by J P S Brown
"One whole day's drive to Cuiteco and one day and one night back up to Creel loaded with cattle."
"I'll meet you in Cuiteco in about two weeks," Kane said.
"How will I know when your cattle will be in Cuiteco," Elfigo Batista asked.
"I'll send you the airplane or wire you when I leave Chinipas," Kane said. "In the meantime I'll give you a deposit to reserve the trucks. How much are you going to charge me?"
"Seven thousand five hundred pesos. Five hundred pesos per truck, " Batista said without batting an eye.
Kane gave him 750 pesos in cash and got a receipt while the pistol-carrying storekeeper watched, calculating the value of the bills in Kane's roll.
"Why are you bringing cattle all the way across those mountains from Chinipas when you could buy better cattle and all the corriente you want right here?" Pistol asked Kane.
"How much does a two-year-old corriente with good horns cost in Creel?" Kane asked Pistol.
"You mean a rodeo?"
"A good-horned corriente."
"You mean a rodeo. I have sold cattle here before for American rodeo so I think I know what you want these corrientes for. Cattle precisely good for rodeo are hard to find. Not all cattle are good for rodeo."
"How much are they worth here?" Kane asked again. "Nine hundred to one thousand pesos for rodeos," Pistol answered.
"That is why I'm bringing mine all the way from Chinipas. If they cost one thousand pesos here, they cost double what the Chinipas cattle will cost laid in here."
"Who do you think you are trying to fool? I know what they cost. Haven't I been selling rodeos here for ten years? No one can lay rodeos in to Creel for five hundred pesos. If you think you can do it I'll pay you seven hundred fifty pesos a head for every rodeo you bring to Creel."
"I'll keep your offer in mind," Kane said.
"When you get here with the cattle you bring all the facturas and guías with you so that I can give you a new inspection and dip the cattle in my vat before they go on. If you don't have all the legal papers on the cattle I will not allow them to go on to Chihuahua from here. We do everything in the strictest legal manner here," Pistol said.
"Sure. I didn't expect you would do it in any other manner," Kane said. "Thank you for all your help and information."
"No reason to thank me. Remember what I said," Pistol said. His face was set against Kane. He walked away back down the street to his store.
Elfigo Batista gave Kane a ride back to the airstrip. On the way Kane asked him if he was going to have trouble getting his cattle through Creel.
"Only if you let someone give you trouble," Elfigo Batista said.
28
Rajón
Rajar means to crack. If I say of a person, "se raja," it means he is incomplete and will crack when his mettle is tried. "Es muy rajado" means he is completely untrustworthy, his word is no good, he is a coward, he will back down on you and he will run to a higher authority to get out of any predicament that a man would feel an obligation to face by himself. A rajón truly has tremors in the faults of him.
Santiago Brennan took Kane and Vogel back to Rio Alamos. At the airport Kane went to the phone and called the Lion. The Lion came to the airport in Kane's car. Brennan flew on to Frontera that evening, He would return to Rio Alamos in two days. "At least you are never afoot. You left here horseback and now you come back in an airplane," the Lion said. "What did you do with your horse?"
''I left him in Chinipas with Ezequiel Graf. I'll need him on the trail for the cattle drive. Did you receive the last load of cattle, Lion?"
"Oooooo, since when? I've been holding fifty head for you at Chavarin's corrals for three weeks now," the Lion said. "I had a good mind to sell them and make myself some money and buy you a fresh bunch. I got tired of looking at them and turning down buyers. You should have seen the buyers that were here looking for rodeos and slobbering over your cattle. I was sad because I could see a good profit for myself in your cattle and I had to turn those fat buyers away."
They drove Juan Vogel to his house and he invited them inside. Vogel's wife, Margarita, was in a good humor seeing her husband. She was sister to Adelita. She gave the men cold beer while she watched her stewpot full of boiling meat, potatoes, green vegetables, and spices. Another pot of boiling beans was making flat brown bubbles that sent out the odor of the beans to mix in the kitchen with the smells of the stew and the Indian smell of the cornmeal tortillas she turned on a flat iron next to the pots. She kept the three men drinking beer while she set the kitchen table. Then she ordered them to wash their hands for supper.
