Maria's Trail (The Mule Tamer) (20 page)

There were only women here and they regarded
Maria with a solemn nod of the head. They were guarded, strangers invariably
caused some sort of stress and trauma. No one with good intentions, it seemed,
ever visited the Indians.

But soon they were disarmed by the pretty
woman’s charm and Maria resolved to give them the entire beast. She was
rewarded with a bed in one of the Hogans and a festive dinner that evening.
Maria was humbled and thrilled by these acts of kindness.

By sundown all the children were around her
with the smallest ones resting in her lap. She kissed them on the head and sang
and spoke to them in Spanish. They loved the queer language and mimicked most
everything she said. One came out with Maria’s things and this she found quite
astonishing. They did not seem to have a concept of ownership or privacy of
things.

The child found Maria’s old mirror and was
looking it over. Maria called her over, pulled her down onto her lap and held
it up so the child could see herself. Maria smiled and looked, pointed at the
image in the mirror, “This is the only one in the world you can truly rely on,
little one. The only one in the world. You remember that.”

The child looked at herself and smiled. She did
not know what the pretty woman had said but it didn’t matter. To her it sounded
like magical birds singing in her ear.

The next morning, she was up first. Everyone
was tired from the late night celebration and gorging on the fresh venison.
They were not accustomed to eating so much, nor so well. Maria got Alanza
tacked up and rode out again. She’d kill them an elk this time.

She rode out onto a plateau that opened up to a
surreal view; red sky and red land. This morning the sky was the color of the
rocks all around and she had difficulty determining where one ended and the
other began. It was beyond comprehension and she waited and watched as the day
unfolded. She patted Alanza again. “Is this the most wondrous thing you’ve ever
seen, my darling? It is, for me.”

And then, as if her whole body had been
consumed by a tidal wave of emotion, she realized she was happy and filled with
contentment.  She felt the familiar flutter deep down in the pit of her
stomach. She was truly happy and nothing, no matter what, could happen to her
in the future that would ever compare to this feeling, this emotion of being in
the moment, here and now, taking in all the natural beauty of this desert. It
was one of the happiest moments of her life.

They had good luck and Maria killed a young
cow. She marked the spot and rode back to the little settlement. Her band of
helpers would soon have it broken down and back home. They all worked
diligently and the youngest ones, the ones too young to really work with any
level of effectiveness, played and sang and kept everyone entertained. Maria
watched the workers to make certain they did a good job. She did not want red
dust in the meat this time.

She stayed with the Indians a long time, every
morning when she’d awaken, resolving to move on, the children would do
something to keep her. One day slid into the next and before she knew it, weeks
had passed. This did not bother her one bit.

The women loved her. They fussed over her
constantly and Maria was like a princess. She could do nothing for herself as
she was the huntress and kept their bellies full. The least they could do for
her was keep her clothes clean and her Hogan in order. She was beginning to
like this kind of living and it reminded her of the Germans.

In the evenings the women worked on the hides
and Maria entertained the children. She taught them games, how to play cards,
singing songs in Spanish and they taught her words in their tongue. They’d
laugh when she spoke with her native accent and then mimic her and run away.

The end of the day was always the same. Three
or four of them would cram into her Hogan and comb her hair. Maria had to count
out three hundred strokes or they would never stop and she’d ultimately have to
shoo them from her little room. Invariably, one or two would end up back with
her and she’d awaken in the morning with a child pressed tightly against her
back.

Eventually the wanderlust once again took hold
of Maria and she headed north. Everyone stood in line and bid her farewell the
morning of her departure. The children laughed and waved and some of the women
cried. Maria would not forget them. They were on her list, the list of good
people who’d done her a kindness and she’d be back with prizes and gifts, toys
and candy and things to make their lives a little easier.  She turned and
smiled, “Adios, my lovelies, adios.”

Canyon
del Muertos

Maria arrived at the settlement of Canyon del
Muertos early one evening. It was the worst place she’d ever visited in her
life. The place was like a deadly mushroom, doomed, slated for disaster from
the time the first tent was erected. Like a festering disease, it spread its
malice and depravity over several acres.

