Paloma and the Horse Traders (13 page)

No answer.

“
I think he is worn out from pain,”
Paloma said, coming into the room. “I’ll check on him
later.”

She kissed his cheek and went into the kitchen.
Marco watched his servants tend the two new horses and spent time
on the parapet with his guards, looking for Comanches. Naturally,
they saw none.

“
Will tonight be another Comanche
Moon?” he asked the guard standing nearest to him. He had heard of
other Indians in American lands farther east who refused to attack
at night. Comanches were not among that number. He remembered long
nights from his childhood spent under the church floor, his mother
praying, and his father somewhere else, probably where Marco stood
now.

His eyes started to burn in their sockets, but
he remained on the wall, wondering how his neighbors were faring.
The last two years of relative peace from Comanches—a pledge made
to him by Kwihnai in the sacred
cañón
—had made them more
relaxed in Valle del Sol, even though he had repeatedly warned the
other rancheros to keep up their guard.

He looked in the direction of the Castellano
land grant, still unoccupied since the smallpox deaths of Alonso
Castellano and Maria Teresa Moreno, Paloma’s cousin. In Taos, he
had asked Governor de Anza about possible settlers, and the
governor just shook his head. “It appears no one is brave enough to
settle on the edge of Comanchería,” he had told Marco.

I understand that
, Marco thought,
turning his attention to the thick walls of his hacienda and the
guards, alert and watching. He wondered if he would leave, if he
could, and arrived at no satisfactory answer. Perhaps his roots
were too deep to even consider the matter.

He heard a creak on the ladder and turned
around to see Paloma. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” he asked, noting
how tired she looked. How exhausting it must be to carry a baby,
even one not yet much larger than a peanut.

“
I’ll go to bed when you go to bed,”
she told him.

“
Even if I insist that you get some
rest?”

“
Probably even then,” she replied,
with a remarkable degree of serenity.

He knew there was no arguing with her, not with
that tone of voice, so he put his arm around her. “How is our
patient?”

He felt her sigh. “He just stares at the wall.
I know he is awake and in pain, but he seems shy to be in our home.
He even said, ‘I should be in the barn,’ and I told him that was
nonsense. He won’t turn around to look at me.”

Marco’s conscience did more than prick him; it
walloped the back of his head. “That’s my fault. On the journey
from Taos, I said too many unkind things about how he
stinks.”

“
Oh, Marco,” she said softly, which
was a worse chastisement than if she had yelled at him, which she
never did. “Most of us are only doing the best we can. When he
feels better, Graciela and I will make sure he can wash. Maybe he
will allow us to cut his hair and beard.”

She leaned against his chest and both of his
arms went around her. “I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it. “He was
kind to let me take the horses with only the promise of payment at
the end. And … and when he knew I had given away everything to
pay that damned villain for Graciela, he even paid my bill at the
posada
. Shame on me.”

“
Father Francisco would order you to
say a bunch of Hail Marys and make a generous act of contrition,”
she told him, holding him off for a moment.

“
My generous act to Diego Diaz will
be new clothes and new blankets,” Marco said. “I promise.” He
pulled her close, too miserable to be at arm’s length when he
wanted comfort.

She nodded, and let him hold her. “You know
something else?” she said finally, her voice quiet against his
shirt. “The way he lies there reminds me of an old dog that Claudio
and Rafael adopted, or maybe it was the other way around. I don’t
even know if he had a name.” She chuckled. “He certainly never came
when anyone called!”

He listened to her soft words, happy that she
was remembering life before him, that time on her father’s hacienda
before everything went so terribly wrong. “And?” he prompted. This
was not a story he had heard before.

“
He was a medium-sized dog, much
smaller than your mastiffs that patrol these parapets, but larger
than my little yellow dog.”

“
That useless bit of fluff that now
follows Emilio everywhere?”

“
The one you paid my uncle an entire
peso for? That one?” She laughed that low, intimate laugh that
always made Marco’s heart beat faster. “We don’t need a dog to keep
each other warm, do we? Well, the dog of Claudio’s got into fights
and scuffles, and romantic tangles, I am sure. He would go off to a
dark corner and lick his wounds. Not even Claudio could coax him
out. When he felt better, he would show up at the kitchen door for
scraps.”

“
Did he perish from overeating?”
Marco teased.

She tightened her arms around him. “He died
that day in the field with Papa, Claudio, and Rafael. I … I
walked just to the edge of the field, and there he was, an arrow
through his heart.” She pressed her head against Marco’s chest, as
though trying to burrow inside him. “They even scalped
him!”

Marco kissed the top of her head. “That means
the nameless dog must have put up a fight, defending his people,
mi
Paloma
. He served the Vegas well. That’s what you
need to remember.”

“
I suppose he did,” she said after a
while. “Maybe it sounds silly to you, but I think Diego is licking
his wounds. When he feels better, he will let us know. I don’t
think he is used to sympathy. I doubt there is anyone who cares
about him.” She kissed his chest, then backed away, the better to
see him. “Are the Comanches out there now?”

“
Hard to tell. I hear no strange
bird calls. The horses aren’t restless. There’s a certain tension
if The People are nearby. I don’t feel it.”

“
Then don’t stay up here too long,”
she told him. “The nights are cooler now, and I’ve been more than a
week without someone to put my cold feet on.”

“
And maybe a little more?” he
teased.

“
Maybe a lot more.”

Marco stayed on the parapet another hour,
walking around, seeing his hacienda fortress from all angles. There
were no weak spots and he knew his men. He said goodnight and
walked toward his home, feeling all of his thirty-four years
now.

