Jim Kane - J P S Brown

by J P S Brown

  A young man came into the store. He waited and watched Kane during these transactions. When Kane had finished paying the cattlemen, the young man addressed him.

  "Señor, the judge sent me to see you and ask if it would be convenient for you to come and talk to him. Felizardo Trigueno has made a demand against you."

  Kane and Ezequiel went to the judges office. The judge was a stiff-bearded old man. He wore his straw hat and huaraches in his chambers. He greeted Ezequiel cordially. "Now what about Felizardo's charge?" he asked Jim Kane after Kane had been introduced to him.

  "I don't know what he charges me with, Señor Juez," Kane said. "Ezequiel knows all about my dealings with the man. I don't know what his complaint could be."

  "For example," Ezequiel began to recite nervously, "he tried to cheat Señor Kane by forcing Señor Kane to receive cattle Senor Kane had already rejected. He tried to cheat by branding the cattle with Senor Kane's trail brand when Señor Kane had already told him he didn't want the cattle. For example, he didn't deliver the same cattle Señor Kane had seen in his pasture. For example, after he had put Señor Kane's trail brand on the cattle he tried to force Señor Kane to pay two hundred pesos a head more than Señor Kane had offered him in the first place."

  ''Felizardo is a bad man," the old judge said in a kindly, judicious tone. "How can we ever expect to attract good businessmen here to Chinipas when men like Felizardo fall upon them like bandits when they come here? Go on about your business and forget about Felizardo. I will make him understand. "

  Kane thanked the judge and excused himself. When he got outside he sighed with relief He realized gratefully that the judge had saved him a lot of money.

  "Just a minute, Ezequiel," Kane heard the judge say. "Stay here with me a moment. I have something to ask you."

  Kane left them to their conversation and went back to the store. Santiago Brennan and Juan Vogel were having a discussion over a bottle of lechuguilla. Kane took a glass with them to celebrate the fairness and wisdom of the judge. Ezequiel came in then with sympathetic looks for Kane.

  "The judge asked me to tell you about the water fund," Ezequiel said.

  "Ah, yes. The water fund," Juan Vogel said.

  "And what is the water fund?" Kane asked.

  "The judge is in charge of collecting for the water fund. He levies a tax of five pesos per head on all the cattle that pass through Chinipas for the water they drink. This money is applied to a fund that is being accumulated for the purchase of a new water system," Ezequiel said. He looked for a while at Kane. "The judge asked me to remind you to come over to his office and make your contribution before you leave Chinipas with your cattle."

  "How many years has the water fund been in existence?" Juan Vogel asked.

  "About five years, more or less," Ezequiel said.

  "When do you think they will have enough money in the fund for a water system?"

  "Probably never, " Ezequiel said.

  "Right. Never," Juan Vogel said. "Because there is no water fund. I myself have given enough money in the past five years to pay for the water system five times."

  "Maybe he wants a very, very good water system," Ezequiel said, trying to joke.

  "Who cares?" Kane said. "My cattle are drinking and grazing on the river. It is of no importance to me where the water money goes. The old man is entitled to the money anyway. for performing the beautiful quite, capework, on Felizardo."

  "You are right, Jim. You are learning. Always we must remember to grease the machine. It doesn't run well without grease," Juan Vogel said.

  Salvador Arce came into the store. "Senor Kane, we are going to put on a dance this evening. You and Senor Brennan are invited," he said.

  "What is the occasion?" Kane asked.

  "All the vaqueros and cattlemen from the cattle drives are here. All of them have relatives here and we feel a celebration and dance is warranted," Salvador Arce explained.

  "Salvador needs no occasion for dancing," Vogel said. "He is a serrano bronco. When he is in town he dances. He should want especially to celebrate today. He sold you his fine cattle and so contributed to the salvation of a gringo. He is Salvador, our savior."

  Salvador smiled and shook his head at Juan Vogel. "¡Ah qué Juanito!" he said. "Let's warm ourselves for the dance." He produced another bottle of lechuguilla.

  "To the Chinipas water system!" Kane toasted, raising his glass.

  "May it always be at our disposal!" Juan Vogel said.