It was named after a canyon that had to be
spanned by the railroad and it seemed that one incompetent act, one blunder
followed another. This was how Canyon del Muertos came to be. Even before the
white man came, it seemed to be cursed. Legend had it that hundreds of years
before, a tribe of Indians was caught at the bottom of the canyon as a flash
flood swept through, wiping them all out. An enterprising settler with a
Spanish flair gave it the name and that is how the place became known as Canyon
del Muertos. 

The reason this place was doomed was that there
was no reason for a town to exist here at all. The place was the result of a
comedy of errors, yet there was nothing comedic or funny about it. The railroad
was being built and progress was swift, except for a mathematical
miscalculation. The bridge built in Chicago and shipped down was short by just
enough to cause a delay. While everyone waited for a replacement bridge to be
built and shipped, little shacks were thrown together. As if by invitation, all
the miscreants in the territory were drawn to the place.

In a normal town there was some reason for it
to exist: mining, or ranching, lumber, or some sort of commerce. But there was
nothing in this godforsaken place to attract normal, hardworking people. It was
just the opposite; it was a place for the morally bankrupt, lazy and deceitful.
It was simply doomed. Like carrion drawn to a rotten corpse, all came to Canyon
del Muertos.

Maria was excited. Shots were fired up and down
the street. Bad men walked up on her and leered, looking for an opportunity.
Nearly every stranger who came to town offered some promise of capital. No one
was safe and the town was known for devouring lawmen. More than twenty had been
appointed in the first year and were all retired by gunplay.

She rode and calculated. Alanza was not safe,
nor was her saddle or traps. She certainly couldn’t ride her pony into a
saloon. She thought about what to do when a boy caught her eye. He was a little
vagrant, not more than ten, and he reminded Maria of Juana a little. He was
quite fat for a boy living on the street. She called for him to come over to
her and the lad complied.

“Little boy, where can I keep my horse safe?”

He nodded. Maria could see that she was casting
her spell. The boy grinned. “Not at the livery stable, all thieves there.” He
spit tobacco juice at Alanza’s feet.

“Okay, you are a clever boy. You have told me
where not to put her, tell me where to put her, boy.” She picked through a
pocket, found a coin and tossed it to him.

“Follow me.”

He ran through an alley and Alanza followed,
past a small row of shotgun houses. They eventually ended up at the back of a
brothel where a big woman was squatting, having a pee. She did not stand up as
the boy approached, but eyed Maria indifferently.

“This lady needs to keep her horse somewheres
that it won’t get stole.”

The prostitute shook herself a little and
pulled up her bloomers. She was agile for a big woman.  “A dollar a day.”

Maria handed her five. The prostitute stuck
this in her bosom. “For another dollar, I’ll give ya a room, long as you don’t
mind the banging.” She nodded with her head at the bordello behind her. “Some
of these boys try to drive us right through the wall.” She was warming up to
Maria as she watched her dismount and take her fancy rifle and Winchester from
Alanza’s saddle. “You ain’t lookin’ for work I guess, honey?”

Maria didn’t respond. She did not take it as an
insult but she nonetheless didn’t respond. The woman continued. “Don’t get many
Mexican gals up this way. You’re sure a good ways from home, honey.” She took
the fancy rifle in hand, looked it over doubtfully.

“Where is the best gaming, lady?”

The whore pointed her in the right direction
and Maria started walking. She decided to carry her Winchester as everyone in
the little settlement seemed to be armed. She’d have better luck with the extra
bullets and long barrel of the rifle in the event there was a shooting. Maria
was counting on it.  She looked back and smiled. “You take good care of my
things, lady and I’ll make you rich.”

The whore shrugged and looked down at the boy,
his mouth full of tobacco. She then spoke to no one.  “If you live through the
night.”

The place was lively, as decadent as The Cage
but not nearly so polished or rich. Maria knew she would not find thousand
dollar tables here. She looked around and several men ogled her. Suddenly a
giant of a man loomed over her. He was a Negro, the first Maria had ever seen
and she was fascinated by him.

