Maria's Trail (The Mule Tamer) (12 page)

The other whores were friendly to her. They’d
seen what Maria had done for Lupina and knew that she was not like them; they
understood that Maria was special. She was not a peon or a bandit or a lady.
She was a creature unto herself. Her escort put an arm around her but wasn’t
crass or mean or seductive. “Come with me, Miss.”

She took her to an empty room in the back. It
contained a big bathtub. It had been prepared especially for Maria. She
stripped down and they took her outfit and cleaned it. She relaxed in the hot
water, smoked a cigar and drank some mescal. She’d rest for a while and decided
that now would be a good time to interrogate her escort.

“Tell me. Were there two men here in the past
day? They would be from the south, wearing black boots to the knee and striped
trousers. One had long moustaches and the other no hair on his face at all.”

“Oh, yes. They were here. They had a lot of
money. They had some things to sell from a church.”

“And where are they?”

The woman was washing Maria’s back and becoming
too friendly. Maria gently pushed her away and the escort blushed.

“I am sorry.” She grinned and bit her lip. “You
are just too beautiful not to touch.”

Maria rinsed off and got out of the tub. “Come
now, darling. Pay attention.” She dressed quickly so as not to distract the
young whore. “Where did the two men go?”

“Oh, the saloon across the way. They’ve been
drinking in there for the past two days. They are trying to gamble but no one
will give them a game.”

Maria was now dressed in her fresh clothes. She
looked at a clock on the wall and then outside. It was nearly midnight. This
would be as good a time as any.

She gave the woman some money and kissed her
cheek. “You’ve been good to me. Thank you, darling.”

She blushed again. “It was my pleasure, little
doll.” She smiled and rolled the money up, putting it down her front. “All my
pleasure.”

Maria walked across the street. She was
surprised to be so calm. She’d never killed men before and she figured she’d be
shaky or scared; at the very least, excited. She was none of these things. Her
heart didn’t race and her hands didn’t shake. Her vision was clear and her
breathing slow and deep. She actually felt good.

She walked through the saloon door and many men
turned and looked at her. They’d not seen a woman like this before.  None of
the peons ever came into the bar and the whores always looked like whores. No
ladies would ever come in and, if they had, they’d be in dresses, not dressed
like a man.

Maria let them look her over as she lit a cigar
and blew a great cloud of smoke at the ceiling. She looked to her left, then to
her right. She did not see either of the men she was looking for.

She slowly walked the length of the bar and
there they were, in a back corner, sitting together around a little makeshift
table that had once been a barrel. Now it had a plank on top. There was a
candle on the table. It was lit and there was a bottle of mescal and two
glasses.

The men looked very drunk or sick or both. They
did not look like ferocious bad men. They looked old and worn out; dirty peons
with some fancy vaquero clothes. She did not regard them as much of a threat
even though they both wore six shooters and had fancy dagas in the front.

Neither of them looked at her. She stood there
for a while until everyone stopped gawking and went back to whatever they were
doing before she came into the saloon.

She had gotten two six shooters back at the
village when she got the Winchester and she wore one on each hip. She
unholstered them, holding one in each hand by her sides. Still, no one paid her
any mind and the bandits continued to sit, stupefied, seemingly not looking at
anything. She walked up and stood before them until they finally looked up,
squinting and trying to focus.

Maria kept the cigar clenched in her teeth. Her
hands were full of her six shooters. She blew smoke around the cigar at the
men. They looked at each other and finally at the six shooters in her hands,
but they still did nothing. They just sat there.

Maria pointed the pistols at the men and fired
both guns at the same time, opening a hole in the head of each man. They fell
backwards off their chairs and onto the floor, great chunks of brain running
down the wall behind them. She stood over them and fired again and again until
both guns were empty and the men’s bodies were torn open with most of their
entrails spilling out of their abdomens.

The rest of the patrons dove for cover. They
didn’t know that Maria was the only one shooting and they didn’t want to be hit
by stray lead. Her ten shots smoked up the saloon so badly that there was a
thick haze hanging in the air. It was pink in color from the mist caused by the
blood sprayed from the slugs from Maria’s guns. Everything was deathly still.

