up and see if he could spot the bull almost cost him his life. The bull was on him. Benigno took the quickest way out of there and the best running was straight down the trail. Black bull swiftly closed on running vaquero, both sprinting for their lives. Benigno felt the heat of the bull behind him. Benigno caught his breath, strained, and kicked in another bucketful of speed but just then he heard the reata snap tight. He turned in time to see the bull's jaws bulge as the head snapped back, the throat latch squeezed tightly by the rigid band of the reata, the belly turn up, the hind legs clear the ground, the tail whip, then the whole bull together again suddenly, all at once, slam down on his back.
Kane rode up. Pajaro was sweating, blowing. Benigno had the bull by the tail and was holding him down. Kane had not seen any of the action of the bull's being caught.
"We got him that time didn't we?? Kane said.
"Just like the grownups do," Benigno said, smiling, with sweat running down his face.
"Easy. Fácil," Kane said, dismounting and tying together a front foot and a hind foot on one side so the bull could walk but not run.
"Yes, easy," Benigno said, still smiling. "Easy runs the urine. He almost got me. I've got urines down both legs."
"Didn't I give you enough time?"
"Yes, but I got to dreaming about how alone it is in the brush."
They led the miscreant back to the corral and fed him there. Kane took a toddy to the red steer. He found him dead. He and Benigno skinned the steer and hung the hide to dry on the fence. They drank the toddy while they worked.
The next few days they looked for the gray bull that had frightened Flaco Cota. Finally they got word that he was in a big forest of álamos trees, an alameda, bounded by a nearly 360-degree bend in the Alamos River.
They took on Alejandro Pesqueira for help. Alejandro was riding the skinniest old bald-faced sorrel horse Kane had ever seen saddled in his life. Alejandro's saddle must have been fifty years old, but didn't look a bit older than the horse under it. The saddle was black, stiff and there were half-circles in the skirts where big rats had eaten on it.
Alejandro was rawly hungover. He was almost still drunk and almost sober and the pain, both physical and moral, was looming too close. He got down in the knee-deep clear water of the river as they were fording and scooped up handfuls to drink.
The alameda was completely shaded by the big trees. The first moments of riding in the shade on the soft ground pleasured Alejandro's brow but he knew the pleasure would not last long. It was too early and he had been very, very drunk. .
A woodcutter told them the bull had taken up with a bunch of cows. He knew exactly where the bull was at that moment. The bull had badly disquieted the woodcutter. When they found the bull and the cows, they separated.
Benigno and Alejandro circled the cows from opposite sides. They would drive the little herd toward Kane. Kane chose a spot hidden from the trail where he could charge the bull and drive him toward a small clearing. He waited a long time. The animals began to stir around him. A little flock of parrots alighted in a tree overhead, arguing. One wasn't saying anything. The others were giving him hell. The persecuted parrot looked away from them, then flew away. They followed furiously, still arguing. After awhile, Kane heard the cattle coming. They came softly, at their own pace, unaware of him. Kane moved Pajaro so that he stood on all four feet. He shook his rope out. Pajaro listened intently to the cattle. The bull came by ahead of the others. Pajaro set himself, trembling on his hind legs, and charged. Kane's rope snagged on a limb and he missed.
The bull left the herd. The men worried him all through the morning and afternoon. They had nearly spent their horseflesh. Alejandro was a ruin. Kane and Benigno were tired. They finally trapped the bull where he was surrounded by impenetrable thicket on three sides. Kane and Alejandro waited separately on two trails the bull had to take to get out of the thicket. Benigno went in and flushed him out.
The bull came out on Alejandro's trail. When he saw Alejandro he threw up his head and unhurriedly made for Alejandro. This was no obstacle. Hadn't he hooked the milk right out of the last one? Alejandro was swinging a long, long loop and shouting at the gray bull. The little horse was backing away down the trail. When the bull was very close, the horse turned tail to the bull and carried a grateful Alejandro away. Then the bull was gone again in the monte.
The men crossed the river and rode into San Isidro for a beer. They sat under a big mango tree and drank the pale beer from a pitcher. Alejandro ordered another, he said he was very thirsty. They all were, and the beer tasted the way Kane remembered it tasted the first time he got to drink beer as a boy.
They were a little tight when they got back on their horses after the third pitcher. It was dark when they got back to the lane by the corrals.
"It sure is dark in here," Benigno said. "Like for ghosts, Alejandro?"
"You believe in ghosts, don't you, Alejandro?" Kane asked.
"No, I do not believe in ghosts," Alejandro answered solemnly.
"How can you not believe in ghosts? You're riding one, aren't you?" Kane said. `
"Say anything you like to me, but don't insult my horse. This horse has seen good days, too. This horse was once nearly as large as Pajaro and he was a much better horse than Pajaro."
"I'm sure he was, Alejandro," Kane said. "We just wanted to know if you were afraid of ghosts."
"I do not believe in ghosts," said Alejandro. "I do believe in big, gray bulls and so does my horse."