  The dance was held in the large, closed patio of the old-fashioned municipal building. The girls of Chinipas came down the streets to the dance in groups of three and four. All of the girls were well-dressed, well-scrubbed, well-shod, and pretty. The young men dressed up in clean dark trousers and white shirts. Most of the young men wore huaraches, but a few wore black dress shoes. Kane washed and shaved and got out the clean shirt he had rolled in his blanket. The shirt was wrinkled but it still smelled good. He walked over to the dance with Vogel and Brennan and Graf when they heard the music begin. Arce was at the door welcoming everyone.

  The music was provided by a phonograph on electricity from the Chinipas town generator. Loudspeakers were set up on two corner pillars of the patio.

  The girls Kane and Vogel and Brennan asked to dance did not seem to mind them. The men of Chinipas presented their daughters and nieces and granddaughters to Kane and Brennan for the dancing. Arce and Graf provided them with lechuguilla to keep them from feeling any chill in the evening.

  During the dance Kane caught Felizardo the Swarthy giving him dirty looks. Felizardo was talking to himself and also glowering at Santiago Brennan who was dancing for the second time with the same girl. Kane and Juan Vogel laughed at Felizardo talking to himself and he saw them laughing at him. When Santiago returned to the table Felizardo strutted over to address Brennan.

  "You should not believe, because you are a gringo and a guest in this town, that you are free to take your liberties with our women," he said, refocusing his eyes on Brennan because he was too close and the drunken focusing he had done on Brennan from the other side of the room was no longer adequate. '

  "I am not a gringo, my friend. I am Santiago Brennan from Chihuahua, a Mexican, and your servant," Santiago said, standing up and taking Felizardo's hand in his much larger hand. Felizardo, refocusing up at Santiago's face, smiled at him when he got the face in sight.

  "Well, maybe not a gringo, a pocho," Felizardo said. Pocho is the name applied by the Mexican national to the one of Mexican blood who has been born a United States citizen or has renounced his Mexican citizenship for United States citizenship. The word implies a cowardly running away to a softer life and also implies that the pocho is a traitor to his blood.

  "My friend, I am not a pocho. My father is Mexican and my mother is Mexican and they taught me manners. I don't take liberties with decent women."

  "So you are saying our girls in Chinipas are not decent?" said Felizardo, taking a step backward.

  "No, you are. You said I took liberties with the women here," said Santiago, stepping back and squaring off like a golfer about to tee off.

  "Ah, well," Felizardo smiled. "There is no problem, is there? I made a logical mistake. I thought only a pocho would be associating himself with a night-crawling lombriz, worm, like your gringo companion?

  "Don't be mistaken about the fact that I will knock your mouth completely off your face if you don't get out of my sight," Santiago said.

  "I don't know how to fight with my hands," Felizardo said loftily and turned on his huaraches and left the dance.

  Later, Juan Vogel in his cups was dancing the guajolote in the middle of the patio with a pretty girl. He looked like a big turkey gobbler strutting and tramping around the gracefully dancing girl. He pressed his chin on his puffed chest. He clasped his hands behind his back and crooked elbows and shoulders forward. He shoved his hat to the back of his head and danced. Kane watched and thought he would rather be there watching Vogel than be anywhere el
se doing anything else in the world at that moment.

  Strange as the effects of the lechuguilla had been on Kane, he was clear-headed for his work the next day. He spent the morning in the store hiring his crew of vaqueros for the drive; advancing money for them to leave with their families; buying their provisions for the trail; and hiring pack mules for their beds and provision.

  About noon the sounds of a disorder aroused the town. Everyone in Graf's store went outside to see what was happening. Beto, the vaquero of Don Marcos Aguilera, was riding a bucking mule across the plaza. The mule bucked around a little bandstand that stood in the center and up to the steps of the church. Beto, hatless, his shirttail out, his wild, dirty hair matted, gave as much as he took from the black mule. He spurred the mule with the big hooks on his huaraches with every jump the mule made. The mule balked on the steps of the church. Beto drove the spurs as though to gut the mule and the mule bucked up more steps toward the entrance of the church. Beto was about to Christianize a mule. He got the mule to the top of the steps and tried for the dark entrance, but two townsmen turned the mule back from the door of the church. Beto spurred the mule back through the plaza. The mule trotted along bowing his neck against the hackamore rein.

