The Adventurers (9 page)

I nodded. I closed my eyes and remembered how she had given me breakfast that last morning at home. I opened my eyes. "Why didn't they just rape her and then kill her?" I asked. "Why did they have to torture her?"

"Soldados!" Fat Cat spat again. "They are worse than we."

"Why?" I repeated.

"They thought she had something to tell them." He began to walk back toward the cane field. "Come, there is nothing here. We might as well start back."

We were almost at the road when he suddenly stopped me with his hand. "Your name is Juan," he whispered fiercely. "Do not speak! Let me do the talking!"

I didn't know what he was talking about until the six soldiers suddenly appeared in their red and blue uniforms, their guns pointing at us.

CHAPTER 10

Fat Cat took his hat off, a fawning smile on his face. "We are nothing but poor campesinos come to Bandaya in search of work, excelencia. My son and I."

The young lieutenant stared at him. "What are you doing in this particular place?"

"We saw the smoke," Fat Cat said. "We thought—" The lieutenant interrupted. "You thought you could steal something."

"No, excelencia," Fat Cat protested in a hurt voice. "We thought we could be of help. We did not realize it was a military matter."

The lieutenant looked down at me. "How old is the boy?"

"My son Juan is almost twelve, excelencia."

"We are looking for an eight-year-old boy," the lieutenant said. "The son of the bandolero Xenos."

"We do not know him," Fat Cat said quickly.

The lieutenant looked at me again. He hesitated. "He is supposed to be dark like your son."

"Stand straight, Juan!" Fat Cat turned to the soldier again. "See how tall my Juan is? What eight-year-old has his size?"

The lieutenant was still studying me. "How old are you, boy?" he suddenly asked.

"Tengo once anos, senor."

"Why is your skin so dark?"

I looked at Fat Cat. I didn't know what he meant.

"His mother is—"

The lieutenant cut off Fat Cat. "I asked the boy!"

I took a breath. "Mi mama es negrita."

I heard Fat Cat's almost silent sigh of relief. The soldier threw another question at me. "Donde vives?"

I gestured toward the mountains. "Up there, senor."

"The boy speaks well for a campesino," the lieutenant said to Fat Cat.

"It is the church, excelencia," Fat Cat said quickly. "His mother is a great one for the church. He has gone to the school of the Fathers in the mountains."

The lieutenant stared at him for a moment. "Come along."

"Why, excelencia?" Fat Cat protested. "Surely there is nothing more you want of us. We wish to return home."

"You can return home later," the lieutenant said. "El coronel wishes to interrogate every suspicious person. March!"

The soldiers formed around us quickly. "Where are you taking us?" Fat Cat asked.

The lieutenant spoke briefly. "A la hacienda de Don Rafael Campos. Move!"

He started down the road. We followed him. The soldiers followed us. I felt Fat Cat's hand on my shoulder. He whispered, "You will not recognize your grandfather!"

"But what if he recognizes me?" I whispered back.

"We will worry about that when it happens. It has been several years, and you have grown much. It is possible that he may not."

"What are you two whispering about?" the lieutenant asked.

"Nothing, excelencia," Fat Cat answered quickly. "Just that we are tired and hungry."

A troop of cavalry came sweeping down the road, and we moved aside to let them pass. The lieutenant called out to one of their officers. "What did you find?"

The cavalryman shook his head. "Nothing." The lieutenant watched as he turned his horse away and galloped down the road to the encampment.

There were men, women, and children standing around the hacienda of my grandfather. They looked at us without curiosity, preoccupied with a private misery of their own. Fat Cat drew me to one side. "Do you know any of these people?"

I shook my head. "No one is familiar."

"Bueno." He looked around. "I could use something to eat. My stomach is growling."

The sun was hot, and I was tired and thirsty. "There is a well behind the house."

"Forget it," Fat Cat said quickly. "All they would have to see is that you know where the well is. Then our goose would be cooked." He noticed the expression on my face, and his voice softened. He put out his hand and drew me toward him. "Come, nino, we will try to find a place in the shade to lie down and rest."