The next day Potter called Kane. He was drunk on the phone. "Did you gather those steers, Jim Kane?" he demanded.
"Gathered one. One's out. One's dead."
"What's the matter? Can't gather the livestock?"
"It ain't livestock. It ain't even merchantable."
"Well, the seventeen head that died between Rio Alamos and the desert sure ain't merchantable."
"That many?"
"Yeah. That many. Cowboy. "
"Pard, you took great pains to buy them. They've been yours ten days now. You're their husband, pard, not me."
"Sell those you got left and send me the money. You bought any more of those little scorpions you sent me?"
"No. Mulligan said you didn't want any more."
"Well, at least somebody is trying to keep me from going broke. Of course, he has to. He'd starve without me."
"The cattle I sent you are sure a helluva lot better and cheaper than any you big executives bought down here," said Kane.
"Sure they are. They're winners. Yah, yah, yah, yah,yah."
"Well, what do you want? What did you call me for, Potter? I'm busy."
"Sure you are. You're a big businessman, ain't you? I wanted to talk to a big businessman. That's how I keep making money and you big businessmen stay broke."
"What else, Fats?"
"That's all. Good-bye, big businessman. Cowboy."
"Don't forget, Fats. In fifty days you pay me for my steers."
"Sure, big businessman. But that's Mulligan's deal. You see Mulligan about that. Forty-four head might break me but I think I can manage to pay off a big businessman like you."
The dunning was enough to make Potter hang up. Kane would remember that. He might want to get rid of Potter again sometime.
Thirty days later Kane saw Mulligan on the border. They had a drink together at the Cortez Motel on the American side. Mulligan told Kane his cattle were doing better than any he and Potter had on the desert. "They're so gentle you have to kick them out of camp to make coffee in the morning. They are just standing still and getting fat," Mulligan said.
"The little cattle I kept home are doing real well now," Kane said. "They've gained about a hundred pounds apiece already on the sorghum grass. I'll ship you those, if you want."
"No, we're coming off the desert in two weeks and we're going to clean everything up. I want to get shed of Fats."
"I don't. Not until he has the great bounty to pay me."
"Well, I'll see he pays you in two weeks. Your cattle and the ones you bought for him might be the only ones that make any money."
"I'm counting on it. In two weeks I'll be flat broke. I mean money for groceries broke."
"I'll see you get paid," Mulligan said.
Three weeks later Kane had not been paid. Mulligan and Potter had disappeared. Kane was reasonably sure Mulligan was gathering cattle on the desert and having trouble, but he knew Fats wouldn't be able to stay away from that feedlot of his for long. He kept calling the feedlot and Fats' home. Someone would always answer and ask who was calling, then leave the phone a while. When he came back to the phone he would say Fats was out of town or at that certain minute wasn't there. Fats was watering at night.
Kane was broke. He left Benigno with the cattle and horses, borrowed 200 pesos from a friend, and went to Frontera. He knew he was in for a long, dry summer. He realized his stake in Mexico depended on Fats Potter now . . . the life he wanted, the life that was natural for him. He didn't like the fact that it was in Potter's hands all of a sudden.
On the border again after a years absence, he was soon seeing his old friends. He went to Abe Femandez, a friend who had a mercantile store where all the cattlemen traded. He borrowed $500 from Abe. He gave Abe a 30-day postdated check.
He went to the motels and hotels and bars where he knew Mulligan or Potter would be stopping and asked his friends there to let him know when his partners came in.
Two weeks later May Randall called Kane from the desk of the Cortez Motel and told him his partners had just checked in. He went straight to their room. The door was partly open. He walked in without knocking.
Potter was sitting naked on a chair. He had just finished showering. He was drying himself and watching television. He had spread a stream of water from the shower to the chair and it was still dripping off the chair onto the floor.
Mulligan was sitting on the pillow at the head of his bed in his underwear, smoking.
"Well, well, the big businessman? Potter said. He didn't smile.
"Hello, Fats. I would have bet you never bathed."
"Getting the sweat of a hard day's work off. I've been working hard all morning crossing cattle."
"Good. That is what I like. Hard-working partners. When is payday, partner?"
Mulligan set his bare feet on the floor and put out his cigarette. "Jim, boy. We only gathered twenty head of your little cattle. I don't know how many are left but we're going to start gathering again next week," he said.
"Shorty, pard, that's tough. I hope you get them all, because you owe me for all of them."
"Now wait. We're going to pay you for them but not until we see how many are left."
"You guaranteed me forty dollars a head for forty-four. That is all I want until you sell them. Then I'll bear my share of the loss, if any. If they don't make anything, then I'll have tough luck too. Right now pay me for forty-four."
"Well, I don't remember guaranteeing anything. What do you think, Fats?"
"That's your and his big business deal. I'm out of it," said Potter.
"Well, Jim, I'll tell you. A lot of those little cattle you sent me got killed by a train one night about two months ago. I don't know how many, if any, were yours."
"Come on, Shorty. A train doesn't run around killing twenty-four head of cattle in a single night out in the middle of the Sonora desert."
