MACHO CABALLO

PART 2:  CHAPTER DIES Y SEIS

CHOOSING UP SIDES




A CHAMPION:

Silence drifted through the Azuma village, disturbed only 
occasionally by the murmur of an infant or the shushuru of sand 
in a gourd as a lone voice sang the evening song. Through the 
nearly-dry streambed burst a playful group of young dogs, pets 
of the children who were not outside to join them.  The pups 
seemed to sense the solemnity of the moment and became silent as 
they slipped through the cluster of lodges and into their homes.

The doll-maker raised the ceremonial clay pipe and took a puff 
before passing it on.  In this tribe, the women took their place 
in the council when decisions were made.  There were two more 
women in the fire-lit lodge.  Alboro took the pipe, next.  
Although he was considered a loner, a person who stood outside 
the village, Alboro was nevertheless acknowledged as a person of 
experience.  If the puff he drew from the pipe was a little 
longer than others took, no one said anything.  He, too, passed 
the pipe along.  When all had smoked, the doll-maker put the 
pipe away and began.

“When we agreed to respect and honor this land, we took upon 
ourselves the responsibility to protect the people on it.”  
There was a chorus of approvals.  “Now, a dark force has 
returned to claim the land and the people.  We cannot stand idly 
by and allow this to happen.”

Again, several agreed.  One, however, spoke.  Raven Wing said, 
“But what can we do, against such power?  This person has allied 
himself with the cruel spirits.”

“The cruel spirits have their place,” said another, “It is a 
part of the greater balance of things.”

“He uses their power to add to his own,” objected the first, 
“This is not a good balance.  Everything will suffer, later, 
when the wheel swings back.  This person has no regard.” She 
pointed to a child’s toy, a caricature of a bird, which tottered 
on the top of a stake.  With two long wooden wings which drooped 
below the pivot point, the bird was always balanced - push one 
wing down and the weight of the other wing would pull the toy 
back into an upright position. “This person has too much power.  
I say again, what can we do against such power?”

The setting sun reflected into the lodge entrance from the 
nearby butte, a ruddy light rapidly growing dimmer.  They 
watched the toy bird as it danced to keep its balance, teetering 
to the edge of the platform and away again. Somewhere outside, 
an insect droned in lazy circles as it searched for food.

Alboro was the first to break the silence.  He yawned, 
stretched, and scratched under his armpit until he noticed the 
others staring at his gaping mouth.  With a sheepish grin, he 
made himself more comfortable.  “I have a thought,” he said, “We 
cannot oppose this person directly.  But even the strongest 
animal has a weak point.  The most powerful bear will stand on 
his two back feet to reach up in a tree. The most agile puma 
must have his tail to leap.”

“And you, old fool, must have your tongue,” snapped the doll- 
maker.  “What are you saying?”

“We must find someone who can defeat this person,” said Raven 
Wing, the first speaker.  “We need a champion.”

“I agree,” said the doll-maker.

“I agree,” said Alboro.

“You what?!?!”

“I agree.  We need a champion.  We must train someone who can 
get close to this person and snuff him out.”

“I never thought I would live to see the day you would agree 
with me,” snapped the weathered old woman, “What sort of 
trickery do you plan?”

“I plan no trickery.  But we have a champion, already.  He can 
be taught the ways of power.  He can get close enough to our 
enemy to kill him.”

The doll-maker regarded him suspiciously before comprehension 
dawned.  “You would put forth your miserable grand-son to save 
this valley?  That *failure*?”

“My grandson has gone to see the spirits of the spring,” Alboro 
smacked with satisfaction.

“And we have your word that he did not disgrace himself and us,” 
said another.

“Now, my great grand-daughter tells me she had to reveal her 
sacred form in order to save his worthless hide,” the doll- 
maker snapped, “I have seen him dashing about the village like a 
irresponsible infant when he comes to visit.  Of what possible 
use could such a... a... *mixed blood* be?  I have seen no proof 
of his acceptance by the spring spirits.”

