Paloma and the Horse Traders (25 page)

He reached behind him to the loose papers on
his desk and put them in Lorenzo’s lap.

No fool, Lorenzo finished the
flan
—first
things first—then took a look at the papers.

“
I picked these up from the governor
when I was in Taos,” Marco said. He sat back and gave Lorenzo the
hard stare that usually reduced horse thieves to silence. The thing
was, he didn’t mean it this time. All the events involving Lorenzo
Diaz and the man’s now-dead brother and the horse trading in Taos
had landed Claudio Vega back in his sister’s life. How could a
husband be angry about that?

But as he had told Paloma, the law was the law.
He had sworn in Santa Fe before God that he would uphold all the
laws, even the silly ones. Except when he couldn’t, because the
Council of the Indies had no idea what went on in the Valle del Sol
District.

“
Those horses are inside my own
horse barn, now that the gate is closed,” Marco said, then slammed
his hand on his knee. “
My
barn! And I am this district’s
juez de campo
!”

His dramatic gesture would have been more
effective had he slammed his hand on his desk instead of his knee.
At least his bowl of
flan
was safe on his desk.

“
Señores, I know those are stolen
horses,” he said.

Lorenzo gazed back, so innocent. Claudio looked
less innocent. Rogelio in the corner started to whimper.

“
The last thing I want to do is
arrest you,” Marco admitted. “In a roundabout way, you have
reunited my brother-in-law with my dear wife. The husband in me
wants to just wave you on tomorrow and forget I ever saw
you.”

“
Listen to the husband,” Lorenzo
said.

Marco was a man of some rectitude and
considerable honor. He called every scrap of his will and reason
into play then, just to keep from leaping to his feet, grabbing
Lorenzo by what was left of his hair and slinging him around the
room. It was one of those moments, thankfully far apart, when he
wished he were Toshua and could just slice off half a yard of skin,
or scoop out a testicle, and have done with it.

He counted to ten, then counted again. All the
while Rogelio was sniffing by the door, wiping his nose on his arm.
Thank goodness Paloma doesn’t have to look at that right now, in
her delicate state
, he thought, mostly to take his mind off the
harm he wanted to do Lorenzo Diaz, horse thief.

Marco did the time-honored thing and
sidestepped the matter, because a larger crisis loomed, a personal
one. “Here is another matter, Lorenzo: Claudio gave me a bill of
sale for a matched team of bays. Is that bill of sale a
forgery?”

“
Absolutely not,” Lorenzo replied
firmly.

Marco would have believed him, except for that
tiny moment between question and answer when Lorenzo’s steady gaze
flickered as he glanced toward the ceiling. A less experienced
juez de campo
wouldn’t even have noticed. Marco had
interrogated many a liar, and Lorenzo Diaz was one more in that
long line of rascals and cheats.

“
You’re telling me the truth?” Marco
asked again, knowing that the answer would be the same, and that he
was about to become poorer. But honor was honor, and he could prove
nothing.

“
Would I lie to a
juez de
campo
?” Lorenzo asked. This time he mastered the little flicker
toward the ceiling.

“
Many have,” Marco said. He stood up
and went to his desk drawer, where he counted out the sum owed for
the team eating hay in his horse barn now. He was going to miss
them when he returned them to their owner. He handed the money to
Lorenzo, then took out a smaller amount and gave it to
Claudio.

“
Brother, thank you again for
trusting me enough to pay my bill at the inn.”

Claudio accepted the coins, but his face was
troubled.
You look so much like Paloma
, Marco thought.
Would that you ran with a better crowd
.

“
I forgot to look, and the bill of
sale is in my room. Where did you buy that wonderful team of bays?”
Marco asked Lorenzo.

“
The ranch of Señor José Vasquez,”
Lorenzo said promptly, without any eye waver. “In the valley of
Pojoaque.”

I can return them when I go to Santa Fe this
fall with my wool clip, Marco thought. I hope I am paid well for
that wool clip.