"And where is my son?" Juan Vogel asked his wife when they had settled down at their places for supper.
"He spent the day at the ranch with my father," Margarita Vogel said. "He'll be home very soon now."
The back door slammed and they heard the little boy running across the tile of the front room to the kitchen. He braked in the doorway and his attitude changed from excitement to belligerence when he saw his father. He puffed out his chest as much as the little potbelly protruding over his belt would allow. He doubled his fists and charged his father, showing the whites of his eyes like a young bull.
"¡Dame un peso, Papá! Give me a peso!" he shouted, swinging his fists at his father. Juan Vogel laughed and held him at arm's length with one big hand. The boy straightened; his fists at his sides; his tiny, striped, charro trousers sagging over his boots; his charro hat showing a sweaty, mussed foretop; and gave his father the ultimatum, "A peso or your life, jodido!"
"¡Oigame! Bad mouth. Don't call your father that name," Margarita Vogel scolded, spanking him on the seat of his pants. He gave his mother slight notice and charged his father again and then Adelita Piedras came into the room and pulled the boy off his father.
"You can't hit your father. God will punish you and your arm will fall off. Hit me if you are man enough," Adelita told him.
"I don't hit women," the boy said haughtily.
Kane realized that Adelita Piedras was standing larger than life right in front of him. Her hair was parted in the middle and hung in thick waves on her shoulders. She wore wedge-heeled, hand-carved, sandals, not manure-encrusted knee boots. Her knees shone under her tight skin as she knelt by Juan Vogel's son.
The girl's eye fell on Kane as she calmed her nephew. She looked softly and briefly at Kane, looking with shy care for his approval. The men rose and she shook hands with each of them before she sat down with them at the table. During the supper the girl's voice was very clear to Kane. Her eyes were very clear. They seemed darker now and did not have the tawny, speculative, animal gaze in them.
When the supper was over Kane and the Lion excused themselves, saying they had business to attend to at the corrals of Chavarin before dark. They went outside and got in the car. The girl came after them and stopped them before they drove away.
"Are you coming to the ranch tomorrow, Sunday, for the colas, Senor Kane?" she asked him. She was standing above the car on the high curb. She was wearing worn golden bracelets on her fine wrist.
"Are you having a tailing competition tomorrow?" Kane asked.
"Yes. I invite you and the Lion," she said.
"¿Cómo no? Count on us to be there," the Lion said.
"Come at noon for the barbecue. The tailing will begin at three in the afternoon," the girl said.
"We'll be there. Thank you," Kane said.
"Heh, heh, heh," the Lion said in a low, leering growl when he had driven away from the girl.
"What are you so smug about? What are you thinking?" Kane asked him.
"Nothing. Just nothing. They call you tontito, little dumb one, no? You don't know what the girl wants from you, no? You are just a tontito, no?"
"I admit she is a beautiful girl."
"Ah, you admit it, eh? But of course you do nothing about it. A fine, young gringuito like you."
"Forget it."
"Heh, heh, heh," the Lion said. "I will but you should not." He turned
a corner and they met sixteen bulls trotting down the street three blocks from Chavarin's corral.
"Your cattle!" the Lion exclaimed, stopping the car. He jumped out of the car and waved his arms and stopped the cattle in the middle of the street.
"Now what are you going to do with them?" Kane asked him.
"You go on to the corral and see if all the cattle got out. Bring someone back to help me and we'll put these back in," the Lion said.
Kane drove on to the corral. Chavarin, bareheaded, barefooted, his shirt open down the front, his shirttail out, was driving cattle back into the corral. He had probably been taking a bath or a nap when the cattle had gotten out. The cattle were gaunt and hungry-eyed. Chavarin's nephews were helping him. Kane got out of the car and greeted him.
Chavarin bent down to pick something off the sole of his foot and didn't answer the greeting. Kane went into the corral and counted the cattle. Thirty-three head were in the corral. Kane loaded the two nephews in the car and drove back to help the Lion. Chavarin was not in sight when the Lion penned his cattle. The Lion was counting the cattle when Chavarin came back buttoning his shirt and wearing a new pair of boots and a new palmetto hat.
