Mariana's Knight

by W. Michael Farmer

  They started back down the trail as the clouds dumped more water on us. I raised up on my knees, ready to run back up the canyon and get the paint and Sally, but Yellow Boy grabbed me by the shoulder and held me with a powerful grip, so I couldn’t move. He nodded toward the yard. In a moment, a weak flash showed a single rider sitting motionless, waiting at the edge of the yard, rifle drawn and collar pulled up to his hat. We waited, feeling the cold rain wash us clean and new.

  The rain passed. As the lighting flashes became farther and farther apart, and the thunder rolled away toward the south, the lone rider finally turned and slowly headed back toward the Dripping Springs road, letting his horse pick his way through the myriad of little streams racing down the trail. Yellow Boy turned to me and said, “Vamonos. Hombrecito, bring horse and Sally to shed.”

  CHAPTER 32

  MEAT FOR THE LION

  I made my way back up the canyon. It was tricky business because there were gushing rivulets everywhere, pouring toward the big wash that ran on the south side of the canyon. The paint and Sally were soaked but no worse off than I was. We returned to the shed without drowning in the big wash or falling on slippery rocks, and I gave them an extra ration of oats. Rufus had the fire going and had swept most of the water that had blown through the open door out by the time I got back. He fumbled around for the fixings and finally got a pot of coffee started.

  Yellow Boy sat on the edge of the porch calmly smoking one of his Mexican cigars. I walked over and sat down next to him. He clasped my shoulder, gave it a little shake, and said, “So, Hombrecito, Rufus say you open un grande box of trouble, si? Es bueno. You have brave heart. You did powerful thing against this man, Stone. I am proud. You have warrior’s heart. Soon, we take enemies’ lives por su padre. This we must do pronto or die by hand of this man who comes like hunting lion.”

  I nodded and wondered how it was that the strongest purposes of our hearts often had the weakest outcomes in action, while the weakest had the most profound effects on our lives. This had been my first lesson in being careful what I asked for because I might just get it.

  Soon Rufus brought the coffeepot and three enamel cups out to the porch and poured us each a cup of his strong, black brew. The stars came out and fog rose from the ground, swirling about our feet like smoke from a dying fire. Crickets began their orchestra. The danger had blown through; the strong wind filled with uncertainty had gone up the canyon until the next storm.

  I had to blow the steam off my cup and slurp loudly to make the hot liquid cool enough to drink. Rufus and Yellow Boy just smacked their lips and drank it scalding hot. They never taught me how they did that.

  Rufus said, “Well, boys, what’re we a-gonna do? The fat’s in the fire now, ain’t it? I say we ambush ’em on the road somewhere, just the way they did Henry and his daddy. That there’d be poetic justice.”

  Yellow Boy frowned and asked, “Que es poetek justez, Rufus?”

  Rufus grinned over the steaming cup and shook his head. “Never mind. It’d take the rest of the night fer me to explain it to ye.”

  Yellow Boy asked, “How many we fight, Rufus?” I knew his tactical mind was at work as soon as he asked this.

  Rufus thought for a minute and said, “Well, they’s the two big ones, Stone and Tally. Tally is the one with the red beard. Then they’s Bentene, and I want the pleasure of guttin’ that son of a bitch myself fer the pistol-whippin’ he give me. They’s three that always rides with Tally, and they was three with Stone and Bentene the other night. I reckon they’s maybe nine we haffta to take care of. Henry, did you know any of the other riders tonight?”

  I shook my head.

  Yellow Boy blew a puff of smoke that hung in the cool night air like a small cloud that had stayed behind from the storm. “Where are ranches of Stone, Tally, and Bentene? You know, Rufus?”

  “Shore I know. Stone’s place is down towards the malpais and up against the San Andres. Bentene’s place is next to Stone’s, but Bentene ain’t got much of a place. He’s mostly Stone’s partner. I hear Tally stays the winters with Stone then rides the train with his crew up to Wyoming country to murder homesteaders. I’s surprised to see him here tonight. Stone musta sent fer him all the way up to Wyoming. Stone and Bentene’s supposed to be up in the Sacramentos now, looking fer more places with water to run their stock during the summertime. Stone ain’t been doing too good lately with his stock, though. They say Lee’s been a-tryin’ to buy him out, but that there is another story. Why do ye wanna know?”

