“Our horses are weary. They are not ready to be ridden.”
Hernandez chuckled, rubbing at his mustache. “Apparently, neither is your sister! Now go, before I change my mind!”
Nina reddened deeply at the remark. “Let’s just go, Emilio,” she told him. “We can rest the horses after we get out of here.”
Emilio looked almost ready to cry. He finally lowered the gun. “Come to my room while I dress,” he told her, his eyes still on Hernandez. “You tell your men to let us leave freely.”
Hernandez nodded, his eyes moving to Nina, running over her hungrily. “You had better hurry—before I change my mind.”
“You are a bastard!” Nina replied, tossing her hair. “I would starve to death before I shared a bed with you!”
Hernandez only chuckled again. “Tell me, Nina, did you enjoy your bath? It looked to me as though you did, the way you took your time drying off.” The man took pleasure at the horror in her eyes. “You should always check the other side of the curtain when you are naked,” Hernandez added.
“I should kill you!” Emilio said, raising his gun again.
“No, Emilio,” Nina said, grabbing his arm. The crimson blotches showed in her face in spite of her dark skin. “He wants you to do something foolish just to keep me here! Go and get dressed and we’ll leave!”
He looked down at his sister’s tear-filled eyes, then turned and grasped her arm, hurrying her out of the room. Nina followed him to his room, where Emilio quickly dressed.
“I am so sorry, Emilio,” Nina told him as she packed some of his things.
“I told you not to be. Quit saying that.”
“But I cannot help feeling it is my fault we will not get our money now.”
“That is stupid. The fault is mine, for agreeing to stay here in the first place.” He angrily tucked a shirt into his pants. “I should have realized Hernandez was up to something. He is a bad man at heart and I knew it.” He strapped on his gun. “I only look at you as my sister. Sometimes I forget how beautiful you are, that you are a woman now. I have to be more careful. Perhaps this life is becoming too dangerous for you.”
“It is all we have for now, Emilio. And I will not let you do it alone, nor do I want to stay alone, always waiting for you. I will be more careful myself.” She touched her hands to her hot cheeks, finding the subject embarrassing. “Besides, I handled him myself. By the time you got there, he was in great pain.”
“I could see that,” Emilio answered, putting on his hat. “But the fact remains that men are stronger and you will not always be able to fight them.” He pulled on a vest and picked up his bags. “Now let us just get out of here. We will talk about all this later. I am worried Hernandez will change his mind.”
“But what about the money, Emilio? We need it so badly.”
“You heard what he said, and he is right. He has an army of men, Nina. There is nothing we can do. We stole the horses, and now Hernandez has stolen them from us. It is as simple as that. Now we just have to get out of here. I will not risk him making good on his promises for you if we cross him.”
He headed for the door, and Nina followed, feeling a chill at the memory of Hernandez’s hand touching her nakedness, his ugly manpart pressing against her. She stayed close to Emilio as they went downstairs, where Hernandez stood wearing a robe and smoking a cigar. His face looked strained, as though he was still in pain.
“Adiós, amigos,” he said with a grin. “I have told my men to let you go. Have a good journey.”
Brother and sister glared at the man before leaving. They walked to a nearby barn where their horses had been taken, both of them watching Hernandez’s men carefully as they helped finish saddling their mounts. They could not help wondering if Hernandez was telling the truth that they could leave freely. They threw on their saddlebags and mounted up, turning their horses and riding out of the barn into the sunlight, both of them bone weary and aching from lack of sleep. They could each sense their horses’ unwilling response to their commands.
“Let’s go,” Emilio said under his breath. He managed to urge his horse into a light trot, and Nina followed, both of them heading for the gate and breathing a sigh of relief when they were allowed to ride through it.
Clay walked along the line of men assigned to him, inspecting their uniforms. He chastised one for a shirt tucked sloppily into trousers, though he knew it was difficult in these remote locations to keep the proper dress and attitude. A lot of the men who volunteered for the western Army were down-and-outers who had no place else to go, and some were probably even wanted by the law back East. Many were foreigners, come to America to discover that becoming rich and successful was not as easy as they had hoped. They joined the Army for a good meal and a place to sleep. A few could hardly speak English and thus did not always understand a command.
Clay had at least been allowed to pick his own men, and he had picked those who spoke and understood English well, with the exception of a German and a Swede who he knew were loyal and dependable. Some of the others were a little rough, but between Camp Verde and San Antonio there was always still the danger of renegade Comanche, and he knew the men to be good Indian fighters. They weren’t very good at taking regular baths, but in this country such things didn’t seem very important. His only worry was how such rugged, fighting men were going to react when they learned the purpose of their mission.
He ordered them at ease. “We have a very special assignment, men,” he said, standing to face them, his hands behind his back. “Now it may seem almost frivolous to you, but it happens to be very important to Congress and the Secretary of War. We will be riding to a port on the Gulf called Indianola, near Galveston. We are to escort a few foreigners…Arabs…back here to Camp Verde. We will be helping them herd approximately thirty camels, to be used in an Army experiment.”
