John C. Horst's Blog, page 28

Contact Dubois, I've found his missing link!

Eduardo Fiel, Pintor brasilero The guard at the parapet spoke up first. “Alto!”
They stopped short and waited.
“What do you want, gringo?” The man was a younger version of Del Oro, he was one of the old bandit’s many sons. He looked primordial, like a version of a human being who’d not fully developed.
Arvel looked at Dan George and whistled quietly between his teeth, “Je-sus! Contact Dubois, I've found his missing link!”
Dan George chuckled, “Amen to that, Arvel, amen to that.”
Arvel lit a cigarette and smoked as he spoke to the ape on the wall, “Sombrero del Oro is dead.  We have eight hundred men and thirty cannon ready to reduce you to rubble. Surrender now and we will go easy on you.”
They were met with silence; a group could be heard speaking in a muffled tone, conferring behind the wall. One stuck his head up and shouted, “Sombrero del Oro is not dead, and you have nowhere near that many men and guns. What business does an old man, and Indian, and a whore have in making such bold demands?”
Chica was suddenly there, off to Arvel’s right, in his far periphery where he couldn’t see her. He looked on and smiled. He was about to speak to her when she pulled something from a feed bag so quickly that he didn’t have time to see what it was. She raised it high above her head, pointed at the bandits on the wall and shouted, “How do you suppose he lives without this, puta?”
A collective gasp came from the wall. Chica held up the severed head of their father and beloved leader. Her horse pranced in circles, as if the animal knew the importance of its cargo. The Mule Tamer II, Chica's Ride

Wasn’t she an Indian, really?

Jesus Helguera What she did not expect was the fantastic, almost mythical, land of the Red Rocks. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this. Maria was certain that the place must have some kind of special aura about it. It simply felt different, as if there was some sort of cosmic or magnetic pull on her very soul. She decided to camp here for several days, glorying in the strangeness of the place. Oftentimes, she’d ride Alanza into a canyon or to the base of a magnificent mountain and just sit, listening to the nothingness of the desert and wondering if she had not found her final place, the place where she’d live out the rest of her days.
At one point, the wind picked up and she and Alanza took refuge in a cave system. There she found petroglyphs of elk with Indians hunting them. It was prophetic and she felt even more tied to the land. Wasn’t she an Indian, really? She was called a Mexicana, but her dark skin, the little village where she lived, the way she grew up, scratching out an existence, making baskets. It was all a very strange realization, as she’d not thought of herself as an Indian. The Indians were the Apaches and the Sioux and the others from el Norte, the ones who wore paint on their faces and feathers in their hair. But the more she thought on it, the more she wandered about, the more evidence she saw; the drawings on the rocks, the ruins in the mountains, the pottery shards on the ground, all these things led to her identifying herself as an Indian.
She looked at the stick figures stalking the elk. They had no weapons, but if they had, would they be spears or throwing sticks or bows with arrows? She considered her fancy rifle. It was really the same thing when she thought about it. They hunted to survive, and she hunted to survive. They likely hunted for pleasure, for community, just to show their gods that they could do it. Show that they could and would make it in this unforgiving land. And wasn’t that what Maria was doing? Making her way, showing her God that she could do it, that she’d survive in the most unforgiving land on the planet, without help, without a man? She’d thrive; flourish in this land or in the most horrible saloons or the most desolate mountains, wherever she found herself, she’d survive and flourish. Maria's Trail

“Yoo hoo, boys. Over here!”

Jesus Helguera She ran them through a great thicket of scrub and mesquite thorns and the posse got torn to pieces. She wasn’t more than thirty yards from them at the time, but they couldn’t even see her. She made certain they could hear her, though, and she taunted them as they cried out like little school girls when the sharp stickers got them.
At one point, she was afraid she’d gone too far. One of the men, the young one who commented about Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show, was blubbering, crying and having a little tantrum and Maria actually felt sorry for him. She could hear the pain and frustration and panic in his cries and decided not to do that to them again.
Some of the men fired in the direction of her voice and Maria laughed at them. They couldn’t touch her and were nearly driven mad by her jeers. She was impressed when the colonel made them stop. He did not want the hare killed, only captured. She developed a little respect for him because of that.
She eventually left them to work their way through the little thorn forest and rode quickly to a high spot and watched them from a quarter mile away finally drag themselves through and regroup. They were disoriented until she called out. “Yoo hoo, boys. Over here!” She waved and gave them just enough time to pull their guns. She turned and rode over the hill and out of sight. Maria's Trail

“We are sorry, child.”

Zuniga ~ Madre Dormido That evening the old man left right after dinner, which was very strange because he never did this on a Sunday. He always stayed with them and played cards with Maria. Now she was alone with the old woman. They sat quietly for a while. The old woman warmed some milk and they drank it together. Finally, when it was time for bed, the old woman stood up and touched Maria on the cheek. She smiled at her and there were tears in her eyes. They spilled down her wrinkled face and the old woman kissed Maria on the forehead. “We are sorry, child.” She turned and went to bed. Maria's Trail

“That will make you blind.”