  Yellow Boy’s eyes narrowed to match the coyote grin on his face. “Hmmph, you know why, Rufus. Mountains are good place for ambush like wolf hunting deer. Ranch house is good place por ambush when enemy sleeps there. If we asleep when Red Beard come, he kill us, si? Meat for wolf is meat for lion. What kills for Red Beard kills for us tambien. Stone and Bentene are in mountains now, pero they come back to ranch house. First, we find Shoots Today Kills Tomorrow. Maybe find it at Bentene’s ranch. We take back while Stone and Bentene are in mountains, and camp on Sierra Blanca in my land. No man think we use reservation to hide.”

  Rufus was grinning and nodding. I could tell he liked this plan, and so did I. Yellow Boy continued, “We go once more to Stone and Bentene ranches. Maybe burn. Maybe kill, si? Or maybe ambush on road. What you think, Rufus?”

  Rufus thought about Yellow Boy’s proposal for a few minutes and said, “Aye, God, Yellow Boy, I wouldn’t want ye fer an enemy. We’ll rest ye and the paint tonight and most of tomorrow. Then we’ll take the path Henry used, go over Baylor Pass tomorrow evenin’, and go off to the east of Cox’s place. We’n lay low in the Jarillas day after tomorrow then hit Stone’s and Bentene’s places fer Lil’ David that night. I got all the supplies we need. We need to git outta here purdy quick, though. The Tally bunch’ll probably burn the place tomorrow night anyhow. If’n we get those bastards, Henry can go back to his mama. If we don’t, he ain’t gonna be goin’ nowheres. Ain’t that right, Henry?”

  I nodded. I had to clench my teeth to hold my cup steady I was so excited. Rufus and Yellow Boy laughed. I knew they understood what I was feeling. Things were happening much faster than any of us had imagined. They couldn’t happen fast enough for me. I didn’t care if I was fourteen years old. I wanted blood. I wanted it right then. I wanted to see my father’s enemies choking on their own blood just like he had. Most of all, I wanted to see my mother and tell her I had settled accounts for Daddy.

  Yellow Boy disappeared down the trail toward the back of the canyon. He found a place to sleep the rest of the night and most of the next day in a juniper thicket close by the back cliffs.

  The next day Rufus got me up at daylight. We worked our tails off right up until the time we left, late in the afternoon. His mine, the place where he stored his valuables, was about halfway up the path to the back of the canyon. I had been in it only once or twice since he had first showed it to me.

  It was dry in the mine despite the hard rain we had the night before. After he opened the door, he took a stick and beat around inside to be sure there weren’t any snakes that had staked a claim to his territory. He found one and tossed it, twisting and rattling, outside. He had me lug stuff from the shed and his shack up to the mine while he rode over to Van Patten’s place to buy a pack mule and a horse and to ask Buck Greer to keep Cody and keep an eye on the place while he was gone. Buck had become right fond of Cody when Rufus told him that tall tale about a wild bitch coming to court him.

  When Rufus returned, he gave me the horse he’d bought from Buck. I liked her as soon as I saw her. He said Buck called her Midnight, and she was the first horse I’d ever owned. She was small, black, and shiny as tar, and she had a white blaze on her face. I watered her and curried her while we got acquainted. She was a friendly little horse and got along well with Sally.

  Rufus said, “Buck says she’ll never win any flat land races, but a man could ride her right over the Rabbit Ears, and she’d never miss a step. He wanted to know
why I wanted a horse when I had Sally. Told him I was gonna do some cattle drovin’ and prospectin’ down to Mexico, and Sally was just getting’ too durn slow fer them thangs, which ain’t true, but it was a good enough reason fer Buck.”

  Rufus pointed to the pack mule he’d bought and said, “That there mule answers to Elmer. Buck swears by him, too. Says he even lets some of the fancy-pants tourists that come over to the Drippin’ Springs Reezort take him fer a ride ’cause he’s so reliable and gentle.”

  We led Midnight and Elmer up to the storage mine. Rufus dug around inside for a while before he came out with an old, dust-covered McClellan saddle, a rough saddle blanket, and an army bridle. He wiggled his nose and said, “I ain’t used this rig since I done a little scoutin’ fer the army back to ’sixty-eight. Reckon it’ll be easier sittin’ than bareback, but not much.”