  A herd of cattle entered the plaza. Kane saw Don Marcos behind the herd. Beto's mule crowded against the mare Don Marcos was riding, crushing Beto's leg against, Don Marcos, saddle. The cattle passed in front of the store and walked slowly down the street. Kane counted 36 head. Some of the cattle had time to stop and browse on young green trees that had been planted in the plaza. Don Marcos turned his mare away from the herd and rode over to the front of the store and dismounted. Beto's mule tried to follow the mare, but Beto straightened him and went on with the other vaqueros driving the cattle down the street. Beto kept his eyes straight ahead. He was proud everyone had seen him ride and manhandle the mule.

  Don Marcos shook hands with everyone in front of the store and walked in, asking for coffee. "I didn't have my coffee this morning," he said. "That Beto was carrying the coffee and I the black mule lost it when he bucked off down a barranca this side of Tetamoa yesterday. We never found the coffee or the pot."

  "That is a fine mule, Don Marcos," Salvador Arce said.

  "He must be tough to be still giving Beto trouble after a drive from La Haciendita to Chinipas."

  "The mule is tough but the Beto is tougher," Don Marcos said. "He won't leave the mule alone. When the mule bucked into the barranca Beto lost his hat and he didn't let up from his spurring of the mule long enough to recover it. The mule would settle down if Beto would let him. Beto has too much milk for his own or the mule's good."

  Kane was counting his cattle to himself the Arce cattle, 50; the Macarena cattle, 50; the Chinipas cattle, 94; the Vogel cattle, 35; and now the Aguilera cattle, 36; That made 265 head. Kane had 15 head of cattle more than he could pay for. The cost of 250 would average $36 a head. He had saved an average of $4 per head under the $40 he had asked Garrett for, but that $4 was less than he needed for expenses. He only had $800 left after advancing money to the vaqueros and buying provisions. He was going to have to pay railroad freight from Creel to Chihuahua. He didn't know how many more expenses he would have before he got the cattle to Chihuahua. How was he going to pay Don Marcos for 15 head? As he sat there and listened to the men talking about wild mules and wilder vaqueros his face got hot and a hot sweat of embarrassment came out on his brow and under his collar.

  He got hold of Santiago Brennan's elbow and led him outside.

  "Can you fly back to Chihuahua and get more money, Santiago?" Kane asked him. I

  "Yes, I could. How much do you need?"

  "At least a thousand."

  "Pesos or dollars?" Santiago asked, laughing. .

  "Dollars." `

  "Where would I get it?"

  "From Garrett, like you did the money you brought yesterday?

  "Garrett only authorized his bank to pay the ten thousand dollars I brought yesterday. His bank wouldn't pay another draft from me."

  "Can't you call Garrett from Chihuahua and get him to authorize payment on another draft?"

  "You are not in luck, Jim Kane."

  "Why not?"

  "Mr. Terry Garrett and Mr. Ira March are gone with their girl friends in their airplane on an extended trip. They are going to Houston, San Antonio, and New Orleans, among other places, and they are going to finish the trip by attending the Indianapolis five-hundred-mile race. No telling where they are now. No way we can get ahold of them."

  "God Almighty!" Kane said. "Off to see the races? The races? By God, they ought to be worried about this bunch of cattle. I ought to pay everyone off and turn the cattle loose on the river until the little masters get back from their party."

  "Why don't you?"

  "No, as the Mexican says, it's not the fault of the cattle. The cattle ought to have a chance to make money for someone. Even if it is only for me. The best thing I could do would be to go to Rio Alamos with the cattle. The drive is only five days to Rio Alamos and I won't need money there. I could stay there until Garrett got back from his trip with some money?

  "He said for me to tell you to take the cattle to Chihuahua. He said he made sure the whole state of Chihuahua is clean. The cattle won't have to be quarantined and will be able to cross the border after a few days' rest. You aren't going to like another bit of news Garrett said to pass on to you."

  "What other bad news?"