Maria looked around but no one wanted to fight
her. No one wanted to arrest her or ask her what she’d done or why she’d done
it. No one liked the two bastards from the south. Everyone was a bit afraid of
them and they were just waiting for them to go away. Maria had done them all a
service.

She dug through the men’s clothing and found
money and some little items from the church. She took their six shooters and
dagas and stuffed them in her gun belt. One had a couple of gold teeth and she
beat them out of his head with the grip of her pistol. She dumped the teeth in
the glass of mescal to clean them and then put them in her pocket.

She regarded the barman and gave him some of
the money from the dead men. She wanted to compensate him for the mess. She
nodded to him and he nodded back. He seemed to have a just discernible look of
satisfaction on his face as he waited for Maria to do whatever it was that she
was going to do next. He had no interest in getting her riled. She turned and
walked out.

The barman ran around the bar after her. He
stopped at the entrance of the saloon and, standing on the long porch, called
out to her.

“Miss?”

She turned as she was putting on her sombrero,
her raven hair reflecting silver from the moonlight. He thought for a moment
that perhaps she wasn’t real.

“Yes?”

He slowly raised his hand and pointed with a
trembling finger. He suddenly felt cold. “Those are their horses, ma’am.”

“Thanks.”

She rode hard with her little train of horses
behind her. She’d go back to the fence. She was now as happy as she could be.
He’d pay her and then she’d go visit the nice woman with the mean husband, the
one who’d given her the flint and steel.  She needed to thank her and she’d do
it with the money the dead men’s traps would bring.

This pleased her. She remembered the old man
telling her stories on cold winter’s nights. One of the stories was of old
England, where there was a man who did these things. He was Robert Hood, or
Roberto Hood, or something like that, she could not remember exactly, but he
spent his days helping poor people and killing bad people. This is what Maria
would do.

She decided to stop for the night. She made a
fire and fixed something to eat. As she ate, she pulled out the paper from the
Bible. She looked at the list of Commandments. She’d violated many of them in
the past days. This was good and she looked up at the sky and held up her
little fist and shook it at the heavens. “How do you like all that, God?”

She thought about the whore who helped her with
her bath. It was curious because she’d not known women who liked women. It was
flattering to her and she felt a little sorry for the whore as Maria had no
interest in such things. However, she knew how she could break hearts. Now she
broke the hearts of women as much as she did men. She looked up at heaven
again. She wished she liked women so that she could be carnally involved with
them because she was sure that would not please God and it was now her goal in
life to anger God and mock Him and do things that would confound Him.

She remembered a time when the old padre talked
about carnal things, that such activity was only for married people and it was
for the making of children. So she surmised that it must be something that
would make God angry, two women together carnally, that would certainly make
Him angry because they could not be married and they certainly could not make
babies.

She thought on that a bit and now that was
another thing to hate God for. Why would God be angry if a woman liked another
woman, or a man liked another man? The world was a cruel enough place and Maria
thought, good for them if they found some comfort in the arms of another. What
did it matter? It didn’t and it was just another stupid rule put in place by God
to torture mankind.

Maria thought back to her killing of the bad
men. She was utterly remorseless. She could not have cared any less for them.
She liked it. She liked the fact that everyone in the saloon did nothing to
stop her. They knew. They were just not free like Maria. They were bogged down
with their own sense of right and wrong.  Or perhaps they were afraid or
worried over what God would do to them.

They lacked the clarity of mind that Maria now
possessed. She was completely free. She was free of fear, as she was not afraid
to die. She was free of guilt, as she knew they needed to be killed and she had
the guts, the nerve to carry that out.

It was a good thing that she was beautiful and
strange in her attire. That was the most misleading thing about her and it
would always, always work to her advantage. That would make the bad men
hesitate. They’d look at her and think of bedding her or think that she was
weak. They would not think of her as the one who was going to send them to
hell. It was the perfect arrangement and she laughed to herself and thought
about God’s big mistake. He made her this way. He made her brave and good at
throwing rocks and shooting guns and riding horses and He made her fearless and
beautiful. He made the perfect killer and she was certain He didn’t mean to do
it. This was her joke on God.