  I was thrilled. I was going to be riding across the desert, just like the troopers back when Daddy led men against the Apaches and bandits. Rufus went back in the mine again, banged around some more, and came out with a pack frame for the mule. Then he sent me to fill a small keg he’d found with water. After some more rummaging, he found a case of ammunition for Little David and cases of .45-caliber and .44-caliber cartridges that fit his and Yellow Boy’s rifles and his revolver. He threw the coffeepot, a skillet, his Dutch oven, some eating pans, spoons, beans and cured meat, coffee, flour, and grain for the horses and mules into some old, worn-out panier sacks that went on the pack frame. He also packed his medical kit, odds and ends to use around a camp, and herbs he used for everything from snakebite to constipation.

  Yellow Boy appeared at the shack in mid-afternoon. He yawned and stretched as Rufus gave him the last of the breakfast beans from the pot left hanging over the fire. When he finished eating, he went down to the shed, sat in the watering pool for a little while, and bathed. He finally got out and shook himself to get most of the water off his skin and out of his hair. He sat drying himself in the air as the sun began falling behind the Floridas. Dry and clean, he twisted his breechcloth to wring the water out, slipped it on, then helped us load up the mule and saddle the horses.

  CHAPTER 33

  THE BEST DEFENSE

  Before we mounted, Rufus showed Yellow Boy the cases of cartridges and told him to help himself when he needed ammunition. Yellow Boy nodded, looked at Rufus solemnly, and said, “Is war, Rufus.”

  “Ye’re damned right it is. We’re gonna kill those bastards, or I ain’t comin’ back here alive. I done kept this boy from his mama too long and put up with those bastards a-whuppin’ my head fer too long. Hell, yes they’s gonna be war, and they ain’t a-gonna see it comin’ till they’s a big hole right ’tween their eyes.”

  Yellow Boy stared at him for a few seconds and said, “Bueno, Rufus. We make Albert Fountain rest in peace. Vamonos, amigos.”

  We made some final adjustments to the pack on Elmer and the saddle gear, took a last look around, and mounted up. The shadows were long in the desert, and the day slowly drifted into soothing dark as Yellow Boy led us up over Baylor Pass. Buck was right. Midnight was easy to ride and sure-footed as we cantered down the trail. Her steady gait made me less fearful that I would embarrass myself riding her in front of Rufus and Yellow Boy, for I hadn’t spent more than a few days on a horse or mule in the six years since Daddy’s murder. I’d just run most of the time, as Yellow Boy had demanded of me.

  Now traveling was easy, and the McClellan saddle felt like a rocking chair compared to pounding the ground with my feet. We stopped a couple of times early on for Rufus to rearrange the gear on Elmer so it couldn’t be heard rattling around as he trotted along, but then we hurried because we wanted to be well beyond Van Patten’s ranch before Tally and his men came back. We rode, strung out over about two hundred yards, with Yellow Boy in the lead, me in the middle, and Rufus in the back leading Elmer.

  There was nothing but deep, black shadows and bright stars overhead, but Yellow Boy rode the trail as if it were daylight, and we made good time. As we neared the top of Baylor Pass, he turned and galloped back past me, stopped to speak briefly with Rufus, then disappeared into the inky, black shadows of the Organs.

  Midnight had her ears up in curiosity, as we waited for Rufus to ride up. He nodded back down the trail and said, “Ol’ Yellow Boy’s a-gonna ride back to the shack and keep watch down the trail fer Stone. We’re a-gonna wait fer him at Aguirre Springs on the other side of this here pass and give these animals a breather ’cause they ain’t used to runnin’ up and down these here mountains like ye are.” His little backhanded compliment made me smile.

  We followed the trail over Baylor Pass, carefully picking our way, until a big, yellow moon finally popped up over the Sacramentos and made the trail easy to see on the way down to the springs. It was so bright we stayed in the shadows from bushes where no one could see us, even if they were coming toward us on the trail.

  As we neared Aguirre Springs, I saw Rufus stop, pull his Winchester out of its scabbard and lever a round into the chamber while he waited for me to come up.

  “What’s the matter?” I whispered.

