“I would like to think farmers and ranchers are more in tune with their surroundings than miners who rip minerals from the earth.”
“One would hope,” said Ramon. As they walked toward the town square, he looked at the shops and saloons, wondering if he would be able to find work. He looked down a side street and caught sight of the Mesilla Town Marshal’s office. Ramon knew he would make a good deputy. However, if word of his sudden departure from Socorro had reached this far south, he could find himself inside a cell rather than guarding one. In the end, he decided to stay clear of the marshal’s office until he had established himself as a good citizen of Mesilla.
They reached the town square and made their way around it, looking at the businesses and also seeing what lay down the side streets. At one corner of the square was a large building called the Corn Exchange Hotel, but it was tucked right between the courthouse and a saloon. Ramon and Fatemeh looked at each other and decided to continue their search without going inside.
A little further on, they spotted a respectable-looking rooming house down one of the side streets. It was a square, two-story adobe building with a wooden front porch and a carved sign proclaiming, “Castillo’s—Rooms for Rent.” Pots of flowers adorned the porch’s railings and a string of drying chilies hung alongside the door. Ramon led the way to the building.
As they approached, he noticed a sign tacked to one of the porch’s posts, apparently placed there by one of the local ranchers. “Five dollar reward for each lobo carcass,” it read.
“The ranchers must be having wolf problems,” Ramon said aloud. A flash of teeth, claws and fur crossed his memory and he frowned as he subconsciously rubbed old scars on his elbow, hidden by his shirt.
“That’s terrible.” Fatemeh sneered at the sign. “It’s not the wolves’ fault cattle are easy prey.”
“Five dollars would get us rooms for another night—it would be another bath.” Ramon continued to rub his arm. He inclined his head toward the gun at his back. “I’m a pretty fair shot. Maybe I can collect some of that bounty.”
Fatemeh’s eyes grew wide. “How dare you, Ramon! How could you even consider hunting wolves? I could never sleep in a bed that was paid for with such a bounty.” Her cheeks were flushed, both from the sun and her rising anger.
Ramon took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to release the memory of long-ago pain. Suddenly aware he was rubbing his arm, he stopped and held out his hands. “I’m sorry, Fatemeh, I should have known better.” …than to say anything. He left the last part unspoken.
“That’s right, Ramon Morales. There will be no more talk of hunting wolves.” She hitched her satchel more firmly onto her shoulder, then stormed through the door.
Ramon sighed and took one last look at the poster before he followed her in. Inside the door was a small room with a wooden counter. Behind it, keys were hung on brass hooks. Two green-upholstered chairs sat against a wood-paneled wall. Red tile covered the floor. One door led to a dining room and another led to a sitting room. Ramon thought it looked like a pleasant place to stay and hoped they would be able to afford even one night in this place.
A balding man with a bushy mustache and a blue, silk vest appeared at the sitting room door. “I’m Castillo. May I help you, Señor?”
Ramon nodded. “I hope so. We’d like to rent two rooms.”
Mr. Castillo smiled and quoted a price.
Ramon swallowed hard, but remembered the poster on the porch. “We’ll take it.”
Fatemeh tugged at Ramon’s sleeve. “We can’t afford that for more than two nights,” she whispered
“I know, but it’ll give us a place to stay while we look around.” He placed his saddlebags on the counter, so he could retrieve money to pay Mr. Castillo.
Later, while Fatemeh soaked in a bath, Ramon went to the sitting room. The room held a couch and four chairs, arranged so the occupants could speak to one another. The smell of cigar smoke clung to the chairs’ upholstery. A piano sat in one corner and there was a fireplace. Mr. Castillo pounded a nail into the wall. He reached down and retrieved a wooden clock. After hanging it, he inserted a key into a hole on the face and wound it. The clock began ticking and the gears within purred gently.
Ramon cleared his throat. “I was curious, who posted that sign on the porch?”
