Land of the Free (18 page)

“Wait a minute,” Marina
complained. “I have to put my leggings on.”

“I’ll go check on our men
while you do.” He climbed out and looked around until his eyes
adjusted to the glare, then crossed the hard packed snow on the
roof to another hatch. The other members of his party were sharing
five interconnecting rooms. Each room was about the same size as
the room that he and Marina occupied. He pulled open the trapdoor
and climbed down the ladder finding the room unexpectedly vacant
and empty. Puzzled, he crawled into the next apartment and found it
empty too. With growing concern, he examined all five rooms then
climbed the ladder again and emerged to the roof as Marina was
closing the trapdoor to their apartment. “They’re not
there.”

“What’s not there?” she
asked.

“The men. Our men. They’re
all gone.”

“Who’s on guard?”

“No one. They’re all
gone.”

“They left the weapons
unguarded?”

“The weapons are gone
too.”

“All of them?” Her voice
conveyed her alarm.

Yank had walked to the
parapet and was looking down at many tracks in the snow. “There’s
been a lot of activity while we slept.”

She came to stand beside him
and gasped. “It looks like an army passed through here.” She looked
around then down again. “No ladders.”

Yank turned to look up at
the pueblo. “I don’t see anyone. Could they have all left for some
reason?”

“The ladders are all up.”
She walked closer, cupped her hand and shouted a greeting in Tiwa.
When there was no answer, she tried again. After her third attempt,
an old man appeared and shouted something, waving at her with a
shooing motion. She shouted back.

“What’s going on?” Yank
asked.

“The medicine man is telling
us to go away and I’m telling him we won’t go until I speak to
Sioux Woman.”

“I don’t
understand.”

“Neither do I, that’s why I
want to talk to her. It’s plain that he’s not going to tell us
what’s happened, but I think she will.”

After a continued exchange
of angry words, the old man disappeared from the upper parapet and
was soon replaced by a young woman.

As Marina conversed with the
woman, Yank walked across the roof, examining the tracks in the
snow.

“It was Spanish soldiers.”
Marina was running toward him.

He pointed at some marks in
the snow. “The sound you heard wasn’t someone sweeping snow off the
roof, it was someone being dragged.”

“Is that blood?” she
gasped.

“Yes.” He looked toward the
upper levels but the Sioux woman was gone. “Did she tell you why
the Spaniards didn’t take us?”

Marina shook her head. “She
asked me that very question. The people here thought that we had
all been taken.”

“The Spaniards must have
just overlooked our trapdoor,” he said.

“What should we
do?”

“Well, it’s clear that our
Indian friends won’t risk their skins for us and sooner or later
someone in our party will tell the Spaniards that we’re here, so…”
He shrugged.

“We run.”

“No, we find a better place
to fight.”

“We’ve got two pistols and
two ammunition pouches, no food or warm clothes.”

He nodded. “That sums it up
nicely. Where would the Spaniards take our men?”

“There’s a little log
stockade with two or three cabins inside about halfway through the
canyon. They use it in the summer time.” She looked thoughtful.
“They must have gotten stranded there by the early snow and came
here to get provisions.”

“And your friends gave us
up.”

“They’re not my friends.
They traded us shelter for beef. There was no discussion about them
risking their lives to protect us.”

“You certainly are
protective of these damned people,” he said angrily.

“All these people want is to
live in peace and the white man keeps disturbing it.”

“Bah. Let’s get
moving.”

“How do we get down? They’ve
taken all the ladders.”

“We’ll pull up the ladder
from our quarters. Come and help me.”

“I cannot until I relieve
myself.”

“Then do it,” he
snapped.

“Here?”

“Marina.”

“Very well. But I cannot
simply raise my skirt and aim over the parapet as you
can.”

“Marina,” he repeated in
frustration. “It is only a matter of time before one of our men
tells the Spaniards that we’re here. When that happens, the
soldiers will come back.”

“Why would anyone tell
them?”

“The Spaniards are known
worldwide as experts in torture.”

“Why would they torture our
men?”

“Marina,” he
bellowed.

“All right,” she complained.
“Shouting seems a bad idea with an enemy nearby.”

~

Marina was shaking the
branches of a conifer, causing small nuts to rain from the cones
among the branches onto the snow.

“What are these?” Yank asked
as he began to gather them.

“Pinions.” She popped one in
her mouth, cracked it and spit out the shell.

Yank tried but ended up with
a mouthful of shell.

“Until you master it, crack
the shell with your teeth and pull it apart with your fingernails.”
She took off her gloves, opened one and gave him the meat of the
nut.

“Umm. Those are good but
there’s not much to them.”

“They’re plentiful and
nutritious. We could live all winter on nothing else, if necessary.
That little stream will have crawfish in it. They’re delicious
boiled.”

He glanced back over his
shoulder. “We need to keep moving.”

“Why?”

“To catch the Spanish
soldiers,” he replied in surprise.

“What’s the hurry? I told
you where they’re going.”

“They’re Spaniards,” he
argued. “They’ll torture and kill our men – our
friends.”

“I’ve been thinking about
that,” she said. “Perhaps the officers in Albuquerque would, but I
believe the detachment that captured them will keep them alive and
treat them reasonably well.”

