Chasing the Texas Wind Page 14

  Ham experimented with the poles they had used for Zachary’s litter, whittling desperately with John’s knife, and rigged up a peg leg lashed to the stump of his thigh. He used the thick walking stick he had brought with him, got out of the wagon and practiced a very comical rolling step or two that the others pronounced all right for a step or two. His pants were somewhat shredded from sawing himself free from the trapped leg but they were all he had at the moment. Ham climbed back into the wagon with his new “leg,” christened Tommy Tripmeup.

  “Maeve is your real name?” Zachary asked. “That’s pretty. What’s that mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Maeve confessed. “My father was Irish. He gave it to me.”

  “Intoxicating,” Ham supplied, savoring the word and gazing at Maeve. Maeve looked at him in surprise. “I looked it up. I thought it was appropriate considering who you decided to hitch up with.”

  “Hitch up -- ?” Zachary looked puzzled. “Wait, you’re her husband? You let your wife put herself in this kind of danger, commit sin with another man, while you sit home and smoke cigars on the veranda?”

  “Zachary, it’s not like that at all,” Maeve protested. “We aren’t really married, and I wouldn’t have listened to anything he said anyway. And he had no idea what I was really doing. Things have changed,” Maeve said to the still-angry Zachary. “Everything’s changed. We’ll have time to talk about this later if we all survive. But Zachary, I promise you, Hamilton Jessup isn’t at all what you think he is. He worked with Daniel Costain in the army, your father trusted him to come on this mission, he’s going to save all our lives, and he’s one of your kind of people now.”

  “You mean a believer?” Zachary asked.

  “Yes,” Ham said uneasily.

  “Then it’s under the blood,” Zachary said simply. He put out a hand and Ham took it. “If my pa says you’re all right, that’s enough for me. And as for not being her real husband, you can fix that later, right?” He grinned again. Ham and Maeve both flushed.

  “Muchacho!” Ham sang out as they approached Vienta’s house and saw Chaco standing beside the front door. Ham had a serape thrown over his legs and he crouched beside Zachary to shield him from view. Angelita sat on the seat of the cart in a stupor of weariness. Chaco pulled Maeve to him.

  “We are putting the guns in the cantina,” he said. “Keep it closed for now. You can get the old man into bed alone? You want me to send men over?”

  “No, Chaco, I can manage,” Maeve smiled, stroking his face. “Herve and the girl will help. You have so much more important things to do, for our people, for Ampudia.”

  “We’re going to teach the Tejanos and their gringo dogs a lesson,” Chaco breathed into her ear. “No more retreats. We will blow through Texas like a mighty wind.” Chaco kissed her violently. Zachary coughed and groaned in the cart. Chaco released Maeve and stalked away down the street. As soon as his back was turned Maeve started to take the cart around back. Suddenly Chaco turned back.

  “I have business tonight,” he said. “Something I need to finish before we move the guns up north. We caught that young gringo sneaking around your house after you left for Chollo. I have to find out what he knows and kill him. What do you want me to bring you from the body?”

  Maeve smiled. “He had a very fine rifle, Chaco,” she said. “I could use it to protect myself when you are away. Bring it to me.”

  “His rifle?” Chaco repeated. “It is a good one. You want the rifle?” He stared at Maeve in surprise. “Then I will give you the rifle, my little soldada. And when I come, you will give me a little present, too, eh?”

  Maeve smiled. He growled appreciatively and then hurried off. Maeve quickly drove around to the back of the house, out of sight of most of the town. The three of them somehow got Zachary, blankets draping his limp form, up the steps and into the kitchen. He tried to help them but his knees wouldn’t bear his weight. They got him into a kitchen chair and he dropped his head on the table and retched. Angelita lit a small lamp and got a cloth to bathe his face. Zachary gave her a grateful smile and patted her hand.

  “Merci,” he said with difficulty.

  “Off to bed with you, my lad,” Ham ordered.

  “Ham, Chaco said he was going straight back to find out what Zachary knows and kill him,” Maeve said. “He’ll know very soon what’s happened.”

  “What will Chaco do when he finds I’m not there?” Zachary asked weakly when he was safely in bed. “He’ll know you were all there and put the pieces together, won’t he?”

  “What’d he say about a soldada?” Ham asked.