"This happened right in camp, Jim. Remember I told you they hung around camp all the time? Besides, a lot of them just were too weak and died."
"I also remember you telling me they were doing real well, better than any of your cattle. You didn't say anything about trains then."
"They haven't done well lately. We'll be lucky to break even on any of them. Of course, we lost freight and feed on the ones that died. We had a million expenses. We had to keep seventeen cowboys riding day and night, paying them double wages, to keep the cattle in the country."
"Where were those seventeen cowboys when the train went through camp? Are you trying to tell me none of them were in camp the night a train came through and killed twenty-four of my cattle?"
"No Jim. I'll tell you what, we'll pay you now for the twenty head and we'll pay the rest in a month when we finish gathering. OK? Fats, is that OK?" asked Mulligan.
"It's your deal. You make out the draft, if that's what you want, and I'll sign it. Forty dollars is all I want to give, though. Those cattle won't make money. I don't want him dunning me from now on for the cattle. I'll have a hard enough time coming out on them," Potter said.
"Is that OK, Jim? We'll settle up the rest in a month. You are getting a good price for your cattle." said Mulligan.
"Pay for forty-four now like you agreed to do," said Kane.
"Hell, Jim we haven't got any money now or we'd pay you now. If you don't see us, draft on us in thirty days."
"All right, if that's all you can do."
Mulligan filled out the draft and Potter signed it.
"Remember, Fats. I get paid in thirty days," Kane said.
"''Dun Shorty if you want to. Don't bother me with it."
"No, Fats. It's your money. You pay," Kane said.
"You just draft on us if you don't see us," Mulligan said.
"What about those three you've got in Rio Alamos?" Fats asked. "What are you going to do about them?"
"Go and get them, Fats. They're yours. I'll tell you right where they are. The thirty dollars you paid me to handle your thundering herd ran out a long time ago."
Kane took the draft down to Abe Fernandez' store and paid Abe the $500 he'd borrowed. He came out with the $300 change feeling bad he'd had to borrow. Even being able to pay hadn't opened Abe's closed face to him. Abe had been worried. He had been hearing things, probably.
With this $300 and the $960 they owe me I could go home, Kane thought, as he walked out in the street. The money would go a long way on the Alamos River. Three hundred dollars won't get me across the street here. I ought to go home anyway. I could find something to keep me going, I bet. But if I get back down there and I don't find something and they don't pay, then I got to come back and hunt them. If I stay here I catch them when they cross the cattle. Maybe I can get an order for cattle here anyway. It's a bad time, though. It's June. Everybody is stocked for the summer.
On the first of July Kane drafted on Potter. The draft bounced. Kane couldn't locate Potter or Mulligan. He made out another draft. He discounted 10 percent for death loss and $100 he stipulated on the draft as share of partnership loss. That draft bounced, too.
Kane knew a li
ttle more about Fats Potter now. Dick Spencer, an oldtimer at border trading, told Kane about some partnership cattle he and Potter had. They didn't sell the cattle on the border where the partnership was supposed to end. Potter said they would make more if he took them home with him to his feedlot. Several months later when Spencer asked for a liquidation Potter told him the cattle had all died.
"Watch him, Jim. Besides being a cow thief he'll pull a knife or gun on you. He pulled a long knife on me there in the Gay Nineties bar when I tried to get a settlement out of him. I just turned the whole deal over to him. It wasn't worth it to me.
"I'll tell you another thing. Potter will slander you. He's telling around you tried to draft on him for a load of cattle you didn't have. He said he had to take your draft book away from you. He says the only reason he didn't put you in jail was because he had known your dad so well."
"Dick, that is a dirty lie."
"Look, Jim, you don't have to explain to me. I know him better than you do. But you better put a stop to it. He's telling it everywhere and a lot of bootlickers that would like to have that draft book want to believe him."
Kane was out of money again. Rather than borrow, he took a job on construction of a bridge, pushing cement around in a wheelbarrow. He made $10 a day. He sweated hard in the sun and he joked the gross Mexican obscenties with his companions. In the evenings he cleaned up and roamed the trader hangouts looking for his partners and for an opportunity to buy cattle for someone so he could go home.
One evening he got a call from his friend Dan Gibson. Potter and Mulligan had landed in the Cortez Motel Bar. Kane thanked Dan, got in his pickup, and drove to the motel. He walked into the dark room and sat down at the bar with Gibson.
Potter was at the other end of the bar holding forth to a group of young Mexicans. Kane and Gibson listened to him tell them how smart he was and how many thousands of Mexican cattle he bought and he never failed to make money in a business that broke many.
Potter spotted Kane. He grabbed one of the Mexicans by the shoulder and pulled him over close. "There's Jim Kane," he said loudly, pointing at Kane. "Now there is a fine feller and a big businessman in Mexico. Big businessman and cowboy." He said something only the Mexicans could hear and they all laughed. Potter turned his back on Kane. The young men kept looking over at Kane.