  “They’s big cats in these here mountains, and they might wanna use that spring to get a little water and maybe get a little dinner from some idjits dumb enough to be stumblin’ around in the dark. They’s also the chance there might be some fellers camped in there. Here, ye take the lines fer Sally and Elmer. I’ll walk in. Ride in behind me slow and easy. If any of the animals start acting up, it’s likely they’s probably smelling a cat or a camp’s horses and mules. Ye whistle in yore hands like a dove if that happens, then ride back up the trail a ways until I come get cha.”

  I nodded. I was scared. A mountain cat was big enough to carry me off or kill the horses and mules. I didn’t have a weapon except for the throwing knife Yellow Boy was teaching me to use. Right then, a knife didn’t seem like much of a defense.

  Rufus disappeared down the path into the springs, and I followed slowly, my fast breathing leaving a little cloud of vapor behind us. Midnight, Sally, and Elmer moved along with no signs of fear. We found water from the springs running down the mountain in a little stream, but we found no mountain cats or campers. Rufus put his rifle on safety, spat a stream of brown juice between his boots, and said, “I ’spec Yellow Boy will be another two or three hours. Let’s loosen the cinches on Sally and yore horse, take the load off Elmer, and get us some rest. Yellow Boy’s a-gonna want to move soon’s he gets here. We need to be in the Jarillas before dawn, or, likely as not, ranch hands will spot us.”

  We hobbled the stock so they could graze around the little stream and found us a big, smooth boulder to rest against while we watched back up the trail for Yellow Boy. It was chilly that time of night, but the water rippling over the rocks and the moon glowing over the Sacramentos made the evening mighty pretty and peaceful.

  We sat in silence for a while, watching the moon sail across the night sky toward the western horizon, lengthening the stark, black shadows cast by the bushes, but bending them away from us. Rufus cut a fresh chew and stuffed it in his cheek. Then he nodded toward me and asked, “Are ye fearful, Henry?”

  “I never really thought about being afraid,” I said, trembling partly from cold air and partly from the trip’s excitement. “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Rufus spat and said, “Well, sir, ye’ve been a-hidin’ now fer about six years. Here ye are, a-runnin’ around in the desert with un old fart an’ un Apache. Ol’ Red Tally, he’d just as soon cut yore throat as look at ye, and ye can bet he’ll do it, too, if he has the least chance. Stone, he’s got to have ye dead because he knows if ye ever talked to the law, the sheriff’d come get him, and he’d be swingin’ from a gallows shore as hell. That jackass Bentene, he just does what Stone tells him, so he’ll want to kill ye, too. If’n that ain’t bad enough, they probably got fifteen or twenty trusted cowboys that’d ride through hell with ’em, and they’d not hesitate to try to run ye right into the ground if they�
�s the chance. They’s comin’ after ye, and here ye are, by God, a-goin’ after them.” Rufus put a hand on my shoulder and said, “That there is yore best defense. Wisht I could say it’ll be that easy, son, but these here hombres are gonna be hard snakes to kill. Comprende?”

  “Yes, sir, I do, and that’s enough to make me right fearful. I just know it’s something I’ve got to do. If they kill me, then at least I can rest easy knowing I did the best I could to make things right for Daddy. Ain’t nobody gonna care if I’m killed except you or Yellow Boy ’cause everybody else thinks I’m dead.” I balled up my fists and said, “Somehow, someway, I’m gonna get Little David back. I’m gonna try again and again, if I have to, until Stone’s lying on the ground with a bullet hole through his heart. Then it’s gonna be Tally’s turn, ’cept I’m gonna stake him out over a slow fire and boil his guts in his own juices like Yellow Boy says the Apaches did to the enemies they hated most. I’m gonna settle my score with Bentene, too, and I’m gonna finish with Oliver Lee. He’s gonna suffer for what he ordered those killers to do.”

  The more I talked, the angrier I got. It was slowly seeping into my head that we were aiming to kill three or four men, all of them with nerves of steel, used to facing death, and not afraid of being killed. None of them would hesitate to kill any of us in an instant, but I didn’t care. I wanted payback.

  “I hate ’em,” I said. “I want to tear their hearts out while they’re still living and dance on their graves.”

  Rufus sat there for a while, looking at me in the soft glow of the moonlight. A little stream of tobacco juice trickled out of the wad in his cheek. Finally, he said, “God, A’mighty, Henry. I didn’t know you’d gotten so bloodthirsty. When did that happen?”