El Paso Way (14 page)

“To God and to passion,” the rancher said. “May both be with you to the end.”

All drank from their goblets. Enrique grimaced at the bitterness, as he had never tasted wine before, but he liked the warm feeling it suddenly gave him.

Benjamin prayed over the meal and they ate a great feast. Enrique could not recall ever having so much, or having food that tasted so good. Sure, part of that was hunger, but the food was still immaculately prepared. Not the priest, or even his mother, had ever prepared such a grand meal.

* * *

Enrique could not remember a morning where he had felt so much at peace, or such unwavering confidence. Like any normal man, he at first questioned how he could have such a feeling. Just like the horses that Benjamin had given them, and the many supplies, weapons, and foodstuffs, the feeling was overwhelmingly abundant. They were making a new start on this journey better equipped than they had ever been.

Pang had his normal morning routine in the wilderness, with breathing and stretching exercises, and when he was done, he spent a few minutes saying good-bye to Mun Lo. Dutton wasted no time preparing his horse and packing his goods, and while he waited on the others, he watched a young
vaquero
train a horse.

Just as the sun made its appearance, Benjamin came out on the front porch of his ranch home and into the courtyard. His foreman stood at his side, and all of the maids and servants behind him. Benjamin shook each of their hands, and when he shook Enrique's, he grabbed it with the other hand as well and held it tight. “I'll be praying for you, son.”

Enrique nodded and tipped his hat to all the servants, then mounted his horse. It was not the same bay mare that he'd ridden the day before, but a younger sorrel that the foreman said would handle the trail and the chase.

He nudged it forward, and the others followed. He wasn't sure how long it would be before they picked up Valdar's trail, but it really didn't matter. All he knew was that once the horses were warm they would lope until they found it, and until then all they had to do was head southeast. Southeast to El Paso.

Mulcov the Russian

All the years that Enrique had dreamed about this journey he had always envisioned it being with his grandfather. The details were simple; they would ride out, find Valdar and the renegades, see them, kill them, and all would be over. But now the harsh reality of the pursuit had set in. Ever since they left the mission, there had been obstacles, both human and natural, that interfered and challenged the will to carry on. Enrique was thankful for the wisdom of the priest, who'd taught him about the need for patience. If not for the priest, Enrique would have often been impulsive and not waited for the right moment. This was proven true when Pang came into his life, and when they met Sheriff Dutton, Geronimo, and the good rancher Don Benjamin.

Enrique nosed the sorrel dead east now. He looked back occasionally to check on his friends. How different they all looked now. Dutton stayed with his Anglo cowboy gear—a felt hat, placket shirt and neckerchief, and chaps for the brush. Pang wore the clothes of a Mexican—a wide sombrero and a waist-length
chaqueta
with matching
pantalones
, the cuffs tucked inside his knee-high boots. Though he also wore a sombrero, Enrique stuck with his traditional
serape
and cotton
pantalones
.

They came to a knoll dotted with barrel cactus, yucca, agave, and fluff grass, around which a trail led to a lowland stream. The horses could smell the water, and the sorrel tried to pick up its pace, but Enrique would not enter a foreign area too swiftly, especially one of higher and greener grasses, with contents below unknown.

They found a bend in the stream where the water pooled, and figured it to be the best place to let the horses drink and to fill their canteens. Enrique checked the water first to make sure it wasn't poisoned with alkali, and nodded to the others to bring the horses ahead.

Once they had had their fill and a good rest, they continued on for more than three hours following the stream, which meandered south; then they found the trail to Hachita that Don Benjamin had told them about. It was a trail first made by Spaniards and kept in use by ranchers and miners and now mostly the people of Hachita. It was a trail that Valdar wouldn't take, but a good one for them to gain ground and a better chance at meeting him in El Paso.

Dusk was upon them, and Enrique mentioned the idea of camping for the night.

“Good idea,” Dutton said, already dismounting. “Always good to camp near water in these parts.”

Pang, the tireless one, stayed mounted and peered east down the trail. Enrique patted him lightly on the knee. “I know,
mi amigo
. We will start out again bright and early.”

“There is still an hour of daylight. We could get that much further at least.”

“In this land we cannot deny the gift of water. We must take advantage of it. Who knows when we will find it again?”

