Listen to the Mockingbird (20 page)

Bewildered, I examined his face. “How did you know that? You weren’t there. You had already gone to bed.” If he was there, why had he waited until now?

“Si.” He looked down at his feet. “Was not me. Was Herlinda. She go to kitchen. She see you in room. She see hombre.”

“Why didn’t she say so before?” Had Herlinda been spying on me even then?

“Quién sabe? Who knows? Maybe she is afraid. I say to her ‘The señora es mujer, is woman, but she is fair. The señora give to me good pay and a free way with the horses. The señora give to mi familia a good life.’ Now I say to Señor Fountain that you no kill. The jail is not good, is not right.”

It was the longest speech I had ever heard him make. When the full impact of it finally registered, my eyes began to sting with tears. I sniffed them back and held out both hands through the bars to him. I knew how much effort it had taken for this taciturn little man to come forward with a story that was only partly true in order to rescue me. “Gracias, Nacho. Muchas gracias. As long as I have a place, you’ll have a job with me.”

Nacho took my hands clumsily, nodding vigorously, then twisted his hat in his hands and gave me a detailed report on the horses. George Washington’s colts were looking very good. The stud would make us the best breeders in all the Territory.

When he finished, I asked, “What about the house? Someone broke in?”

He nodded. “But they do not seem to take anything. Herlinda, she think it is the nigra.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Si, I do not believe it. But Herlinda say she know the nigra is witch.”

“Believe me, Nacho—”

His eyes had fastened on something behind me. I looked over my shoulder. The tarantula was skittering down the wall.

“You’re not afraid of tarantulas, are you? It was you who told me they’re harmless.”

He jammed his hat on his head then jerked it off again. “They do no hurt. But I would not wish to live with one. You come home soon, señora.”

“Thanks,” I said, “Gracias.” And this time the tears did spill, which made him more uncomfortable than before.

When Nacho had gone, I called Zeke, who came lumbering to my cell. “When can I get out of here?”

“There’s still the little matter of that stagecoach.”

“But I served my sentence for that!” I had explained it all to him, taking great pains to dredge the right dates from my head, the name of the judge.

“I know, I know. And I believe you. But I got to get it from Albuquerque. I put a letter on the stage back when you first told me, but I ain’t heard nothing yet. Folks up there might not be real happy to help us, since General Sibley done laid claim to half of New Mexico Territory and Albuquerque’s in the other half.”

999

Four days later, Zeke opened my cell door and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Get your belongings together and come on out to the office.”

Speech failed me. I could only stammer something unintelligible. In that moment, if Zeke had asked me to marry him, I would have said yes.

It didn’t take me long to pack up my bedroll. It felt odd to walk out the door of that cell and sit down on the chair next to his desk.

“I got to have the deed to your ranch,” Zeke said.

“You what?”

“Just for safe keeping. Just until the trial.”

“Trial? I thought—”

“The judge in Albuquerque says you served your sentence, and your foreman says you couldn’t have killed that Mex, but we still got to have a trial.”

“Why?”

“Because the Confederate States of America says so. The Army says so.”

“Are the Texans still planning to confiscate my property? They want my horses, Zeke. They want to be able to take them without paying for them.”

“Matty.” Zeke lowered his head and peered at me earnestly. “The Texans are the jefes now.”

“Fort Fillmore didn’t used to butt into territory business.”

“That’s no never mind. The Texans own the valley now.”

I had no choice but to agree.

Zeke pushed his chair back in order to take his belly far enough away to open his desk drawer. He brought out a document and pushed it toward me. “Fact is, it may be a good long time afore a judge can get up here from Franklin. Sign there.” He pointed to a blank line.

“Not until I read it.”

“Matty,” he said, “it ain’t me. Truth be known, I wouldn’t do a trial. Seems like a waste of time and money. But it ain’t my say-so.”

I nodded and wiped an icy palm over my forehead.

The words were fancy and pompous; but basically, the document said that I would deliver the deed to my ranch to Zeke within twenty-four hours, and if I failed to appear in court, my land would become the property of the Confederate Territory of Arizona. I frowned and looked at Zeke. “This is Arizona Territory now?”