All the musing made her sleepy and she slept
among the horses and felt good. Tomorrow she’d swim in the sea and sell the
traps and visit the pretty assistant and offer her some kind of gift. She’d
think hard about that, as it would have to be a good one.

The sea was as beautiful as Maria had
remembered. The store looked the same but no one seemed to be around. She tied
her horses to the hitching post and wandered around. She saw the house and
looked at the window up in the garret and felt a flutter, a twinge of sadness
at the memory of Juana and their time together in the nice bed. She remembered
that she’d have to find the bad man with the ugly growth on his face and kill
him. He would be next on her list.

A woman emerged from the house. It was the
pretty assistant. She was still pretty but old-looking to Maria as she’d aged
ten years. Maria still had the image of how the woman looked when they first
met. She did not recognize Maria, but nodded to her as she wiped her hands on
her apron. She wore her hair high up on her head. She had a pretty, delicate
neck and Maria didn’t remember this about her. She still had the kind eyes and
Maria most definitely remembered them.

“I am Maria, lady. I am sure you do not
remember me but another girl, Juana, and I came here a long time ago. We sold
things from the bastard Sanchez’s store.

The assistant smiled. “I remember you.” She
stepped back and regarded Maria. “Just as beautiful as I thought you would be.”

“I have more things to sell to the man. Is he
here?”

“No.” She walked past Maria and regarded her
traps. She looked at the horses and nodded and then at Maria. “He’s dead.”

“Oh.”  Maria looked at the woman and did not
detect any regret. She decided not to pursue it.

“Do you have anything else?”

They walked inside and Maria produced all the
dead men’s traps. She pulled out the gold teeth and the woman recoiled. She
grabbed a cup and held it out. “I hate teeth, disgusting. Throw them in here.”

Maria complied and the woman rolled them around
in the cup as if she was going to play craps with them. “They’ve got a lot of
gold in them.”

Maria looked up and could not help but notice
the woman’s eyes fixed on her. She felt like she had around the too friendly
whore. She grinned and didn’t mind. It would anger God.

“So you are the new fencer?” She laughed.
“Fencer. It was what Juana called you and the man. That’s very funny.”

The pretty assistant didn’t ask about Juana.
She’d known enough bad things in her life to know that Juana’s story was likely
a tragic one and the pretty bandit would tell her about it if she wanted. There
was no value in asking her such a thing.

“I am.”

“Well, we will be good friends. I expect I will
be bringing you many more things like these.”

Maria stayed and the assistant gave her fancy
wine she’d gotten from one of her thieves. It was good wine from France and it
had been stolen from a train. The assistant kept it for herself because now
that the man was dead, she could do that and did it often.  She had enough
money and didn’t need to sell everything she took in. She kept the best things,
particularly the wine and spirits of quality, for herself.

They were nearly drunk by that evening and
Maria wanted to go for a swim. They walked down to the shore and stripped
naked. Maria did not think the woman so old looking now. She was quite pretty
naked and she felt the woman looking at her again and this flattered her. She
looked up to the heavens and muttered something. The assistant asked her what
she’d said.

Maria stepped into the water and turning over,
floated on her back. The sea was so salty that she could do this effortlessly.
She was drunk enough to tell the pretty assistant what she wanted to know. She
grinned and said, “I was talking to God.”

“Oh?” The pretty assistant swam up to Maria and
put her hand on her head, leaned over and kissed her passionately on the lips.
It was the softest, most tender kiss Maria had ever felt and she looked at the
woman, then stood upright and put her palm to the assistant’s cheek.

“I am sorry, Bonita, but I am not that way.”
She watched the woman’s heart break and gave her a smile. “I wish I were that
way, but I am not. I would like to make God angry by loving women, but it just
is not my way. I am sorry.”

The woman smiled and walked back onto the beach
and dropped down upon the sand and stared up at the moonlit sky. Maria joined
her.

“Why do you want to anger God?”

“Because God’s a bastard and a pendejo and an
alfeñique.”