Pang kept looking down the trail, but he gave in to the wisdom of his friend and dismounted. He gave the reins to Dutton, who took both horses to a mesquite bush and tied them up. He unsaddled Pang's horse for him, too, since the Chinaman never seemed to catch on when it came to gearing up or gearing down his mount.

After unsaddling his horse and giving it some grain, Enrique walked down to the stream with his canteen in hand. He knelt before the shore, laid his sombrero down, pulled the cap, and dipped the canteen into the cool, glistening water. He adored the sound of rippling water, and it brought back several memories of his life along the Santa Cruz, during those first few days following a rain. He listened closely, watching the motions of the current and the cascading light, offering back his own distorted reflection. Such moments of peace seemed few as he grew older, and he wondered why. He could almost hear the laughing voices of children playing in the water, like the ones near Tucson. As he smiled at the thought, he suddenly realized that he wasn't imagining those voices.

He stood slowly, looked across the river, and saw movement. A smile came to his face when he saw Sereno, but then he noticed that Sereno had a serious look about him and quickly vanished.

He heard the voices again and looked farther downstream, but he saw nothing humanlike that could make such sounds. He capped the canteen and walked along the shore. He came to a bend with rich grama grasses and reeds as tall as his chin. As he peered around the bend, the voices of laughter grew louder, and their source came vividly into view and froze Enrique without a breath.

They were his age, he supposed, standing thigh-deep in the water washing each other, laughing and sharing conversation. One stood behind the other, cupping her hands and lifting water up on the other's back and shoulders. The other washed her own front by reaching down and lifting water to pour over her head, face, and breasts.

Enrique had rarely thought about women sexually, and when he did it was usually during trips to Tucson with the priest. The priest would warn him to be cautious of the girls in the city. They would lure you into a trap and you'd find yourself without a heart or a home. He trusted the priest completely, and he did as he said, but it still didn't stop him from looking. Point was, this was the first time he'd ever seen women naked.

They weren't particularly pretty, like some of the women he'd seen. The one behind stood a good three inches taller than the other, and she was slender and very dark-skinned. Her long black hair was slick and wet and draped over her shoulder, partially covering her breasts. The other was more voluptuous with larger breasts and hips, and her skin and hair lighter like that of an Anglo.

Enrique was not sure what to do at the moment, but his natural male curiosity drove him to get closer for a better look. He stepped back into the grass and hunched low as he crept forward. The coolness of the water seeped in through the soles of his boots. He took several steps, hearing their voices grow louder and louder, and he could faintly see them through the reeds.

He came to a point where he thought he was close enough and parted the reeds with both hands for a better look. But what he saw most of was not the women, but the long neck of a blue heron, which after it saw him, leapt into the air and whisked its wings into an alarming flight. Enrique fell backward, making a loud splash into the water, and the laughing voices of the women ceased.

“
Dios mío!
” Enrique said, under his breath, his buttocks and elbows deep under the water.

He decided to try and crawl out, and as he rolled around, a water snake slithered through the grass near his arm. He stood abruptly and yelled, but the harmless snake, as scared as he was, headed out to the stream.

His alarm became their alarm, and the women screamed at his sight, covering their breasts and high-stepping out of the stream. When they made it to shore, they ran faster away from him, toward a lean-to shelter farther upstream.

When they left his view, Enrique could hear their frightened voices, and suddenly another figure appeared. He was a large, pale man with a completely bald head, large bushy eyebrows, and wearing a long white cotton robe and thong sandals. He marched downstream in long strides, head high pursuant to whatever the women had reported to him.

Enrique still stood, as frozen as he was when he had first seen the women, yet now dripping wet and afraid in a peculiar sort of way.

“Who goes there?” the man shouted from across the stream.

Enrique could not gather the words to respond.

“Who are you and what is your business?”

“I am sorry,
señor
. I didn't mean to frighten anyone. I was just filling my canteen.”

The man got as close as he could without getting into the water and studied Enrique with ice-blue eyes. “Ah, a Mexican. And a wet one at that. Besides filling your canteen, what is your business near my river?”

“I am Tohono O'odham, not Mexican, and I am traveling,
señor
. To El Paso, with two others. They are behind me on the trail.”

The man's intent eyes never blinked. “El Paso, eh?”

