John C. Horst's Blog, page 31

“How does such a big man move so quietly? You are the first one to ever surprise me.”

Zuniga Maria was pleased. She did not know that she was famous and it tickled her to think that what she had done would make her that way. She found it all a bit of a lark. It was the easiest thing she’d ever done, evading and leading the posse on a wild goose chase, yet it seemed very important to the Jefe. No wonder he was being so good to her.
“Jefe, eh, Uncle?”
“Yes?”
“How does such a big man move so quietly? You are the first one to ever surprise me.”
“Hah! My little one, I was a bandit before your mamma was born! I can sneak, run, shoot, and hide from anyone better than men not nearly so fat as me.” He grabbed up a fistful of his paunch and shook it up and down.
“So, you are not a rancher?” Maria looked around and wondered if he’d slaughtered the real owners of the place.
“Oh, this is all mine. All mine. I built it from nothing, from stealing cattle and horses from the gringos. Ha ha!”
She was pleased with how happy he was to show off to her. He was remarkable as he did not take very much of it seriously.
He stood up abruptly. “Come with me little one.” He held out his arm and she took it. He walked her to his stable. “This might be someone you know.”
The vaquero from her village was there. He was Uncle Alejandro’s chief groom. He nodded to Maria. “Hello, child.” He held out his hand for her and she took it. “Remember me?”
“I do.” She smiled and then looked on at her new uncle. “He told me to go after the bad men. He was the only one to tell me the right thing to do.”
“We have something for you, Maria.” With that he opened a paddock door and brought forth a wonderful surprise, a palomino filly decked out in Chica’s tack. “Her name is Alanza.” Maria's Trail

You won’t be able to hurt little girls again, pig. How do you like that?

Olivier Chatillon They sat this way for a long time. The man still looking about, ponderously, stupidly, mouthing words that had no sound, wondering what was happening. Maria lit a cigar and smoked and blew smoke at his face. His nose wrinkled and he leaned his head back and sneezed. A great gout of blood flew out of his nose and blood and clear fluid ran from his nostrils and soaked his long moustaches, dripping onto his bean covered lap. He still said nothing.
And then, when Maria could tell he was about to die, she regarded him. “Hey, Mister.” He looked up at her, into her eyes, trying to figure it all out. “I’m going to cut your goddamned head off when you die. You know why?”
The man didn’t respond and she continued.
“So, when you go to hell, your body will wander around and you won’t be able to see anything. You won’t be able to hurt little girls again, pig. How do you like that?”
He seemed to comprehend, but Maria could not be sure. She was growing tired of all this and it was getting late. She wanted to move on and the bandit was not dying fast enough. She put the little gun behind his ear. She fired again and he flopped over. He was finally dead. Maria's Trail

Ah, Maria, I know a procrastinator when I see one. Now, go. If he is worth a centavo he will know what is good for him, go.

George Yepes Then, finally, on a clear Thursday morning, she awoke to find Alanza tacked up and tied to the hitching rail outside her bedroom door, standing quietly in the veranda’s shade. Uncle Alejandro was waiting for her. He smiled and nodded at Maria’s pony. “Time to go north, little one.”
She looked at him and her stomach fluttered. She took a deep breath. “After breakfast, Uncle.”
“It is made, it is in a sack hanging on the saddle horn, child.” He handed her a tin cup of coffee. “You can drink it as you ride.”
There was nothing for it now. She had to go. Uncle would not let her dally any longer. She smiled and saw his eyes get all teary, like a proud father handing his daughter over to her new husband. “You go. You are getting too old for this wandering, Maria. Soon, you will be too old to have babies and every young woman should have the gift of babies. It is the way.”
He grabbed her in his great arms and hugged her and kissed her on the top of the head. “You go. Go to him and then bring him to me. I have to make a good speech to him and tell him how precious you are. I must tell him how he has to be good to you for the rest of his days.”
He was becoming overwhelmed at his own sentimentality. Uncle Alejandro, despite his toughness, was a romantic at heart. He moved her, physically, to Alanza, nearly picked her up and placed her on the saddle. She was suddenly looking down on the man. He looked smaller to her, old and frail, and she did not want to make him unhappy. She gave him a weak smile. “Okay, Uncle, but you did not have to push the bird from the nest. You could have just told me to go.”
“Ah, Maria, I know a procrastinator when I see one. Now, go. If he is worth a centavo he will know what is good for him, go.” He pointed a big finger north. “Go.” Maria's Trail.

“Oh, to hell with him. He’s not worth a bullet, and besides, the shot might attract his friends.”

