by Guy Johnson
It was very calm and peaceful. Neither Jackson nor Maria spoke. They were both comfortable simply enjoying the majesty of the landscape. Every once in a while they would look at each other and smile. Other than the occasional snort of the horses, the buzzing of insects, and the distant cry of hawks there was no sound.
“This is very beautiful. This is very much like where I was born,” Maria said in a dreamy voice. “My mother used to take me out to a grove of trees on a hill behind our house and we would sit there and talk about our dreams.”
“What type of dreams would you talk about?”
“My mother would always talk about freedom. If she had been born into another family, she would have been a poet or a singer, or even a dancer. It was a cruel thing that she was born in a family that thought of women only as laborers and breeders of children. She had such a tender heart that she would never kill anything. She used to say, ‘If God gave it life, who am I to question his decision?’ She was always tending orphans and strays. She once found an injured young fox pup when she was walking home from the store and nursed it back to health, but that ended badly, like so many other things. My father was mean to her and over the years, I saw her slowly die like a plant that doesn’t get enough water. She died a heartbroken woman.”
Jackson was silent for several minutes after Maria finished speaking. He didn’t know what to say. It was only because he felt that he had to say something that he said, “I’m sorry. That sounds awful. It must have been very painful for you.”
Maria nodded her head. “It was, but I am stronger than my mother. I would not let pain kill me.”
“What happened to the fox cub? You said that ended badly.”
“My mother’s brother, Tigre Melendez, kept a kennel of fighting dogs, like your grandfather. When the fox was well enough to be released, he took it and threw it in the kennel.”
“Damn!” was all Jackson was able to muster.
“Yes.” Maria looked at him and there were traces of tears at the corners of her eyes. “I know it goes against the laws of God and church, but I hate my family!”
“I know that feeling!” Jackson said with a nod of his head.
“You hate your family?” Maria stared at him with astonishment. “I was told your parents were dead, that you only had your grandmother and grandfather.”
“There are many different ways to be cruel.”
“Your grandfather, cruel?” Maria asked with disbelief. “He is a great man who is loved by many. He has given me hope. At my aunt’s request, he rescued me from my father’s house and brought me to live in Mexico City. He is the one who encouraged me to go to college. I am a student now at university. He even taught me a poem, the first poem I ever memorized.”
“I bet I know that poem!” Jackson declared.
“You know this poem? How so?”
“He only knows one poem! It’s ‘Invictus.’ I know because he made me memorize it when I was eight years old. He used to poke me hard in the chest with his index finger and tell me that I had to learn the words so well that I believed them.”
Maria leaned forward and asked, “Do you still know it?”
Jackson recited from memory, the words flowing out of him as if they were his own:
“Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul—”
“That’s it!” Maria interrupted. “Say the last stanza. I like that one best.”
“It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the Master of my fate:
I am the Captain of my soul.”
At some part during his recitation Maria joined him and they finished the last line together. There were tears in her eyes. She grabbed his hand and said, “With this poem, I could live even in my father’s house and not be beaten down! It was an act of love that made him teach it to you!”
Jackson admitted, “I never thought of it like that.”
Maria still gripped his hand tightly as she said, “Don’t you see? He has given you something that can never be taken away! You are lucky that someone would love you so much that they would teach you things to make you strong. After my mother died I was alone until your grandfather entered my life. No one in my family wanted to teach me anything. They just wanted to use me.”
Jackson just nodded his head in response. The fervor in her dark, hooded eyes moved him. She seemed even more beautiful than before, but what affected him most was the feeling that he had been invited inside of her own personal hell, that the door had been cracked and he had been allowed to look into the flames and flickering shadows of her painful past.
The tears streamed down her face. She rubbed away the tears but still they came. “I am foolish to cry,” she said, using the towel that Jackson handed her.
“No, you’re not!” Jackson protested.
“It is because I feel comfortable with you,” she explained. “Your grandfather has told me so many stories about you, I feel that I know you. When I heard you were coming, I was happy. I knew that I would like you! I felt it in my bones!” Maria dabbed her eyes and looked at him. “Have you ever had such a feeling?” Jackson shook his head. Maria took his hand again. “When El Negro told me about your parents, I knew that we shared some of the same pain. Do you not feel this bond?”
“Yes, but I didn’t know what it was. I thought it was because you’re beautiful and attractive. I don’t know that I’ve ever been so close to such a beautiful woman before.”
Maria laughed and gripped his hand tighter. “You’re being kind, no? Even if you are, I love this little lie.”
“I’m not lying or even exaggerating,” Jackson said, feeling the calluses on her hand. He turned her palms up and observed, “These are not the hands of a student. These are the hands of a worker.”
“Yes! Your grandfather pays for everything: my clothes, my education. I would not have him think that I am using him. He has been too kind! I work hard around the house so that he will see that I appreciate everything. Is it that my hands are not feminine?”