“Sí, señor
.
”

Suddenly and without warning the man smiled and belched a hearty laugh. “I guess you filled your eyes as well as your canteen, eh,
Papago
?”

Enrique looked away, embarrassed.

“Come,” the man said, waving his arm. “Take a break from your travels and join me for supper. Bring your friends!”

Enrique could hardly turn him down, but he feared the embarrassment he would feel seeing the women again. He supposed that his embarrassment was just punishment for his lust. The priest had warned him about it, but at least all he did was look. Touching the premarital flesh was something that the priest warned would bring dire consequences, and something Enrique was certain he would not do.

Dutton liked the idea of a hot meal and agreed to the invitation, and though cautious, Pang made no objection as well. Enrique thought it best not to mention what had happened with the women, mostly out of fear of what kind of questions they would ask him.

The men took their horses and gear across the stream to the canvas lean-to and were greeted by a jovial host. A dozen chickens, ducks, and geese walked about near the dwelling.

“Ah, we have a trio of trailblazers! Welcome! Welcome to my humble home!”

Dutton walked up close to Enrique and whispered in his ear. “For a fat feller he's sure got a lot of fire under his robe.”

Enrique sighed and continued on.

“My name is Mulcov,” the man said. Almost every time he talked, he ended with a laugh. Sometimes a little chuckle, other times with one all the way from the bottom of his big stomach.

Enrique introduced his companions and himself.

“Such a variety you are! Come, come inside and rest your weary feet.”

The lean-to leaned against a large, rocky mass that jutted out from a hill next to the stream. Enrique had seen his share of such dwellings, but none this large. It was as wide as the nave of the mission and half as long. White canvas made the roof and sides and was rolled up in the front and tied off. A rug covered most of the floor area, the rest pruned of all vegetation and brushed clean with a broom. A rough-hewn table stood near a center support pole made of pine from the mountains. A lantern hung on the pole, shedding just enough light to attract biting insects. Mulcov lit several candles. Enrique kept looking around for the women.

Mulcov asked the visitors to sit. Several empty wooden kegs were positioned upside down around the table. Their host sat with them on the end and rubbed his hands together vigorously, his blue eyes gleaming.

He raised his hands and clapped them twice loudly. “Woman! Bring us drink!”

In walked the shorter of the two women. Dutton quickly removed his hat and rose from his seat. Enrique swallowed and fidgeted on his. At least she wasn't naked this time. Now she wore a
huipil
and moccasins. The woman set a clear bottle on the table, with a label printed in a language Enrique had never seen. She opened a trunk and pulled out four glass goblets and brought them to the table as well. She made no eye contact with any of them. Not even Mulcov.

“Now, go bring the tamales.
Andale!
” Mulcov shooed her away with his hand, then looked to his guests with a broad smile. “Ah, it's so nice to have guests!” he said, pouring them each a drink and setting the goblets in front of them. “I am so happy that I will share with you my best vodka from the home country. And my favorite tamales, like they make in the Yucatan.”

After all the drinks were poured, Mulcov held his head up high. “As they say here in the Americas,
salud!
”

He didn't wait on them, but drank all of his in one swallow. Dutton tipped his back confidently and after swallowing stretched his mouth and wiped his lips with his fingers.

Pang lifted his goblet slowly and sniffed. He turned up his nose and peered at Enrique. Enrique shrugged and looked down into the glass.

“Bottoms up, lads!” Mulcov shouted. “Drink like that shapes the man and stirs the gods!”

Enrique took a large swallow and came back choking. Pang tried his as well, with similar results.

All the drama drew a belly laugh from Mulcov. “It gets better, gentlemen. The tamales will be made special for you tonight, with sweet brown beans and corn and, as a treat,
pollo
.”

Enrique liked tamales, but he hadn't had them in years. It was a traditional food made mostly by the people of the Mayan culture, but passed on to the Mexican generations as well. He wasn't sure how different tamales from the Yucatán would be, but when the slender young woman, also wearing a
huipil
, came in with them steaming on a tray, he realized that they were much larger than any tamale he'd ever seen.

“Ah, how grand!” Mulcov said, unwrapping the corn husks and diving right in.

Enrique made the cross over his chest, then took a tamale from the tray. He untied the corn husk and unfolded it. They were prepared beautifully and tasted just as good as they looked. The woman who'd prepared them knew what she was doing.