"Bueno. One is missing," the Lion stated.
"One is missing?" Chavarin asked, stepping into the corral and counting the cattle. He counted twice. "True. One is missing," he stated. He did not seem to know more than that.
"Yes. One is missing," the Lion said. "The biggest one. The big black-and-white."
"What do you mean the b1ack-and-white? Isn't that the black-and-white standing there? Of course that is the black-and-white standing there."
"No, I don't mean that one. I mean the one I bought from Gonzalo Gomez. He was forty kilos heavier than any other bull in this corral."
"This is the only black-and-white I've ever seen in this bunch."
"You mean you don't remember the big torete I bought from Gomez? The one Gomez brought here in his truck the day you gave the party for your nephews?" the Lion demanded.
"Yes, I do. This is him," Chavarin said, grabbing one horn of the gentle black-and-white bull. The bull backed away from him.
The Lion walked over to the car and got a bundle of inspection papers out of the glove compartment. He found the Gonzalo Gomez papers. He went back to the corral and compared the brand on the paper with the brand on the black-and-white bull. He showed the paper to Chavarin.
"Does that look like the same brand that is on this torete?" the Lion asked Chavarin.
"You had better ask Gomez to correct the guía on this bull. He put the wrong brand on the guía," Chavarin said, bending over and trying to tie two pieces of barbed wire together with his bare hands to patch a hole in the fence. Kane found his gloves in the back of the car and went over to help Chavarin.
"Here, let me tie the wire. I have gloves," Kane said.
"I'll tie it. I don't care about my hands. They are accustomed to work," Chavarin said sulkily.
"I don't care about your hands either," Kane said goodnaturedly.
"Oh!" said Chavarin, exasperated. "This is good por mientras, for the time being." Kane saw that his splice would not last five minutes. The two ends of the wire sprang apart when Kane touched the splice.
"Por mientras, mierda," said Kane. "Too much of this corral is already made por mientras," and he made a strong splice with his gloved hands.
"You have no right to stand here on my place and accuse me. If you were ever around here to attend to the needs of the cattle you would know that I take good care of them," Chavarin said.
"The reason I haven't been here is because I've been paying you," the Lion said. "Didn't I pay you wages for the week yesterday at Teresita's."
"That is why I work. To get paid. Do you think I would work like a slave if I didn't need the money?"
The new palmetto hat was now cocked rakehellishly over one eye and he looked down at the new boots to see if dust and manure had altered their sheen. Satisfied all was cared for properly now by him, he walked gracefully, like a gentleman, to the fence.
"You had better get me some more feed for these cattle this evening or my fence won't hold them tonight," he said.
"You'd better get on the trail of that black-and-white bull tonight," the Lion said.
"I'll tell you. I'm not going after that bull tonight or any other time. That is not my job. I am not a slave. I'll keep these cattle one more week while you decide what to do with them and then I want them out of here. I need the corral for some cattle I'm buying, " Chavarin said.
"Are you going to start your dairy business again?" Kane asked him. I
"Perhaps."
"In that case you don't need to wait for your corral another week," Kane said. "I know you are a busy man. We'll be back tonight for the cattle."
"Well, you aren't satisfied with me anymore," Chavarin whined. "I don't want to be in the way of anyone who is not satisfied with my work. For my part, I have enjoyed our association up to now. And, Señor Kane, I would be happy to keep the cattle here as long as you wish under a new agreement."
"No, thank you. We'll have them out of here tonight," Kane said..
"Be sure you bring your accounts. I will have mine ready also. We must settle our accounts. These cattle do not go out until we have put our accounts in order," Chavarin said. This was a threat, as though he was saying, "Now you are going to have to pay the hardworking peón whom you have wronged but who is smart enough to stand up for his rights." This attitude of the wronged peón he made clear by his words, but the expensive white palmetto and the new boots made a liar of him.
