John C. Horst's Blog, page 26

She hoped he would not see her trembling.

Gay Senorita ~ Gitane 1939 She knew now that she loved him completely. This was a man who did not take such things lightly. This was a man who’d not been with a woman for a long time, yet he was not weak. He did not jump on her like he was some rutting bull. He was a man who didn’t run with the whores and this is what made Maria love him all the more. He’d be a good one and now she felt vulnerable and silly, naked under the covers. She took a deep breath.  But it had to be. It had to be this way and she went forward. She played her silly game and went on.
“Ay, you are a fool, Pendejo.” She looked into his eyes and pouted her lips, like someone who had not gotten her way. She hoped he would not see her trembling. She lifted the covers and scooted away from him, making room for him in the bed. Maria tilted her head, beckoning him. Maria's Trail

Go to the whores, Maria. You don’t have to be one, but you need them.

Jesus Helguera Maria changed the thread and worked on Juana’s neck. She got some water and a rag and wiped the dried blood from her neck and face and arms. She got her a new dress and handed it over. Juana stripped down and threw her bloody outfit on the fire and, as it burned, the whole room lit up and got very warm. “Are you in heaven, Juana?”
“I guess so.” Juana looked herself over and then looked around the room. She found Maria’s old mirror, the one the old woman had given her. She looked into it to survey the work Maria had done on her neck and was satisfied. She turned the mirror over to Maria and regarded Maria’s reflection as they both gazed into it. “This is the only one you can rely on, Maria. Remember that.”
“Did the man who attacked us do this to you?”
“I don’t know.”
Juana stood up and brushed the back of her dress off. “Thanks, Maria. Your sewing looks good.” She looked as if she was preparing to go somewhere and Maria didn’t want her to leave. She suddenly thought of a question.
“What’s it like?”
“Oh, it didn’t hurt. I just …, just died.”
“No, no. What’s heaven like?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s nice. I don’t know, it’s more of a feeling, not like the world. I haven’t seen any people and I’m not tired or hungry. Just nice.”
“You’ve not seen Jesus then?”
Juana laughed out loud, as if it was a silly question. “Oh, no. None of that.” She began to drift away, away from the firelight and then stopped. “You can’t stay here, Maria. You can’t be alone. You’ll go mad.”
Maria looked at her. She felt desperate to say something, but she was becoming very sleepy and she couldn’t think of anything to say. She finally came up with some words. “Where will I go?”
“Go to the whores, Maria. You don’t have to be one, but you need them. You need them.” Then she was gone. Maria's Trail

But it angered her to be labeled as one of them. To Maria, being a whore was kind of like giving up, and she’d never, ever give up.

Jesus Helguera She bedded down in one of the little apartments looking west and watched the sun go down. It cooled off and she needed a blanket. She stared at the stars and thought a lot about where her life was heading. She was content to be alone; liked the adventure. She was pleased to meet the whores and was sad for them, as she possessed a primordial revulsion to prostitution. She was no prude and did not have disdain for it because of the implications of sin. She had decided that was just another of the silly rules created by the padre to keep everyone under the church’s control. No, it was the demeaning nature of it that she found so offensive. Many of the men who used whores were ugly about it. They did not treat the women with respect. There was no tenderness or love in any of it. And, added to the lack of respect and treatment of the women, she learned from Juana and the old man that many of the men brought horrible diseases to the whores. They, in turn, passed the diseases on and soon, many people were afflicted and eventually some died or were driven to madness.
She thought about the skinny woman in the cage. Who’d willingly put themselves in a cage? And she was there on display for all the world to see. Her most private part, set out like meat in a butcher’s window. It made her very sorry for the whores but she didn’t have disdain for them. She didn’t blame them. So many had to do it to survive, they had no other recourse.
But it angered her to be labeled as one of them. To Maria, being a whore was kind of like giving up, and she’d never, ever give up. She’d fight, scratch out a living, survive but she’d never resort to that. She loved making love but being a whore was not about making love. It was, to her mind, giving up a part of yourself, the most important precious part of you, the part that made babies, made life and it was just giving up and letting that part be poked and prodded and inoculated with diseases and degradation. She would never ever be a whore and she resolved that men who called her whore would pay for it one way or the other. Maria's Trail

“This is the United States Marine Corps, madam. We have no fun here.”