Alfredo Ramos Martínez (Mexican 1871-1946) Juana grinned and rubbed her cheek. “He didn’t hurt me.” She looked him over. “Should’ve shot the son of a bitch bastard, though. Let’s shoot him now.”
Maria thought about it. She looked at the man. He was out cold. Blood ran freely from the wound she’d given him and a big lump was forming where Juana had hit him. She found her six shooter and pulled it out. She pointed it at the man’s head and looked at Juana.
“I don’t want to. He’s out. He’s can’t hurt us now.”
“I’ll shoot him. Give me the gun.” She held out her hand and Maria complied. Juana gripped the pistol and pointed it at the man’s head. She waited. “Oh, to hell with him. He’s not worth a bullet, and besides, the shot might attract his friends.” She handed the pistol back to Maria.
“I’ve got an idea.” Maria began pulling the clothes off the man. In short order, his boots, trousers, hat and shirt were gone. He lay in the dirt wearing nothing more than faded long underwear. He looked very silly. She grabbed his things and made a sack with his rurale coat, tying everything into a ball. This she threw on his horse’s back and tied it down securely.
“Come on.” Maria's Trail

"It’s true, I’m a lady, but I have a lot of Indian blood in me,” she looked up and gave Dan a knowing smile, “bandit blood."

“Mr. Dobbs, it would be a good idea if you told me everything you know. It’s true, I’m a lady, but I have a lot of Indian blood in me,” she looked up and gave Dan a wink and a knowing smile, “bandit blood. You see, my mother was a woman very famous in these parts for many years. One time, when I was a little girl, I was kidnapped by a band of cutthroats.” She reached over and shaved off his other eyebrow. He looked strange now, as a man with no eyebrows always looks strange. “And, you know what my mother did?”
“No.” He was sulking now, blinking to remove the remnants of the urine and now brow hair from his eyes.
“She cut the leader’s goddamned head off.” She looked on at Curtin and Dan George. “Hold ‘em down, boys.” The Mule Tamer III, Marta's Quest
Image Source ~ BEATRIZ HERNANDEZ

“Is life not hard enough, padre, that you must heap on sin after sin, so that it is impossible for you to live?”

Pina He’d been crying and Maria decided that she should get him to talk about it. She began.
“Did you love her a long time?”
He looked at her and then looked away. “It is so obvious, Maria?”
“Yes. To me it is.”
“Now she is dying. She no longer has the church and she doesn’t have me. She’s alone in the world, Maria, and she will be dead soon.”
Maria thought about what to say, thought perhaps she would be going too far, then went ahead anyway. “Is life not hard enough, padre, that you must heap on sin after sin, so that it is impossible for you to live?”
He smiled cynically at her. His Maria. He saw it the first day, back when he caught her stealing the candlesticks. She had the wisdom of the ages about her. “It is not so simple as all that, Maria.”
She harrumphed. “I am an ignorant girl, padre. But I am not stupid. There is a difference.” She looked him over, looked into his sad eyes and continued. “My life has been very hard, padre. I know this, and I don’t know why God has made my life like this. But it is the only life I have and I will live it the best I can. But you, you make all this too hard. You make sins where there are no sins. You make sadness where there doesn’t need to be sadness. Does Jesus really want us to go around with sour faces all day, all day looking so sad that you could make a baby cry?”
He smiled at her and was embarrassed. “I…, I’m sorry, Maria.”
He looked out the window as if seeking out someone waiting for him in the courtyard below, someone who could perhaps give him the answers to her questions. “She and I met when we were young. I was a new priest and she a new nun. We fell in love. I was going to leave the church for her, but she could not. She said that she could not leave the church and that she could not be with me.”
“I see.” Maria thought hard about it. He was the poor Crisanto and the nun was Maria. “So, this terrible thing, this sin, will it make her go to hell when she dies?”
The priest grinned and looked up at her. Maria was so wonderfully black and white. There were no shades of grey with the girl. He shook his head from side to side. “I don’t know, Maria.”
“Well, you need to let her go. You need to be with her when she dies and you need to tell her that she’s forgiven and that she’ll go to heaven. If you don’t know then you have to tell her the best possible outcome for her. It might be that she goes to heaven and it might be that she goes to hell, but if you do not know, then you need to tell her it is heaven. She’ll find out soon enough, but she needs to think, believe right now that it will be heaven.”
He loved her simplicity and her kindness. She was a thoroughly good person and he smiled at her. “If only a fraction of my parishioners were so good and wise as you, Maria.” Maria's Trail

“I don’ know about this game, you know what they say about Mexicans, we can’t count to more than ten.”

