by Horst, John
With that, the youngest and fittest rider crossed back. He handed Maria a parcel and she opened it. There was a note which she read with difficulty. Handing it to the young gringo she said, “Read this for me, please.”
“To the wild creature who we never caught. God be with you. C. Gibbs, Esq.”
Maria held up a watch by the chain. She removed her sombrero once again and gave a deep bow. Kicking her horse into a run, she was gone.
Many years later, in his memoirs, Colonel Charles Gibbs wrote that if he’d managed to capture the beautiful wild Mexican who ran him through the hell of the northern Sonoran desert, he would have proposed marriage on the spot. No one was certain whether it was an attempt to make amends for all the Indians he’d slaughtered or to serve his own vanity. Perhaps he was actually expressing his true feelings. No one would ever know.
Chapter XIII: Alejandro del Toro
Maria sat in a great field, cross-legged and frustrated as she poked and pried and pulled on the fancy rifle. It was beginning to make her very angry and she decided that she might just as well smash it to pieces with a rock. The thing was nothing more than a fancy club. She raised it over her head and prepared to dash it to pieces when a kindly old voice startled her. “Temper, temper, little one.”
She looked up, astonished that such a big man could sneak up on her so silently. She looked at him and realized he had her. She’d never been caught unawares and it was very confounding.
“Who are you?” She demanded and gave him a defiant look.
“Oh, that is my prerogative, little one. This is my land. I get to find out who you are first.” He casually walked up to her and took the rifle from her hand. He looked it over and at the silver plate bearing the original owner’s name.
“Maria.” She stood up and wiped her trousers clean, watched him as he manipulated the rifle. He casually unscrewed the caps protecting the lenses on either end of the telescopic sight, looked through it and grunted in satisfaction. It was a finely made instrument. He handed it to Maria and now everything about the gun made sense.
“Ay, chingao. Look at that!” She pointed the rifle at a distant rock and it appeared to be right on top of them. She loaded the rifle with one of the big cartridges and fired. She missed.
“No, no, little one.” He plopped down on the ground. “Give it to me, and a bullet.” Maria complied. “You shoot off the bones, little one.” With that he sat like a great overgrown Buddha. With legs crossed, he rested his elbows on his knees and looked through the telescopic sight. He squeezed the trigger and dust flew from the rock.
“Bravo!” Maria applauded. She loved the new rifle. It was thrilling. She could now kill bad men from a long way off.
He handed the rifle back and she tried it. Mimicking his actions, another puff of dust flew up, right next to the old man’s mark. She stood up and kissed him on the cheek.
He bowed as he removed his big beaver sombrero. “Alejandro del Toro, at your service, Miss.” He shook her hand gently then stood back, moved her around in the light so that the sun shone on her face. He removed her sombrero and, gently taking her hand, once again turned her in a circle. “Oh, you are magnificent, little one.”
Maria felt a little tingly. He was a kind old man and did not intend to bed her. There was nothing provocative about him. He just enjoyed her, as he would a fine work of art. “You come with me, little one. I have a place, a lovely pedestal on which to put you.”
They rode for nearly an hour and Maria was impressed with the rich man. He was obviously wealthy by his dress and by the fact that they’d been riding for so long and the land was all his—if he had not been lying to her.
Eventually, they made it to his hacienda and it was the grandest she’d ever seen. Many men came out to attend to them and take their horses. The big man took her by the arm and escorted her to his veranda. A table had been laid with a white linen table cloth, silver utensils and crystal. She’d not seen such opulence in her life.
“I hope you are hungry, little one. We dine in an hour. But before we do,” he led her to a grand bedroom at the end of a breezeway off the courtyard. It was lovelier than the lady fence’s garret bedroom. “You can get cleaned up in here.”
She looked around as he left her alone and assumed this was his bedroom; the grand bedroom of the hacienda’s Jefe and, in preparation for his return home from his morning ride, his servants had prepared a hot bath.