We found a spot near a wagon in the front yard. Fat Cat slumped down, resting his back against one of the broad-spoked wheels. I stretched out underneath, and in a few moments I was asleep.

I don't know how long I had been sleeping when Fat Cat shook me awake. "Open your eyes, nino."

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. The sun was still high in the heavens. I could not have slept for more than half an hour.

The soldiers were pushing everybody toward the galeria of the house. We got to our feet and moved forward with the others.

A soldier climbed up on the steps and faced us. "Line up by twos."

I looked around. There were perhaps fifty of us in the yard.

There were a few boys about my age but mostly they were adults. I started toward the front of the line but Fat Cat pulled me back behind a fat woman in the center of the crowd.

The front door opened and two soldiers came out of la casa. Between them they supported an old man. I sucked in my breath and started forward, but Fat Cat had a grip of steel on my arm.

It was Papa Grande, but not the Papa Grande I remembered. His once immaculate white shirt and suit were wrinkled and crumpled, and there were traces of blood at the corner of his mouth and down across his beard and on the collar of his shirt. His eyes were almost blank with pain and his chin trembled as he strove to hold himself erect.

They came to a halt at the railing of the galeria as an officer came out of the doorway behind them. He wore the epaulets of a colonel. He looked at us, then at Papa Grande. He had a dark pencil-line mustache, and there was a sneer on his face.

His voice was a thin reedy rasp. "Don Rafael, these people claim to be campesinos of this valley. They say you know them and will vouch for them. We want you to look at each and if there is one you do not recognize you will tell us. Comprende?"

Papa Grande nodded. "I understand," he said with difficulty. "I have already told you all I know."

The coronel's voice was impatient. "We shall see." He motioned to the soldier on the steps. "Have them file past slowly."

The double line began to shuffle by the galeria as Papa Grande looked down at us, unseeing. Fat Cat and I were almost directly below when the coronel spoke. "You, boy! Stand in the front where we can see you."

It was a moment before I realized whom he meant. I stopped, hesitating, then I felt something cold in my back as Fat Cat pushed me into the front line. I stood there looking up at the galeria, still feeling that cold pressure in the middle of my spine. I wondered what it was.

I looked straight into Papa Grande's eyes. A sudden flicker of recognition burned briefly, then the lids came down over his eyes slowly. When they reopened the eyes contained the same blank look as before.

The coronel had been watching us closely. "All right," he said, after a moment, "move on."

The line began to shuffle forward. I felt the release of the cold pressure against my spine as Fat Cat moved away. Then I noticed the lieutenant who had captured us whisper in the coronel's ear.

The coronel nodded. "Halt!" he called out.

The line stopped.

"You!" He pointed at me. "Fall out!"

I looked at Fat Cat. His face was blank and impassive, only his eyes glittered. He took my arm as we stepped forward. He bowed obsequiously. "Si, excelencia."

The coronel had already turned to my grandfather. "My lieutenant tells me he caught these two near your son-in-law's hacienda. They say they are campesinos from the hills seeking work. Do you know them?"

Papa Grande looked down at us. There was a curiously distant look in his eyes. "I have seen them before," he replied tonelessly.

Fat Cat moved closer behind me. Once more I felt the coldness against my spine. I started to turn but his free hand kept me facing forward.

"Who are they?" the coronel asked.

My grandfather seemed to take a long time in answering. At last he licked his lips and spoke. "I am an old man," he said in a quavering voice. "I do not remember names, but I have seen them often in the valley seeking work."

The coronel turned and studied me. "The boy is dark. Your son-in-law is also dark."

"There are many of us with Negro blood," the old man replied quietly. "It has not yet been declared a crime."

Again the coronel was silent. He looked thoughtfully at the old man, then drew his pistol and pointed it at me. "Then it does not matter to you whether this one lives or dies?"

There was a sadness in my grandfather's eyes but it was gone when he turned back to the coronel. "It does not matter."

Slowly the coronel cocked the pistol. Papa Grande turned away. The coronel didn't look at me; he kept watching my grandfather.

Suddenly I felt Fat Cat push me aside. "Excelencia!" he cried. "I beg of you! Have mercy! Do not take my only son! Mercy, excelencia, mercy, for God's sake!"