Jackson did not say anything. He was staring down into a small arroyo where he had seen a flickering of sunlight. He stood up and went to his horse and got a pair of binoculars. He spent several minutes scouring the countryside until he found the source of the flickering light. It was a man on horseback. Jackson studied the man for several minutes and discovered the source of the reflection: The man also had a pair of binoculars, and he was searching for something. Jackson saw that the man rode Indian-style, without a saddle, and carried a rifle with a scope. It caused a warning bell to go off in Jackson’s mind. He knew that most people in the surrounding area were poor; if they owned a gun, it was an older model and rarely had a scope.
Jackson pulled Maria back into the deeper shade of the oaks and informed her that they had to vacate their spot. She acquiesced reluctantly. She gathered their lunch and rewrapped it.
As she was packing her saddlebags, he brushed past her and she swiveled to face him. They stood for a long moment staring into each other’s eyes. Her breasts were grazing his chest. Jackson bent down and kissed her lightly on the lips. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him back, then they stood looking at each other again. No words were spoken. They kissed again, this time more passionately. She pressed herself against him. He probed the unresisting softness of her lips with his tongue and felt the nipples of her breasts harden against him. He felt himself grow aroused and hard, full of desire for her. When the kiss had traveled its tumultuous course, they stood for several minutes in each other’s arms, her face pressed against his chest. Her head fit right under his chin. He could smell the cleanness of her thick, black hair.
“We have to go,” he whispered. He didn’t want to leave, but he had a greater fear of appearing foolish in Carlos’s and his grandfather’s eyes. Nothing would be said, but the looks that
they would give him would be damning.
“I know we have to go,” she answered, squeezing him tightly. “I hope that we can go riding again tomorrow.”
He pushed away from her and said with a smile, “I don’t see why not. Let’s head toward home now. We’ll have to take the back way. We don’t want that rider to see us.”
They crossed the stream and headed down a small ravine on the other side of the gorge. They flushed a bevy of quail as they entered a section overgrown with madrona and piñon, but other than that they saw nothing except the soaring hawks until they arrived back at the lodge.
Jackson had ridden all the way back to the lodge with an erection. It had grown quite uncomfortable, jiggling against the saddle horn and the confines of his jeans. Fortunately, it had grown limp by the time they trotted up to the stables. Carlos walked down to the stable as they were alighting from their horses. Jackson reported the sighting of the rider to Carlos and he sent out two men to investigate. Maria was needed in the house to help prepare the afternoon meal, so Jackson unsaddled the horses, watered them, then curried them down as he had been taught. The grooming and care of the horses helped distract him from the thought of Maria’s firm and voluptuous body. When he finally headed up to the lodge, Jackson had regained control of his thoughts.
After dinner Jackson went to sit out on the porch, where Carlos was giving out assignments to the five men who had joined them for dinner. Jackson had been introduced to all of them, but he didn’t remember their names except for Hernando de Jesus, the man who had given him directions to the lodge. Most of the men were mestizos, short in stature, but lean and desert tough. One man was pure-blood Indian like Carlos, and Hernando clearly had African ancestry. As Jackson watched, Carlos began talking about sentry duty assignments.
“I’ll take one,” Jackson volunteered. Carlos smiled and the men around him nodded their heads in approval. It was only right that El Negro’s grandson assume some responsibility for the safety of the group. Hernando clapped him on the shoulder and pulled him into the circle.
Jackson was given the first four-hour shift on the interior perimeter, which consisted of the stand of trees which circled the house, the stables, and the two outhouses. The outer perimeter of the surrounding hills was patrolled by two men who routinely reported in by flashlight. Jackson armed himself with a short, double-barrel shotgun that slid into a holster across his chest and his Winchester 30.06. When Carlos pointed to the shotgun questioningly, Jackson informed him it was his “pig gun.”
Jackson began his shift at eight o’clock and made his rounds every fifteen minutes or so. There was a cool breeze coming off the western mountains, but the night sky was clear and filled with stars. Other than the gentle rustling of the trees, there was no sound. Jackson found himself enjoying the silence and peace of guard duty. The Big Dipper, the belt of Orion, and the Milky Way appeared particularly bright in the moonless sky and brought to mind Jackson’s feeling that the glistening stars overhead promised adventure to all those who could escape the gravity of their daily lives.
At midnight Jackson was relieved from duty but he could not go to sleep. He sat on the steps of the porch and studied the night sky and the quiet countryside. He heard the porch creak behind him. He turned and saw Maria standing there. She wore a gingham dress with a shawl over her shoulders. Her large eyes glistened in the dimness of starlight. She sat down beside him on the steps.
“Is it all right if I join you?” she asked in a soft voice. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Of course,” he replied. “I’d rather have your company than anyone else’s.”
She touched his face. “Are you always so kind? You seem even nicer than I imagined, so unspoiled, almost innocent.”
Jackson chuckled. “I wouldn’t call myself innocent, but I do try to be nice; of course, that’s no struggle with you. You’re easy to be nice to. I’ve been thinking about our ride all day.” He could feel the heat of her body even though he was not touching her. The tension of his desire was strong and he felt himself grow aroused.
Maria bit her bottom lip and said, “I’ve been thinking about the way you touched me and kissed me. I have never been held so tenderly.” She edged over next to him, so that their knees were touching. When Jackson said nothing, she asked, “Am I too forward?” Her eyes were filled with concern and unspoken pleas.