Kane and the Lion found trucks for the cattle and sent them to the corral. They bought another truckload of hay and sent it to Juan Vogel's corrals near the Alamos river on the edge of town where the cattle would be penned. When they got back to Chavarin's after dark the cattle had not been loaded. The truck drivers were standing at the chutes. One truck was backed to the chutes ready to load. Chavarin was in the corral with the cattle. He walked up to the fence, leaned casually on the top wire, and handed the Lion an old piece of wrapping paper.
"What is this?" the Lion asked.
'`This is my claim for what is owed me," Chavarin said.
"I'm not going to try to read it in the dark. How much is it?" the Lion asked.
"Among other things, you owe me four hundred pesos for the money I put out for these cattle, not including other money I spent out of my own pocket for.
"No, no, no, no. It is of no import to me how you sacrificed yourself for us out of the goodness of your heart or any such mierda. How much is the total of what you say we owe you?"
"Four hundred pesos for the money I spent, it is all there on the paper, fifty pesos for the day I worked today, twenty-five pesos for . .
"Why fifty pesos for today? I have never paid you more than thirty pesos a day, and that is more than you are worth."
"Thirty pesos for me and ten pesos apiece for my nephews. They helped me today."
"Ah, yes. The nephews earned it doing your work for you. Pardon me. Now how much is the total of the account?"
"Give me back the paper, please," Chavarin said. He smoothed the paper, lit a match so he could see his figures, and said, "One thousand and three hundred pesos and that is all that is owed me after the years of serving you and that is not including money I . . ."
"Did you find the bull, the black-and-white you lost?" the Lion asked him.
"It is my belief the bull you mention has never been in my corral," Chavarin said.
"I don't believe I would have to look very far to prove you sold that bull," the Lion said. "Load the cattle," the Lion shouted to the truckers. Kane got himself into the corral and separated fifteen head in the darkness and he and the truckers loaded them. The Lion helped them load the second and third trucks. After the trucks were gone, the Lion walked up to Chavarin.
"Where is my saddle, my nylon rope, my spurs and chaparreras, and the bridles?" he asked. Chavarin went to the hay barn
and brought back the spurs, the chaps, bridles, and two ropes.
"Where is the saddle?" the Lion asked.
"I sent it to get it repaired for you," Chavarin said, offering the equipment.
"When did you send it?"
"Last week."
"A lie! The saddle was in the barn this afternoon."
"Listen, Lion! If you continue to accuse me I am going to turn the matter over to my uncle. I don't have to listen to your accusations. My uncle, the Ministerio Público, will settle this for us."
"The saddle needed repairs, I guess," the Lion said. "When you get it back from the shop, sound and whole, stick it in your ass. Also keep the rope I gave you. I never take back a gift."
"No? ¿Para qué? What do I need it for now?" Chavarin said plaintively. He put the gear in the back of Kane's car. Kane and the Lion went back to Teresita's. The Lion reached into the back seat for the gear. He stepped out of the car and looked at it. He got back into the car and turned on the dome light and searched the back seat for something. He l separated the gear on the seat, looking it over again.
"¡Cabrón!" he said.
"What's wrong?" Kane asked.
"The cabrón kept both nylon ropes," the Lion said.
In Teresita's kitchen Kane and the Lion figured the Lion's expenses and commission on the 49 head and Kane paid him $100. Then Kane remembered how short of money he was himself.
"Lion, do you think you can loan me about five hundred dollars for expenses of shipping this bunch and expenses. I am bound to have on the Chihuahua cattle?" Kane asked.
"Jim, this money you gave me is the first I have seen in two weeks," the Lion said.
"What about Squeaky Panopoulous? You still have his money, don't you? I'll be able to pay you back as soon as I get to Chihuahua. I'm sure Squeaky wouldn't mind. I would do the same for him."
"Squeaky and I have terminated our business. He was here two weeks ago to receive the Zaragoza cattle when we weighed them."
"You made something on those cattle, didn't you?"
"I should have. The cattle only cost him ten cents American per pound. He came here prepared to pay eleven cents or three pesos a kilo. I got old Zaragoza to come down on his price to two eighty-five a kilo. I thought Squeaky was going to give me the fifteen centavos difference?