Jesus Helguera “What’s your name?”
“Sergeant Ramirez, but I’m called Top.”
“No, your Christian name.”
“Alonzo.”
“Alonzo. That’s a nice name. Why would they refer to you as a child’s toy? She knew the answer, but needed to tease him a little. He understood and would have smiled if it were in his nature, which it was not.
“I’m the top sergeant.” He regarded the many stripes on his uniform sleeve.
“Okay, Alonzo. What do you do for fun around here?”
He wanted to get back to work, then thought better of it. No wonder the Captain had been so distracted all these many days. “This is the United States Marine Corps, madam. We have no fun here.”
“Oh, come now, Alonzo. You’ve got to get the knots worked out somehow. What do you do, when you’re not doing this?” She looked down at the mountain of bureaucracy on his desk. It was an absurd collection of redundant paperwork. Paperwork that was vital to the operation of the military, the government, the machinations of a great serpent, monster that exists for the purpose of waiting to unleash a fury that may or may never be required. Hurry up and wait, hurry up and wait. And waiting was too tedious so the waiting had to be filled with hours upon hours of mindless, useless completion and duplication, and writing and rewriting of forms. And this is what Top Sergeant Alonzo Ramirez did with great purpose and efficiency. The Mule Tamer III, Marta's Quest

You look like you swallowed two of them for lunch.

Jesus Helguera He stepped back and looked on at the fine table laid next to boxes of cabbages. He looked on again at Marta who’d now resumed eating.
“And this is good, madam?”
“Very good, chef. You are a lucky chef.” She stood up to shake his hand. “Marta del Toro.”
He took her hand and shook it gently. He bowed again and clicked his heels.
“Max Von Mayerling, madam. I am the chef on this vessel. At your service, madam.”
“Well, Max. Why don’t you join me?” She looked on at the cook. “Señor, would you have enough for the chef?” He did and ran away, back to the galley. He returned in short order and put the plate in front of the old man and they dined together as the sun set. He was a nice man despite his severe and military bearing. The Mexicans all wandered off, except for the cook who stood by to pour wine as required.
The German looked on at Marta, into her eyes and asked, “Madam…”
“Marta.”
“Marta, the boys are afraid of me. Why is this?”
“Are you serious? Come now, Max. Look at yourself. You look like you swallowed two of them for lunch. You’re so, so big. And your name is Max. You’re bald. You look like a holy terror.”
He grinned. “But I am not.” The Mule Tamer III, Marta's Quest

“Is the most importante thing working still, Pendejo?”

Jesus Helguera “Rebecca is good, Pendejo, you know this?” She kissed him hard on the mouth. “Your face is all crooked.” She grabbed his jaw and moved it about. She grabbed his right arm, moved her hand down over it and picked up his hand. “You are a mess, Pendejo.”
“I’m getting better.” He grabbed her around her tiny waist with his left arm, pulling her tightly against his chest. He breathed deeply, taking in the scent he’d missed and thought he’d never know again, and gloried in having his love back in one piece. “I’ve missed you, Chica. I’ve really missed you.”
She pulled back and examined him further, checking him for any other debility. She slid her hand down below his belt and grabbed him firmly, “Is the most importante thing working still, Pendejo?”
She looked him in the eye with an impish grin. “Oh, sí, it is good, it is very good.”
The Mule Tamer II, Chica's Ride

One had a couple of gold teeth and she beat them out of his head with the grip of her pistol.

