John C. Horst's Blog, page 29

He needs to no longer exist, and all who follow him need to die.

Jesus Helguera Uncle Bob was cheered by the news. He wasn’t certain what good he’d be on this expedition other than to try and keep a protective eye on Alice, who now seemed more capable than he of handling the adventure.
He watched Dick take in the information. He was pleased to have the man running the show. But now he began to have second thoughts. What were they doing if they weren’t going after Rebecca? Was it really their business to go halfway into Mexico to destroy a Mexican bandit’s camp and operations? It suddenly became a bit preposterous to him.
He decided to speak up; after all, this wasn’t really their fight. It wasn’t even the fight of the Arizona Territory or their Rangers, and what if Alice got hurt in all this?
He leaned forward. “Folks, I don’t like to quibble over details, but is it really appropriate for us to be involved in all this?” They all looked at him as if he’d been speaking in tongues.
Dick replied, grinning a little sheepishly. “Uncle Bob, you’re right, always the voice of reason.” He glanced at Del Toro. “I was getting a bit caught up in the moment. I…”
Alice cut him off. “It is what Chica… Maria asked you to do.” She looked at the men as if they’d suddenly lost their minds. “Of course it’s what must be done, and it shall be done.”
“But Alice,” Del Toro covered her hand with his own, “These men are correct. This is Mexico’s battle, and you all are a long way from home. Perhaps it is best to leave it to Kosterlitzky. He has a good force and he is a good man. He will bring them to justice.”
“But that’s not the point.” She sat up a bit straighter in her chair and covered part of Del Toro’s great hand with her own. “Until three days ago, I had no idea that people like Gold Hat existed. I didn’t know that humans were still traded like livestock. I didn’t know the heartache and pain suffered by so many at the hands of this brute and now you tell me he’s out of retirement. That he could do more of these things to others. I don’t care about him being brought to justice, or punished for what he’s done. I want… I want...” She looked at Uncle Bob and smiled. “Robert, you know how remarkable what I am about to say is, but this man, he needs to be snuffed out. He needs to no longer exist, and all who follow him need to die.”
Uncle Bob grinned. “Then there is nothing more to discuss.” He looked at Dick Welles. “Are you in?”
Dick Welles smiled broadly and took a sip of his wine. “Uncle Bob, I was never really out.” The Mule Tamer II, Chica's Ride

He is a man and any man who loves women would love you.

Jesus Helguera “This man, he captured me, as you had. He is, not, how do I say… He’s not very much like you, though. He is very fair, very fine, like a boy.”
“I see.” He grinned. She was fairly gushing about the man. “And how old is this fair boy?”
“Oh, he is no boy. He is, actually, quite old, I think. I think maybe not as old as you, but much older than me.”
“I see. And why, my dear, are you here and not there, with him?”
She became self-conscious again and tilted her head slowly from side to side. “Uncle, this is a silly thing. He would not be so interested in me, I think. He is a hacendado up there in Arizona. He is quite a gentleman. Such a man would not have any interest in me.”
“Then he is either stupid or crazy or a eunuch. Is he any of these, Maria?”
“I don’ know. I don’ think he is crazy. I know he is not stupid, but I do not know this eunuch, so I cannot tell you this.”
He laughed. “He is not, child. I am sure he not a eunuch. He is a man and any man who loves women would love you. Go, child, and get him. If you want him, get him.” Maria's Trail

“Adulio, you are as dark as me. Who’s to say you are not one of these terrible indios you claim are such a scourge?”

Jesus Helguera “For half a lifetime I served that bloated pig, that worthless peon. The great Alejandro del Toro got a little jingle in his pocket, got some good clothes, got fine soaps and perfumes and looked the gentlemen. No matter of soap can wash it away, princesa, no matter of soap can wash that stain from the skin.”  He pointed at her dark complexion. “My family should have had this land. My family, pure blood that could be traced to Spain, not you Indios, you dirty worthless creatures. Cortez should have killed you all, should have spread the smallpox to every one of you. But now, finally, the revolution, the final best excuse to kill you all.”
“I think Zapata and Villa might have something to say about that, Adulio.”
“Hah, more dog Indios, they will be defeated, they and all you dark savages. And you. When I learned that he was giving this all to you, well, I decided, I would get it, I’d get my revenge and I’d be the rightful owner some day.”
Marta reached out, palm open, “Give me a cigarette, Adulio.” He complied, handed her his case with trembling hands and watched her smoke. She worked on a plan.
“Adulio, you are as dark as me. Who’s to say you are not one of these terrible indios you claim are such a scourge?”
He became furious, “I am not a goddamned Indio! I am dark from my ancient Castilian blood and because the sun has baked me, all the hard years of toil, working for your so-called uncle, working and slaving for him, and now you. ” The Mule Tamer III, Marta's Quest

