Wolves At Our Door

by J P S Brown

  Rafa made the mistake of looking up at Kane with glowering eyes. "Get out of my sight," Kane said to him. "You are not my friend."

  Rafa looked away and left the room.

  "We’re still friends, here, are we not?" Lupino asked.

  Vogel still sat at the table with Ibrahim and the little boy. Kane said, "Compadre Juan, I think I’ll rest now so we can start early tomorrow."

  "Rest seems to be indicated for us both," Vogel said.

  Lupino followed the partners to their room. "I expected to have a longer visit with you this evening/’ he said. "Don’t let my grandson's foolish mouth chase you to bed."

  "Nobody is chasing us away, don Nesib," Vogel said. "We need to start the toretes on their way early tomorrow so we can get them sold and pay you for them. The sooner we get them to market, the sooner you’ll get your money."

  "No, no, no, don’t go because of that. You know I don’t require immediate payment. Take them. Keep them. Pay me when you like. Pay me next year when you come for the new crop. Or don’t pay me. I don’t care. I don’t need money."

  Kane sat on his comfortable bed and wished Lupino would shut up and leave. The old man was still miffed. He did not want Kane to go to bed until he had prodded him about the spat with his grandson, and he still probably felt spurned about not being able to acquire Gato.

  Lupino ensconced himself in a chair by the door. The partners saw that he would stay, so they resigned themselves to wait him out. "I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something," Lupino said. "It’s too bad that the kind of mares you prefer don’t produce better colts, but the stock you have will never get better. Why don’t you let me help you? At least let me give you some advice."

  Kane and Vogel only looked at Lupino.

  "I want you to think about your Gato horse, Kane, and listen to me for one minute. Don’t you think that those huge hams he uses for hind-quarters would be better as steak to be eaten than used to travel the high trails? Don’t you know that the heavier a horse’s muscles are, the more he is apt to cramp when he makes a hot climb?"

  Kane just stared at the man. Every single person in the world who had ever ridden a horseshoe trail knew that. However, skinny little horses with no muscle had a whole lot more trouble of several other kinds on hot climbs. To Kane and Vogel, who were big men who used their horses hard, Lupino’s Arabs were only skinny little dinks. They were not fit to carry a two-hundred-pound man in those mountains, not even in a level corral, even if a level corral could be found in the Sierra.

  "Didn’t you tell me that your horse Pajaro, who was heavier and more powerful than this Gato horse, was prone to cramp and tie up on a long, hot, uphill climb?"

  "Pajaro tied up on me once in his life," Kane said. "That was on the Guasisaco climb, probably the longest and steepest in this whole country."

  "There you are. My Arabians never have trouble on the cuesta of Guasisaco."

  "It depends on what a horse has to carry on the climb and how much he had to carry before he started the climb. What besides a skinny, bony, wormy little serrano have your Arabians ever had to carry on a climb? Rafa and Ibrahim are the biggest men your horses have ever had to carry, and they seldom do any work on a horse except ride on the trail from one camp to another. Pajaro had worked a solid week on and off steep trails and in corrals dragging heavy cattle without a rest. The day he tied up I had ridden him since before sunup, and I had roped and dragged cattle on him all day. Evening had fallen when we started up the grade. Pajaro cramped half way up in the dark. I got off and led him for half an hour, then remounted and rode him on to El Trigo hacienda. You have never owned one Arabian that could have done half the work Pajaro did that week. The best horse that ever walked on this ranch would have fallen over in a swoon from overwork halfway through it."

  "There isn’t any way you will ever prove that to me, unless we have a contest of some kind between your best horse and mine."

  "That’s right, I guess there isn’t, and there won’t ever be any contest, as far as I’m concerned. My horse doesn’t need to prove anything to you. El Trigo horses have long proven themselves as cow horses and mountain trail horses. They have more cow sense, more strength, and more speed than any Arabians you will ever raise if you live another hundred years. Ask any vaquero of this region"

  ’All right, you won’t sell me the horse, but why won’t you open your mind to the good qualities of my Arabians? I’ll tell you what I think we ought to do. I’ll trade you one of my horses for your horse only for a time. I’ll breed six of my burras to your horse, and you breed six of your mares to my horse. Let’s at least see if your horse can breed me a better mule and if my horse can breed you a better horse."

