Macho Caballo Chapter 21         1/19/98        9
                        MACHO CABALLO

                 PART II: CHAPTER VIENTE UNO

                         HORSE TAILS



SMALL SACRIFICES:

They were moving by daybreak, before the still air was
heated to roasting by the midday sun.  Wolfwalker was the
only one who remained on foot, coursing ahead of the group
as the terrain slowly became flatter and more inhospitable.
Red Cloud rode ahead of the others while Sandy brought up
the rear.  Estrellita remained at the center, discussing
transportation with Alboro.

"What do you mean, you sold my horse?" cried Estrellita, "I
loved that horse!  She was my favorite!"

"And the saddle," added Alboro, "Although we got more for
the saddle than for the horse.  Lots of silver on it. Enough
to buy horses for every one of us.  Supplies, too."

"But I loved her!  I have had her for fourteen years!"

"When we come back... if we come back this way, we can buy
her back," promised the old man, "But she was getting old.
The desert would have killed her.  Did you not think of this
when you left your home?"

"No, I did not think of that," pouted the rancherita,
"...But you should have asked me!"

"We could not get to you," said Ramon, "We needed money, and
you had all of your money with you."

"Ahhh... I don't have any money," Estrellita corrected him.

"No money?  How were you planning on getting around?"

"I thought you guys would have money.  I never carry any."

"Well, it was a good thing you brought that saddle," said
Alboro.

"I'm gonna be in trouble," sighed Estrellita, "It belongs to
my father.  He had it made in Veracruz."

Ramon listened to her complaints with a bemused smile.  He
had set out alone to seek his sister, because he was
thinking that the sorcerer and the sergeant were planning to
go after her.  Now there were six people with him, all here
because of their own reasons.  He stretched down to release
a branch of tumbleweed which had caught in his stirrup and
was dragging the rest of the bush along.

[That's how I feel,] he thought, [I am dragging the whole
bunch along like this tumbleweed.]

"And now I must ride this scruffy brute of a pony!"
continued Estrellita, "Why, this saddle so hard it is giving
me blisters!"

Alboro looked up at her from his position on a jackass.
"Consider it penance," he suggested.

"*What did you say*?" cried the rancherita before she was
distracted by a pain in her leg.  "Help!" she squealed,
"Something's got me!"

"You have a bunch of chollo leaves stuck to your skirt. Stop
a minute and let me get it," said Ramon, "You brushed
against a chollo tree awhile back."

"Why I never..." Estrellita choked back her denial and
wondered, "Is that what they call 'jumping chollo'?"




A LOCK OF HAIR TO BIND MY LOVE:

   When she stepped from her doorway that morning to smell
   the morning sun, she heard smothered laughter and saw the
   other girls of the rancheria watching her from the
   corners of their eyes.  An older woman struggled by with
   a load of firewood, smiling to herself.  Lucha looked
   about, but saw nothing humorous.  When she turned back to
   her lodge, however, she saw the lock of hair tied to the
   doorway.  Her hair.
   
   She swayed in confusion.  Had she been walking in her
   sleep, again?  Were the dreams making her do things she
   would not have ordinarily done?  If not, then someone had
   deliberately cut a lock of her hair and pinned it outside
   her lodge as a sign that she was ready to entertain
   candidates for her husband.
   
   Lucha completed her morning walk, as casually as if
   nothing had happened.  When she was once more inside the
   lodge, however, she collapsed into a heap just inside the
   doorway, all strength gone.  She shook uncontrollably for
   a moment, then grabbed the pendant and clutched it to
   her.  Only while she held it did the spasms ease and she
   could feel secure.
   
   Soon, the young hopefuls of the rancheria would present
   their proposals.  Several men had openly admired her;
   each would tie a pony outside the lodge and wait.
   According to tradition, she should select one pony to
   feed and water - that pony's owner would be the suitor
   she had selected.  Lucha's head spun in indecision.  She
   was not ready to marry anyone, and she certainly did not
   want to select the chief's son, Buffalo Wattle.  But she
   could not leave the ponies outside the lodge forever, she
   was not that cruel.  No one else would water or feed them
   while she waited to decide which one to take.
   