Alboro smiled mysteriously and said, “Nevertheless.  I am 
training him.  He has potential.”

“So has a wolf pup!” snapped the doll-maker, “And about as much 
chance of stopping our enemy!”  The scent of roasting corn came 
wafting through the open entranceway and was greeted by the 
sounds of bellies rumbling.  The doll-maker shook her head in 
disgust, saying, “All you do is think of your bellies!”  She 
called a close to the conference.  They would meet again to say 
good-bye to Sunboy the next evening.

As the elders straggled to their own lodges, she muttered to 
herself, “If you can get a champion, then so can I!  I, too, 
know of a brave warrior who can defeat this sorcerer!”



ASK FOR NOTHING:

In the valley of the cave, in the cavern of the springs, a brave 
person was answering a question.  The question, posed by voices 
which sounded like the lap of water or the whisper of the wind, 
echoed from the walls like pebbles bouncing about a gourd, “Who 
are you, and what do you want, young seeker?”

He should have remembered the warning given him by the doll- 
maker, ‘Ask for nothing.  Give your name and wait.  Say nothing 
more - do NOT boast.  Above all, do nothing to offend them.’ He 
did not remember.

He said, “I am Wolfwalker.  I am the strongest of my tribe. I 
deserve to be given this opportunity!  I want to be the one to 
bring down the sorcerer Ka...”

“Silence!”  Wolfwalker staggered back, the command ringing in 
his ears.  Unlike the other voices, this one had no echo. “Young 
fool, do you wish to bring him here?  Do you think we care for 
your worldly troubles?”

“He does not think,” concluded the wind.

“Pity,” the stream gurgled, “The lad is so handsome.”

“All is not lost,” it answered itself, “We must remember his 
courage.”

“Child!” the whisper commanded again, “What do *you* wish?”

Wolfwalker searched the dim reaches of the cavern as he mulled 
his answer.  “I want to be the one who...”

“Enough!” the wind said harshly, “That would impress others. 
What would *you* have?”

“I want nothing!  I have had enough of this!” cried the Azuma 
youth, “I will not be frightened by a bunch of whispering 
women!”

“He is just like the other,” gurgled the stream, while another 
voice, like rocks grinding together added, “We could do better.  
Do they not teach these youngsters *anything*?”

“But he is all we have,” said the stream, with a sigh that might 
have been despair.  “He is Rabbit, as the name given him by his 
father at birth.  He is Fleet, as the name given him by the 
medicine man Toes-on-Fire.”

“There is the girl, She Goes Ahead,” suggested the rocks.

“In the end, when shadows flow and the light flees, one such as 
that may serve.  We need another.  This one must do.  He is 
Wolfwalker, as the name given him by his companions for his 
bravery in stalking wolves,” the whisper took up the chant.  
“Let it be so.”



THE CANDIDATE RETURNS:

The still of the night was shattered by the yip and growl of the 
village dogs as they converged on an intruder.  The doll-maker 
started at the sound, then returned to the doll she had suddenly 
gotten the urge to make.  It was a corn-shuck doll with the 
dress and manner of a young man, but the weapons she attempted 
to fashion would not remain attached to the doll’s hands.  The 
shield would slip off, and the tiny knife refused to remain 
belted about its waist.  She held the figure and wondered, until 
a noise at the entranceway drew her attention.

A creature stood there for a moment, then slunk into the opening 
and stood before her, beseeching with its eyes. There was a 
streak of white diagonally across its back.

The doll-maker smacked her cheek with a palm.  “You did it,” she 
muttered, “You did it anyway.  I warned you, and you made them 
angry anyway!”

The wolf cub whined and hung its head, avoiding her glare.



BREAKING AWAY:

There were very few camels in Mexico; most if not all were in 
zoos, circuses, or menageries.  There were, however, plenty of 
straws.  Straws were, for the most part, inconsequential pieces 
of vegetation - the only time they really mattered was when you 
drew the short one, or you felt the last one.