“That’s what they say. Up about to Socorro and a beeline across to California.”

I heaved a sigh and wrote my name on the line.

Chapter Twenty-three

After breakfast on my first day back at home, Winona cocked her head at me and pronounced, “You look mighty peaked. Get on out there and take you a walk. We done without you this long, we can do without you one more day.”

I had already checked the chest in the parlor wall. Andrew’s revolver still lay on its lid and, as far as I could tell, no coins were missing. I cleaned and reloaded the pistol before putting it back. Then I gave out the pay and a twenty-dollar bonus for everyone. Herlinda looked stunned, then uneasy. I suspect she took her double eagle back to her room and bit it to be sure it was real.

Then, much as it pained me, I sent Julio to Zeke with the deed. But the truth was, I did feel a little shaky and my limbs ached from inactivity. I took Winona’s advice and just walked about gazing at things I hadn’t seen in weeks. I had forgotten how the land jutted up and down on its way to the mountains, the heady smell of juniper and how shaggy the horses’ coats got in winter, how the yucca looked like seventeen swords rammed into the same spot, how winter sunlight and clouds dappled the land with flecks of grey. I felt quite restored.

Thanks to Nacho, the ranch had broken even for the past two years. If the trial went well and I got my deed back, if George Washington’s colts were as fine as Nacho predicted, the ranch would bring a very tidy sum. I said as much to Winona when we sat in the parlor with cups of tea. She gave me a look I couldn’t decipher.

“But I’m not sure Nacho will swear under oath what he said. The fact is, it’s only half true. He didn’t see me himself.” The rocker made a rasping sound on the floor as I shifted my weight.

“An’ you sure don’t know if that woman of his will tell the truth, oath or no oath.” She stabbed her needle into the shirt she was patching.

“I never laid eyes on that Mexican boy, Winona, until I found him in the barn. And by then he was quite dead. Before God, I swear it.”

“Why you swearin’ to me? Didn’t I practically raise you? You weren’t nothing but a silly girl when we first come to meet. I know you done some pretty miserable things since then, but I know for blazin’ sure you didn’t kill no half-growed Mexican.”

I leaned over and tucked the blanket around Zia, who made a sound between a gurgle and a snore. Already the baby was almost too big for her basket. “The problem is, I can’t prove it.”

“I know that, too. So what you needs to do is find out who done that killing.”

“How the hell can I do that?” I slapped the arm of the rocker so hard it stung my fingers.

She wrinkled her nose at my language and went back to her sewing. “Got to be some way to find out how that boy came by a map of this land.”

“I’ve lain awake more nights than I can count trying to figure that out,” I said, shaking my still-hurting hand.

Winona put her head back and studied the ceiling. “Got to be something about this land, all right. You got a boy shot dead and he’s carrying that map, we know that for sure. And we know for right likely that somebody done set a fire on this land.”

I agreed. “And the offers to buy the ranch. We know those for certain. But it stretches the imagination to understand why two people should suddenly want this ranch. Unless they think there’s gold or silver here somewhere.”

Winona squinted at me. “Okay, s’posin’ that’s it. It ever enter your mind that Mex kid might of been hooked up with whoever has such an almighty interest in your land?” She jabbed the air with her needle for emphasis.

I got up and paced to the window, trying to dispatch the tightening knot in my stomach. On the other side of the pane, the day had turned overcast and grim. “Someone shot one of my calves, too. The poor thing is blind.”

“Mayhap that was just passing meanness. Gold or no gold, if we stick to what we darn certain know, it do seem that three, maybe four folks got a mighty big interest in this here ranch. Two of ’em are set on buying it; that kid is another, or why he be carryin’ that map? Number four is the one likes to play with fire.”

“It’s also possible that numbers one, two and four are the same—whoever wanted to buy me out maybe tried to burn me out when I wouldn’t sell.” I turned from the window. The parlor looked so homey and safe that I could hardly believe so much horror had happened here. “On the other hand, maybe somebody out there just plain hates me.” I found myself hoping it was true. Ordinary hatred is simple.

“That could be, all right.” Winona made a clicking sound with her tongue. “I sure would like to think Herlinda set that fire. She be capable of a mess of plain orneriness. But she wouldn’t chance burnin’ up her own kin.”

