by Horst, John
It would be dark soon and Maria looked a little odd, a scout peering from the scrub in her vaquero outfit, wrapped in her red rebozo with a babe latched to her bosom.
She hauled out her fancy rifle and looked through the telescopic sight. She could see them all well enough. There were four women and three girls. There were four bandits. She moved and the baby became unlatched and began to cry. Maria ran back to Alanza. This would not do. She could not kill all the bad men in this state and she could not leave the infant alone. Something would have to be done.
When it was fully dark she snuck up on the camp. The bandits had the hostages tied together in a group. They tied them with rope at the neck and had kept them without food or water. This was done to make them more easily controllable.
Maria picked out the infant’s mother immediately. The poor woman was in a daze. She stared at nothing. Her dress front was wet, her leaking breasts adding to her discomfort and pain.
Maria looked at the bandits having a good time. They were getting drunk now and paid no attention to the hostages at all. They knew that the desert was a perfect prison. Escape was futile.
Maria moved fast. She snuck in and cut the rope from the woman’s neck. She held her finger to her lips and commanded all of them to be quiet and they complied. She grabbed the woman by the hand and pulled her along. Once they were a hundred feet away, she pulled the baby from her breast and handed her to her mother.
“Here, lady. Take your baby. She’s a little beast!” She smiled and tucked herself back into her blouse. “Ay chingao, she has eaten them, I think.”
The woman looked at Maria and then at her baby. She was convinced that the child was gone into the Great Beyond, and seemed unable to fully grasp what was happening. She pressed the infant to her breast and the child went to work. They made it to Alanza and sat down.
The woman looked at Maria, who did not look much different from the bandits. She was afraid of her and did not speak.
Maria lit a cigar and gave the woman her water gourd. She handed her some jerky and the woman ate. “Danke.” The woman bowed her head then regarded the baby. She switched breasts and was feeling better as the pressure was finally relieved.
Maria looked the woman over. She did not understand her strange words. She resolved to ask her questions in English. “You are not an American?”
“Deutsch.” The woman hesitated. “German. I, German.”
Maria considered her. She was a big woman with pale skin and brown hair. She did not look like any person Maria had ever seen. Maria smoked and watched the woman with her baby and thought it a good idea to give her a little mescal. The German took it and drank, coughed a little and smiled. “Gut. Danke, eh…thank you.”
And now Maria had a chance to try her English some more. “Lady. Tomorrow, we will get the rest. You sleep now. It will be all good tomorrow. I promise.”
The German understood and settled down to rest, the infant cradled in her arms. The baby was content and quiet and, as Maria drifted off, she could hear the woman softly crying. Maria was happy. She shifted a little and reached inside her shirt. She held her hand up, certain it would be full of blood. Her nipples were sore, but intact. She smiled and muttered to herself as she shook her head, “Little beast.”
The first bandit’s head came apart and even Maria was impressed with the rifle’s awesome power. She quickly worked the next bullet into the chamber and hit the next man a little low, tearing a hole through his throat at the Adam’s apple, shattering the vertebrae and making the man’s head tip as if he’d fallen asleep. He dropped down next to his mount.
The other two finally realized they were under attack and took up defensive positions. The shooter was too far away to see and they did not know where to hide. She hit the next man in the back and his breastbone exploded, but the shot did not kill him outright. Great gouts of blood squirted with every beat of his heart. He sat and watched it until he died.
The last one had had enough. He threw himself on his horse and rode as hard as he could into the desert. Maria was right behind him on Alanza. She’d put the big rifle away. She quickly caught up with the man, who was completely panicked and firing his six shooter wildly over his shoulder. He just wanted to get away.
Maria was amused by this and equally angry. There was no sin worse, to her, than to abuse a baby or a child and she resolved to make the bad man pay. She galloped up alongside him and he pointed his six shooter at her. She was so close that even a scared bandit couldn’t miss and he pulled the trigger as Maria smiled at him.
“Hah, no more bullets, muchacho.” And this was true. The bandit yanked on the trigger again and again and heard nothing more than the click of the hammer falling on spent primers. He turned away from her, looked forward and urged his mount on, trying to get his horse to outrun her. But this was impossible. Alanza was more fit and carrying less weight. Maria continued to ride alongside.
“Careful, muchacho. You might fall.” She taunted him and he became angry. He pulled his big knife and began slicing the air in her direction. He didn’t know her game and was uncertain what to do next, but Maria soon allayed his anxiety. With a quick movement, she drew one of her six shooters and held it toward the man’s head as they rode side-by-side. Suddenly she lowered the muzzle and fired into the bandit’s spine, just below his jaw. He flopped over like a ragdoll onto the desert floor, cart wheeling end over end as his horse continued on at a full gallop.
She rode up on him. He was lying on his side, doubled over and unable to move. Maria got down and stood over him. With some effort, she pushed him hard with her foot and he flopped over onto his back, the morning sun beating down mercilessly on his face.