   She combed her hair in a distracted mood, found the place
   from which the hair had been cut.  No.  She had not done
   this.  Someone was betraying her.
   



LOOK WHAT FOLLOWED ME HOME:

As the day wore on, Ramon and Lonesome had been discussing
the breaking of horses. "You Mexicans starve a horse until
it can't stand up," said Lonesome, "And you don't give it no
water, so's it will break quicker.  I can't do an animal
that way."

"It is true that some horse traders do this," admitted
Ramon, "But as for me and my Papa, we have never found it
necessary."

"Yeah, if you're good enough, I suppose you could charm them
into wearing a saddle... ehh?"

Wolfwalker had stopped and was waiting for them, watching
the trees ahead.  From the cover of a thicket the sound came
again, the soft moan of an animal in pain.  Lonesome went to
investigate.

"Awww, no," They heard him say.  He returned to the trail
with tears in his eyes and called to Sandy.  "Get your
musket, kid!" he said, "This ain't a pretty sight."

Sandy had pulled his weapon from the saddle ties at first
alarm.  He approached the thicket carefully and worked his
way through the spikes and thorns to the center.  There was
a horse, a mare, gaunt and covered with burrs, standing with
her head down.  Her mouth bristled with chollo spines.

"Might as well put her down," said Lonesome, "She's gone
through enough hell, so starved she'd try to eat chollo
leaves.  No point in drawing it out and makin' her suffer."

Sandy gulped and hesitated.  "Your find," he said, "Sure you
don't want to do it?"

Lonesome shook his head, looked the other way.  "Don't like
guns," he said.  Wolfwalker refused to notice the
conversation, watching the horizon to their rear.

Sandy shuddered as he rolled the hammer back, aimed, and
pulled the trigger.  There was a loud clack.  "Lost the
cap," said Sandy with relief, "I'll go get another."

Lonesome was standing with his back to the horse when he
felt a gentle nudge.  The mare was pushing her tormented
nostrils against his hand.  Tears left a muddy trail down
her cheeks.

"Awww, what the hell," sighed Lonesome.  He stopped Sandy at
the trail as he was returning with the musket.

"Put it away, kid," he said, "I never shoulda' looked."

From his saddlebags he extracted a pair of pliers. "Worked
at a smithy for a couple of years," he explained to Ramon,
"When I moved on, the guy I worked with gave me these."

The mare stood and let him pull out the chollo spines, one
by one.  When he was done, the horse wanted to rub her ears
against his chest, almost bowling him over.

"I would say you have tamed this one," said Ramon.




THE FIRST NIGHT:

Red Cloud had gathered chollo blossoms and fruit to dice and
feed to the mare, along with a guarded portion of their
precious water.  Ramon had picked the campsite under
Alboro's approving gaze, and they watched the sun set red
and bronze in the western sky.

Lonesome came up beside Sandy as they gathered stones to
surround the campfire.

"Just what is it between you and Ramon?" asked Lonesome.

Sandy jerked so abruptly that he lost his grip and had to
yank his foot back before it was crushed by the falling
stone.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You two are good friends, right?" Sandy nodded and Lonesome
continued, "Thought so.  Ya'll are always palling around
together, you work well alongside each other, but sometimes
you act like you hate him ."

"Don't hate him," Sandy protruded his lower lip in pensive
reflection as he rolled the stone into place, "He's got
problems, is all."

"Seems cheerful enough."

"Oh, yeah, he's cheerful.  Most of the time.  Sometimes, he
is so bouncy..." Sandy bit off the remainder of his
statement and swallowed.

"Nothin' wrong with that," Lonesome said, "Least he ain't
talking your ear off all the time.  Fact is, he's so quiet I
forget he's there, sometimes.  That ain't 'bouncy.'  Don't
jump around a lot."

"You ain't seen him bounce," said Sandy.  "Not the *parts*
that bounce anyways," he added under his breath.



"What do you have there?" Sandy asked as they unrolled their
sleeping gear and prepared for the night. Lonesome had taken
the first watch.  Their fire was small and shielded to avoid
being seen from very far away.

"Just a cornshuck doll," said Ramon, "I promised to hold on
to it."