And that was all the business he cared to
conduct with horse thieves. He closed the drawer where he kept his
money and locked it, pocketing the key. “Lorenzo, I will not keep
you any longer,” he said, not bothering with a bow, because the
rascal deserved none. “I expect you to return those three horses
eating in my barn to the man in Isleta, where you stole
them.”

“
Señor, I never ….” Lorenzo
began.

Marco withered the horse trader with a look.
“You have been paid for the team I now own. We have no more
business. I expect you to be gone by daylight.” His own stare at
Lorenzo did not waver. “I have the power to arrest you and seize
this property you claim you acquired honestly, but Lorenzo, I do
not have the heart.”

He stood by his desk until the men left, then
sank down into his chair again, kicking himself for his folly. He
looked up to see Claudio standing in the doorway. Marco just shook
his head.

“
Marco, did … did you want me
in the
sala
, too?” Claudio asked.

I wish you were an honest man, Marco thought,
but Paloma will never hear otherwise from me. “Yes, I do. Let’s
walk together.”

“
I’ll be there in a minute,” Claudio
said, not meeting Marco’s gaze. “Time for a piss, you
know.”

“
You won’t even walk with me,” Marco
said softly, as Claudio hurried away, his head down.

Sick at heart and determined not to show it to
his wife, Marco went to the
sala
, where he heard laughter
from Joaquim Gasca, who was probably entertaining Paloma. The man
had no scruples, either
. I am surrounded by idiots,
Marco
thought
, and I am chief among them
.

Her eyes merry, Paloma patted the tall chair
next to hers. They were the only chairs in the room, so everyone
else sat on the adobe outcroppings from the wall, padded with
Pueblo blankets and frankly more comfortable than the chairs. But
the chairs represented power, something he needed just then. To his
personal gratification, Toshua and Eckapeta sat on the floor close
to Paloma.

He smiled at the two of them, suddenly struck
by something he hadn’t considered before. Whenever Paloma was in a
room with strange people, Toshua always stood in front of her or
close by. And here was Eckapeta, too, as watchful as her husband
over that which Marco held most dear. He felt himself relax. No
matter how many scoundrels came his way in the course of official
duties, Paloma was safe. His pummeled heart started to beat
again.

“
Eckapeta, please tell us what you
learned from Kwihnai,” he asked with no preamble, because he wanted
this day over, and consolation of a personal nature from
Paloma.

“
I found Kwihnai in the summer
camp,” she said, skipping right to the heart of the matter, too,
even though Marco knew how much The People liked to draw out a
story. But then, Eckapeta always had a secret sense for personal
feelings. He blessed her in his heart.

“
I told him what Great Owl had done,
and how he had shot at our Claudio.”

Our Claudio. Our Claudio could use some
scruples
, Marco thought.

She gave Marco a sharp look, which made
prickles run down his back. Could the woman read his
mind?

“
I asked Kwihnai for help to find
Great Owl and destroy him, but he will not commit any warriors.”
Eckapeta spoke in a calm voice, but Marco heard the undercurrent of
disdain. “He knows Great Owl is out to disrupt any attempt at
peace, but Kwihnai wants to see how things go.”

“
That implies he will be watching
us,” Marco said. “I understand this, so do not frown, Eckapeta.
Kwihnai’s walk is more hazardous than ours.”

“
Between two Comanche forces,”
Joaquim Gasca said. “Maybe I should be like my sergeant and never
volunteer for anything.”

“
Change your mind?” Marco asked,
almost wishing he could change his.

Joaquim shrugged. “You can’t imagine how boring
life is in Santa Maria, señor. Perhaps I will be a
hero.”

“
We will be an army of three,” Marco
said.

“
Four, surely,” Claudio said. “I am
coming, too.”

“
Please remain here with your sister
and Eckapeta,” Marco told him. “I saw how you were wincing on that
ride back from Santa Maria, and that was no long trip. There will
be hard traveling into the cloud land of the Utes. You still need
to heal.”