“Exactly how did you arrive
at that conclusion?”

“It should be logical to a
military man that a patrol would be under orders to deliver
prisoners to the garrison.”

“So what are you
suggesting?”

“Nothing. I’m simply
pointing out that we needn’t hurry to catch the Spanish
soldiers.”

“I disagree.” He looked up
at the brilliant blue sky. “The sooner we catch them the
better.”

“Why?”

“Because I have no
confidence in your theory and I expect that the Spaniards will in
fact torture them.”

“So you and I alone will
rescue them?”

“Yes.”

“How do you propose to do
that?”

“I’m open to
suggestions.”

“I suggest that you shoot me
and then yourself and get it over with.”

He glowered at
her.

“The idea of you and I
attacking a Spanish stockade is suicidal. Why can’t you face the
reality of it?”

“Those are my men,” he
replied. “I cannot abandon them.”

She looked at the ridge to
their west. “How much money do you have?”

“I’m not sure.
Why?”

“Guess.”

“A hundred
dollars?”

“Gold and silver only. Paper
money is useless.”

“Fifty or sixty
dollars.”

“Not enough.”

“What are you
thinking?”

“There’s a trading post at
the mouth of the canyon that sells guns and ammunition.”

“So what? We can’t get there
until the spring thaw.”

“Our whole party with
weapons and provisions couldn’t, but you and I can easily climb
over this ridge and then follow a stream bed down to the trading
post.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. All we’d need is a day
or two of good weather like this. But guns are expensive out here
and sixty dollars won’t even buy a musket.”

“How far is it from the
trading post to Albuquerque?”

“Ten or fifteen miles.
Why?”

“I might be able to cash a
draft there.”

“This is not New York or
even New Orleans, John.”

“They have stores and other
businesses in Albuquerque, don’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Then they’ll have a bank
too.”

“It would take a month or
more for your draft to clear.”

“When will the pass be
open?”

She shrugged. “The snow pack
is fairly deep. Mid-March, I’d guess. Maybe sooner, maybe later. It
all depends on how much snow falls between now and
then.”

“It’s mid-December now. If
it took two months for the draft to clear we’d still have the cash
well before the pass is open.”

“So you admit that trying to
rescue our people now is reckless and foolish?”

“What do you want from me,
Marina?”

“I have to think about
that.”

December 19,
1804

Albuquerque, New Mexico
Territory

Yank and Marina had bought
the very best clothes that the trading post had to offer, resulting
in Yank looking like a riverboat gambler and Marina looking like a
floozy. Inspired by their appearances they had slipped into
Albuquerque at night then waited for the barge from El Paso del
Norte to arrive so they could blend with the passengers and ride
the horse-drawn trolley from the riverbank to the town.

Albuquerque was larger and
more modern than Yank had expected. The village was built around a
central plaza which was dominated by the San Felipe de Neri Church
on the southwest corner. The first trolley stop was in front of the
church to allow the travelers the opportunity to offer thanks for
their safe journey. Yank helped Marina down, then took her hand and
crossed the street to the plaza. “Are you sure you’re up to
this?”

She laughed. “All I have to
do is be myself. You’re the one who has to play a role.”

He bent down to examine one
of the many candles covered with small paper lampshades that
outlined the plaza. “What are these things?”

“They are called luminarias
or farolitos.”

“Do they have a
purpose?”

“No, but they have religious
significance at Christmas time.”

“Ah.” He stood up and
smiled. “Christmas. I had forgotten. Perhaps we can use that. Tell
me more about these candles.”

“There isn’t that much to
tell. They are believed to light the path for the Christ child and
a farolito is carried by the leader of the Posada
procession.”

“The what
procession?”

“The procession of Las
Posadas. It’s a holiday celebrated for nine days before
Christmas.”

“What does it mean? Las
Posadas?”

“It means the
inns.”

“Inns as in
hotels?”

She laughed. “Yes. The
procession of Las Posadas is a reenactment of Mary and Joseph
searching for a place where Jesus might be born.”

“Well that’s very
appropriate, considering the fact that we need a place to
stay.”

“It’s even more appropriate
than you could possibly imagine.”

He started to answer but
stopped, gaping. “Are you saying that…”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Late May or early June, I
think.”

He grinned then kissed her
on the mouth.

She blushed and looked
around to see if anyone was looking.

“Don’t worry about that,”
Yank laughed. “I’m a Virginia gambler and you’re an unfortunate
woman with whom I keep company. We’re expected to behave
badly.”

“Not in the Zócalo in front
of the church.” She took his arm and guided him toward a hotel on
the other side of the plaza. “As soon as I can bathe and get you
into a real bed, I’ll show you what bad behavior is.”

“I think I still have enough
gold to accomplish that.”

“How do we explain the fact
that we have no luggage?”

“It was left in El Paso del
Norte by mistake.”

“And what do we do for money
until the draft clears?”

“You picked a fine time to
start worrying.”

“I’ve had other things to
worry about until now. Do you have an answer to my
question?”

“I do indeed. We’ll play
poker and win enough to live on until the draft clears.”

“You may be dressed as a
gambler but that won’t turn you into a poker player,” she
giggled.