“No, I’m glad to hear that you feel the same way as I do. I’ve been thinking about you too. I wanted to touch you more, but I wondered if I was too forward.”
A breeze gusted up the steps and blew Maria’s dress up to midthigh, exposing her long, brown-skinned legs. She did not pull her dress down again, but instead stared at Jackson’s face. He returned her gaze then stared down at her exposed legs. He could not deny his desire. He placed a hand on her bare thigh and felt the soft, unresisting skin. She watched his hand as he gently pressed her legs apart and pushed it slowly up between her legs. Jackson contented himself with caressing the softness of her inner thigh. He did not want to be too pushy and risk her rejection. But nonetheless, his desire was growing and hardening into an unquellable force.
He kissed her and she responded with lips and tongue. It was a long, passionate kiss. Jackson’s hand moved up higher between her thighs and probed the dampness between her legs. She arched her back and gasped in reaction to his touch then she grabbed his hand.
“I must tell you something,” she whispered in a husky, aroused tone. “I am not pure! You’re the first of my choosing, but you are not the first. My uncle used to use me whenever he wanted and sometimes he gave me to other men. I don’t want you to think you’re getting something unspoiled. I want you to know the truth; then, if you still want me, I want you!”
The truth was that Jackson was so aroused that if she’d told him that she’d been with the entire Mexican Army, he would not have been dissuaded, but he felt strangely touched that she should volunteer such information. He was totally disarmed. “I am the first that you wanted to be with?” She nodded silently. Jackson smiled. “Then it’s the first time.”
Tears seeped from her eyes. “Thank you!” she sobbed. “I have dreamed about this moment for nearly a year. I knew that I would want you! Please hold me!”
Jackson put both arms around her and held her until her tears subsided. He could smell the smoke of the cooking fire in the thick, silky blackness of her hair. He felt her hand slowly make its way up to the crotch of his pants. He could not ever remember being as aroused as he was at that moment.
Maria raised her head. “Where can we go?”
“There is a hayloft above the stable,” Jackson suggested.
Maria stood up and offered her hand to him. “Let’s go.”
They walked to the stables in the darkness and climbed the old ladder into the hayloft. Between bales of hay, they lay kissing on a pungent carpet of drying fodder. It did not distract them in the least. Jackson pulled down the shoulder of Maria’s blouse and exposed her nipple, which grew hard as he sucked on it. He felt her tremble and put his hand back up into the dampness between her legs. She pulled up her dress and took off her underwear. She pressed him down on his back and unfastened his jeans, pulling them down around his knees. She straddled his thighs and guided him into her wetness. She rocked on top of him until she felt release come in the tremors of her climax. She collapsed on top of him. He was still hard inside of her. He put his arms around her and thrust deep into her with a slow and ancient rhythm. Each time he entered her, he felt the spasms as she contracted around him. When he finally came, he felt that he had reached a peak that was unique and rarely revisited.
They lay in each other’s arms until they heard someone enter the stable. Whoever it was, the person was attempting to be quiet. Jackson quickly pulled on his pants. He had no weapons and he cursed himself for being lax. Jackson crouched, ready to throw himself at the ladder should the interloper attempt to climb it.
“Diablito? Are you in here? Is Maria with you?” It was Carlos�
��s voice.
Jackson took a deep breath and felt embarrassed. “We’re here, Carlos. Is something wrong?”
“Not now,” Carlos answered with a chuckle. “Be ready to ride early in the morning! We’ll be scouting pigs!”
“Don’t worry, Carlos. I’ll be ready!” He lay back down in the darkness of the loft. He saw the dark outline of Maria raise herself on one elbow. He thought he saw a smile on her face.
Maria said, “You shouldn’t have told Carlos that you’ll be ready.”
“Why?” Jackson asked, feeling her hand slowly traverse up his pants leg.
“Take off your pants,” Maria murmured. “We’re not finished here. Take them all the way off this time.”
Jackson wasn’t ready the next morning when Carlos came for him, but he pulled himself into his clothes and climbed down from the loft. He was alone. Maria had departed some time during the night. Jackson rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on the source of the voice. He had hay in his hair and clinging to his clothing.
Carlos looked at Jackson and laughed and said, “Wolf cub! Wolf cub! You look like she fucked the daylights out of you! Are you sure you can sit a saddle?”
“No problem,” Jackson replied, making halfhearted attempts to brush the hay from his hair and clothing.
Carlos looked at Jackson carefully. “You know this girl has lived a hard life. She is no angel, although she may look angelic to you. She is no fool either. She does things for reasons; be aware.”
“What are you saying?” Jackson challenged, suddenly angry that his woman should be given such short shrift. Unable to rub the sleep out of his eyes, he squinted at her detractor.
“You need some cold water! I said ‘be aware,’ not ‘beware’! I’ll get you a clean shirt and some pants from the house. Meanwhile, you better wash yourself into a high state of alertness and get that fodder smell out of your hair. I had soap and towels along with a couple of buckets of water put behind the stables for you.” Carlos turned and walked away.
