John C. Horst's Blog, page 8

Chica wrapped herself around him. Told him to take a deep breath and pulled him to the bottom.

Evan Wilson Even married, in the middle of the wild, he and Rebecca would never have dreamed of swimming naked. He felt himself blush, absurdly looking around for onlookers. Chica lay on her back and spit water into the air, like an Italian sculpture he’d seen in Tivoli. When he was satisfied no one was around, Arvel removed his shirt, then trousers. He slid into the water. It was one of the most provocative and exciting experiences of his life.

Chica wrapped herself around him. Told him to take a deep breath and pulled him to the bottom. The Mule Tamer

He insists on painting your mother’s portrait in his studio in Constantinople, (with clothes on…both).

F. Hayez - L'accusa segreta. 1847 Sevilla, April 5, 1911

My Dearest Darling Girls:

Mamma sends her love. Spain is lovely but we miss you. We are sorry to say we will not be able to meet with you in Paris. Mamma and I will be in Turkey of all places through the summer. Mamma has met a Count who is an amateur artist. He insists on painting your mother’s portrait in his studio in Constantinople, (with clothes on…both). Oh well, it is just one of the things I must endure where your mother is concerned. She attracts the strangest people.

Marta, congratulations on your brief vocation as a scullery maid, however, I must admit that we were a bit disappointed in your initial career path, as we’ve always thought  your education would allow you to aspire to grander things. I understand that the gymnasium will be getting a new roof. Please try your best to behave so that we are not also rebuilding the chapel or the dormitories before you are gone from Stonefields. 

Enjoy your graduation, girls. We will be at Smith in September to get you settled in there. Have a wonderful summer in Paris. Marta, please do not dismantle the Eiffel Tower or storm the bastille while you are there. I will keep you up to date on what effect your mother has on the Ottoman Empire.

Love,

Daddy and Mamma The Mule Tamer III, Marta's Quest

“Because he’s got a lot of money, of course. Why do you think?”

Gianni Strino She woke and sat up in Uncle Alejandro’s bed. A lamp was lit in another room and Maria got up to investigate. Juana was taking a bath. She was full grown now and she smoked a cigar and her enormous breasts poked out of the bathwater like two perfectly matched islands. She picked up a tortilla and ate it and spoke with a full mouth. “I didn’t think you’d get an old one, too.”

“I didn’t get anything.” Maria pulled up a chair and watched Juana eat. She was such a pretty woman and Maria now realized she was even prettier naked than she was wearing clothes. She looked beautiful with her blonde hair done up in the German style.

“Oh, this mule man. You’ll get him. I know it.”

“How did you know he had mules?” Maria was suspicious of Juana. She seemed to always know everything.

Juana shrugged. “I don’t remember. But you’ll get him all right and then you’ll have babies.”

“Have you had babies yet, Juana?”

Juana shrugged again.

“You don’t know if you’ve had babies, Juana?”

“I’ve forgotten.” She stood up and water splashed out onto Maria and now she was cold.

“Why is it that you never remember anything I ask about, Juana?” She was a little perturbed.

Juana shrugged. “I never forget to come see you when you have a problem, though.”

Maria could not argue with that. Juana was faithful in that regard.

“You know why you’ve fallen in love with him?”

“I don’t know that I have.”

“Oh, you have. It’s because of the old man. The old man who taught you to play cards and shoot. You got a man like him. And he was old.”

“That’s ridiculous. You never had an old man raise you, yet you got an old man.”

“But I didn’t love him. Do now, but I didn’t.”

“Why’d you marry him?”

“Because he’s got a lot of money, of course. Why do you think?”

“I don’t know.” She looked at Juana. “Do you suppose I really do love him?”

“Sure you do.” Juana eyed her. “Go find me a towel, Maria.”

When she returned, Juana was gone. Maria's Trail

Perhaps one day she’d bring him here and they’d walk naked together all around the place.