It had been a wonderful morning.  Sandy had appeared at daybreak 
ready for hunting and they had gone across the river for 
rabbits.  There had been dew on the grass and a fine haze which 
quickly burned off, leaving the air dry and clear.  Returning 
with their bounty, they stopped at the now-diminished river to 
let the horses drink.

“I have not seen Gordo, lately,” said Sandy.

“His father let him ride along with an ore-wagon going to the 
coast,” said Ramón, “You know Gordo.  He jumped at the chance to 
get out of here.  He does not like the valley.”

“Well, I’m having a great time,” said Sandy, “If I had gone with 
Calpern I would be workin’ my tail off chasing mustangs.”

Ramón stood in his stirrups to peer down the parched river-bed.  
“There is Estrellita,” he announced, “Hey, Estrellita! Aqui!”

“I was hoping to see one of you,” Estrellita smiled widely, “You 
would not believe how difficult it is to get away from that old 
woman.”

“That is a very disrespectful way to speak of your grand-
mother,” said Ramón.

“Who said I was talking about Doña Mercedes?  I mean that old 
crone who is my duena.  She came up from down South.  I swear 
she was born old, and has studied under a master of the 
Inquistion.  I cannot keep a secret from her.”

“How did you get away?” Ramon wondered aloud as he rode 
alongside.

“Told them I was going to exercise my horse in the corral, then 
made a break for it.  She only travels by carriage, so she’ll 
never catch me.  I get so tired of her ‘lessons’. She is trying 
to turn me into a ‘proper lady’.”

“My mother is trying to...” Ramón noticed that Sandy was 
listening, shrugged and continued, “... trying to turn me into a 
‘proper lady’ as well.  I am ready to leave.”

“Sure, you are,” jeered Estrellita, “Where would you go?”

“I am thinking of going to find my sister.”

“How sweet!” caroled Estrellita.

Ramón scowled at her.  “It is a serious matter,” he said. “That 
old bald man tried to make me say I had a pendant.  He said it 
was cursed so it would remain with a certain family, and would 
call the owner back to him when he wanted.  He thought the 
person who had it was named Lucha.”

“I know!” cried Estrellita, “Doña Mercedes called you Lucha at 
the party.  I bet he heard about it there.”

“I think the pendant actually does belong to a girl named 
Lucha,” said Ramón, “Mamá had a daughter who was older than me, 
and her name was Lucha.  She admitted this after I told her 
about what Andalejo said.”

“That was your sister he was talking about?”

Ramón nodded.  “I am certain of it.”

“Count me in,” Sandy spoke up, “I want to go, too”

“I would be going alone.  I don’t want anyone to get in trouble 
because of me.”

Sandy balled his fist and smacked it into the palm of his other 
hand.  “You are going to need help,” he said, “You can’t go it 
alone!”

“I do not even know if I will go, compadre,” said Ramón, “But I 
thank you.”

“Ooooh, there they are!” cried Estrellita, as she saw riders 
approaching from the riverbed, “I gotta go, Ramón.  <See you 
sometime, Sandy>,” she winked at the blond cowboy and grinned as 
he blushed.

Sandy watched her join Pablo and Joachim before they headed back 
to the rancho. “Will she get in trouble?” he wondered.

“I hope not,” said Ramón.  “Let’s take these rabbits back for 
Mamá to clean.  I’m getting hungry.”



OBLIGATIONS:

Lucita burst from the doorway as they rode up.  “Machita!” she 
cried.  Seeing Ramón and Sandy on the horses, she suddenly 
became very shy.

“Ramón, I must speak to you,” Mamá said as she came from the 
kitchen, drying her hands.  She led him away from the house, to 
the watering troughs at the corral behind the shed.

“We have had a good hunt,” said Ramón, holding up the rabbits.

“That must wait,” said Mamá, “I will skin them in a minute. For 
now, you must do something for me.”

“What?” asked Ramón, but he was getting a sinking feeling in the 
pit of his stomach.