Mr. Castillo turned around. “Warren Shedd posted that sign. He owns the San Augustin Ranch up out of Las Cruces.” He pointed toward the sheer, rocky Organ Mountains to the northeast. “He runs cattle all around the base of the mountains, but those lobos come down and snatch the calves. It’s a real problem for him.”
Ramon thanked him for his time and soon afterward met Fatemeh for a very good supper of steak and beans prepared by Mrs. Castillo. Tired as she was, Fatemeh decided to go to bed right after supper. Ramon followed her upstairs and went into his own room. He was tired, too, but didn’t go to sleep. Instead he opened his pocket watch and waited for an hour to go by. Ramon quietly slipped out of the room and walked back toward the Mesilla Park and his horse. He rode toward the Organ Mountains. As the land rose, he found a grove of trees and a small stream that offered a good view of the valley beyond. Cattle grazed in the grass nearby. It seemed a good place to camp and watch for wolves.
Ramon found a hidden spot in a ring of rocks just at the edge of the little grove. There, he laid out his bedroll. Opening his rifle he aimed the barrel toward the moon and checked that there wasn’t too much powder buildup, then loaded a shell into the barrel so he’d be ready to fire without delay. He was determined to shoot a wolf, but tired as he was, he fell asleep instead.
He dreamed of a time when he was a child, running through a field on his way home from school. He saw two wolf pups wrestling with each other in the tall grass. Nearby, a mother wolf watched him. The young Ramon thought they were cute and wondered if he could pet the pups. Remembering his dad’s warnings to stay away from wild animals, he decided he should give them a wide berth. Just then, he felt a sharp pain and heard a loud snap.
He woke suddenly and realized the snap was a nearby twig. There was another sound as well—a strange whirring and buzzing, not unlike the soft sounds that came from Mr. Castillo’s clock.
Slowly, he reached for his rifle and turned toward the grove. The moon was high and there were deep shadows amongst the trees. His throat was parched and he wished he had time to take a drink from his canteen. However, he soon spotted movement. A lobo stepped from the shadows and strode confidently toward the cattle down the hill.
Ramon tried to swallow, but no saliva would come to his mouth. He thought he detected a flash of movement behind him, and quickly looked around. Not seeing anything amongst the rocks and deep shadows, he turned his attention back to the strange lobo that walked so brazenly in plain sight. Ramon thought a wolf would have been more cautious when stalking prey, but he was glad for its erect stance, and slow, steady stride. It was an easy target. He carefully aimed his gun at the wolf.
Just as Ramon started to squeeze the trigger, someone pushed the gun. His shot went wide, missing the lobo. Ramon cursed and turned, finding himself facing Fatemeh’s angry glare. “What are you doing out here? That animal doesn’t deserve to be shot just so you can have a few dollars.”
“It’s not about…” Ramon shook his head. Fatemeh would not understand. “We really could use the money.” He looked down, avoiding her gaze.
She sighed. “I know, but there are other ways.”
Ramon looked at the lobo. The gunshot had not spooked it. It strutted through the grove, ignoring its surroundings. It didn’t even seem to notice the strange clicking and whirring sounds—Ramon looked around, trying to figure out where they were coming from. When he looked back at the wolf, he saw it was headed straight for a rock. Surely it would turn before it got there, but no. It walked right into the rock and the most amazing thing happened. There was a bright flash of light accompanied by a loud popping. The top of the wolf’s head flew off and its body toppled
over sideways.
“What the hell?” Ramon scrambled out from his hiding place. Fatemeh followed close behind.
He reached the wolf and peered inside its head, expecting to find a bloody mess. Instead, the head was mostly empty and separated into two compartments. At the back of one of the compartments was a small, glass photographic plate. The other compartment held the charred remains of some kind of powder. The wolf’s eyes were lenses with black metal just behind them. Ramon reached in and felt around, then dragged the wolf’s body out into the moonlight where he could see better. It was much heavier than a wolf would be, as though most of the body was made from metal rather than skin or bones.
Fatemeh looked inside. “It’s like a camera.”