Maria wasted no time. She stripped and stepped into the hot tub and began to soak. It was heavenly. She reached for a cigar. An old woman handed her one before taking her outfit off for a good cleaning. She gave Maria a pretty dress to wear in the meantime.
After a wonderfully luxurious soak in the tub, Maria dressed for dinner and joined Alejandro del Toro on the veranda. She sat down and finished her cigar. The big man handed her a better one. “That thing you are smoking, little one, I’ve smelled better steaming dung heaps. Try this.”
She did and it was heavenly, too. She sat, barefoot and cool and more beautiful than she’d ever been in her life. She was wearing the lovely dress and had just had a proper bath. She certainly was enjoying this Jefe and his hospitality.
“Jefe?”
“Uncle.”
“Uncle?”
“Yes, you call me uncle. I am your uncle forever.” They ate together and he began telling her the story of Alejandro del Toro but, more importantly, he told her the famous story of the beautiful wild creature who’d bested the gringos and Emilio Kosterlitzky, the most famous rurale officer of the time.
Maria was pleased. She did not know that she was famous and it tickled her to think that what she had done would make her that way. She found it all a bit of a lark. It was the easiest thing she’d ever done, evading and leading the posse on a wild goose chase, yet it seemed very important to the Jefe. No wonder he was being so good to her.
“Jefe, eh, Uncle?”
“Yes?”
“How does such a big man move so quietly? You are the first one to ever surprise me.”
“Hah! My little one, I was a bandit before your mamma was born! I can sneak, run, shoot, and hide from anyone better than men not nearly so fat as me.” He grabbed up a fistful of his paunch and shook it up and down.
“So, you are not a rancher?” Maria looked around and wondered if he’d slaughtered the real owners of the place.
“Oh, this is all mine. All mine. I built it from nothing, from stealing cattle and horses from the gringos. Ha ha!”
She was pleased with how happy he was to show off to her. He was remarkable as he did not take very much of it seriously.
He stood up abruptly. “Come with me little one.” He held out his arm and she took it. He walked her to his stable. “This might be someone you know.”
The vaquero from her village was there. He was Uncle Alejandro’s chief groom. He nodded to Maria. “Hello, child.” He held out his hand for her and she took it. “Remember me?”
“I do.” She smiled and then looked on at her new uncle. “He told me to go after the bad men. He was the only one to tell me the right thing to do.”
“We have something for you, Maria.” With that he opened a paddock door and brought forth a wonderful surprise, a palomino filly decked out in Chica’s tack. “Her name is Alanza.”
Alanza stood at just over 14 hands tall. She had power radiating from her beautifully muscled body. It was obvious that she was descended from fine Arabian stock. Her eyes were huge and very dark, her ears tiny and tipped ever so slightly toward each other. Her muzzle was so small that it could fit in the palm of Maria’s hand. Tipping her head as she pranced up to Maria, her golden coat shone with dazzling highlights. Her mane, tail and forelock were a soft ivory and flowed in rippling waves. Four white socks reached halfway up her legs, almost to her knees, and her hooves were large platters; feet designed to travel easily on desert sands.
He smiled as Maria took the horse’s soft muzzle in her hands and pressed the animal’s face to her c
heek. She looked her in the eye. “Hello, my Alanza.”
“Alanza.” The vaquero looked on at Maria. “Do you know the meaning of this name, Maria? It means ready for battle. She’s the smartest animal I’ve ever known, Maria. She’ll be a good match for you.”
Maria, in one motion was up on her back. She grabbed the reins and leaned forward, her body pressed seductively against the filly’s mane. She whispered in her ear and tapped her sides. Even with Maria’s bare feet, Alanza knew what to do. Maria needed no spurs and they rocketed down the paddock aisle and out into the late day sun. They rode hard into the desert, she and the animal as one. Alanza was just as happy as her mistress. Maria knew the horse and the horse knew and immediately trusted Maria. She was light and balanced and knew how to sit in the saddle, knew how to hold on and move with the creature. They both wished for something to jump.