The coronel turned his gun from me and pointed it at Fat Cat. His voice was flat and cold. "Would you die in his stead?"

Fat Cat threw himself on his belly. "Mercy, excelencia! Mercy por Dios!"

My grandfather turned and spat down at Fat Cat. "Kill them both and have done with it!" he said in a contemptuous voice. "Put an end to their miserable craven groveling. It sickens me!"

The coronel stared at him, then slowly released the cocked hammer and put the pistol back in its holster.

Fat Cat scrambled to his feet quickly. "Mil gracias! A thousand blessings on you!"

The coronel waved his hand. "Move on."

Fat Cat pulled me back into the line. Slowly we shuffled away, as the line moved behind us. At last we had passed the galena. We stood there silently. I looked at Fat Cat. "He does not know me!" I whispered.

"He knows you!"

"But—"

Fat Cat's hand squeezed my shoulder. The coronel was walking down the line toward us. He came to a stop in front of me. "C6mo se llama?"

"Juan," I answered.

"Come with me." He turned, and Fat Cat fell into step beside me as we followed him back toward the galena.

The coronel called up to one of the soldiers. "Bring the old man down, and send the others away."

The soldier locked an arm against the side of my grandfather and began to walk him down the steps. There was a faint sound from the road behind us. I looked back over my shoulder at the people in the road. An angry murmur arose when they saw Papa Grande being led down from the galena.

"Tell them to leave!" the coronel shouted. "Open fire on them if necessary."

"Vaya! Vaya!" The lieutenant had his pistol out. "Vaya!"

The crowd stared at him. He fired a shot into the air, and slowly they began to move on.

When the road had emptied, the coronel turned to me. "The old man does not care whether you live or die," he said in a quiet voice. "Now we shall see if you feel the same about him!"

CHAPTER 11

By now it was almost three o'clock, and the sun was pouring fire down on the earth. The sweat dried on our bodies and the saliva evaporated in our mouths, leaving the faint sickly taste of salt. Despite the heat I felt a shivering inside me, a trembling I could not control as they brought Papa Grande down the steps.

"Take him to the wagon," the coronet commanded.

The old man shook himself free. "1 can walk," he said proudly.

The soldier looked questioningly at the coronel, who nodded his head, and we followed the old man as he walked to the center of the blazing courtyard. When he had reached the wagon, he turned and faced them. There were lines of weariness etched into his cheeks but his eyes were calm and clear. He did not speak.

"Strip him," the coronel ordered.

Quickly the soldiers stepped forward. The old man held up a hand as if to stop them but they had already begun ripping the clothing from him. His thin body was almost as white as the clothing he had worn. Without it he seemed small, shrunken, shriveled, his ribs standing out against his flesh. His buttocks and flanks were loose and flabby with the failures of time.

"Lash him to the wheel!"

Roughly two soldados spread-eagled him to the wheel, his arms and legs outstretched to the rim. The hub of the wheel protruded into the center of his back, forcing the old man to arch outward in an awkwardly obscene position. His face grimaced with pain as his stiff joints rebelled. He closed his eyes and turned his head to avoid staring into the sun.

The coronel gestured. He didn't have to order the soldiers to their duty. One of them snapped the old man's head back against the rim of the wheel and secured a leather strap around his forehead to keep his head from moving.

"Don Rafael." The coronel's voice was so low that at first I wasn't aware it was he who had spoken. "Don Rafael."

My grandfather looked into his eyes.

"There is no need for this, Don Rafael," the coronel said, almost respectfully.

Papa Grande didn't answer.

"You know where the boy has been hidden."

My grandfather's eyes didn't waver. "I have already told you I do not know. He was taken away by Diablo Rojo."

"That is hard to believe, Don Rafael." The coronel's voice was still soft.

"It is the truth."

The coronel shook his head in apparent sadness. "Your son-in-law, Jaime Xenos, allied himself with the bandoleros, the murderers of your daughter. It is known to us that he has political ambitions. What else can we assume but that you are in sympathy with them?"

"If I were," the old man asked, "would I be so foolish as to remain here in my hacienda where you could find me?"