Ramon nodded. “There’s some kind of spring-loaded mechanism that lowers these metal contraptions just behind the eyes.” He pushed on a rod inside the wolf’s head and sure enough the metal plates lowered, which would, in turn, expose the glass plate at the back of the head to light—except that the plate had already been exposed when the top of the head was blown off.
“But what caused that bright flash of light we saw?”
“Flash powder,” said a voice from the trees.
Ramon and Fatemeh looked up as a figure strode out into the moonlight. He wore a tailored jacket with matching pants. His vest was red silk and he wore a cravat around his neck. For a guy out in the woods, he was immaculate. “I see you found my lobo.” Then he looked closer. “Its head blew off again. That’s very disappointing.”
“Who are you?” asked Fatemeh.
“Pardon my ill manners. I am Professor M.K. Maravilla of the Pontifical and Royal University of Mexico.” He bowed and kissed Fatemeh’s hand.
Fatemeh stood and dusted off her full, black skirt. “I am Fatemeh Karimi and this is my friend, Ramon Morales.”
Ramon stood up and extended his hand toward the professor, whose grip was somewhat light for the former sheriff’s taste. “I thought the Mexican Government closed down the university.”
“Ah, but they did,” said Maravilla with an air of sadness. He tugged on his elegant trousers as he squatted near the strange wolf with a camera in its head. “That is why I had to carry my researches north. I have been studying the Mexican Gray Wolf, trying to understand its behavior. I have been hoping to photograph wolves in the wild, see what they see when no people are around.”
Ramon’s eyes narrowed. The word maravilla was Spanish for marvel or wonder. “Is ‘Maravilla’ your real name?”
Maravilla snorted. “My name is as ‘real’ as yours, sir.” Then the corner of his mouth turned upward. “Although I’ll concede that it might not be the name I was born with. Under the circumstances, I believe a pseudonym is…prudent.”
Ramon pursed his lips and nodded. “So, what exactly is this contraption?”
The professor reached over and opened a small, concealed hatch on the wolf’s side. Inside were gears and pistons. “This machine is the result of years of work. I had the help of a taxidermist who preserved the skin of a wolf—one that died of natural causes, I might add.” He made a point of nodding toward Fatemeh. “The insides were built by a clockmaker and a photographer in Mexico City.”
Maravilla examined the insides of the strange clockwork lobo for a few minutes, then clapped his hands in delight. “Ah, but it has successfully taken some photographs.” He pointed to the head. “You see, it holds several of these small glass plates. I can set the clockworks in the lobo to take photos at different intervals. Each time a photo is taken, the plate is released into this compartment here.” He pointed to a door between the wolf’s shoulders.
“What’s the other compartment in the wolf’s head?” asked Fatemeh.
“A most ingenious invention,” declared the professor. “It is a reusable flash that allows the camera to work in dark places and take short exposures.” He shook his head. “But, as you can see, sometimes too much powder is released and boom!” He sighed and then stood. “What is it you two are doing out here at this late hour?” he asked at last.
“Camping,” said Ramon.
“Trying to find a way to keep the wolves from killing the cattle,” said Fatemeh at almost the same moment.
“Ah, you’re out to shoot lobos and collect the bounty,” said Maravilla, a little sadly.
“No!” said Fatemeh with a sudden shake of her head. “No, the wolves are only killing cattle because they’re easy prey. If we can get the wolves to seek out their natural prey—deer and rabbits—order will be restored and the ranchers won’t have need of a bounty.”
“That is possible,” said Maravilla, looking up.
Maravilla and Fatemeh moved over to the ring of rocks where Ramon had set up his campsite and continued their conversation. Ramon moved toward the grove of trees and gathered up some twigs and fallen branches. He thought about a wolf’s jaws clamping down on his arm when he was a child—about being dragged. As he brought the wood back toward the campsite he saw Fatemeh and the fancy Professor Maravilla sitting awfully close together. She was gazing into the professor’s eyes as their passionate conversation continued about the wolves. Ramon set about building a fire. Once it was going, he made a point of sitting on the other side of Fatemeh, as close as he could, but not so close that she would strike him with her arms as she spoke.
