Out of the Crucible

by Marian Wells

  The trail led deeper into the awesome canyons. Amy whispered. “Daniel, I can’t help wondering where this is taking us.”

  “Well, for one thing, look up ahead.” He turned to point upward. In front of them, the sun slanting between the mountains spread light across a block of brightness. At first it seemed an illusion, but as Amy studied it, she saw its dimensions and bulk. It was very real, rearing up between the screen of trees sketching out the river course.

  Slowly Amy murmured, “Giant blocks. Could it possibly be—”

  “Taos pueblo.” They continued their ride in silence as they followed the winding trail through the rocks and trees. When they broke out into the clearing, the late afternoon sun struck them full in the face.

  Daniel led the way toward the final crude bridge separating them from the pueblo. Curiosity had Amy leaning forward in her saddle. She had nearly forgotten her fatigue and thirst as she croaked, “Daniel, that pueblo is as big as a mountain! Those poles—are they ladders going up to the flat roof?”

  Daniel nodded. “Don’t see any doors on the ground level, do you? The second story seems to be a courtyard area. I see more ladders going up to the next level.”

  “Five stories,” Amy counted slowly, adding, “The last level has a ladder sticking out the roof.” She reached for his arm and pointed at the line of Indian children gazing at them from the opposite bank. “Look at the darling little children. They have such big black eyes!”

  Daniel chuckled. “It’s your hair and brick red face that’s making their eyes big.” He added, “Let’s just stay on the main road and ride through to the little village.

  “You notice there aren’t any mamas and papas around trying to be friendly. Even if they were to appear and offer a room on the top floor, I’ve been warned against spending the night in the pueblos.” At Amy’s quick glance, he added, “Besides, tonight might be the night I take up sleepwalking.”

  The village they entered was crowded nearly on the heels of the pueblo. Daniel murmured, “It’s obviously Spanish; there’s not a white person to be seen.”

  While they rode slowly down the one short street, a covey of children began to follow, screaming incomprehensible sentences at them. Amy winced and shifted uneasily, but Daniel’s puzzled frown disappeared.

  He began chuckling. As he smiled and nodded, he said. “See, Amy, that little fellow is pretending he’s a sleepy bird. I think he’s offering us lodging.” Daniel slipped off his mare and Amy followed. They tied their horses to the hitching post beside the community well and turned to follow the grinning child.

  The houses lining the street were all of adobe, as well as the wall circling each home. Amy nearly fell over her feet as she strained to see everything at once. “Oh, look! Daniel, slow down and look. It’s so different. What are those pretty red things hanging beside the door?”

  “Strings of chili peppers.” Daniel tugged at her arm and they followed the dark-haired youngster through the courtyard.

  “So strange,” Amy murmured; “not a scrap of green grass. Daniel, it looks to me like they’ve swept their yard!” She pointed to the line of scratches in the hard-packed earth.

  Daniel nodded. “Come along; I don’t want to lose the fellow. As Amy followed him, she noticed the plain brown adobe house in front of them had a bright blue door adorned with a string of chili peppers. The house was as flat-topped as its pueblo neighbors, with tiny windows recessed in the thick dun-colored walls.

  She was still looking around when a pleasant-faced woman came out, smiling and nodding as she gestured toward another door. They followed her into the tiny room. Amy turned slowly, while Daniel pulled out coins and offered them to the woman.

  “I think it is well we have food and blankets,” Amy said as the woman closed the door behind her. She went to peer at the fireplace. “If it weren’t for the smoke-blackened wall, I’d have named it anything except a fireplace.”

  Daniel crossed the room. “Looks like part of a beehive stuck there in the corner. Interesting the way they’ve stacked wood on end. I suppose that’s the way it’s to be burned.”

  “Whitewashed, everything in the room,” Amy pronounced before tilting her head to look up. “Oh, except the ceiling. A strange one it is. Daniel, it looks like the outside of a thatched roof.”

  During the following days Amy and Daniel traveled through one small village after another as they circled down through the mountains.