  "I'm sure my horse would be of great service to you, don Nesib, if he would breed your donkeys, but why in the world would I want to breed our mares to one of your horses? Yours may be well educated, but I don’t think you have even one that could pull a sick whore off a piss-pot."

  “Nooo, Jim, man. My horses don’t pull anything, not a plow, not a calf on the end of a rope, and I certainly would not demean them by giving them chores to do in a whorehouse. My saddle horses fly. My mules pull the plow, rope the calves, and do the other work that requires them to grunt, sweat, and get filthy. A twenty-league ride across the Sierra does not even draw the sweat from my horses."

  "Fly? I haven't seen them even come close to that. A horse has to be fast on his feet to fly. I never saw a horse of yours that could outrun a fat woman."

  "You insult me, Jim."

  "That wasn’t my intention, but you don’t have one horse that can outrun a fat woman. That’s sad but true, and no insult to anybody."

  ”There’s a simple way for you t prove your claim and we both know what it is."

  "I’m not going to match you a horse race, don Nesib."

  "We’ll turn our horses loose and let them play on a racetrack, then. Let’s see which horse is faster for half a mile."

  "My horse is not a play pretty. It would not make me happy to see my horse run away with his rider in front of a crowd of people. Forget it."

  "A half mile is too far for your horse? Bueno, he’s a quarter horse, isn’t he? That means he is fastest at a quarter mile. I’ll match my horse Auda against your Gato for a quarter mile and a purse of ten thousand pesos. You ride your horse, I ride mine."

  "No, I don’t want your money."

  "You don’t like my choice of jockeys? I’m many years older than you, Jim, but I still ride as well as any man. When I’m on my horse, I’m not old anymore."

  "Now, how in the world could I allow you to jockey a race? Just take it that I’m the one who thinks he’s too old to jockey and leave it at that."

  "All right, we each pick our own jockey. Let’s run horse against horse. I get your horse if I win, you get mine if you win."

  "That’s sure not fair."

  "What do you mean, not fair?"

  "I absolutely do not have any use for the horse you call Ahootha. You admit that you have drastic need of mine."

  "All right, your horse against my horse and ten thousand pesos. You win, you get my horse and ten thousand pesos."

  "I don’t want your horse, I told you."

  "All right. You’re so high on your horse? How high? Put a price on your horse. Put him up against any amount of money you want me to put up."

  Kane thought, Now I've finally got him. I’ll name a price so high the son of a gun will have to shut ap and leave me alone. "I’ll put up my horse against no less than a hundred thousand dollars in cash and your horse, don Nesib."

  "Hecho, Jim."

  "What do you mean, ’done’?"

  “I mean I call your bet. The race is on."

  "I won’t hold you to it, don Nesib. People will think you’re crazy. You don’t want to put up a hundred thousand dollars and your top stallion against my horse. Gato will make a fool of your horse and a fool of you for betting so much money on a losing proposition."

  "Neverthele
ss, the race is on. Name the time and place."

  Kane still did not want to run his horse. He thought he had made that clear enough. He would give the man a way out of it. "All right, don Nesib. On the darkest night of next year, let’s turn out all the lights and run the race in front of the Hotel Santa Isabela in Mexico City."

  "No, Jim. Name a reasonable time and place, or risk being called a big-mouthed, big-talking, backing-out coward for the rest of your life."

  "I don’t want your money, don Nesib. I came here for the partida of young bulls that Vogel and I buy from you every year. I don’t want to run my horse, and I don’t like being prodded into doing it at all costs. Why don’t we forget this talk about a horse race and go on with the business that brought us together again in friendship?"

  ”The money means nothing to me. I have millions more than I need. Now, name the time and place for the race, or leave my house and don’t ever come back. You will run this race, or you are not my friend."