“You are in a lot of trouble, muchacho.” She lit a cigar and blew the smoke at him. “Want one, muchacho?” She pointed at the cigar and he nodded yes. She knelt down beside him so that her face was now just a foot away. “No, sorry. Don’t have many left. None to spare.” She grinned.
His eyes rolled about; the pain was too much to bear, her bullet making it impossible to move anything else. He breathed in unsteadily and waited.
Maria reached over and stuck a finger in his vest pocket. She tore downward and found some money there. She went through the rest of his pockets and got a couple of rings and a necklace and one pocket watch. She put these in her pocket and then, reaching down, removed his gun belt. He cried out in pain.
“Oh, sorry.” She shrugged and continued to strip him. She removed all his clothes until he was naked, sweat pouring from his face. The clothes had no value, they were essentially rags, but she did not want him protected from the sun.
“Well, I have to go now, muchacho. Bye.”
“No, no.” He cried out weakly, plaintively. “A bullet.”
“Oh, no muchacho. I will not waste another bullet on you.” She got her water gourd and opened it, took a long sloppy drink with much of the water running down her chin and neck. She looked up at the sun and then down at the man who was already starting to burn. She lifted the gourd and dumped the remaining contents over her head until she was soaking wet.
“Ah, that feels good.” She reached down and, opening her shirt, exposed her breasts to him. She looked down at herself. “That little baby, she tore them to pieces, muchacho. Look at them.”
He did and could say nothing.
“Muchacho, I want you to make sure to see me. See that I am a woman. A woman did this to you, muchacho. A woman.” She breathed in and spit a huge gob onto his forehead. “There’s a drink for you if you get thirsty later, boy.” She wiped her mouth. “That’s more than you gave the little one, isn’t it?” Turning her back, she mounted Alanza and rode off.
The hostages were working on the corpses when she returned with the bandit’s mount. They’d gotten their valuables back and all had a good cry. They were a resourceful lot and would soon have everything in order. They wasted no time.
Maria was proud; she’d never saved anyone before. It was overwhelming to see
the people relieved, given another chance at life. They were a remarkable bunch in their resolution and hard work and Maria enjoyed listening to their strange language. It was fascinating.
They all regarded her and the woman with the infant brought the others together to greet Maria.
“Danke,” they all announced in unison and bowed respectfully to Maria.
She smiled, “De nada.” She looked at the sleeping infant. The child would be fine. She’d eaten on and off since being reunited with her mother and now they were both much better.
Maria put her hands on her own breasts, “She is a little terror, no?”
“Ah, meine Dame, when there is milch, eh milk, it is much easy.”
Maria set up camp and took an inventory of what they had. Everyone would have to double up on horses, but they would all be able to ride. The bandits had a fair amount of food and water so they were pretty well provisioned. The women needed little direction in putting things in order and Maria soon realized that she was being waited on hand and foot. She must have had a puzzled look about this as the woman with the baby approached her, then looked at the others of her party.
“They are all very taken with you, meine Dame. They are thinking you are not real, perhaps, eh, a creature from mythology, ah, not human.”
Maria smiled and felt herself blush. She looked herself over and realized that she must have presented a very strange sight, indeed. These women were used to frontier life, but by their own appearance, it was abundantly clear that they did not take on the garb of the land. They dressed in their mother country’s style and in this Maria looked very different.
“Tell them I am just a human but I am not like the others in my land. They will not see more like me anytime soon.” She lit another cigar and offered one to the spokeswoman who graciously refused.
Maria was not certain what to do now. These women and children were in the middle of nowhere with little left of their personal belongings and most of their party dead. They couldn’t be left out here alone and the spokeswoman, seemingly on cue, began to talk.
“Meine Dame, we have very much long travel to go. We are going all the way to south, to Soconusco. Do you know this place?”
Maria had not heard of it. Had never been south of Mexico City. “I do not.”
“Would you take us to this place?” She regarded her party. “They have all discussed it. They asked me to ask you. They will do whatever you say. We will care for you and pay you well if you will take us.”
Maria smiled. She could get used to this. “Yes, we will go to this place. I will be happy to take you.”
They stayed at the camp for the rest of the day and through the night. Maria watched them; they kept to themselves and spoke in hushed tones in their strange language. Maria was amused when she noticed them looking at her whenever they had the chance. They were a very formal and shy people. The little ones were slightly bolder, intrigued, but they still kept their distance. They were still a little afraid of the woman who looked and acted like a bandit man.
They had a meal and Maria could see that they were Catholic. This surprised her. They were not like the padre, yet were another group from another land. She’d been told that en el Norte there were many different kinds of people and she guessed that they were yet another bunch, these Germans. She’d never known of such people. She liked them. They doted on her and would let her do nothing and it reminded her a little of how things used to be with Juana, when they were living in the cave. Maria liked everything just so, and Juana would sit back, like a little princess and Maria would do all the work. These people were like Maria back then. They seemed to be driven, compelled to work all the time. No work was ever finished. They were efficient and, much like Maria, did everything just so.