“Ah, sí, I know this war, the war where you gringos tried to rub each other out.”

Jesus Helguera “What is your name, Pendejo?”
“Arvel.”
She laughed. “That is a funny name.”
“I am a funny man.”
She yawned. “You are a funny man, Pendejo. Why don’ you get angry with me?”
“I don’t know. I think you are funny, too.”
“I am tired, Pendejo.”
“Then you should go home and go to bed, wherever that might be.”
“I am thirsty, Pendejo.” She suddenly wanted him. She knew this would do it. Either she’d be in or out after this and it was just as well to get it over and done with.  “Would you get me some water?”
“Oh, you are a lot of trouble.” He stood up and reached for a robe.
“Ay, chingao! Wha’ happened to your back, Pendejo?’
“I got blown up in the war.”
“What war?”
“The great rebellion between the states. You know, the Civil War.”
“Ah, sí, I know this war, the war where you gringos tried to rub each other out.”
He grinned. “Yea, that war.”
“Ay, you are a mess, Pendejo.” She stretched, catlike, “I am tired, Pendejo, and thirsty.”
“Yes, I know.”
He sauntered out to get her a drink. The Mule Tamer

She’d heard of gringos who liked Mexican women, that was not such a stretch. Mexican women were some of the most beautiful in all the land.

Jesus Helguera She’d take the advice of Juana and Uncle Alejandro and go see this mule man, as Juana called him. And her feelings hadn’t wavered, either. She still thought of him constantly. Why? She’d been with him for less than half an hour, but it was enough time for her to know that he was something special, that he was someone she could love.
And the washerwoman, she called him the best of men. She was obviously a woman who did not mince words; Maria could tell that by watching the woman work. She was resolute in everything she did. She certainly would not call a man the best of men if she didn’t mean it.
And he liked Mexicans. She’d heard of gringos who liked Mexican women, that was not such a stretch. Mexican women were some of the most beautiful in all the land. Anyone with a brain, as Uncle Alejandro said, would be a fool not to find Maria attractive. She knew all these things in her mind, and in bed at night she’d remind herself of them. But every morning she’d get up and waste time, have two hour breakfasts with Uncle Alejandro, go curry Alanza, play with the vaqueros’ children, have a two hour lunch and then take a nap. She would finish the day by spending more than two hours over dinner and the day would be gone. This would go on, Maria feared, indefinitely. She simply could not shake the procrastination. Maria's Trail

Maria smiled as she watched him recover. “And you call yourself an Indian?”

Jesus Helguera The Chiricahua was fascinating. Maria had not seen one before. He was from up north. He was smallish but stout and wore a mix of army and white man’s clothing. He had a scarf tied neatly around his head. He wore a kind of breechclout which would have covered his private parts, yet he also wore trousers. It all looked very odd to Maria. He had soft moccasins on his feet that extended up to his knees. Maria was impressed with him until he dropped his trousers. Nature had called and he defecated near her mock fire ring. She threw a rock and clobbered him and he sprawled on his back, lying in his feces.
She walked up to him and poked him awake with her foot.
He looked around and then spotted Maria and smiled. It was the first time he’d gotten a look at her in a week. She held out a water gourd and he drank. She wet a rag and placed it to the knot she’d raised up on his forehead. She wasn’t worried about him at all, she knew he’d do her no harm or try to take her captive.
Maria smiled as she watched him recover. “And you call yourself an Indian?”
He smiled sheepishly. “You are a good rock thrower.”
She sat down beside him, lit two cigars and stuck one in his mouth. “What’s your name?”
“Joe.”
“Really? I thought you’d have some long Indian name.”
“I do.” He looked at the end of his cigar. He was enjoying it. He pointed off in the distance. “They can’t say it, so I’m Joe.” Maria's Trail

They are no like human beings and they cannot be treated like they are. They understand one thing and that is more brutality than they can give out.