Etty She reached down and scooped water with a broken pottery shard, a shard that had been formed perhaps a thousand years ago, poured water down onto her raven hair, over her face, breasts, belly, pudenda. She gloried in the sensuality of it, gloried in the perfection of her body. She was beautiful, inside and out and she was now just beginning to understand it. She was beginning to love herself and she wished Del Calle was with her. Perhaps one day she’d bring him here and they’d walk naked together all around the place, play and love and live and walk about as the original inhabitants had done so long ago. The Mule Tamer III, Marta's Quest

Get out of this business; get away from this terrible place.

“Finished, gringo?” She could see it in his eyes. She could see that he could not be left behind. He’d give her trouble and she remembered the vaquero’s warning, “Never hesitate, Maria, never hesitate.” And, as if on cue, the severe looking man went for his gun. Maria killed him with one shot.

She ran for the door and was quickly outside. Alanza was not where she’d tied her. She looked up and down the street. She’d have to escape on foot.

“Lady! Lady!” It was one of the whores who’d preemptively prepared Alanza and was waiting in an alley. Maria ran up and in one motion was on her beloved pony. She reached down and touched the woman’s face. “Thank you, lady.”

The whore blushed as she’d not been called a lady in a long time. Maria reached into her blouse and grabbed a handful of bills, thrusting them into the prostitute’s hand. “Here’s for you, lady. Get out of this business; get away from this terrible place.” And she was gone. Maria's Trial

New Cover for Maria's Trail

Cover Design ~ Kevin Moore.
Available at Amazon.com

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

Henriette Browne “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

The child’s got the Irish in her, I swear it.

Etty She remembered Bronagh’s words, in her lilting accent, “Go on with ya, girl. Get the wanderlust out of yer system, then settle down.” She looked  at Ulla and Juana, “The child’s got the Irish in her, I swear it. The lass has Irish blood.” And Maria was struck by that. Why did she want to move about so? The people, Juana’s people wanted her so badly to stay. She could have had any of the eligible men, and perhaps, even if she were so inclined, some of the not so eligible men. They were a handsome bunch and so sincere, serious, even grave, yet she could tell that they had a deep respect and admiration for her. Maria's Trail

Young lady, in all my ninety-three years on this earth, I’ve never seen such a leg.

Francesco Hayez He remembered the collective gasp that went up as, without warning, she put her foot up on one of the powder kegs next to the counter, hiked up the skirt of her long dress exposing her lovely leg and thigh, to check how the gun would ride there, secreted away under her frilly black garter until needed.

He remembered grinning when Arvel blurted out, Je-sus, Chica, you’re going to give these boys a heart attack. He was genuinely embarrassed. He remembered Chica’s reply, Don’ say Dios name in vain, Pendejo. These men are all married; they’ve seen a lady leg. And then old Mose Harper, a man who was likely the oldest resident of Bisbee, leaning forward and, in his frail, laconic voice commented, Young lady, in all my ninety-three years on this earth, I’ve never seen such a leg. The Mule Tamer II, Chica's Ride

“Would you take another marine sailing, with champagne, let him sleep on your shoulder while underway?”

Marta awoke and looked about as Pedro opened a picnic basket. “Let’s see what we have here.” He had a happy look on his face, a kind and fatherly look and it made her think of her adopted father. He pulled out cold chicken and champagne, some fruit and cheese. He poured some for the both of them. She ate and felt better, more awake.

“So, this is nice.” She felt a little self-conscious. “Kind of romantic for just friends.” She didn’t look up.

“Oh? I don’t know. Friends can go sailing.”

“Would you take another marine sailing, with champagne, let him sleep on your shoulder while underway?”

“Why do you want to fight with me all the time, Marta?” He wasn’t being mean or angry, he wanted to know.

“Why do you want to be nice to me all the time, Pedro? I’m not nice to you. I tease you and demean you and I’m just a plain little shit to you.”

“I don’t know.” He poured another glass and sipped it. “This is good champagne, most of it usually tastes like vinegar to me.”

“Did you bring me out here to finally make love to me?” She looked down into the cabin. It was furnished with a bed in the bow. It would serve as a fine little bordello.

“I don’t make love without love. I already told you that.”

“What if I told you I don’t need you to now?” She could see him wince a little. “What if I told you I found a man last night, after you left me?”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“When are you going to stop committing suicide, Marta?” The Mule Tamer III, Marta's Quest