They came back lathered and happy. Maria jumped down and ran to the Jefe. She reached up and kissed him on the neck. “Thank you, my uncle. Thank you.”
She turned to the groom and held out her hand. “Thank you.” She pulled him in close and kissed him on the cheek. “You are a good judge of horses. I will treasure her for the rest of our time together on this earth.” She looked back at Alanza who was now being walked around by one of the men, cooling off and shaking her head periodically from side to side.
She looked especially pretty in Maria’s tack.
Chapter XIV: Deutsch-Mexikanisch
Maria endeavored to make her first foray into the United States. She was well equipped with her many gifts and supplies from her new Uncle Alejandro and Alanza was the perfect companion. She decided to speak only English to Alanza as practice for when she mixed with the gringos. She was excited about the adventure into the new land and felt confident since her meeting with Joe the Indian and the gringo posse and American colonel. They surely couldn’t all be assholes en el Norte. But it was a rich land, according to Uncle Alejandro, and Maria thought she could do some good marauding and stealing up there. The gringos would not be likely to miss anything as, according to the Jefe, they had so much.
She had time to think and did not even have to do much with Alanza. She’d point her pony and the animal seemed, as if by telepathy, to know what her mistress wanted and where she wanted to go. The weather was good and the new land added to the adventure. Maria had never traveled in this part of the country.
She had time to think about what had happened to her over the past many months. She had encountered many new ideas and people. All this gave her a renewed confidence, especially as it regarded her war with God. Maybe she didn’t have to fight with God. Maybe the old padre did have his set of beliefs, but so did the lady fence with her ideas of reincarnation, and the prospector. Even Joe, the Indian, had his personal philosophy, though Maria never did get to ask him much about it. But he did have a faith and it wasn’t the padre’s. It was Apache faith.
So, perhaps they were all of the same purpose and maybe it was not necessary now for her to fight with God. She could live with God and God with her. She’d do and act as she saw fit, and not worry over what Commandments she broke or didn’t break. She knew—was convinced—that she had a pure heart and her intentions were always the best. She knew that breaking the Commandments were not always necessarily bad.
Like killing, for instance. It was perfectly acceptable to kill, she knew that. Some people just plain needed killing and Maria would oblige. She knew that it was not a problem or a sin.
And then there was stealing. Again, if someone had so much that they could get along without a few pesos or some cattle or a fancy rifle, then it was not so terrible to steal from them. It was just adjusting the imbalance, like in nature. When things start to get out of hand, nature balanced them out.
And then there was this idea of being with men, or women, really. She grinned about the lady fence kissing her and the whore washing her a little too enthusiastically. What could be the sin in all that? There was none. Of course, no one as yet had struck her fancy. The women were out of the question, it just didn’t suit her to be with women, though the lady fence’s kiss was the most tender Maria had ever known, it just did nothing for her. And Joe the Indian asking her to bed down with him was nice, but she didn’t fancy Joe, or the old prospector, she could tell he’d fallen in love with her too. But all in all, what sin could there be in bedding down with another when not married? She didn’t want to be married, but she certainly wanted to do the act again. It was good when she did it with Crisanto, and she knew she wanted to do it again, some day.
She thought more about all the hearts she’d broken already. She hadn’t tried to do that, but she had. She was just simply too beautiful, inside as well as out. She got a little flutter at that thought. She was special. She knew she was special and she thought that she should be thankful to God for all that. He had created her and He made her beautiful and intelligent and a good rock thrower and she could shoot well and ride as if she and Alanza were one creature. Now she had the fancy rifle from the colonel and could kill bad men from a long distance.
So, even if the prospector was correct, that God kind of kicked this all into motion, but then left us alone, gave us free will—which made good sense to her—it was still God who’d given her the basic materials for her magnificence. This made her very happy and she resolved to be a good steward of this perfect being. She was magnificent and would not squander what she had been given. She would still do her marauding and stealing as she planned. Still make things right in the world that were wrong and still redistribute the wealth as she saw fit, but she’d do it in an honorable way.