Jesus Helguera “This is good, Abuelita.” She took a long drink from her canteen and handed it to Alice who drank deeply. “You must understand these people, these excremento we are after. They are no like human beings and they cannot be treated like they are. They understand one thing and that is more brutality than they can give out. Do you understand?”
“I do, Maria. I do.” Alice wiped her forehead and replaced her sombrero. “Have you known much of this, Maria?”
Chica stiffened. She would not share with anyone, not Arvel, not the old priest she’d known, not Abuelita, what she had known. Her past was her own and she shared it with no one.
She snapped, “That does not matter.” The Mule Tamer II, Chica's Ride

“I… I know you! You shot up all those hombres down in Bisbee.”

Jesus Helguera Suddenly a man reached over and grabbed Maria by the arm. He was not angry or aggressive, just excited to recognize her. “I… I know you! You shot up all those hombres down in Bisbee.”
Several men looked the diminutive Maria over and then looked at the man. They liked a good story about shootings. Big Black noticed the man’s hand on his new mistress and jerked his head a little sideways, grunted “yeahuh,” and the man knew to get away.
“Sorry, Miss.” He looked afraid of Big Black and this amused Maria to no end.
“God damn, I hearda that.” The scrawny man with rotten teeth continued. “Goddamn, lady. That was sompin’.” Maria's Trail

He taught her to be so good with everything that was useful and important; how to ride, shoot, gamble.

She snuggled deeper into the sheets, pressed her back against the soft mattress and remembered all those years ago with Crisanto. That was the best gift she’d ever given anyone in the world and she liked it, enjoyed it as well. She wondered when she’d find a man. It wasn’t a matter of if, it was when. She wanted a man, she was sure of it. She didn’t want just a rutting bull, either, or a harem. She wanted one man, her man who would love her and help her raise a family and give her all the love he had to give. She wondered what he’d look like.
He’d not be one of those in the saloon, she knew that. She didn’t like any of them in the saloon. Even the ones who were good at cards did nothing for her and she wondered at that. Why not? She smoked and drank mescal and gambled, yet she found no man who lived that way at all appealing.
She thought about the men who she liked in her life. The old man was really the only one. He was the kindest to her. He taught her to be so good with everything that was useful and important; how to ride, shoot, gamble. He taught her all of it. She liked… she loved him as one would love her father or grandfather. Maybe that is what her husband would be like. It probably would. Maria's Trail

“Paper money, how many times must I say it, is just the same as gold. Especially American dollars.”

Marta suddenly glided into the room, ubiquitous cigarette between her lips. She’d heard that the old man was shot and hoped to find him dead. She spoke firmly to the old man and the clown man standing beside him.
“It isn’t her fault.”
She helped Rebecca up and sent her to her room.
“Leave her alone.”
She began looking over Gold Hat’s wound. “It’s not so bad. The wound is clean and the bullet came out. You now have two extra holes in your ass, that’s all.”
The clown man chuckled. Marta looked at him with disdain. “Counting him,” she pointed her cigarette at the clown man, “you now have four assholes.”
Rebecca suppressed a laugh. Despite the rough handling and the shaking inside, she could not help finding Marta’s remark very funny. She was glad the girl had shown up when she had. She quickly obeyed when Marta ordered her back into her room. She thought certain she was in for a beating and the little bandit had come to her rescue.
Once Rebecca was safely out of reach, Marta inquired about the meeting with the American. The clown man spoke as he watched his maestro bleed.
“You missed getting thirty thousand American dollars?” She blew smoke at her father’s fat face.
The clown man spoke up, “plus ninety thousand.”
“One hundred and twenty thousand American dollars?”
Gold Hat refused to look at the girl. He harrumphed and looked at the canvas ceiling of the tent. “It was just paper, and no more than an empty promise for the rest.”
“You stupid son of a bitch.” She looked at him with contempt. “Paper money, how many times must I say it, is just the same as gold. Especially American dollars.” The Mule Tamer II, Chica's Ride
Image source ~ Low Rider Arte Magazine