I thought about that for a while. “It’s nigh impossible that Isabel had anything to do with the fire, either. And I can’t think of anyone else I’ve offended.”

“Ha!” Winona chortled. “You can’t live an’ breathe ten minutes without making some folks powerful mad. Some because of me livin’ here, others ’cause you’re a gal on her own hook ownin’ a ranch and all. Then there’s the ones who maybe don’t like that you raise better horses than they do, or maybe they think you got better water. And some folk, you’ll never know how come they work up to hatefulness. You an’ me both be aggravatin’ that Herlinda woman. Might be the good Lord know why, I sure for certain don’t.”

I began to pace again. “I guess that’s more than half true. I offend the Union by selling horses to the Texans, and the Texans by not giving them more horses free for the asking.” I ran my tongue over dry, chapped lips. “Even if I don’t lose the land, I may lose the horses to one army or the other, which would be just as bad because the land alone wouldn’t bring near enough money to set us up in Philadelphia.”

“Why you got this Philadelphia thing on your brain all the time?”

“Winona, look at me.”

“I’m looking.”

“What do you see?”

“I see a mighty handsome woman with hair like an angel—when she remembers to brush it—and a durn good figger that’s about to turn stringy because she ain’t eatin’ enough. Your bones are starting to stick out.”

“Why should I care about my figure when I haven’t seen bishop sleeves or a big collar in almost ten years? I was educated to appreciate Mozart and Milton, not to dig ditches and play midwife to a mare. I don’t belong here.”

“You sure to God don’t if you want to spend all your time talkin’ about sleeves. How do you Eastern gals do that? It sure enough would bore me to tears.”

It struck me that I was never fond of such talk myself. I couldn’t think why I had brought it up now. But I wasn’t about to admit it and was trying to think up a smart answer when a tap-tapping sound came from a box made of twigs that sat beneath the window. The box rocked a little.

Winona chuckled and pointed at it. “That Ruben thinks you be crazy asking him to make a box for a tarantula. What you plan to do with that critter, anyway?”

“Set her free, I guess. She’ll like it better out here than in the jail.”

“Herlinda will like having that there spider around. Yes, ma’am, she sure will like that.”

“There are lots of tarantulas around here. She’s seen plenty of them.” I turned back to Winona, who had finished patching the skirt and was stowing her thread in Zia’s basket. “Did Herlinda give you any trouble? Isabel didn’t come back, did she?”

“You getting yourself arrested plumb took people’s minds off me.”

“Have you seen Tonio?” Suddenly, just thinking of him set my mind on edge. Why had he wanted to stay at the caves? He had never really answered that question. In fact, he seemed to avoid answering it. How could I have been so dull-witted as to trust him with the map?

I had to get it back as soon as possible.

Winona had her eyes on her sewing and didn’t notice my consternation. “Once he give Nacho something for Ruben’s hand when he crunch it with a hammer.”

“Has there been any more talk about him stealing gold from the Church?”

“I reckon that was just some ugly rumor.” She tossed her hand in a disdainful arc. “This whole place be about as full of rumors as an eggshell is full of egg.”

“The map the boy was carrying—I think maybe it marks the location of some sort of treasure. Maybe someone buried something there.”

She snorted, “First time I seen that map, I figured that was a might be.”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“’Cause there’s something about it don’t smell right.” Winona picked up Zia’s basket and left me to my deepening fear.

999

The glowering clouds were spinning up a storm the way an old woman spins wool. Tonio came out of the cave while I was climbing down from Fanny’s saddle. I had forgotten how the weather had burned its lines into his face like a brand. He looked thinner and a little weary, but the light still flickered behind his eyes. The rush of blood to my cheeks took me aback, and I busied myself securing Fanny’s reins to a mesquite tree until I got hold of myself.

“Welcome home.” His smile was as wide and warm as a sheepskin in winter.

I decided I wouldn’t mention what Isabel had said. All I wanted was the map. If he was a disgraced priest, it was of no consequence to me.

He clasped both my hands in his then let them go. “Eliot Turk was over this way yesterday. He said you were home. I was about to walk over.”