Jenny Priego - "Adelita pata de perro en Arizona II" They were becoming more frustrated by the minute when Maria suggested the other game, the veintiuno. They all agreed as the young woman was getting on their nerves.
“I don’ know about this game, you know what they say about Mexicans, we can’t count to more than ten.” She grinned sheepishly.
She smiled at them and looked at the pile of money. “I lost almost all my money and now look,” she dropped chips from a height and let them clatter all over the table in front of her. “I have the most now!”
She looked on. “I have a good idea. Let’s play with many deck.”
“Many deck?” The dealer was not laughing.
“Sí, you know, we put out five deck, that is what the old hand Pablo used to say. When you play veintiuno, you play with many deck. It is more fun.”
The dealer and the couple actually liked this idea. There’d be less chance of the hapless girl winning so easily. They soon had the five deck game going and within an hour Maria had most of the chips. She yawned and stood up. “This is very fun, but I am tired. I am going to go to bed.”
They stood up and wanted to make her stay but thought better of it. They nodded and bid her a good night. Maria's Trail
Image Source ~ Woman Made Gallery

Now he just looked like himself, old, but not so old as to be decrepit.

Adelita by William Mortensen She tied Alanza off and had a look around. She could see well despite the fact that no lamps were burning. Everyone was in bed for the night. She wandered to a big window and peered in. It was the mule man’s bedroom and he was there, sleeping peacefully with his mouth agape. Now he looked about a hundred years old and Maria thought all this an idiot’s errand. She watched him some more and he turned and closed his mouth and was facing her and no longer looked a hundred years old. Now he just looked like himself, old, but not so old as to be decrepit.
Maria pressed her face against the pane of glass, hands cupped on either side of her head. She could make out the bedroom and, it too, had been decorated by a woman. No man would have tassels on his lampshade, she thought. Uncle Alejandro’s lampshades had no tassels. Uncle’s room looked as a man’s room should. It was masculine and this man, this mule man, was sleeping in a woman’s room. Maria's Trail
Image Source ~ The Scream Online

Look at the state of her. She’ll surely die, then where will we be?

Maria Sanchez ~ Loca Maria dreamed of the Indios and the red rocks and of Alanza whinnying at her. She dreamed that a dog was pushing her with its nose and then the dog became Alanza. She was hot and soaking wet with sweat and blood. At one point she felt beneath her head and thought she was resting on a comfortable pillow like at the lady fence’s house. It was a big goose down pillow and she put her hands up to feel it, fluff it a little, enjoy the coolness of the underside with her hot hands and her pillow was now little Rosario and her baby was hungry. She put her to her breast, the one that was shot and it hurt, ached all around her breast like when the German infant was nursing on it.
Then she sat up, too close to a fire ring. Juana and Ulla and Bronagh were all at the fire, but Juana was ten years old again. She was eating and Ulla pointed at Maria, signaling to everyone that she was finally awake. Bronagh chastised them, “Now, don’t be gettin’ on your high horse. She needed to go a wanderin’, it was in her blood.”
Juana pointed at Maria with a drumstick. “Look at the state of her. She’ll surely die, then where will we be?”
Ulla reached out with an ointment and now she was the yellow-haired whore from Nuevo Casas Grandes, “Put this on your nipples, Maria, it soothes them.”
She sat up, leaning on an elbow and looked at the fire. She was too sleepy to speak or take the ointment and soon dropped back down. She could no longer find the pillow or Rosario but she was just too tired to care. She turned to face away from the fire and felt liquid hitting her face. The man, the shop owner, the dirty bastard Sanchez was there with the coal oil and was splashing her all over with it. He’d come back to burn her up. She sat up sputtering and felt the coolness of the rain. She was awake now and getting cold; the rain was coming down hard and lightning bolts were illuminating the sky. She had to get off the mesa. Maria's Trail
Image Source ~ Maria Sanchez

She smiled broadly at him. She was glad to see him. “I am in jail,” she spoke through the bars of her cell.

Isabella Muerta He looked up at Arvel. “Where else in the civilized world would you find such characters, eh, Mr. Walsh?” He stopped grinning when he saw Arvel’s face. He’d lost color and looked as if he had just learned of the death of a loved one.
 Arvel looked blankly at the salesmen. “I am sorry, Mr. Chaney, but I have business to attend to. He absent-mindedly took Chaney’s paper, folded it up and tucked it under his arm. He quickly walked out of the hotel’s dining room. He was tempted to gather up every copy of the paper he could find, and burn them.
“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.” Image Source ~ Black Market Art Company
 The Mule Tamer