Marco wanted to say more—how he did not
entirely trust Claudio, because of the matter of the stolen horses.
He also knew he would face Comanches without a weapon before he
would humiliate Paloma with her brother’s failings in front of
these people. “Remain here, Claudio.”

Claudio shook his head. “I want to go with
you!” he said, louder this time.

“
And I want you here.
You’re
the one Great Owl tried to kill,” Marco said, his voice rising as
well. Paloma put her hand on his arm.

“
You’ll make me stay behind walls
with the women and children?” Claudio challenged. “Paloma, you
don’t need me here, do you, not with all the archers and guards
around this place?”

“
Well, I …” she began, “I would
feel safer if you were ….”

Claudio stood up and left the room. Marco
listened a moment until the door to his bedchamber banged
shut.

No one spoke. Paloma’s face had gone white.
Only Joaquim seemed uninterested in the family drama that had just
unraveled. He stretched and stood up.

“
Are we leaving early,
señor?”

“
As soon as we can,” Marco replied.
“Your room is the next one down the hall, beyond what I am certain
is a closed door now. We will ring the bell for prayer in the
chapel soon. You are welcome to join us.”

Joaquim ambled to the door. “Señor, El Padre
Celestial and I worked out an arrangement years ago: I don’t bother
Him and He lets me alone. Good night.”

At least his servants did not fail Marco. He
knelt with them, and with his daughter and her wiggles through the
Rosary, and then his prayer for his family’s protection while he
was away. His heart opened wide as his little son, also kneeling
occasionally with Paloma, repeated his words under his breath, then
crossed himself in strange directions while Paloma tried not to
laugh.

Serious as usual—who ever knew what she was
thinking?—Graciela knelt behind Paloma, ready to take either child,
counting her fingers because she had no beads. Marco reminded
himself to ask Paloma to give her the old rosary she had received
when she came to Valle del Sol as a new bride. He had given Paloma
a beautiful ebony Rosary for Christmas, a Rosary for the dignified
matron that she was now, when she remembered to be
dignified.

His prayer was hurried, because the children
only had stamina for worship in short doses, but he prayed from his
heart for God’s protection on them all, as his little army prepared
for what, Marco did not know.

Marco continued his prayer in his bedchamber,
while Paloma and Graciela prepared the children for bed. He knelt
at his
reclinatorio
and tried to pray. He hoped the saints
didn’t take offense, but he felt more peace listening to his wife
and children. She was singing a lullaby, and he knew from
experience that the sleepy children were arguing about bed as their
eyes closed.

Paloma went right into his arms when she came
into their chamber. “A long, long day,” she whispered in his
ear.

“
Too long for you and me to have a
few minutes of tipi time?” he teased, reminding her of their
sojourn among The People.

“
Heavens, no,” she told him. “Only a
few minutes?” She shed her clothes without any more conversation
and shook her head when he went to extinguish the lamp by their
bed.

He blew out the lamp anyway, but opened the
shutters. “Full moon tonight, Paloma. I always look better by
moonlight.”

She laughed and gathered him close in bed.
“You’re my lover,” she whispered in his ear. “Don’t think of
anything but me for a little while.”

He didn’t. She was easy to satisfy, and then to
satisfy again, because Paloma Vega was his lover, too, his
constant, his star in the meadow. She turned her face into his arm
when she cried out, so her satisfaction would be for his ears only.
Their empty house was full now and he felt no need to entertain the
guests.

She didn’t want him to leave her, so he stayed
where he was until his rump cooled off. “Autumn is coming, my
love,” he told her finally, as he reached for the bedding and
pulled it over both of them. “My ass gets cold.”

“
Your language,” she said in that
gruff voice he loved so well, the one usually reserved for times
like this. She began to massage his cold rump against her, until
she began to sigh again, and turned her face into his arm. “My
goodness. I
thought
I was tired.”