The Swede frowned. He had been trying to figure out what “frivolous” meant. Now the lieutenant was talking about camels.
“Camels?” one of the men asked with a frown.
“Vat is…camels?” the Swede asked.
“Zey are big desert creature,” the German answered him, “vit big hump on back!”
Another man couldn’t help a snicker, and several more were smiling.
“All of you listen. I’m doing the talking here!” Clay told them.
Their smiles faded as Clay stepped closer. “Yes, Schmidt, they are big desert creatures with humps on their backs.” He began pacing in front of them, trying to keep a sense of seriousness about the project. “Congress has decided that since camels are so useful in the deserts of foreign lands, why shouldn’t they be useful in our own American desert? They can go for days, weeks, even months, without water, and they can carry three to four times the weight of a horse or a mule. They could be useful in long campaigns, perhaps not in actual fighting, but certainly in cutting down on the number of animals needed to transport supplies. Fewer animals means needing less grass and water, and, of course, less expense to the Army in terms of the purchase of horses and mules. If one camel means eliminating three horses, I don’t need to explain the savings that could mean.”
“Sir, may I speak?” Hank Johnson spoke up. He was a muleteer, a man much older than Clay. He had been in the Army most of his life, and most men said he knew more about mules than he did about people.
“What is it, Sergeant Johnson?” Clay asked. He noticed Johnson looked very upset.
“Sir, I’ve seen pictures of camels. They’re ugly as sin, and in my opinion they don’t belong here,” the sergeant answered, scratching at a graying beard. “I’d be embarrassed to be in charge of strange-looking things like that. It just don’t seem right. I’ll take my mules any day. Why don’t you send somebody else and leave me out of this.”
“I picked you, Johnson, because you are good at what you do. I never said you had to be in charge of the camels. You’ll be in charge of the mules we’re taking along, as always. You know better than to argue an order.”
“And you will, Sergeant Johnson, when we get to Indianola.” Clay heard another snicker and his blue eyes darted in the direction of a young corporal. “You have something to say, Corporal Mills?”
The man managed to subdue his urge to laugh. “Sorry, sir. It just…I can’t quite picture an Army campaign against Apache or Comanche with camels along.”
“Corporal, none of this was my idea. It’s a mandate from the White House itself, and the Secretary of War is counting on us not to make him look like a fool. In spite of the humorous aspect of this assignment, we have to remember that Congress is very serious about making it work. They and the Secretary of War and everyone on down to Major Keller are all counting on us to make this a successful mission, and I am asking you men to take it as seriously as it is intended. Once we get the camels back here, we will prepare to travel to California to test their durability on long journeys and their adaptability to our American West. If you men don’t take this to heart and cooperate, we’ll be half defeated before we even begin. I picked you because you are all dependable and good at obeying orders. Now, do I have your cooperation or not?”
They all straightened. Humorous as the venture seemed, they respected Clay Youngblood. He had been wounded more than once fighting Comanche, had lost a wife and unborn child several years ago, joining the Army to literally save him from taking his life by his own hand because of his grief, or so the rumor went. Some of them knew they owed their own lives to Youngblood.
“Yes, sir,” they all answered at various intervals.
“Good. We leave early tomorrow morning, so be rested and ready. Johnson, you see to the mules, as usual. Schmidt, you’ll be in charge of the cook wagon. Corporal Mills, you pick a man to ride scout with you. Camels or no camels, we still have to keep our eyes open for Comanche.”
“Yes, sir.”
Clay saluted the men, and they all came to attention, saluting him in return. Clay dismissed them then and they turned and walked off, some still unable to control their laughter. Clay smiled to himself, shaking his head, hardly able to blame them. He sighed, turning away, wondering about his future. He had made up his mind not to stay in the service this time, but as the end of his term grew closer, he could not help wondering if he could really go on without the Army. It was all he had known since Jennifer died. Before that, there had been the loneliness of the orphanage.
He knew it was time to settle down, find another woman. But who could replace Jennifer? She would have to be a woman who would grab his heart so powerfully that she could erase the bad memories, fill his loneliness, make him want to laugh and love and make his blood run hot, like Jennifer once had done. Did such a woman exist? He doubted it, but he had made up his mind to try to find her.
“I have brought us bad luck, Emilio,” Nina told her brother. “We have no money now. Perhaps I should have let Hernandez have his way.”
“Don’t talk stupid. You know you never could have done that, and I would never have let him touch you. I told you before that none of this is your fault—it is mine, for dealing with the wrong man and for not doing my own selling like I have been wanting to do.”
“Your own? But that is so dangerous, Emilio.”
“I have learned much.” They rode side by side, feeling better. After leaving the Hernandez ranchero they had found a shady place beside a stream to sleep the rest of that day and into the night. Morning had broken bright and clear, and after a breakfast of potatoes and jerked meat, they headed for the Gulf coast, where settlers lived and ranched in greater numbers, which meant more horses.
