John C. Horst's Blog, page 9

...it is said that a woman who rides like this is difficult to please.

Chica laughed. “I like to ride this a way.” She sat up straight in the saddle, scooting toward the big saddle horn. “Sometimes, Pendejo, I just ride and ride, for no good reason than it feel good.” She looked at Arvel. “You know, Pendejo, it is said that a woman who rides like this is difficult to please.” She threw her head back and laughed when he blushed. The Mule Tamer

... if she were there when Jesus was so terribly mistreated by the gringo Romans, she would kill them all and save Jesus from this terrible fate.

Etty He was a kind old man and treated her well. He was a gringo, too, but spoke Spanish well. He baptized her and asked her to stay in his village, to turn away from the vagabond life of a thief. Chica thought about it. She thought a lot about Jesus and being baptized. She thought about eating the Eucharist. Many things the old priest taught her made no sense. She often stopped at each station of the cross in the church and imagined that, if she were there when Jesus was so terribly mistreated by the gringo Romans, she would kill them all and save Jesus from this terrible fate.

She told this to the priest and he smiled. He said that Jesus had to die, so that all our sins would be forgiven. It made no sense to Chica that a good man should die. It made no sense to her that Jesus’ dying made all of our sins go away. The Mule Tamer

My little box will be staying put, safe and sound, right here.

Etty He smiled and then lost the smile and looked at her, stared through his bookish round glasses. “Before this day is done, I will make you cry like an infant, and you will wish that you’d been properly prostrated before me when I rode up here today. I will make a tobacco pouch of your womb and decorate the entrance to my new home with your head.”

“I’m sorry, general, but I disagree.”  She reached down with her free hand and patted below her belly. “My little box will be staying put, safe and sound, right here.” She leveled the shotgun and fired, hitting Tolkenhorn through the head, spraying brain and blood on the men behind him. The lawyer pitched over, onto the ground as the others looked on. She glared at the general. “I’ll kill you last, pig. I want you to see what Emiliano Zapata does to your army before I send you on to hell.” The Mule Tamer III, Marta's Quest

Thees hijo de puta is just a head, because I made him that way.

Etty “This is not Enrique Gomez. And none of that written there is right.”

“How do you know?”

“Thees hijo de puta is just a head, because I made him that way.”

 Yakovlevich chuckled. “Miss Chica, he died a long time ago, and you are a young lady. Perhaps you are thinking of another head?”

“This is my head, go ahead an’ look at his mouth. He has a gold tooth, right here, she pointed at the upper front tooth of her mouth. And he has a no tooth next to it.”

“How so?” said Arvel. He was intrigued now. Chica never stopped surprising him.

“He had two gold teeth and I pulled one, but the other I could not pull. Go ahead and look.” She began to reach into the blood tinged alcohol to retrieve the head. The Mule Tamer

I am likely the only person to ever call el Tigre a pendejo and still be alive.

William-Adolphe Bouguereau 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.

“I am likely the only person to ever call el Tigre a pendejo and still be alive.” The Mule Tamer III, Marta's Quest

That is not right. There is a heaven and a hell. Your wife and daughter are in heaven.

William-Adolphe Bouguereau She ate quietly for a while. Arvel worked on the fire next to the pool. “How did your wife and daughter die, Pendejo?”

“Typhoid fever, Chica.” He got up and moved over to sit next to her. He took his boots off and dipped his legs into the pool. “They went to San Francisco for a few weeks and stayed at the finest hotel there. They got some bad water and both died there.”

“That is sad, Pendejo.” She reached over and kissed his cheek. “I am sorry to make you remember sad things.”

“It is okay, Chica. They are in a better place.”

“Do you think so, Pendejo? Do you believe in heaven and hell?”

“I guess.” He lay on his back and looked up at the sky, “I don’t know, Chica. Maybe when you die, you’re just dead.”

“No, Pendejo. That is not right. There is a heaven and a hell. Your wife and daughter are in heaven.” The Mule Tamer

A shiny coat on a horse is so important, Miss Walsh.