She stopped to light a cigar and smoke. In the distance, to the east, something caught her eye. It was a queer sight as there did not seem to be any form of human life in the area. Certainly this was not a campfire, it was too big. It was also too big to come from a homestead and it was too concentrated to be a brush fire.
She decided to investigate and Alanza quickly obliged. They were upon it in short order and Maria was sad to see another bandit attack. Bodies were strewn about and the men who’d killed them made certain to add to the carnage by defacing and defiling most of the poor victims. They were all men except for three old women and Maria could see by the path left behind that the bandits had taken hostages. This is why the homesteader’s corpses did not include young women or children. Maria surmised that it was likely the work of Sombrero del Oro or at least some of his men, as he was a famous slave trader from way back.
She surveyed the site and resolved to drag the victims to the burning wagon. The bandits, in their blood orgy, killed the horses pulling the wagon, so it could not be taken as booty and the black hearts ruined it instead of leaving anything of value behind. Maria lacked the ability or inclination to dig so many graves but thought burning the corpses preferable to having them picked apart by scavengers.
As she moved amongst them, she saw a corpse appear to be moving. She investigated and saw an infant, barely alive, under an old woman’s body. She apparently died trying to shield the babe. Maria grabbed the infant up and held her and the child awoke and began a terrible loud cry. She was dehydrated and hungry and would likely not have lived another hour had Maria not discovered the terrible site.
She made a camp upwind of her makeshift pyre and thought hard about how to get something into the infant’s body, as the child was yet too young to do anything but suckle. Maria soaked her scarf and placed it into the babe’s mouth and the child sucked it with abandon. This worked and she continued this way for more than an hour. At least now she was hydrated a little, but Maria knew the child needed milk. She needed to get her to someone who was nursing or at least to someone with goat or cow’s milk.
She looked up at the sky and figured she still had a few hours of daylight. She thought hard about what to do. She’d seen no one in the past full day. Uncle Alejandro’s ranch was too far. She looked at the little one who was so exhausted from all the work at extracting the water fr
om the scarf that she had fallen back to sleep.
There was nothing for it and Maria soon realized that the bandits were the only hope, the only salvation for this little one. She walked Alanza down the trail, after the bad men. Judging from the fire and how much it had consumed of the wagon, she figured they were not more than ten miles or so away. The captives were likely traveling on foot and this would slow them significantly.
Maria pulled a rebozo from her pack and fashioned a sling. The babe rode across her chest, her tiny face pressed against Maria’s breast. She could feel the baby breathing; it was a good feeling. She could not help but remember her own dear Rosario who’d not made it so far. She wondered at that. Wondered if this is what it would have felt like, what it would have been like if her own little one had lived.
The babe awoke crying and Maria was impressed with how loud such a little package could scream. This would not do. It would not be possible to sneak up on the bandits with a crying baby and she thought hard about what to do. Maria had nothing for a baby. She had water and mescal to drink. She had beans and jerky and a few tortillas to eat. She had many good cigars from Uncle Alejandro, but she had no milk or nipples or nursing bottles.
She had a thought and offered her a breast. The child took it and worked at it like a ravenous little beast and Maria immediately had her doubts. It was as if a rattler had taken hold of her nipple and she was not certain any of this was good for either one of them. But eventually the poor child settled down and resolved to suckle for comfort rather than sustenance, as if the little one knew this was the best her savior could offer for now. They both were able to relax, Maria riding a little more quickly and the babe quietly falling into a world somewhere between slumber and wakefulness.
Maria leaned forward a little in the saddle to ensure that her sombrero shaded the child in the late day sun. She, too, became a little dreamy, drifting off as she let Alanza take them to the bad men. She was now in a world with her little Rosario, the suckling babe triggering the primordial bond, the longing and the ache deep in the pit of Maria’s womb, the instinctive happiness only known by a mother with her suckling babe.