Jesus Helguera Maria looked around but no one wanted to fight her. No one wanted to arrest her or ask her what she’d done or why she’d done it. No one liked the two bastards from the south. Everyone was a bit afraid of them and they were just waiting for them to go away. Maria had done them all a service.
She dug through the men’s clothing and found money and some little items from the church. She took their six shooters and dagas and stuffed them in her gun belt. One had a couple of gold teeth and she beat them out of his head with the grip of her pistol. She dumped the teeth in the glass of mescal to clean them and then put them in her pocket.
She regarded the barman and gave him some of the money from the dead men. She wanted to compensate him for the mess. She nodded to him and he nodded back. He seemed to have a just discernible look of satisfaction on his face as he waited for Maria to do whatever it was that she was going to do next. He had no interest in getting her riled. She turned and walked out. Maria's Trail

Every time it would happen, it was like a little death

Jesus Helguera His awakening brought her around, she looked on him and smiled. “Oh, hello.”
“What were you saying?” He reached over and pulled her head down onto his chest. “My French, is not good, I mostly slept through all the classes.”
“La petite mort. The little death.” She smiled. “Marta used to read naughty books to me at night, after all the lights were out. We’d make a little tent with the sheets and we’d have a flashlight. I’d hold the light and Marta would read under the tent. One book, about a woman in love,” she hesitated, a little embarrassed.
“Go on, please.”
“She would describe things, things we didn’t understand, of course we knew what they were doing, you know, it, but we didn’t fully understand. And she said, the character in the book said, she felt la petite mort. Every time it would happen, it was like a little death.” She looked up and kissed him on the mouth, moved her hand down over his body and smiled. “And now I know what she meant.” The Mule Tamer III, Marta's Quest

“Pendejo, you might think this is funny, but I don’t like soap in my eyes. Hand me my towel, now!”

Jesus Helguera Marta was up early, long before everyone else, and so as not to disturb their slumber, resolved to wash her own hair out in the clear cool of the veranda. She liked washing outside. Felt like she was camping, roughing it. She’d soaped up and was full of lather when she heard the thundering hooves of a significant army and worked diligently to rinse her hair when she felt the presence of a stranger beside her. She squinted enough to see dusty black boots and big Mexican spurs. They were big, the big feet, the big boots of a big man.
She felt about for a towel and could see the man was helping, but not helping, teasing her and other men were quietly laughing all around her. She was barely dressed, barefoot and, in her haste to rinse the soap, had wetted her petticoat quite thoroughly. Now she stood on the veranda and the audience of the little army could easily see all the gifts given to her by the almighty. She was losing patience very quickly.
“Pendejo, you might think this is funny, but I don’t like soap in my eyes. Hand me my towel, now!”
“Ah, but you must say please, Señorita.”
“Please, pendejo. Please!”
“That’s better.” The big man handed her the towel and she was now able to see. She looked down at her naked form pressing through the sheer wet fabric and blinked twice. She recognized him immediately.
“Emiliano Zapata, at your service.” He laughed and the army laughed and Marta gave him a coy smile. The Mule Tamer III, Marta's Quest

You want me, yet you don’t have the guts to take me.

Jesus Helguera “Not until you tell me.”
“I’m about full up of you telling me no! No one tells me no, goddamn you. Take me back.”
“Tell me first.” She was furious now and had a little tantrum, throwing the basket overboard along with the champagne and her glass.
“You goddamned men. I hate you. I hate all of you, I’m sick of you always so goddamned smug, looking at me like I’m a weak little kitten. You want me, yet you don’t have the guts to take me. Take me.” She began to unbutton her dress. He stopped her.
“No.”
“Fine then.” She pulled away from him, got the boom between them and stripped down. “I’ll swim back.” She dove in on the wrong side and had to swim around the stern, began making her way to shore. It was five miles and Pedro could think only of the shark from the previous day.
“Marta, please.” He thought about what to do, found a line and threw it, got it over her and pulled hard, dragging her back. He grabbed her, manhandled her and pulled her back into the boat. She was furious now. The Mule Tamer III, Marta's Quest