  “He asked me what I wanted from the body,” Maeve said in a low voice. “I told him I wanted Zachary’s rifle. He said I was his little soldier and promised to bring it to me. I thought it would help us to have it.”

  “You’ve got a lot of brass, asking for that,” Ham said with an admiring grin.

  “It would help,” Zachary said. “My dad just got me that rifle. It’s the best Hawken makes. And I’d sure be glad to get it back.”

  “Here’s what I’m praying will happen concerning Zachary’s disappearance,” Ham replied soberly. “Chaco really only got you softened up with the whipping, because he knew what he was doing. He probably even told his boys to deprive you of sleep and cuff you around a little, but they went too far. You’re such a great slab of Texan beef you drove them crazy just by being you. They wanted to see who could hit you the hardest, who could make you yell the loudest, and they hurt you. Really hurt you. I told Maeve you’d’ve been dead by midnight in their tender care.

  “Chaco will go back, and you won’t be there. He’ll line up your guards and grill them and they’ll look all wide-eyed and stupid and guilty as God is good because they already know they did something wrong. I’m betting the last time they tried to love-tap you they couldn’t get you to squeak. Pretty soon they’ll be blaming each other for letting you escape. Chaco will know better than that and he’ll conclude they killed you. They’ll encourage him in that line of thinking because some of them are going to think some of the rest of them found you dead and buried the body to hide the damage they did to you. Surely Chaco won’t spend time digging holes in the desert to find proof. He’ll have to accept what they say. In the end we’ll have a few less Mexicans to deal with and Chaco will be mad as a wet hen but unable to do anything about it other than kill his own somewhat innocent men.”

  “Oh, Ham, that’s wonderful,” Maeve said. “I had no idea how we were going to get away with it.”

  “You are so smart it scares me,” Zachary said, staring at Ham in awe.

  “I told you that’s just what I’m praying for,” Ham protested. “Otherwise he’ll come back here breathing fire and we’ll all be trying to come up with smart ideas. Oh, I hope John and the cavalry hurry. I do not like your looks, young Master Duvall. Think you could keep anything down just now?”

  “I’m empty as a dried-up hornet’s nest,” Zachary replied. “I could sure try.”

  Angelita appeared at that moment with a dish of beans thinned down to a gruel-like consistency. “This girl is your angel, lad,” Ham said, patting Angelita on the shoulder. “Thank the Lord for your French grandfather.”

  “We couldn’t speak English around him,” Zachary murmured. He reached out a hand, took one of Angelita’s, and kissed it, looking up into her eyes with his own hollow, fever-bright blue ones. She blushed scarlet, sat down by the bed, and began giving him the food.

  “Of course, I could be wrong about needing to know any spoken language at all,” Ham said, mussing Zachary’s hair.

  Ham leaned on Maeve and they went out.

  “Ham, are you all right?’ Maeve asked. Ham bumped and clutched his way to the kitchen and collapsed at the table. She checked the bandage on his head and found clean rags to replace it. “It’s a good thing Chaco didn’t notice the blood.”

  “Herve has a real headache,” Ham grunted. “You?”

  “I’m so tired,” Maeve sigh
ed. “And I’m so worried. Will John be all right? Will he find the others? Zachary looks so terrible. Could I get our village doctor? He hates Chaco and doesn’t make any secret about it. I don’t know him personally but he might be able to help.”

  “Maeve, I’m going out to my nest to sleep for a couple of hours. My head hurts too much and tomorrow’s going to require some effort to get through. I’m sorry to leave you womenfolk to tend Zach but I think he’ll be all right overnight.” He swung out the window into the hammock and turned away. Maeve put Angelita down on the daybed and collapsed on the floor in the bedroom near Zachary.

  Day Four

  “Mrs. Jessup?” Zachary croaked. Maeve sat up at once.

  “Yes, Zachary?” Maeve hadn’t gotten used to people calling her that yet, but it felt good somehow. She got up and gave Zachary some water, slowly and carefully.

  “Thanks. I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you’re tired, ma’am. But ... Let me ask you a favor.”

  “Anything, Zachary,” Maeve said. She smoothed his hair, feeling how hot he was. Yet he was so clear, so determined. “I put you in danger because I didn’t meet you when you asked me to. I just got to be so afraid of dying. I kept remembering that Daniel Costain said sinners go to Hell. I never believed it before. I do now, and I can’t think straight when I think I might die.”