The lady with the baby approached her again, just before everyone bedded down. “Mein Dame, they want to know, will it be permitted to go back to the attack place? We would like to bury our families.”
Maria thought about it. She regarded the woman and then the others and thought about the horrific site. It would be difficult for them. She’d arranged the bodies respectfully but knew it would be an ugly thing to see. “As you wish, but I did give them a good funeral. I am Catholic, like you, and I did a good prayer for them. They are safe from the wolves and in a good resting spot. It would be better to move on, but as you wish. We will do what you want.”
She left Maria and conferred with the others. When she returned she said, “Mein Dame. We will move on tomorrow. We thank you.” She’d been crying and Maria felt compelled to continue. They’d suffered in her country and at the hands of her countrymen.
“I am sorry, lady. There is much sorrow and cruelty in this land but please know, it is not all like this. We Mexicans, we are not like those men.” She watched the woman breathe deeply and regain control of her emotions. “Was your husband one who got killed?”
She nodded. “And my father and grandfather and grandmother, mein Dame.” She smiled weakly and looked down at her baby, clamped to her breast. “But this little one has survived.” She looked at Maria and tears ran down her face. “Thanks to you, this little one is good.”
Maria walked up as the German woman finished her prayers. She nodded and gave the woman a smile.
“Do you pray, mein Dame?”
Maria blushed. “Only for others, not for myself.”
The woman sat by the fire and Maria offered her a cigar. She waved it off again. She did not take tobacco. “Would you have more of that drink you gave me before?”
Maria got out one of her bottles and poured the mescal. “Gut Schnapps.” She held up the cup in a toast and drank. “Mein Dame, may I know your name?”
“Maria.”
“Ja.” She nodded. “I see that.” She drank again. “I am Ulla.”
They sat and drank for a while and regarded the sleeping camp. Maria liked her new friend and felt a certain bond since they had each lost so much. She wanted to talk. “I have been fighting with God.”
“I see.”
Maria regarded her. “I have had, like you, many bad things happen. I have only stopped being mad at Him, but still do not want to pray to Him.” Maria watched for her reaction and continued. “I don’t ask God for anything. He’s…, He does not seem to listen and He…, He lets bad things happen. Things without reason.”
The woman smiled and took another drink. Tears were running down her face and she wiped them with the backs of her hands. “I do not know, Maria. I do not think He plays any part in the badness of the world. I just do not know.”
She was like the prospector in this and Maria was a little surprised as the woman had lost nearly her whole family. Before Maria could speak, Ulla continued.
“One could say that God sent you, just as easily as they could say that God sent the bad men.” She took a deep breath and her voice was quivering. She was remembering the attack. “But, I do not think that God has so much time… so much time to do for us… do for us or not do for us. I do not think that it works in such a way.” She smiled at Maria. “I do not think that reason is a part of any of it. It is just a great mystery.”
Ulla stood up and approached Maria, held out a cup and Maria poured. “But I am glad you found us, Maria. We are all glad we found you.”
They drank into the night; neither was tired and they were enjoying each other’s company, the spirits, and camaraderie.
Maria continued on the subject of prayer. “I never did get anything I prayed to God for.”
Ulla smiled. She was quite drunk now and had stopped crying. “He is not a genie, Maria.”
They both laughed at that.
“Then what do you pray for, Ulla?”
She became quiet and her eyes filled with tears. Maria was sorry for asking. Ulla looked Maria in the eye and then at the dying fire. “I just give thanks. I just give thanks.”
Maria slept late, well into daylight and was treated to the German’s hospitality again. They had all prepared for the trek so
uth and had Alanza ready and Maria’s traps packed and ready to go. They had her breakfast, including hot coffee, waiting for when she awakened.
She sat up and stretched and had begun to eat when she felt a light touch behind her and looked around. The smallest girl was standing behind her, stroking her long raven-colored hair. The child was beautiful and exotic. Maria had never seen such lovely hair on anyone. It was like corn silk or spun gold and the little one looked over at her mother. “Ist sie unser Schutzengel, Mutter?”
Her mother smiled as she worked and looked on at Maria reverently. “Ja, mein Liebling, das ist sie.”
Ulla came over and smiled at Maria. “She wants to know if you are our guardian angel. And, she loves your hair.”
Maria turned and held out her arms. The child came into them and sat on Maria’s lap. She was about the age that her little Rosario would have been now, had she lived. She breathed in the scent of her hair and then held it up next to her own. She took a handful of each and braided her hair with the child’s, “Like night and day, little one.”
The child nodded, “Ja, mein Dame, ja.”
Maria reached into her saddle bag and pulled out a good hairbrush, the one Uncle Alejandro had given her as a gift. It was made of fine bristles with a tortoise shell handle. She handed it to the child. “Would you brush my hair, little one?”
She pantomimed the brushing motion and the child understood. She nodded gravely, stood up and did a proper job. She worked diligently and soon Maria’s hair was neatly brushed. She looked into her bag again and produced a matching mirror. She looked into it and nodded. “Good job.” The child was pleased.