“He fancies you.” Maria looked on at a scrawny
man with rotten teeth, not much older than she was and she wondered how anyone
could destroy teeth in such a short time. She looked at the man as she lit a
cigar and the big Negro stared down at her.

The Negro was a powerful man; he’d spent his
life working on the railroad. He stood well over six feet tall and had very
dark skin, darker than any Mexican she’d ever seen. He wore an eye patch over
his left eye but it wasn’t big enough to cover the hideous wounds he’d
received. Around it could be seen significant scars. He wore a green plaid work
shirt with a large checkered pattern, accentuating his impressive mass. Maria
could tell that he was not fully in control of his mental faculties and she
smiled at him. “Hello, Mister.”

The Negro turned his head, like a dog intrigued
by a whistle. He responded with a sound similar to a huffing voice, “Yeahuh.”

The scrawny man spoke up again. “He can’t talk
to ya. He got a tampin’ iron drove through his head, Miss. He can only say
‘yeahuh.’”

“I see.”

She held out her free hand and the Negro took
it. “What’s your name, Mister?”

The scrawny man spoke up again. “He ain’t got
one; he’s just called Big Black.”

“Come on, Big Black, you sit with me.” He
followed like a giant trained bear and Maria noticed that everyone gave Big
Black a wide berth. She should not have to shoot her way out of this saloon
after winning.

She laid her money out and the dealer gave out
the cards. It was another big game, which Maria always liked as she had more
cards to count. Winning came easy this night, easier even than at The Cage.
Most of these men were pretty thick. She wondered if lumbermen were as stupid
as railroad workers. If so, she couldn’t wait to move on to Flagstaff.

Suddenly a man reached over and grabbed Maria
by the arm. He was not angry or aggressive, just excited to recognize her. “I…
I know you! You shot up all those hombres down in Bisbee.”

Several men looked the diminutive Maria over
and then looked at the man. They liked a good story about shootings. Big Black
noticed the man’s hand on his new mistress and jerked his head a little
sideways, grunted “yeahuh,” and the man knew to get away.

“Sorry, Miss.” He looked afraid of Big Black
and this amused Maria to no end.

“God damn, I hearda that.” The scrawny man with
rotten teeth continued. “Goddamn, lady. That was sompin’.”

The dealer continued and enjoyed watching Maria
play. The saloon was so violent that every table had to have a dealer as the
patrons could not be trusted to work it out for themselves. The dealer not only
ran the game, but acted as enforcer and nursemaid. This dealer was an
especially violent and hateful man, but he was enjoying Maria. He was not evil,
just hateful and mean and tough.

He was hateful as he’d had a belly full of this
place but could not move on and he enjoyed watching his regular customers lose
all their money. He was sick of them, tired of their inane conversations and
poor playing. He was tired of the senseless violence and tired of watching
these animals kill each other. He was simply tired and now found something,
someone, in the form of Maria to watch and enjoy and to break up the monotony.

He turned at one point and sniffed the air with
a sour look on his face. “Goddamn you, I told you to stop that.”

The man next to him smiled sheepishly like a
scolded child. He passed wind as a hobby and was very good at it. Everyone
hated him, he was disgusting. He tried to look at his cards and ignore the
dealer, but just couldn’t contain himself and started to giggle uncontrollably,
like a little boy.

“Enough! Jesus Christ, you’re stinking up the
place worse than Hedor, there.” He looked at the scrawny young man with rotten
teeth who’d now clamped his lips tightly together and did his best to breathe
through his nose. The dealer regarded Maria. “Can’t you see there’s a lady
present? Jesus man! Show a little goddamned respect, a little goddamned
self-control.”

They played along some more and Maria was
clearing the table faster than any farting man could ever hope to do. Few were
left with enough money to ante up and now she was with Big Black and his
rotten-toothed friend, the dealer, a gambler, and the windy man. They played
for a while and Big Black gazed at Maria adoringly.