  "All right, then. I thought I could treat you as a friend, regardless of whether or not we ran a horse race against each other. Since you won’t allow that, we’ll race six weeks from now, August first at the Rio Alamos Charro Arena. The horses will come to the starting line at five p.m. Lap and tap and no fooling around. You name the starter."

  "Juan Vogel is good."

  "Very well."

  "I ask for only one favor."

  "Name it, don Nesib."

  "I ask that no one spy on the training of my horse Auda. I don’t want to see your horse until the race, and I don’t want you to see my horse. I want to train my horse in secret, if you will. Give me your word that you won’t spy on him."

  "Of course. That goes without saying."

  Lupino smiled and offered his hand to seal the agreement. Kane shook it, turned away, and started to unbutton his shirt. He still did not want to run his horse, and he did not want to listen to another word from Lupino. His feelings were hurt. How could Lupino suspect that he would spy on his horse? Besides that, he knew he could not have backed out after he set the wager at $100,000 and his top stallion, but he had wanted to give the man a chance to reconsider, not because he was a coward, but because he did not want to take the money of somebody he had always tried to befriend.

  Kane and Vogel were in the barn preparing to leave the next morning when Jacobo and Rafa came in and drew Vogel aside. Kane sat on a bench with his back to Gato’s stall and listened.

  The Lupinos wanted to "expand their ranching enterprise" and buy Vogel’s El Trigo ranch, including the El Limon, Gilaremos, Guazaremos, and Canela divisions that covered more than one hundred thousand hectares.

  Vogel laughed at the idea and told them he would not sell, because he and Jim Kane wanted to "expand their cattle enterprise."

  ”Forgive us," Jacobo persisted. "We took a liberty that we hope you won’t resent. We consulted your brothers and sisters about this and they are agreeable to a sale. They deferred to you, but indicated that they hoped you would keep an open mind about it. We came away with the belief that your family is anxious to sell. You are the only one in your family who wants to keep El Trigo. Why don’t you name a price and make your family happy?"

  Kane began to worry. He and Vogel were not partners in their ranches, only in the cattle they handled. Who could tell how much the Lupinos would pay for El Trigo? Kane had just been introduced to a Lupino method of getting what they wanted. Most people worked only for money. Kane and Vogel worked ranches and cattle for values other than money, but everybody is said to have his price, and that might be true about Vogel. The Lupinos had enough money to buy anything and Vogel was eighty years old. He could not take El Trigo with him when p he died, so he might bow to the wishes of his family who would have to deal with the ranch when he was gone. None of them loved El Trigo. His family would want the money, not the work.

  "Listen, let’s not go any further with this," Vogel said. "I won’t let you persist until you offer two times more money than the ranches are worth. I watched your father do that to Jim, but I won’t let you do it to me. I know you’ll pay any amount of money I ask, but I won’t sell, so go away and think about something else, or stay here and visit, but change the subject."

  "Nevertheless, keep us in mind. Who knows, tomorrow you might wake up and want to sell," Jacobo said.

  "Not while I’m alive and still wake up every morning," Vogel said. Rafa laughed and said, ”How soon do you plan to die? We hope soon, because we have uses for your place."

  From his seat a few feet away, Kane said, "You don’t learn, do you, Rafa? Do you think that your brothers will continue to protect you if you keep insulting us?"

  "I don’t mean to insult you, meestair. I only say what comes into my mind and sometimes people don’t like it."

  "That’s the pinchi truth. I just heard from you that you want my best friend dead, because it seems to be the only way you can get his property."

  "I didn’t mean that. I meant that we have use for the property and we wish we could acquire it sooner rather than later."

  "Oh, and how do you explain what you said about my granddaughter?"

  "What did I say about her? I don’t remember saying anything about

  your granddaughter. I think I said American women make me hot."

  "We both know what you said, but if you want to apologize, I’ll listen. I’m not satisfied with your other apology, and I still might bash your head in."

  "I only meant that American women always seem ready to give themselves as playthings to any common lout. They boldly advertise themselves as whores. Their tattoos are their playbills. I have to admit that Mexican women also have become more and more like them and so have European women, so they are not the only ones who want the world to see them as whores."