Wolfwalker overheard the conversation and said, "Where did
you get this?  It is sacred!"

"Is *everything* sacred to you people?" demanded Ramon.

"Pretty much so," said Red Cloud.

"This is a warrior doll," said Wolfwalker, "It is given only
to members of a tribe when they have shown great promise.
You have never done anything to deserve it."

"The doll-maker gave it to me," insisted Ramon.  Instantly
he regretted the admission.

Wolfwalker glared at him. "That is a lie!" he shouted,
grabbing for the doll, "She would never give this to anyone
outside the tribe!".

The doll, knocked from Ramon's fingers, fell into the fire
and blazed.  Flames consumed the corn shucks and beads
before he could rescue it, and for a moment the fire leaped
high over their heads with astonishing heat.  Ramon beat a
hasty retreat, slapping at his arms and the front of his
shirt.

"What's going on?" called Lonesome from his sentry point,
"Are you trying to tell everyone where we are?"

"Wow," said Estrellita, "That was some fireworks!"

The blaze left only wisps of charred fiber from the doll for
Ramon to drag from the campfire.  He could not touch the
fragments without them falling apart.

"You did not deserve that doll," insisted Wolfwalker,
"Better to destroy it."

"It was *mine*!" cried Ramon.  He tackled Wolfwalker about
the waist and they rolled over the gravel, each grappling
for a hold.  While the older Azuma lad had the advantage in
height and weight, Ramon was tough and his anger gave him
strength.

Lonesome came down from the rise, relieved by Sandy.  He
watched the struggle with some interest.  "The kid actually
got upset `cause someone took his doll away from him?" he
said in wonder.

Alboro yawned and stretched.  "This excitement makes me
tired," he said, and was shortly sound asleep under his
blanket.

Wolfwalker used his longer arms to pin Ramon to the ground,
but lost his footing when the younger boy swept his legs
from under him.  Ramon caught one of ankles, came to his
feet with one foot in the small of the Azuma lad's back, and
began to twist until Wolfwalker beat the ground with his
fists.

"That's enough!" said Estrellita, "You could hurt him that
way."  Ramon let him go and the two combatants glared at
each other for long moments until by mutual consent they
turned away.

"Well, that's over," said Lonesome, "Any coffee left?"

"You actually want coffee?" Ramon stopped in his tracks to
ask.

"Sure.  Made it myself," said Lonesome.

"Oh," said Ramon and he went back to his blanket.




TO MAKE RABBIT STEW:

Machack the warrior lowered his spyglass, wondering.  There
had been some sort of explosion at the campfire - more
unusual, it had been a release of non-earthly energy.  The
boy appeared to have thrown something into the fire in order
to trigger an event.  Kaliche had not mentioned this
possibility, that these barbarians could play around with
such power.

This made his mission much more interesting.  Perhaps one of
the group might actually be able to put up a fight.  It was
worth testing.  The spyglass focussed the dim light from the
campfire into his obsidian eyes as he watched them bed down
for the night.  When all was quiet, he slipped from his
vantage point on the bluff and made his way across the
desert floor. He left the metal tube of the spyglass along
with most of his weapons, taking only his favorite knife
with the Toledo steel blade.  Small animals fled his
approach and larger animals slunk away rather than confront
him.  He passed over snakes both poisonous and lethal
without being noticed.

To get to the campfire he followed a gully, welcoming the
fine haze which seemed to have emerged with the dew in this
arid wasteland.  The haze would help conceal him as he drew
closer to the camp.  At the place he estimated to be closest
to the campsite, he emerged from the gully and searched for
a fire.

There was nothing there.  Machack cast about, seeking some
clue as to where the travelers had gone.  There was no
evidence that there had ever been a campfire, the ground was
cold and there were no tracks from horse or man, even to his
eyes.  Puzzled, he climbed a nearby thorn tree, easily
avoiding the numerous spines, and looked around.  Back in
the direction he had come from was a campfire.  He had
overshot, trying to sneak up on them in the gully.

"That is easy enough to remedy," he said, and headed
straight for the boulders reflecting light from the fire.
After a number of steps he paused.  He could seem to get no
closer.

Again the haze arose and he marched forward twenty paces.
Now, when he stepped up on a rise of rock to look, the
campfire was behind him.

