The Pot Thief Who Studied Billy the Kid (47 page)

I pointed to my face. “Let this be a warning to you. Always wear sunscreen.”

The mother and daughter glanced at each other.

Whit came in
just before closing time
.

“The sheriff up there said you was dragged to where they arrested Maldonado
, but he didn’t mention you was dragged on your face.”

“I know you didn’t come here to comment on my injuries.”

“No, I came to bring you up to date like you requested. They reached a deal with Maldonado. He gets total immunity for the dead guy you dug up in return for telling them where the body is.”

“Total immunity? What
if
it turns out he killed the guy?”

“They’d never make that stick. The dead guy was
one of those
nuts
who
beat themselves with whips and even volunteer to haul a cross and be tied on it. Sometimes they even get their hands nailed to it. Someone di
e
s under those circumstances, you can’t really say they were
murdered. They’re all just nut
cases.”

I thought about Carlos.
“Maybe
most of them are nuts, but some could be
saints. Martin snt sizays that before you criticize a man, you should walk a mile in his moccasins.”

“That
’
s
good advice, Hubert.”

I was surprised
by his positive
reaction. “It
i
s?”

“Sure, that way if he don’t like your criticism, there ain’t much he can do about it because you’re a mile away from him and he’s barefoot
ed
.
You want to hear the rest of the deal?
”

“
I guess.
”

“He also gets immunity from the
pot digging
if he returns all the stuff he still has and gives them a list of everyone he sold stuff to. I hope you keep a list of
your
customers, Hubert,
i
n case you ever need to bargain your way out of your pot thieving.”

“I would never betray my customers. So he walks on the crucifixion death
and the ARPA and NAGPRA charges.
What about trying to kill me?”

“The
y don’t think they can stick him with
that either
.”

“
What!
”

“The law defines attempted murder as taking an action designed to kill, like stabbing you or shooting at you
.
He didn’t do anything that could have killed you.”

“That’s only because Susannah showed up before he got the chance.”

“Don’t matter
. H
e took no potentially lethal action against you.”

I was flabbergasted.
“He told me he was going to kill me.”

“Your word against his.”

“He
tied me up and dragged me down to that cliff dwelling.”

“Right, and that’s
where they got him
– kidnapping. Actually, it’s aggravated kidnapping since he did you bodily harm.
That carries a longer sentence
, so it’s fortunate that he dragged you.”

“Lucky me. How long is the sentence?”

“He bargained for twenty years, but he’ll likely serve about twelve if he don’t get in trouble in prison or get killed there.”

“Great. So in twelve years a guy who tried to kill me will be back on the street and hardened by
a dozen
years of prison.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. I doubt he’ll want a return trip. And I’ll make sure the APD keeps you safe. The bad news is that they took all
the
old pots in his house into custody up there, so
I
didn’
t have a chance to grab one
for yo
u to sell for us. I don’t suppose you found one up there?”

“He had picked the site so clean, the only thing left was a shard.”

“That’s just a piece of one, right?”

“Right, but I sold it for a thousand dollars.”
I figured five hundred would satisfy him.

He let out a long whistle. “A thousand buck
s
for a broken piece. No wonder you like being a pot thief.”

I gave him
the
five hu
ndred
.

“It ain’t the most we ever made,” he said, “but it ain
’
t bad for a few

phone calls. Nice doing business with you.
”

50

Susannah and I made our final trip to La Reina a couple of weeks later to attend a memorial mass for
Carlos Campos Castillo
.

A
fter the service
, everyone gather at El Erupto del Rey for lunch. Susannah spent several minutes talking to Baltazar
de los ojos
then joined me at our table
.

Father Jerome was making the rounds of the tables and booths. When he stopped at ours, he joked that we should be made honorary villagers.
La Viuda de Zaragosa
came over and thanked me for making it possible for one of their own to be brought home and buried in the churchyard. I thought of my conversation with Consuela.

“I think I’ll come back next month on
El dia de
los
muertos
to visit Carlos,” I said to Susannah.

“What would you bring him?”

“I guess
pan de muerto
and
cempasúchil
.”

“I think I know what
pan de muerto
is, but what
is
cempasúchil
?”

“Marigolds.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“You just want to see Baltazar.”

“Why not? He seems nice, Hubie. He’s my age, handsome, and single. And Sirena lives here, so we could double date.”

“Yeah, and I could
keep the cast
on
in case Hugo decides to go a few more rounds with me.”

I
asked her to stop by the cliff dwelling on the way back.

“The cliff dwelling is not on the way back. It’s not on the way to anything.”

“It’s on the way to trouble. But I want to go there anyway.”

“What the he
ck
,” she said. “At least I know how to find it.”

I looked at the scary mound of boulders at the top of the switchback and told Susannah I wanted to tie a rope to the bottom one. Since I was still in the cast, she volunteered to do it.

After the rope was in place,
Susannah activated the winch. When the
bottom
boulder
began to move,
the pile above it rumbled down the slope and knocked off part of the cliffside, destroying a section of the path.

“Okay,” she said, “now that I’ve helped you do that, yo
u
want to tell me
why
we did that.”

“
I want
the site to be left alone.”

I walked over to the ledge above the site, close to where Susannah had been standing when she shot
El Raton
. N
ot as close to the edge
as she had been
, b
ut close enough to toss
t
he shard down to where it had come from.

“What is this, some sort of weird cleansing ceremony where you give up pot digging?”

“No, the ancient potters want me to find their work.”

“You really believe that? I always figured that was just a rationalization you liked.”

“I do believe it. The Indians who sell their stuff in Old Town are proud of it, as they should be. But just because they sell their arts and crafts doesn’t mean they sell their culture. I can take a pot from an ancient site and leave the site undisturbed. It’s a perfect analogy.”

“If you say so.”

“I’ve been worrying about being associated with the people who
destroy sites in the process of looting them, but I’ve resolved my concerns about that.”

“
I
f you hadn’t gone down there, Carlos would still be in an unknown and unmarked grave.
So some good did come from your pot
digging
.
”

“I’ve been thinking how weird it is that there’s a book about Billy the Kid written by Pat Garrett, the man who shot him down in cold blood.”

“This has something to do with Carlos?”

“It does. Evidently there were a lot of hucksters after Billy’s death claiming they had his pinky finger, his skull, or some other part of him. They would travel around and charge people to see th
o
se things.”

“I’m glad we don’t have those sorts of sham
e
less exhibitions these days.”

“Yeah. We have reality television instead. Anyway,
a
t the end of the book, Garrett goes to great lengths to say that
all those claims are false,
that Billy was given a proper burial and his grave ha
d
not been disturbed. He also rails against the reporters and editorialists who criticized him in various newspapers for shooting Bill
y
in cold blood. And the rest of the book is about how Billy had many sace="Pterling qualities.
”

“Sounds like Garrett had a load of guilt.”

“That’s what I thought.
” We stood in silence for a moment
. “
Billy was given a proper burial. Carlos was hidden away in an unmarked grave. Frank Aguirre’s ashes were dumped into an irrigation ditch.” I looked up at her. “You think it makes any difference?”

She started to answer then suddenly looked over my shoulder and said,
“I do not believe this!”