Dia de los muertos The boss was impressed with this one. She did not scare easily. He grinned at her and then picked up a little bell on the desk, summoning a servant. He spoke quickly to the man who, in short order, brought a chest full of women’s clothing into the tent, depositing it at Rebecca’s feet. The clown man jumped up from his little perch next to the boss and looked into the opened container, perhaps for something in his size. He found something, balled it up and put it next to his chair. He was pleased with his prize and once it was securely in his possession went back to leering at the little captive. He was a disgusting man who constantly handled himself as he watched her. She was becoming angry again and remembered his insult, his groping her earlier in the day. She spoke automatically.
“That will make you blind.” She nodded and looked down at his hand, manipulating and pulling at his crotch. She remembered hearing the hands at the ranch say that one day, when one of the men was caught absent-mindedly scratching his privates. She did not know what it meant, but it seemed funny and teasing at the same time when the hand had said it, and she hoped it would offend the clown man.
The boss laughed out loud. “Hah, you are a funny little girl.” He slapped the clown man on the back and looked over at Rebecca. “I make him wash his hands all the time, little girl, before he can touch any of my food.” He looked back at her as if he suddenly remembered the task at hand. “You find some nice clothes in there, little girl, and you go get cleaned. You will stay in here with me from now on." He motioned for her to go into the little room next to his quarters. The Mule Tamer II, Chica's Ride

“What is the meaning of Pendejo?”

A vaquero Recruiting day was big news in the territory. Many men came out just to see what it was all about. Arvel was especially cheerful, and he was pleased with the turnout. Dick bristled a little at the nonwhites, but knew Arvel too well to protest. He let Arvel deal with them. One was a middle-aged Mexican vaquero. He was once a handsome man but the sun and the hard living and stark terrain had weathered him. He was tall and wore his well-seasoned outfit with pride. He was not so ornately dressed as Chica, but also could not ever be taken for anything but a vaquero. Arvel liked him immediately and signed him up. He smiled at the man as he completed the enlistment papers. “I have a question for you.”
The man looked up from his writing. He’d put on brass framed eyeglasses to read his contract and suddenly appeared more like an old grandfather than a Ranger. “Sí?”
“What is the meaning of Pendejo?” Dick looked up at Arvel, confused by the question. The vaquero smiled.
“It literally means pelo púbico, ey, a pubic hair, but it is really an insult word.” He wondered at the strange captain’s even stranger question.
“An insult term?” Arvel smiled.
“Sí, it means dumb-ass.”
Arvel laughed out loud. The Mule Tamer

“I am in jail,” she spoke through the bars of her cell.

Arkady Ostritsky “Pendejo! Wha’ are you doing here?” She smiled broadly at him. She was glad to see him. “I am in jail,” she spoke through the bars of her cell. She had been confined alone, as she had been ‘fomenting a riot’ according to the jailer.
“I see you are in jail, Chica.”
“Oh, Pendejo, I got too much whisky the other night.”
He did not speak to her as they rode back to the hotel. He told her to wait for him down the street, while he gathered his belongings.
“Are you ashamed to be seen with me, Pendejo?”
He glared at her as they rode out of town. He felt that every eye was on him. “Not now, Chica, I don’t want to talk about this now.”
She sulked for a while, then tried to tease him.
“I don’t want to talk right now, Chica. Please keep your mouth closed. I don’t want to discuss anything; I don’t want to hear your voice right now.”
She had never seen him angry. She didn’t like it. They finally stopped for the night at a boarding house just south of Flagstaff. He got them separate rooms. She left him alone for a while, then knocked on his door. He would not answer.
He had just begun to fall asleep when he realized she was in his bed. He sat up with a start.
“How did you do, that, Chica?”
“I come in through the window.” She grinned.
“You’d better go back to your room, Chica.” He turned away from her.
“Wha’ is wrong, Pendejo?”
“I am just tired, Chica. I am tired of all this. I am not cut out to live the way you live. I missed you, you go off, you don’t tell me where you are. Now, I have used my influence as a Ranger to get you out of jail. I constantly…”  He was too angry for the words to come.
“I am sorry, Pendejo. I should not have had so much whisky.”
He looked at her. “You don’t get it, girl. You just don’t get it, do you?”
“I see that you are sad, Pendejo. I am sorry that you are sad. I like you a lot better when you are funny.”
He put his hands over his face and rubbed his temples. “I have lost my wife, my child, my Sally, and now I am constantly thinking of you.”
“Sally? Who is this Sally, Pendejo?”
“My mule.”
“Pendejo, you need a get a grip on yourself. Sally was a beast of burden.”
“Well, I loved her.”
Chica shrugged. “I am sorry if I make you sad, Pendejo. I din’ never mean to make you sad. If you like, I will go back to jail and take my medicine.” The Mule Tamer

“I think it is not good, gringo.”

Arkady Ostritsky She pressed the revolver’s muzzle against the proprietor’s forehead and cocked the piece.  “I think it is not good, gringo.”
She anticipated the dealer’s actions and waited for him to approach, which he did with trepidation. He reached out, without enthusiasm, in a halfhearted attempt to stop the girl. She pushed him off balance, and put her foot behind his heel. He pitched backward.  She placed her boot on his neck and pointed her dagger in the direction of his eye. She felt the energy, through her leather sole, drain from his body. She had full control of him now. The old madam jumped into action. The Mule Tamer

Maria's Trail! Free All Day on Dec 18th!

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Maria's Trail. Free all day Dec 18th!

This made her very happy and she resolved to be a good steward of this perfect being. She was magnificent and would not squander what she had been given. She would still do her marauding and stealing as she planned. Still make things right in the world that were wrong and still redistribute the wealth as she saw fit, but she’d do it in an honorable way.
She stopped to light a cigar and smoke. In the distance, to the east, something caught her eye. It was a queer sight as there did not seem to be any form of human life in the area. Certainly this was not a campfire, it was too big. It was also too big to come from a homestead and it was too concentrated to be a brush fire.
She decided to investigate and Alanza quickly obliged. They were upon it in short order and Maria was sad to see another bandit attack. Maria's Trail