William-Adolphe Bouguereau He walked a few feet and put his hand on another child’s head. She was pulling bandoliers off her tiny shoulders and placing them in a pile. “Maria.” He gently kissed her forehead and she smiled up at him, then immediately went back to the task at hand. “Maria was found at death’s door. She was beaten so badly that she could not walk. Her crime was that she was dipping her fingers into a pot of raw eggs. She was hungry and could not contain herself.” He grinned cynically. “The eggs were being rubbed into the coat of a hacendado’s prize racehorse.” He looked up at her and she thought she could see tears welling in his eyes. “A shiny coat on a horse is so important, Miss Walsh.” The Mule Tamer III, Marta's Quest

I’m good at rock throwing. I can kill a rabbit from all the way over there.

William-Adolphe Bouguereau Maria tried the cigar and liked it. She blew smoke at Juana’s smoke. “I’m good at rock throwing. I can kill a rabbit from all the way over there.” She pointed to the far end of the room.

Juana picked up a fancy glass paperweight from Sanchez’s desk and handed it to Maria. She didn’t doubt the child, but she wanted to see what Maria could do. “Hit that hat over there.”

Maria threw and easily knocked the hat down.

“Ay, chingao, you are good.”

Maria smoked and finished her beer. She was getting sleepy. She looked around a little nervously. “Should we leave?”

“No, let’s just stay here tonight. Sanchez, I heard from the whores, didn’t have family nearby. The rurale captain’s been notified and the pendejo, Pedro, is guarding it. No one will come in here. He’s too lazy to do anything but check the doors, and they’re locked.

She began wandering around the place and soon found a box with Maria’s stuff. She showed her new friend and it pleased Juana to make Maria happy. She looked at the items doubtfully. She picked up the mirror, then the brush. “This stuff’s junk.”

Maria looked hurt and Juana regretted her comment. “Why not take some new ones?”

Maria considered the girl’s suggestion. She looked around. She’d not thought about it until now.

“The son of a bitch owes it to you, Maria. He took away,” she pointed at Maria’s midsection, “you know, that.”

“We should take the money, too.” Maria was emboldened by Juana’s comment.

“You’re right.” Juana searched and found a money box. She handed it over to Maria.

“You take half, Juana.”

“No, it’s yours. The dirty devil owes you.” She looked around. “We should get new clothes.”

“Someone’ll see us with them, that’ll never do.” Maria thought about the pretty dress she wore briefly. It looked and felt nice on her.

Juana suddenly had an epiphany. “Let’s take it all.” Maria's Trail

“All little girls should learn guns. Then no one can bother them.”

tacosnachosburritos' photostream  “I’ll show you.” He sat beside
her and opened the latch. This Maria already knew but she was gracious and
allowed him to show her as he loaded cartridges into each of the cylinder’s
chambers. He got to the fifth one and stopped there. He held up one of the
bullets. “Only five, Maria.”
“But it’s a six
shooter.”
“Ah, and how many toes does my little Maria
have?”
“Ten.”
“If you load six bullets in the
gun, you might end up with only nine toes.” He laughed and closed the latch on
the revolver. He handed it to her as he wagged his finger from side to side.
“And don’t cock it until you are ready to fire.”
She nodded. 
“Now, go put it back.”
The old woman
harrumphed. “Under the pillow is no place for a gun.”
The old
man sat down and waited for Maria to return from her room. He continued. “All
little girls should learn guns. Then no one can bother them.”   Maria's Trail

Trouble with you is, you don't smile enough.

Dunton Francis nodded and grinned wider. “So, you’re really callin’ me a Nancy, is that right?”

“Ain’t callin’ you nothin’. Just saying, a man who smiles all the time . . . don’t know.”

Francis walked up behind him, causing the fellow to crane his neck to see what the lawman was up to.

“Well, ya are. I ain’t no kid or woman, that’s clear, only thing’s left is a Nancy. So, I think ya are callin’ me such.”

“Take it as you will.” The man spoke with progressively less enthusiasm. Privy digging was on his mind.

Francis grinned. “Trouble with you is, you don’t smile enough. Maybe if you would, you’d not be such a miserable and hateful son of a bitch.”

This did not elicit the proper response, as the man was a coward and did not want to fight with Francis or end up using the public works shovel again. He kept his mouth shut, but Francis could not let this insult go. He had a reputation to uphold, and there were many men who liked the idea of calling Francis a fairy. Francis probed a bit more, looking at the man’s hand, which the dude held out, too conspicuously. “Like for instance, son, here you are, sittin’ with  a full house, aces high, and still you got a look on your face like there’s a steel rod up yer backside.”  Allingham; Canyon Diablo