  One afternoon Daniel said thoughtfully, “Amy, I’ve been seeing something new today, and it’s making me uncomfortable. I think it’s fear. The people we’re meeting today seem uneasy and not very friendly. From the expression in their eyes, I get the feeling they know something we don’t know. I wish I could communicate with them, let them know we are friends.”

  “Are we?” Amy asked soberly.

  “I wondered how they felt,” he admitted. “I’ve wondered about the fighting that’s been going on. From what Father Dyer’s told me, the people are accustomed to having someone’s thumb in their back. He was of the opinion they wouldn’t know how to behave if the thumb was gone.”

  ****

  That next week, one evening at dusk they reached the outskirts of the large village spread at the foot of the mountains.

  Daniel murmured, “It must be Santa Fe. Look at the trees. They’ve been planted here; see the difference? I’m guessing this place is old and well established. That fits the description I was given. At Fort Garland they told me there’s a fort in Santa Fe. The commanding officer at Fort Garland didn’t know whether it’s still in federal hands.”

  Amy pointed. “Look over that way. See all those buildings and corrals? There’s also a big bare spot in the middle; could it be—”

  “Fort Marcy,” Daniel supplied. “I believe you’re right.”

  “Why don’t we go down there?” Amy asked. “We’ll be safe in a fort.”

  Daniel shaded his eyes and continued to study the line of buildings. Slowly he said, “I don’t know; there’s something about that place—I just don’t know. Let’s ride into town instead. If the Confederates were to start delivering shells that direction, I wouldn’t want to be there.”

  “Shells? Are you talking about a cannon?” Amy asked. “In the beginning all this didn’t seem real. Now you’re worried about a cannon. What next? Daniel, what shall we do now?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve no idea except to suggest we ride into town and see what we can find out.”

  Dismay kept Amy silent as she studied his face, and fought back the desire to suggest going home. But we still haven’t found Mother and Father. They might be in danger if the war has moved this close. I can’t be a baby now. She nodded and said, “All right, Daniel, let’s go.”

  As they started down the canyon road, the red ball of the setting sun abruptly disappeared behind the bank of tree-covered hills. Amy glanced uneasily at Daniel as he led them through the cluster of small adobes and wound down the trail into the middle of town.

  There was only one woman in the shady square. As they rode closer, Amy saw she was drawing water at a well in the square. As they rode across the cobbled plaza, the clop of the horses’ hooves was amplified, echoing from the ring of adobe buildings surrounding the square.

  At Daniel’s nod they slipped from their mares. Taking the reins in his hands Daniel turned to study the surrounding buildings. Evening shadows were quickly spreading across the square. The long, low line of buildings seemed to have linked hands like stoic family members ready to repel strangers.

  Daniel still held their mounts as he walked toward the woman pulling her bucket of water to the stone wall. Daniel’s horse caught the scent of water and snorted.

  The woman turned. Slipping the reins to Amy, Daniel went forward to meet her. In careful, slow English, he began his request. She interrupted. “Sir, I speak your language.” Amy listened to her slow, musical sentences, admiring more than understanding the words. When the woman stopped and waited, Daniel came back to Amy.
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  “Amy, she can offer us lodging. I think we’d better take it. She says Fort Marcy has been taken by the Confederates. I think she guessed we aren’t sympathetic to the southern cause. I’m not certain this is a good idea, but—”

  With her voice low, Amy slowly finished the thought, “We’ve no choice.”

  Chapter 10

  When Crystal reached Denver City, she went first to the post office and then to her hotel. The one letter waiting for her was from home. Opening the envelope, she murmured, “Dear Mama, how faithful you are.”

  Crystal quickly read the letter. “So war is pushing at your precious New Orleans,” she said, folding the letter carefully, then unfolding it again. “How sorry I am for your sakes. How desperately I wish to rescue you. Unfortunately this war must happen if we will be whole again.” With another glance at the pained writing, she dropped the letter on the table.

  After settling into her room and changing her frock, she picked up her cloak. Already her thoughts were on the interview with Lucas. As she walked to the closed door, she thought of her last encounter with him, and with a shiver of fear she turned away.