  "Garrett said for you not to draft on him for any more money for cattle. He said to tell you he was out of money and that you had your quota for this bunch of cattle."

  "Well, if he wants them in Chihuahua to Chihuahua they will go. At least they will go as far as I have money to take them," Kane said. He went back into the store and sat down with Don Marcos.

  "Don Marcos, I am embarrassed to tell you I only have enough money to pay you for twenty-one of the thirty-six cattle you brought," Kane said in front of Arce, Vogel, Graf, and Brennan and got it over with. `

  "So what is your greatest problem, young man?" Don Marcos asked calmly.

  "It means I can't pay you for all your cattle. I barely have enough money left now to take the cattle on to Chihuahua. My problem is that I'm going to back down from receiving fifteen head of your cattle. If you want, I'll pay the expenses of your drive from La Haciendita and back and you can take all the cattle back."

  "You bargained for fifteen head of my cattle, did you not?"

  "Yes," Kane said. "But I should have made it clearer to you that I didn't want any more cattle."

  "You made it clear enough. I also told you that I was confident you would pay me sooner or later, did I not?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you like the cattle?"

  "Yes," Kane said. "They are the best I've seen in the Sierra."

  "Then pay me for the cattle that you are able to pay for and take the rest fiado, on my good faith and confidence. You can pay me when your patron gets the cattle. D you think they are the kind of cattle your patron will like?"

  "He had better like them," Kane said. Juan Vogel, Salvador Arce, Ezequiel Graf, and Santiago Brennan all laughed, looking at Kane, when he said this. They did not turn away from him to laugh.

  "Then the cattle themselves will assure me of the money. Take them," Don Marcos said.

  27

  Creel

  The smoke of hundreds of forest fires palled the Sierra Madre on the flight Kane and Vogel made with Santiago Brennan to Creel the next day. The fires were small. The weather was dry and windy but Vogel told Kane that the country was so steep and broken that canyons and gorges and rocky bluffs contained the fires in small areas until they burned themselves out.

  Creel, on its high, open, rocky plain on the eastern slope of the Sierra, was windy. A headwind buffeted the four-passenger plane while Brennan piloted it in the approach over the sawmill of the town, then close above the town, to the landing strip. The headwind changed just as Brennan leveled the plane on the edge
of the strip. The wheels met the gravel of the strip sooner and faster than Kane and Vogel would have liked. The mountains seemed very quiet and still to Kane when he got out of the plane with his feet on the ground.

  The strip was about three miles from town and Santiago was in a hurry to get back off the ground before the winds got worse so Kane started walking alone toward town. He walked a half hour before a truck loaded with lime stopped and gave him a ride.

  Creel was dry with a high-altitude, choking, windy chilliness. Its streets were potholed and eroded by winter and heavy lumber trucks. Its buildings were small, low, featureless, and flimsy. Kane would have bet the natives didn't sing and dance much in Creel. He watched a tall, thin Tarahumara Indian in white breachclout on long-thighed, undernourished, bare legs wipe his runny nose as he walked around the corner of a building in the windy brightness of the town.

  Kane got off the truck at the main store and went inside. A tall blond storekeeper wearing a good Stetson hat and a holstered automatic on a clip inside his belt was behind the counter.

  Kane asked him if he knew of any trucks Kane could hire to haul cattle. The man took Kane down the street and introduced him to Elfigo Batista. Batista was a curly-headed, bright-faced, polite young man. He was energetic in every movement and expression.

  "I have two hundred and sixty-five cattle coming this way from Chinipas," Kane told him. "In two weeks they will be as far as Cuiteco. The vaqueros tell me the road is passable for trucks from Cuiteco to Creel. I need trucks to meet the cattle and haul them back here from Cuiteco."

  "I have fifteen trucks with stock racks. What kind of cattle are they?" Elfigo Batista asked.

  "Two-year-old corrientes," Kane said. "Fifteen trucks will be enough. How is the road between here and Creel?"

  "The road is good. The people who are building the railroad across the Sierra have been using it to haul their material and workers. The only bad feature of the road for the hauling of cattle will be its cuestas, its steep grades."

  "How far is it from Creel to Cuiteco?"