Muttering to himself, he retraced his steps until the haze
arose.  The campfire was back in the original direction.
Eventually he gave up in disgust and stayed in one spot
until dawn.

He never found the campfire that night, where one person
slept with a quiet smile.

When the pewter gray of dawn brought the landscape back to
reality, the burly warrior retraced the steps he had taken
during the night.  They were many and varied, and appeared
to wander around aimlessly.  Nearby he found the campsite,
with warm coals covered by sand and many footprints.  As he
went back to the bluff to recover his weapons the warrior
was humming a simple tune he recalled from ancient Thebes.

"So, the sheep have a watchdog, do they?" he said.

From the bluff he could see the trail leading from the
village of Aguas Calientes and the plume of dust being
raised by horses in pursuit.

"Ah," said Machack, "My shepherds approach, to drive the
sheep.  How convenient.  Now all I have to do is wait."  He
slung his pack and melted into the underbrush.


                  ----------------

Wolfwalker had also seen the dust plume.  "They push harder
than we do," he said, "They can burn up their horses to
catch us before we get away.  We must take care of our
horses so they can carry us across the desert."

"What can we do?" asked Estrellita.

"We go fast to the hills or we go slow through the cholla,"
Wolfwalker cast toward Ramon with his chin and said, "Ask
him."

"Me?  Who made *me* boss?" demanded Ramon.

"It was your idea," said Sandy, "We just came along for the
ride.  Whatever you say."

"I don't want to be a wet blanket," said Lonesome, "But
somebody better do something, and someday soon!  If you
don't want to lead, get out of the way!"

Ramon surveyed their faces, from the unquestioning approval
in Estrellita's eyes to the grudging acceptance in
Lonesome's face and Wolfwalker's non-commital scowl.

"All right!" he said, "Let's get going North to the hills!"

As they moved out single file through the brush, Ramon
stopped alongside the older cowboy.  "Thanks for the push,"
he said.

"Gotta watch out for the young'un," said Lonesome,
indicating Sandy, "And he's gonna stick with you `til you
find your sister.  He's stubborn, that way.  Best I can do
is try to keep up."

They set out on the narrow trail, trying to match
Wolfwalker's pace.




YOU KNEW I WAS A SNAKE WHEN YOU PICKED ME UP:

"I was surprised to see the Senora Elizabeta here in your
employ," smiled Sinestro as he savored the Brazillian coffee
from the fine porcelean cup, "I was under the impression
that I was paying her husband well enough for her to stay
home.  She has a marvelous daughter, don't you think?"

"She does not work for me," said the Dona, "Elizabeta is a
guest."  To Dolores she said, "We can work on the books
later.  Perhaps you have something else you would prefer to
attend to?"

Swiftly Dolores gathered her papers, glanced at Sinestro
with slitted eyes, and departed.



                      --------------

"Hola Manuel!" called Francisco as he entered the stable
area, "Why are you not out, wandering?"

"Tomorrow, perhaps," smiled the elder Caballo, "Today, this
bird still has a sore wing."

"Ahh, yes," said Francisco, "That was quite a night, was it
not?  I still jump when I hear a noise in the darkness."

"I, too.  We came so close to losing everything."

"And has your wife recovered?"

"Completely.  She is back to running the house and helping
the Dona.  It is my boy who has me worried."

"What do you think?" Francisco wondered, "Does he have the
sister?  Will he find her?"

"Compadre, if the sister is there, he will try very hard to
find her.  I had to let him try.  But if he does not come
back soon, I shall have to do and help him look."

"I see your wife, coming from the big house.  What could you
have done this time?"

Dolores greeted Francisco then pulled her husband aside.
"Sinestro is talking with Don Diego," she whispered, "I must
know what they are saying."

"Here?" Manuel looked about, but there was only Francisco
nearby, "Now?  How can that help?"

"You must get close and listen.  Bertran can only mean
trouble.  You do not know the man like I do."

"Dulcinea, I will do anything for you.  But you have always
hated it when I do these things... and here, when there is
so much chance of discovery?  Do you hate this man so much?"

Dolores nodded in acknowledgement, "I fear him, my husband."