  Slowly she dropped the cloak on the bed. Looking down at the cloak and the bulge of the tiny silver-handled pistol, she murmured, “Crystal, you are a fool to let your passions rule!”

  But in the next moment the memory of that night surfaced and she clenched her fists. “Never will I be happy again until I see him dead!” She tossed her head. “Fool or not, I’ll worry about that later.” For one moment she hesitated, seeing a fleeting image of Amelia’s face.

  Quickly she turned away from the memory of that face, those haunting words, and her lips twisted as she said, “I’ll never believe God was watching over me that night. This problem I will handle my way.” With a bitter smile, she turned to snatch up the cloak.

  She started for the door when the tap came. “Crystal, it’s me.” She recognized the voice and took one second longer to gather courage before she opened the door.

  “Lucas, you may come in, but you are to leave the door open.” Her voice was icy as she met his amused eyes.

  “You’ve become quite the prude.”

  “Just cautious. Never again will I trust you.” She turned away as he entered the room and dropped into the chair.

  “Who’s the letter from?”

  “You’ve no right to ask, but since you have, it’s from my mother.”

  She saw the curiosity as he said, “I hope you find her well.”

  “As well as can be expected. At the time of the writing they were expecting to be under siege. The Union ships were approaching the gulf. Mama says they’ve seen gunfire in town.”

  He leaned forward. “Then you are all the more committed to the cause,” he exulted.

  She caught her breath. A smile crept over her face as she began to think along with him. Turning to look at him, she admitted, “My parents are very precious to me. How could it be otherwise? Right now, I would do whatever is best for their safety.”

  “Then you are ready to cooperate with me?”

  “I am ready. But, Mr. Tristram, it will be on my terms. Never again are you to force yourself on me. You started this proposition as a business venture. I know how much you are to profit if it is successful. We will just keep it as a business deal. Only a fool would let emotion tangle the skein of an enterprise as important as this.”

  His eyes sparkled as he grinned at her. “My dear, you are more than beautiful when you are indignant. I’ll respect your wishes. And it will be convenient to do so. I find it necessary to make a quick trip south to Santa Fe. Meanwhile, here’s a summary of the items you are to handle while I am gone.”

  He got to his feet with the sardonic grin still in place. His eyes twinkled down at her as he added, “I’ll miss you. I hope to find you in a better mood when I return.” He stepped toward her and Crystal swung around to the open door.

  ****

  The New Mexico dusk deepened into twilight. Amy watched the dark-skinned woman slip back into the shadows. She waited there with her jugs of water while Daniel led the horses to the watering trough. When the horses finally lifted their dripping muzzles from the water, the woman beckoned and led the way.

  They followed behind her as she slipped quickly through the darkening streets. To Amy it seemed the whisper of the woman’s bare feet blended her into one quiet shadow after another. In contrast, their horses’ hooves clopped loudly against the packed earth, the sound echoing from the line of silent adobes.

  Just beyond the town square, the woman abruptly turned and cut down a heavily wooded slope. Catching her breath, Amy pulled her horse even with Daniel’s as he nudged his mare into the path. The last of the sky’s light disappeared as they wound their way through the trees, following a trail that had become only a pale slash in the woods.

  When they broke out of the trees, the moonlight outlined the scene in front of them. As they crossed a meadow, Amy could see a low cluster of huts, circled by an adobe wall. When the woman turned to wave them on, they slipped from their horses to follow her toward the enclosure.

  Pointing to the grassy meadow just beyond, the woman said, “The horses, they’ll be safe. Hobble them.” She waited for Daniel to follow her instructions. When he returned she walked quickly across the darkened courtyard.

  Trying to keep her in sight, Amy stumbled through the dark. Momentarily the darting figure was outlined against the pale adobe. “Hurry!” Daniel murmured behind her. She reached the door as the woman opened it. The rasping hinges had Amy shivering as she followed Daniel inside. A light flared, revealing the woman kneeling on the hearth.