“Lucita has told her mother all about the new ‘sister’ she has 
found.  I want her to meet you.”

“But, Mamá, I cannot...” Ramón’s objections ground to a halt, 
“You want me to be a girl,” he accused.

“This means so much to Lucita,” said Mamá, “Is it too much to 
ask?  Does it hurt?”

“What about what it means to me?”

“Does it hurt, Bebita?”

Ramón closed his eyes, as though in pain.  “No, no, it does 
not,” he said.

Mamá hurried back to the house and shortly brought a jug of warm 
water.  Sandy looked away and wandered out toward the outer 
fence while the water was poured.  

Lucita struck Machita with the force of a young whirlwind, 
wrapping her arms about the older girl’s waist.  “Madre, look!” 
she called, “I have a big sister!  I always wanted a big 
sister!”

As Elizabeta came to the door and smiled at her, Machita 
recalled when she, as a he, had said `I’ve always wanted a 
little sister.’ She returned Lucita’s hug, though the ache in 
the pit of her stomach made her eyes water.

Mamá avoided her eyes, busying herself with dinner.  She seemed 
not to notice the hurt look in her daughter’s eyes while Lucita 
romped about her older `sister’.

Elizabeta was pleased to meet the girl who had befriended her 
daughter and merely smiled with a puzzled expression when Lucita 
explained that Machita ‘was a boy most of the time’.  “Of 
course, ‘Machita’ means ‘tomboy’,” she murmured.

“And where is Arturo?” Mamá said by way of changing the subject.  
Instead of picking up the conversation, Elizabeta suddenly fell 
silent.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no.  It is only that...” Elizabeta picked at the cotton 
cloth they used as a dishtowel, “Arturo has gone back to work 
for the Alcalde.”

Mamá was dumbfounded.  “After what he has done to you and 
Arturo?” she asked, “Is he not well?”

Elizabeta was close to tears.  “The Alcalde was very persuasive.  
He insists that he was not to blame for the incident at the 
Puebla.  Everyone was under the influence of the terrible 
sorcerer.”  She looked to Mamá for assurance, “I myself do not 
remember anything that happened.  The Alcalde assures Arturo 
that I was in no danger, and that nothing would have happened to 
Lucita.”

“That was a lie!” fumed Mamá, “I know the man.  In years past he 
has caused pain and suffering, even death - all for the sake of 
a few gold coins.  What has he promised Arturo?”

“He wants Arturo to help him find a huge treasure.  He says we 
shall have a third of it.  My husband... he is a simple man, but 
he has his dreams.  Also, when he works the precious metals, the 
gold and the silver, when he makes the jewelry, he must be able 
to sell it.  If he does not work for the Alcalde, Señor Sinestro 
will not allow him to have a booth to sell it.”

Machita was half listening to the conversation.  Half an ear was 
all she could spare while Lucita was telling a story about her 
dolls and toys.  Engrossed in describing a party attended by all 
the animals and dolls, Lucita drowned out the adult words until 
Machita caught the last of a sentence, “... and when the 
sergeant came by asking about Lucita, I told him she was sick.  
He said he was going on a trip, but he would be back.”

“The sergeant?” blurted Machita, “Sergeant Espúma?”

Her mother was shaking her head in dismay.  

“He didn’t die!” cried Machita.

“No, I talked to him only yesterday,” said Elizabeta, “But he 
seemed to be in a hurry.”

“Espúma was with the sorcerer!” cried Mamá, “Did you not know?”

Elizabeta paled, “Arturo would not talk about the puebla,” she 
said, “He said it was better not to bring up bad times.”

“Selnik said that Espúma had you in a cell, drugged,” stated 
Machita, “And that he had Lucita there, too.  Selnik said he was 
getting ready to do something bad to Lucita.”

“No,” Elizabeta looked back and forth between Mamá and Machita, 
and it appeared that she was denying her ears as she shook her 
head.

