Maria's Trail (The Mule Tamer) (24 page)

She thought about kissing him. She liked that.
Of all the men over all the years, he was the only one she’d ever kissed, ever
really wanted to kiss, with the exception of Big Black, but she only kissed him
to send him off to heaven. She didn’t like to kiss him really, he was such a
mess and all bloody and dying.  She just did it, just as she’d done to
Crisanto, to send him to a happy death.

But this one, she wanted to kiss him and did
and liked it.

She rode aimlessly, without giving where she
was going much thought. She headed north until she got to the Indios and was
distracted by thoughts of the pendejo the entire way. They were happy to see
her as always and accepted her gifts graciously.

She stayed with them for a week and enjoyed
their company, but the gringo kept intruding into her thoughts. It was
ludicrous. What could she ever do with a gringo rancher? He was likely married,
anyway, and she had no interest in married men.

She could not get him out of her mind and
finally rode back to the little town. She needed to know more about the man who
rode on mules.

She reached the town on a clear morning and
found an older Mexican woman working on some washing next to the shack where
the gringo had briefly held her captive. The woman had an indifferent look on
her face as Maria approached her. She dismounted and tied Alanza, then sat down
near the woman and lit two cigars. She handed one to the woman without speaking
and the woman took it and clenched it between her teeth as she continued with
her task.

“Lady, I need to know about a man who lives
around here.” The woman was listening, but did not look up. “He is a gringo and
he rides mules like others ride a horse.”

“I know this man. Señor Walsh. He has a mule
ranch not far.”

“Is he a good man?”

The woman finally stopped and looked at Maria.
She liked Maria, despite her manly dress. She could tell that Maria didn’t have
bad intentions. “He is the best of men.”

Maria felt a flutter in her belly and a pain at
her bullet wound. She started to speak when the woman interrupted her. “He and
his uncle are good men. They are good to everyone but they are extra good to us
and the Indians. They have a good ranch and it is very grand, but they take
care of their people on the land. There, people are treated with respect, paid
well. They are a good pair of gringos.”

“And the one who is not the uncle, is he… does
he have a woman?”

“Not him. The uncle, though. He’s got Pilar,
the bitch.” She spit on the ground when she said the woman’s name and Maria was
amused by this.

“This is his wife?”

“Hah! No. She is a Mexicana, like us, but she
is the lady of the manor, or at least she thinks so. She is a housekeeper and
gives the old man one every so often. She thinks no one knows. Hah! Everyone
knows. She thinks she is better than everyone because she had an aunt who was
married to a shopkeeper once, and that was a long, long time ago. Now she runs
the ranch like it is hers. Old slut!”

“And the other one, this Walsh. He has no
woman?”

“No.”

She took her leave of the washerwoman and rode
on south. This was interesting news. She felt good again, felt a flutter in the
pit of her stomach. She didn’t go to him, though. She wanted to go then thought
better of it. She needed to ride south. She needed to see Uncle Alejandro but
was not certain why.

She returned to the hacienda and her uncle was
pleased, as usual. He was also happier at the way she looked. She appeared to
be happier, more rested; not so haggard. She was distracted, though, and Uncle
Alejandro could read her mind.

“You are in love, little one.”

Maria blushed. It was the first time she’d ever
been embarrassed in her life. She looked at the Jefe and grinned. “He is a
gringo.”

“I see.”

“You do not think this is bad?”

“Not particularly.”

“Do you not think all the gringos are assholes,
Uncle?”

“No. Just most of them.” He smiled. “But Maria,
most Mexicans are assholes, as well.” He got cigars for them to smoke and
continued. “This world is full up of assholes, Maria.”

She grinned and thought of something to say,
but he continued. “Most all people in the whole world are assholes, no one
country has the monopoly on them, Maria.”

“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.”

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.

But Maria could not make herself go north for
more than a week. She felt so queer about this; she was always confident and in
control. She never put anything off that she wanted to do. She wondered if
nearly dying had anything to do with it. That took a lot out of her but she
hadn’t hesitated since then. Whenever she had a showdown with a rude or
potentially bad man she was as calm as ever, not afraid, she’d not hesitant.

It was true that she hadn’t had to kill anyone
since then, but she knew, deep down in her bones that she could if she needed
to. No, she was certain it wasn’t that. But every evening it was the same,
she’d go to bed with the resolution, the determination that tomorrow she’d be
on her way. She even had trouble falling asleep because of her excitement.

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.

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.”

She felt better now. It had begun, this great
journey north. She did stop in some of the little saloons on the way, on the
Mexican side, to visit friends. These men were not bad men and they would never
play cards for much money, just for the enjoyment and camaraderie and they all
loved and respected Maria. She’d go easy on them when she played and would
typically turn around and either buy drinks or leave her winnings on the table
for them to take back.

They were also the best of men. They worked
hard for their meager income, worked hard to keep their families alive,
scratching out a living in the rough country to the north. They were always
pleasant to her and every one of them felt a certain responsibility for her, a
father’s responsibility. They hated to see her go.

As she rode she talked everything out to Alanza
and practiced her English. She needed to make a plan regarding the mule man.
“Alanza, I think I need to be a little tricky with this mule man.” Alanza
bobbed her head, as if in agreement and Maria patted her on the neck for it. “I
think I will show him the worst part of me, and then if he likes that part,
he’ll like the nice part of me.”

 She was excited at this prospect. She was like
a school girl who had not yet developed the skills to seduce a boy, awkward and
a little silly. She’d be this way to the mule man. She’d tease him with her
womanly offerings, seduce him, vex him. She’d leave him and come back just when
he’d think she was gone from his life for good. She’d make him beg her to stay,
and only then, only after he begged, or at least demanded it, would she stay. 
If he could fall in love with her after that, then she’d know he was her kind
of man. If he got insulted, or found her revolting, then she’d know to move on.

This excited her. She would play a part
because, in reality, Maria was no trollop. But the mule man didn’t know that.
All he knew of her at this point was that she took mescal and smoked cigars,
rode up and down the streets shooting her pistols, and that she kissed him when
she’d not even known him for an hour. It had been a good kiss, not the kind of
kiss you’d give your mother or father. It was a very good kiss.

And he liked it. She knew he liked it and liked
her. But that was what was so nice about him. That was what intrigued her about
him; he hadn’t judged her. He did call her a thief, but he wasn’t disgusted by
her. He was an educated gentleman and a gringo but he’d treated her as if she
were an equal. That was the thing.