  When she got to her feet, Amy struggled to understand her torrent of broken English. Her final words were, “You will be safe for the night. I do not know about tomorrow. I must ask my husband. But perhaps you had better move on tomorrow.”

  Daniel held out the coins. “Thank you. We too must decide, but I would like to talk to your husband.”

  “I send him.”

  They watched her leave and Amy asked, “What did she say?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll have to hope her husband speaks better English.”

  Daniel had just untied their pack when the man slipped through the door. “My wife says you must speak to me.”

  Although as square and swarthy as his wife, he spoke with scarcely an accent. The two men hunched down by the fire, while Amy leaned against the wall.

  She studied the stranger as Daniel said, “Tell me about this place. Is it Santa Fe?” He nodded. “Your wife says the fort has been taken by the Confederates. How does this affect you?”

  Amy watched as he shrugged slowly with uplifted hands. “I do not get involved in white man’s affairs. There is a war between the United States and the Confederates. I do not understand it. Our people do not see it of much importance. What does it matter who wins? Aren’t we all one big people? I think I live happily with any, no matter his color or speech.”

  He grinned and rubbed his fingers together. “I work for the soldiers; that is why we speak like gringos. The money is the same; the people act the same. Why worry?”

  Daniel sighed and asked, “How do the soldiers treat the people who do not agree with them?”

  The man’s smile disappeared. “If they wear a uniform, they are put in jail. If not”—he pulled down the corner of his mouth and lifted his hands—“they look the other way. I think they would rather not be bothered by people. That isn’t the important thing.”

  “What is?”

  “Land, gold. This is their talk all the time, saying, if they have many on their side, if they get the gold, they win. People. I do not think they like to hurt people, not the young soldiers. The young ones sing sad songs and talk long into the night about home and pretty girls.”

  As the man started out the door, he turned. “One thing that bothers us. This army is telling things to the Indians. You understand? We all try to live together without fighting. Now the Indians are
listening to the Confederates and are joining in the fight with them. I think they feel strong when the soldiers are here. That makes us very unhappy.”

  He left and Daniel closed the door tightly after him. Amy began to pull out the pan and the supply of cornmeal. As she prepared their supper, Daniel spread the blankets and then came to sit beside the fire.

  Finally he spoke. “That man has sharp eyes; from his talk, I gather the idea he doesn’t miss a thing. I was thinking, while he talked, his easy grin and that shrug didn’t seem to go with the eyes.”

  Softly Amy whispered, “Daniel, are you seeing too much in everything? I feel a strangeness here, but there’s really nothing to—” She sighed, unable to explain the vague uneasiness she did feel.

  Daniel continued as if he hadn’t heard. “We know two things. Mother and Father crossed Raton Pass, and we know their destination was Las Vegas. Between those two places lies Fort Union. The Confederate Army could be moving that direction right now.” He paused, then added, “Strange that Santa Fe seems so peaceful. If the Confederate Army is making a show of occupying the town, these people don’t seemed disturbed.”

  “While that man talked,” Amy said, “I had the feeling he wasn’t showing us much of anything except his big smile.”

  Daniel nodded, saying, “That’s so. In addition, we know nothing about the situation between here and Las Vegas. Today we found out Fort Marcy has been taken by the Confederates—but what does that mean?”

  Amy shrugged, “I can’t guess. But, Daniel, could not knowing be dangerous for all of us?” She continued slowly, saying, “We could walk right into the middle of the Confederate Army. What will they do to us?”

  “I can’t believe they’ll do anything. The clergy has always received respect.” He mused, “But we’ve been seeing fear on people’s faces for the past two days. That tells me something, and I’m not certain what.”

  “Isn’t it possible they know something about the fighting that made them fearful?” Amy asked as she stirred the cornmeal.

  “The fighting that has gone on south of here?” Daniel questioned. Then he shrugged much the same way the swarthy man had. “Maybe we need to forget about the fighting and just take the fella’s word. He said the troops didn’t bother the men who weren’t in uniform.”