“Perhaps you should spend a night or two here,” said Mamá, “At 
least until we can be sure that he is really gone.”

“Yay!” said Lucita, “May I stay, too?”

“Of course,” Mamá’s smile was weak but warm, “and Machita will 
keep you company.”  Machita looked up in annoyance.

“Can I get my dolls?”  Lucita pleaded.

“No, you’d better stay here, for now.”

“I want to go get me a doll,” Lucita declared, “I wanta get a 
doll from the doll-maker.”

“What doll-maker?” Elizabeta wondered.

“There is an old woman at the Azuma village who gives dolls to 
the children,” explained Mamá.

“How did she learn this?  When was she at the Indian village?” 
Elizabeta was suddenly apprehensive.

“She stayed at the village for a time while you were being held 
by... by the sergeant,” Mamá said.

“I want to go to the village!” declared Lucita, beginning to 
fret because her mother was acting uneasy.

“Machita will go to the village for you,” promised Mamá, “And 
she will bring back a doll for you.  For the moment, you must 
remain here.”

“I want a bear-dancer doll!” exclaimed the child.



YOU MUST TAKE IT:

Machita hesitated at the entranceway.  Within the lodge, a 
querulous voice rapped out, “Well, come on in!  I can’t sit here 
all day listening to you clear your throat!”  In the dim 
interior, the doll-maker was working on yet another corn-shuck 
doll, a wedding-dress figure.

“I... Uhmmm... I would like to have a doll for a friend,” said 
Machita.

“Oh.  So.  *Now* you want a doll, do you?  You are Red Cloud’s 
friend, aren’t you?”

“Yes... ah... grandmother.”

“About time someone drummed some manners into your head,” 
grumbled the old woman.  “What kind of doll would you like? No, 
don’t tell me.  Let me make one and see.”  She laid aside the 
wedding dress doll and began to assemble another with no 
attention to her fingers as they flew about the bundles of 
leaves, feathers and tufts of hair.

When she finished, she started to hand the doll to Machita and 
then snatched it back again to stare at it.  “Aztec warrior,” 
she mumbled, “That’s not what I...”  She peered more closely at 
Machita.

“Why do I make the same doll every time?” she asked no one in 
particular, “The doll should indicate something about the person 
for whom it is made, but they are usually different in some 
small way every time.”

“Actually, I wanted the doll for someone else,” said Machita, “A 
child.  A friend of mine.”

“I will make her another,” said the doll-maker, “But this one is 
yours.  You must take it.  If you refuse, I must destroy it.  I 
begin to think that it has spiritual properties.”

“Okay,” Machita gulped, and took the doll.  It was no taller 
than her hand, corn shucks tightly wrapped into a human figure 
and decorated with beads and feathers.  She could see nothing 
special about it.  After the doll-maker finished a bear-dancer 
doll for Lucita and gathered the materials to put them away, 
Machita eased out the doorway and hurried back to Red Cloud’s 
lodge.

“Red Cloud was called to speak with the elders,” said Red 
Cloud’s mother, so Machita wrapped the dolls carefully and 
mounted the bay to look for Sandy.  The cowboy was practicing 
catch-the-ball with some other boys, tossing a ball tethered to 
a stick into the air and trying to catch it in a small cup on 
the end of the stick.

“I’m heading for the nearest water hole,” said Machita, “I have 
had enough of pretending for the day.”



HOME IS THE HUNTRESS:

Buffalo Wattle met her on the fringes of the camp.  
“Here,” he said, “I will take your load for you.”

“No,” said Lucha, though her voice was strained.  Her 
shoulders ached with the effort of carrying the deerskin 
and meat for many miles.  It was a good kill, a large deer 
that almost matched her own weight when dressed out, and 
she staggered occasionally under the burden.  But it was 
her kill.

“You should let others help.  Then the women here would 
not think you were so arrogant,” Buffalo Wattle frowned, 
“Why do you insist on doing things all by yourself?”

“I started this hunt alone, I will finish it alone!”