  "Oh, and you’re an expert? How is that? You’ve cruised around Europe and taken a poll?"

  "We Lupinos do business all over the world. Yes, I watch television in Europe and the United States. Anyone who does that can see that the Western world is hypocritical. It professes to be god-fearing, but practices godlessness."

  "God-fearing? Who are the people you believe are god-fearing?"

  "All right, I don’t think anybody doubts that Muslims are god-fearing. The Muslims haven't become whores of Satan. They don’t flaunt sex throughout the world in open parade, don’t wage war against a people and kill them for their own good in the name of freedom and democracy?

  "No, they only cut off the heads of innocent hostages, slaughter whole blocks of their own innocent people with bombs, blow up whole cities with hijacked airplanes in the name of Allah. In Muslim countries, any rotten old man can beat a woman on the street with a stick only because he thought she looked at him wrong, or her veil dropped too low."

  "You blame the Muslim religion for September eleventh?"

  "I blame Muslims. Not every Muslim is a terrorist, but every anti-Christian, anti-American terrorist these days seems to be a Muslim. Good Muslims could stop them a whole lot sooner than anybody else could."

  "Look, meestair. Your President Bush believes that he has taken the initiative by starting a Judeo-Christian crusade against all non-Christian nations, especially the Muslim nations. Name one non-Christian nation that is not considered an enemy by the Americans/’

  "Any nation that is not against us is our friend, Christian or non-Christian?

  "Yes, and name one non-Christian nation that does not harbor your enemies/'

  "Jordan, a Muslim nation. Kuwait, South Korea, Japan."

  "Don’t kid yourself, meestair. The U.S. has as many enemies in those countries as they do in Iraq. How do you think the Arab princes will like it when the U.S. decides to make democracies of their countries? You think those other Middle Eastern countries want to see Iraq become a democracy? You think those princes don’t take your oil money, then pay it to terrorists to kill your young soldiers? There’s a world war on, meestair. The whole world is inflamed against your country and your democracy, and
Muslims will be the winners. Your country long ago embraced Satan, meestair Kane. How can you win?"

  "Well, Rafa, the old goat has got us East and West, then, doesn’t he? The western devil parades naked and flaunts sex and free love. The Middle Eastern devil flaunts hate and wears thick robes and a mask and kills people in the name of Allah."

  "But you know what I said is true, don’t you? Maybe not about your granddaughter, but what’s a man to think? Even supposedly decent women like your granddaughter go out of their way to look like whores. Come on, meestair Kane."

  ”Yes, and how can anybody in the whole world know a good Muslim from a bad one by the way they look? Should we call all Muslims murderers and terrorists by the way they dress and mask their faces against the wind and sun as you called my granddaughter a whore by the way she looks in a photograph? Should we wage war against all Muslims because we can’t tell terrorists from the God-fearing?"

  Vogel took Kane away from the Lupinos by saying they should go find Fatima and say good-bye. They found her in the orchard. Her youngest son Ali, a clean-cut, bareheaded young man, followed her around with a shovel to control irrigation water on the trees. Kane was astounded at Fatima’s beauty. He knew that she was sixty-two years old, but she looked half that age. Her hair was as black and shiny as it had been when she was sixteen, her eyes as clear and expressive. Her lips were still full and unmarked by the ordinary notches and whiskers of old age.

  This time when she looked at Kane her eyes were not malevolent, but she acted impersonal and made Kane keep his distance. He decided, What the hell? Why should I want to get personal with her? I probably only imagined that we were friends. After all, my supposed intimacy with her would have had to be achieved by letters that took a month to reach her and eventually petered out.

  He sat under a tree to visit with her. He thought, Now that I’m back from the dead, all I want to do is search for feelings and examine them. I’m getting to be the kind of fool my grandfather talked about. He once said, "My, my, such a fuss as people make over the way they feel." That’s me since my gizzards got mashed, a fool who makes a fuss over a friendship that’s been dead for decades.