“We are good at this now, Nina,” Emilio continued. “No one ever catches us. Why should the big money go to the middlemen who buy the horses from us and then resell them for much more? That could be our money. Hernandez was going to pay us twenty dollars a head for those palominos, but I bet he will get twice that much when he sells them. And, what’s more, he takes none of the risks. If we are going to take the risks, the money should be ours.”
Nina sighed. “I do not like it.”
“And I do not like either of us being at the mercy of men like Hernandez.”
They rode at a slow pace over wide-open land covered with green grass. Again Nina could not help wondering when all this would end. Her plans of saving a share of their payment from Hernandez had been shattered. She felt like crying, still shaken by the encounter with Hernandez, but stubborn pride kept her from showing tears. She decided this was not the time to complain to Emilio that they were not saving the way they should be, that she was beginning to wonder when they would ever have a ranch of their own. Perhaps they could take some of the stolen horses to Mexico with them, graze them on their own land, and start a ranch there. It was land their parents had owned before they were killed, and where Emilio and Nina had stayed on after their deaths. Still, it was poor land, not good for grazing horses, and they had no money to buy grain and hay, or to obtain better land.
“Maybe we should find some other kind of work,” she spoke cautiously to her brother.
“We have no skills. We know horses, Nina, but we have no money to raise our own. We will keep doing what we are doing, but we will sell them ourselves. Soon, within a year, I’ll wager, we will have the money we need to settle down.”
Settle. There, he had said it. She felt a little better. At least Emilio was still thinking about that ultimate goal. She ignored her suspicion that he enjoyed what he did and probably would never stop. She knew he still hated the Texans, just as she did, knew it was that hatred that fed Emilio’s drive to take back from the gringos, but they could not let that hatred keep them from ever leading a normal life.
“Do you really think so?” she asked.
“Sure I do.”
“But…where would we sell the horses?”
“In Mexico. I know places to sell them. And I know men who can tell us where to sell them here. And the United States Army. They have forts all over Texas. I’m sure they would like to buy some fine horses.”
“The Army! That would be very dangerous—taking stolen horses right into an Army camp!”
“Not if we can find horses not yet branded, or change the brand. We could mix wild mustangs in with them. We could take them to an army camp, tell them they are wild horses and strays we rounded up in northern Mexico and brought here to sell. If they ask about the brands, we will tell them they must be horses that got loose and began running with the wild ones. We cannot help that. We pick up strays everywhere. We are not responsible for other men not keeping control of their herds.”
“I do not like it. I think it will bring us much trouble. Men like Hernandez know other men who can make up papers saying he owns the horses. He has clever ways of getting around the brands. We do not have his cleverness or his power.”
Emilio scowled at her. “Are you saying I am too stupid to sell horses on my own?”
Nina sighed, grasping at her hair and pulling it around behind her shoulder. “No. I am only saying we do not have the experience, or a means of getting fake ownership papers. We cannot even read and write in gringo language, let alone English. We can only speak it. The Army will not buy horses that we cannot prove that we own.”
“Well, maybe they will, especially if we mix them with mustangs like I said. That will show that we just round up what we find running free. They cannot accuse us of anything. The worst they will do is just buy the mustangs but not the branded horses. If we have to give them up, then we will. We’ll still have a little money. Then we can decide what to do next. We will go to Mexico and find men who will buy horses from us, though I hate making such a long journey just to sell them. I do not want to steal horses in Mexico—only here in Texas, from the gringos who owe us something.”
Nina leaned forward to pat her horse’s neck. “Well, what do we do now?”
�
�We start all over—stealing here and there and rounding up mustangs until we have enough to try to sell.”
They rode on in silence for several minutes, the sun beginning to set, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly Emilio put up his hand for her to stop. “What is it?” she asked.
He motioned for her to be quiet. Nina strained to listen, until she, too, heard the faint laughter and distant sounds of someone making camp. “Over there,” he said quietly, pointing to a stand of trees. “A gulley drops down there to a stream. It is a good place for hiding. We hid there ourselves once, remember?”
“Sí, I think I do.”
“Get down. We will walk the horses over behind that hill to the right and wait there until dark.”
Nina dismounted, taking her horse by the reins and walking up beside him. “What are you going to do, Emilio?” she asked in a whisper.
“We need horses, right? Men are camped over there. I do not know who they are, good or bad. Either way, they must have horses. We will wait until they are sleeping. Their horses will probably be tied in one spot. We will take them quietly and ride off with them. Without their horses, they cannot follow us, and in the dark they will not see our faces well.”
“But what if they catch us? They might be bad men.”
“We have not been caught yet. We will not be caught now.”
Nina’s heart raced with a mixture of fear and excitement. They needed the horses badly, needed to make up for what they had lost to Hernandez. Because she felt partly at fault for what had happened with the palominos, she didn’t want to argue with Emilio about this raid. Besides, these men were very likely some of the hated Texans.
They led their mounts behind a small rise and sat down, both of them getting hungry again but unable to make a fire for fear their prey would spot them. Nina took out more jerked meat. “We have little left,” she warned Emilio.
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