The chief’s son stepped in front of her, blocking the 
path, and Lucha had to step backward to regain her 
balance.

“You have always been a strong woman,” he said, “That 
makes you a fitting partner for me.  I am eager to start 
our family.”

Lucha tried to step around him.  “I do not wish to speak 
of this,” her voice grated.

Wattle let her go.  “You could meet me tonight,” he 
laughed, “And we could watch the stars.  I would show you 
the stars where the fireflies come from.”  When she was 
nearest, he yanked at her hair bow.  “You could still wear 
this, and no one would know.”

Lucha spun around with her heavy burden, but he had 
already backed out of reach.  “Not with you!” she spat, 
“Not ever with you!”

She had vowed to carry the deer all the way to her 
wickiup, but when she saw the worried face of her foster 
mother she dropped the meat and skins and hurried to her 
side.

Willow Woman was standing at the edge of the camp, trying 
to appear pleased at the sight of her daughter and the 
food she was bringing in.  She tried and failed, for tears 
began to leak down her wrinkled cheeks.  “It is Deer 
Finder,” she said, “You must go to talk to him while you 
can.”




PREPARATIONS:

The elders sat around the fire, listening to the evening song 
and the sound of sand shaken in gourds.  Now and then one of 
them would glance with a puzzled expression at the young maid 
wrapped in a blanket by the entranceway.  When the song ended, 
the doll-maker went to the girl and lifted her water-bowl to 
begin the ceremony.

Although they knew what would happen, several members of the 
group jumped involuntarily when they were pelted with spray as 
the big cat shook water from its back.  Raven Wing closed her 
eyes and began to moan softly; others remained wide-eyed and 
immobile as the jaguar paced among them to take its place at the 
far end of the lodge.

“Here is the proof that the spirits of the spring are 
concerned,” said the doll-maker.  “When the sacred cat form is 
given, it is a sign that a terrible danger is upon us.”

“I did not need to be convinced,” complained Raven Wing, “We 
know of the sorcerer.  We need a weapon, not something telling 
us how bad things are going to be.”

“I have proposed a champion,” said the doll-maker, “And Alboro 
has likewise put forth his grand-son to defend us.”

The jaguar blinked, looking from her to the others.

“While I am not convinced that the grandson will be able to last 
a moment against a sorcerer, I must listen to the voice of 
reason.”  No one spoke, though the elders all knew of the 
disaster of Wolfwalker’s ‘sacred form’.

“Therefore,” continued the doll-maker, “I propose that we have a 
contest between his champion and mine.  The winner will be 
taught the ways to defeat the sorcerer.”

“It takes years to learn these things,” protested one of the 
elders, “Can he be ready before our adversary moves?”

“He need not learn all of the techniques,” said the doll-maker, 
“Only enough to rub out the sorcerer.”

Raven Wing spat, “This will make him an unbalanced person, and 
then we will have to deal with him, also.”  She too glared at 
the loner, and she said, “Alboro, you are a hard-hearted, 
ruthless old fool.  You would turn your own grand-son into a 
murderous, deadly creature and then leave him to face that 
killer alone?  Even if he wins, his mind could be destroyed by 
the power.  He may never be able to return to this valley.”

Alboro remained calm.  “I expect to be with him,” he said, “How 
I do what I do is my own business.  Now, if you don’t mind...” 
He wrapped his blanket about him and prepared to leave.

The jaguar watched them boldly, then opened its jaws in a 
tremendous yawn. It turned amber eyes to the doll-maker.

“Very well,” responded the doll-maker, shielding the large cat 
with a blanket, “You have done enough.”  She poured a second 
bowl, this time of cold water, then glared at Alboro who 
appeared to be more than mildly interested in the results.

Red Cloud wrapped the blanket demurely about her and left. 
Outside the lodge, she shivered and wondered, [Ramón, do you 
know what they have planned for you?]



CHAPTER DIEZ Y SEIS:  END


Macho Caballo  Chapter 16     1/10/98       12