“It would be wonderful if we could introduce the wolves to their natural prey,” said Maravilla. “The only problem is, if the wolves can’t find easier prey than cattle, how can we?”
“That is easily solved,” said Fatemeh. She looked around the area and then moved a short ways off, towards the stump of a tree that had been felled by lightning. She made several short, sharp whistles and then listened quietly. She whistled again. A few minutes later, a little burrowing owl flew down and alighted on the tree stump. It chirped and whistled three times, then bowed to Fatemeh. She returned the almost courtly bow and whistled again. The owl gave several short, sharp chirps.
Professor Maravilla watched, his mouth agape. He turned to Ramon and whispered, “Is she really speaking to that owl?”
“I believe she is,” Ramon said almost reverently.
“She is truly a singular woman,” said Professor Maravilla. He straightened his silk vest, then ran his fingers over his petite, immaculately trimmed mustache, pushing any errant hairs in line.
The little owl flew off and Fatemeh turned back to the men. “About two and a half miles from here there’s a rabbit warren that’s getting overpopulated with the spring. The wolves haven’t discovered it yet, but I think they could be led there.”
“That would, indeed, be good prey for the lobos,” said Maravilla, standing. He reached out and took Fatemeh’s hand. “But tell me, good lady, how do you know this? Did you really speak to that owl?”
“Owls don’t speak. They chirp and whistle,” said Fatemeh. She pulled her hand back from Maravilla’s, but not before giving it a gentle squeeze. Ramon pursed his lips. She moved closer to the fire and held out her hands, warming them. She looked at Ramon and then looked at Professor Maravilla. “Can you repair your clockwork lobo by tomorrow night?”
“If I could have a little assistance in the afternoon,” said Maravilla with a slight bow at the waist. He gave Ramon and Fatemeh directions to his lodgings.
“Good,” said Fatemeh. “We’ll see you tomorrow at two. I have a plan.” She looked at Ramon. “Now help me douse this fire. There are perfectly good beds waiting for us in Mesilla and I for one am very tired.”
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Ramon slept in late the next day. He missed breakfast and Fatemeh had already gone out without leaving a note. Her plans had been to learn about the local doctors and curanderas—see if she could find one she could help. Barring that, she planned to find somewhere she could park her wagon and proffer her services, much as she had done in Socorro. Ramon worried she had gone to seek out Professor Maravilla. He looked down at his own trousers and shirt, shabby from the time on the road. Professor Maravilla
certainly cut a more striking figure and it was clear he was interested in her.
Fatemeh and Ramon had shared a few romantic moments. He was definitely under her spell, but feared his own quiet personality might be giving the wrong impression. Ramon worried she might not think he was sufficiently interested in her. He wondered if M.K. Maravilla would be able to steal her away from him. They certainly seemed to have similar interests and they were able to talk at length on the subject of lobos. Ramon rubbed his arm and thought about his own encounter with a wolf when he was young. He shook his head and tried to think about something else.
Ramon’s thoughts returned to Fatemeh. That gave him pause. He couldn’t deny he was falling in love with her. However, she was a Bahá’í—a religion from Persia he had never heard of before meeting her. He was a not-so-devout Catholic boy who didn’t know whether he believed enough to ask her to convert to his religion, but still feared being damned forever if he converted to hers. If their love grew, could he ask such a woman to marry him?
Ramon wiped his sweaty palms on the bedspread, dressed, and then went over to the General Store where he found some tortillas he could afford. After eating two of the tortillas, he took the rest back to his room and then asked the boarding house’s owner if he knew whether anyone around town was looking for hired hands.
“What are you good at?” asked Mr. Castillo, eyeing Ramon carefully.
Ramon took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he thought back. Before he was sheriff of Socorro, he had been a deputy. Before that, he had been a hand on his uncle’s farm. “I’m a hard worker,” he said at last. “I’m a good rider and I know something about law.”
“Do you have a degree?” asked Mr. Castillo.
Ramon shook his head.
Owl Dance Page 5