Toshua stood outside Marco’s old office by the
horse barn. He gestured Marco inside.

Eckapeta sat cross-legged on the buffalo robe,
a comb in hand. “Thank you for all you have done for my dear ones,”
Marco told her.

“
They are my dear ones, too,” she
said, her voice as soft as his.

“
Sit a moment, little brother,”
Toshua said.

Marco sat with them, hoping he could get up
smoothly, especially when his bones ached.

“
I have one thing to say,” Toshua
began. He turned around and sat in front of Eckapeta, who dragged
the comb through his tangle of hair.

“
Say on, friend.”

“
A warrior shot one arrow only.
One!”

“
No others? Are you
sure?”

Toshua gave him his sternest look.

“
One only,” Marco said hastily,
wondering when he would be smart enough not to doubt the
man.

“
They made a great show of following
us, and yelling, but once Diego was shot, that seemed to be their
only concern,” Toshua said. He closed his eyes as Eckapeta tugged
on his hair. “Woman! I have only one head.”

She snapped out something that made Marco
blush, because he knew more Comanche than he let on.

Marco thought through the silence, broken only
when a piñon pine knot popped and scattered a shower of
sparks.

“
Diego was the target?”

“
Who else? He was riding back a bit
with Graciela. You and I were in no danger.”

“
I wonder what Great Owl wants with
him? Horses? Something else?” Marco asked.

“
Maybe Diego will tell us when he
feels like it.” Toshua shrugged. “Or he won’t. Go to bed, Marco.
Paloma won’t stay awake forever.”

She was wide awake and minus her nightgown when
he finally came to bed, and he had never been a man blind to
suggestion. He took his time with her, his fingers gentle on her
breasts, because he knew they were sore.

She was less gentle with him, which he found
nearly as gratifying as the act itself. Her urgency signaled to him
that he was forgiven of all crimes and misdemeanors, or at least,
that was how he chose to consider the matter. She was soft,
obliging, tenacious, and fierce by turns, and he happily let her
swallow him whole.

Paloma vanquished all his tension from the past
week, and probably well into the next month. He relaxed and lay
there at peace with his wife.

“
I was frightened in that space
below the chapel,” she said finally. “I sang and sang to our
children, and I hope they did not feel my fear.”

He tightened his arm around her. “I am grateful
that you did not hesitate to go to ground. Did … did Eckapeta
suggest it?”

“
I needed no urging from anyone,”
she said. “Funny I should think of this, but when I was a child, I
used to stand outside with my father when lightning and thunder
played. I hated to go belowground, and he knew it.” She sighed. “He
called me Paloma la Brava.”

“
You are.”

“
I must be, when I have babies to
protect,” she said, “the two we have and the third one we cannot
see yet.” She turned sideways and looked deep into his eyes. “Poor
Diego Diaz! I looked in on him before I went to bed. There he was,
gathered into a ball. I wonder, did he
ever
have anyone to
look after him?”

“
He told me something about a
stepfather who was killed by Great Owl and his warriors not far
from here. He didn’t sound remorseful,” Marco told her.

“
He said the same to Eckapeta and
me, back when I gave him the message to find you.”

Marco couldn’t keep his eyes open. “Then we are
both in his debt. He helped you and he helped me.” And then he
couldn’t keep his eyes shut. “
Chaa
! What did I do but insult
him because of his uncleanliness?”

Paloma put her hand over his eyes and closed
them. “You can apologize again to him. I think that under all that
grime and hair, there might be a very good man. Heavens and all the
saints know he has been good to us, for no particular
reason.”

Marco left it there, and slept, Paloma warm in
his arms. He woke up before morning, ready for Paloma again. He
nearly stroked her, but her face in the early morning light showed
him a woman still tired, with dark smudges under her eyes. He
thought of her nights spent in the shelter under the chapel floor,
alert and watching for trouble. One child to protect would have
been enough anxiety, but there were three
.

And each baby is equally important to you,
eh, Paloma?
Marco thought. He doubted that his wife gave much
thought to the fact that Soledad was her cousin.
And I couldn’t
be nice to a broken-down trader,
he thought, still irritated
with himself.

He pulled on his shirt with the long tails
nearly to his knees and tiptoed down the hall. A glance in the
children’s room showed him two little blanketed mounds, because the
air already had that chill of early fall still masquerading as
summer.

He crossed the hall and peeked in, pleased to
see Graciela sitting by the trader’s bed, a bowl of steaming broth
in hand. Diego lay sideways, babying his wounded shoulder, eyes
closed, eating. Graciela looked at Marco standing in the doorway
and nodded. He smiled and closed the door, glad for people in the
world kinder than he was.

Returning to his room for trousers and
moccasins, he admired the smooth line of Paloma’s hip to her waist
to her bare shoulders. He came closer and tugged the blanket over
them, but not before observing the freckles on her shoulders. Once
he had vowed to kiss every little dot. He had tried several times,
but never got far before distracted by other enticements. She was
lovely and healthy and his wife. A man could have no greater
treasure.

After he dressed, he went into the hall to just
stand there, staring at the door where the trader lay. He had eaten
a little, and perhaps slept now, certainly marshaling his forces in
the way that wounded men did. He knew what that felt like. When he
had hurt himself, Felicia had always been so tender and helpful.
When he returned from the slaughter of Cuerno Verde and the other
Kwahadi warriors four years ago, there had been no one to tend to
his lance wound. His servants had cared for him, but it was never
the same. Silently he thanked Graciela and left the house by the
kitchen door.

His guards, Toshua among them, stood staring
into the distance on that part of the parapet that faced north and
east. Curious rather than worried, he joined them. What he saw made
his heart sink.