The woman laughed and stretched out on her
side, resting her pretty face on her hand. “I’ve never heard anyone say such a
thing.”

“Oh, it is the truth. God has done nothing but
torture me all my life and he’s killed everyone I love. He’s taken everything
from me.”

“I see.”

“And so, I…” She looked the woman in the eye.
“Do you know the Ten Commandments?”

“I do.”

“I will break all of the Commandments to mock
Him. And I plan to rob and steal and bring everything to you so that you can
give me money. I’m going to help poor people because God is too much of an
alfeñique to do this thing. And I am going to kill every bad man I meet. Every
one.”

“I see.”

The woman was very calm and Maria thought at
least the woman would try to argue with her or lecture her, but she did nothing
but smile at Maria and look pretty in the moonlight.

Maria wanted more wine and walked over to their
clothes and picked up the bottle and drank from it. She handed it to the pretty
assistant and she did the same.

“Aren’t you angry at me for saying bad things
about your God?” She liked the woman. She seemed to be wise and kind and
treated Maria like a peer, not like she was a young girl who knew nothing.

“Oh, He’s not
my
God.”

Maria smiled. She thought she was the only one
who had not known of God. Everyone she met was a devout Catholic.

“You don’t know of God?”

“Oh, sure.”

The woman took another drink and was happy to
discuss philosophy with the young beauty. She’d spent so much time either alone
or with ignorant thieves. It was good to have a conversation like this.

“I grew up a very faithful Catholic. I know all
about God and Jesus and the Virgin. I got baptized when I was a baby and I had
my first communion and I had confession. I know all about it.”

She was getting cold as the sun was down and
the sea breezes were picking up. She brushed herself off and dressed and Maria
did the same. “But I had my doubts over the years. I’ve not had such bad things
happen to me as you, Maria, but I’ve had my doubts.”

She smiled. Maria had now stopped drinking and
was listening intently. She’d not known anyone who doubted as she had. “And
then one day, someone brought in a collection of books they’d stolen. Many
books that had many ideas in them and I learned about other kinds of people and
other concepts of God and I realized that maybe the God that we’ve known, maybe
He’s not necessarily
the
God.”

“
The
God?” Maria was intrigued.

“Yes.” She smiled. “I understand why you are
angry at
your
God, Maria. He, or at least what we’ve been taught about
Him, leaves a lot to be angry about.”

“What do the others say about Him? The other
people?”

“Oh, lots of things. Some believe God is a
force, not a human form. There’s no God up in heaven that looks like an old man
with a beard, and there never was any Jesus or the Virgin. They believe it is a
force. And then there are people who believe in reincarnation.”

“What is this?”

“It means when you die, your soul goes to
another body. If you were good in life, you get a better body, but if you were
bad, you get a bad body, and you keep living and dying over and over and over
again.” She laughed at Maria’s expression. She was giving her many things to
ponder and Maria was taking it all in, not judging, not telling the woman any
of it was preposterous or right or wrong.

“So not everyone is like us, like a Catholic?”

“No, heavens no!” She felt funny saying
heavens.

They eventually went to bed and Maria invited
the pretty assistant to share the bed with her, provided she understand that it
would not involve anything other than sleeping. They opened the windows wide
and Maria remembered the lovely odor of the bedclothes. They needed plenty as
it was chilly and this made everything all the cozier. It was nice to have
another person share her bed and she felt happy. She didn’t feel guilty now as
the woman did not look so broken hearted and Maria was pleased that they could
share a bed as friends and not complicate things. She decided to be a little
bold.

“The man, the fence. Was he not your husband?”

“No. We never were. We were lovers. He had a
tremendous thing, you know, down there.”  She grinned and pointed between her
legs.

Maria laughed out loud.

“Really?” Maria had only seen one and that was
Crisanto’s. It seemed neither large nor small to her at the time. She had no
real point of reference.

“Oh, my goodness, yes. And he knew how to use
it. He was good at it.”

“But you like women.”

“Both. I like men and women, Maria. Like women
better, but like both.”

“I see.” Maria was learning many things. Many,
many very strange and interesting and wondrous things.