  “Well, that’s partly what I wanted to ask you,” Zachary said. “Between me knowing French and you knowing Spanish I figure you can help me talk to Angelita about the Lord so she understands, so if she gets sucked deeper in all this and dies she won’t go to Hell. And I hope you’ll listen, too.”

  “Of course, Zachary,” Maeve said. “I promise I’ll listen with all my heart. For your sake, and for ‘Captain Jessup’s,’ because he wants so much for me to understand.”

  “Good,” Zachary said. “And ma’am, there’s still somebody around here in this town who betrayed me and Dan. I think I might know who it is, and I think I know how to handle it.”

  “Tell me,” Maeve invited.

  Ham opened his eyes as daybreak dawned on Avecita, and immediately knew Chaco was back and he’d slept too long. Men roamed the town, armed, stopping early risers, ripping away shawls and headscarves, throwing baskets on the ground and kicking their contents around. Ham tucked his poncho in carefully around the leg that wasn’t there and gripped his thick walking stick. Chaco appeared and stalked toward the house, carrying something in a bundle.

  “I’m all that stands between that and the lady I love and a dying boy,” Ham said to himself. “Oh, Lord God, I miss Timmy Timbertoes. Muchacho,” he said sleepily aloud as Chaco pounded on the front door.

  “Chaco,” Maeve said in Spanish, looking unbelievably pretty and bright to Ham, coming out on the porch and shutting the door. “Did you bring me the rifle?”

  “I brought you something else,” Chaco snapped, throwing aside the rag he carried and displaying an oddly-shaped piece of jointed metal with splinters of wood hanging from it.

  “What is that?” Maeve asked.

  “The tall young gringo disappeared last night,” Chaco snarled. “At first I thought those idiots had killed him and tried to bury the body somewhere. But when we searched in the bricks from that wall that fell down we found this. Someone rescued him, some Americans. One of them was a cripple. This is from a wooden leg. How could a cripple get past my men and get that giant out of there? My men said our prisoner couldn’t walk. We are searching, and we will find them.

  “I’m getting all my other men in here to guard the ammunition. It’s possible those Americans will be after that too if they find out about it. Make sure your stupid brother doesn’t wander around or he’ll get a bullet to cure his headache forever.” He tossed the knee joint under the hammock and departed. Ham reached down and picked it up, then rolled inside the house. Maeve entered the door as Ham got to a chair, toying with the knee joint.

  “My fallen comrade, “ he sighed. “Farewell, old friend. I’ll miss you more than you can imagine. Especially just now.”

  Angelita awoke and Maeve pointed to the stove, where something bubbled that smelled meaty and wonderful. Angelita got a dish of the broth and retreated into the bedroom. Someone knocked on the door again. Ham started up. Maeve parted the curtains slightly.

  “Go in the bedroom,” Maeve ordered. “It’s Mia.”

  “What could she want?” Ham groaned. He hobbled off and Maeve opened the door.

  “Vienta,” Mia said breathlessly. “Somebody rescued the American. I’m a little bit glad.”

  “There will be a lot of trouble about it,” Maeve said, shaking her head.

  “I know,” Mia said. “Chaco’s searching everywhere, stopping everyone. He’s so angry. How could there be more Americans here and nobody know it? Especially one with a wooden leg?”

  “It’s very strange,” Maeve admitted.

  “We would have known about strangers,” Mia protested. “Chaco tells us to watch all the time and tell him about anyone we see.”

  “Well, of course,” Maeve shrugged, but she stared at Mia. “If we didn’t tell him, he would be angry.”

  “And Chaco rewards the people who help him protect Mexico from the spying gringos,” Mia said.

  “If you knew of anything that would help him find the gringos, he would reward you,” Maeve said with a smile.

  “But I don’t,” Mia said unhappily. “I mean, I told him about that one who came a long time ago, the big one with the yellow hair. I didn’t know he was a spy but I told Chaco he was here and which way he went when he left town.”

  “There,” Maeve said, controlling her anger and keeping her smile in place. “Chaco must have rewarded you for that.”

  “Yes,” Mia said smugly. “And I told him about the young gringo because I saw him sneaking around by your house. I was sorry Chaco hurt him, because he was so handsome, but if he is a spy, he deserved it, didn’t he?”

  “Of course,” Maeve answered. “He was by my house? Chaco told me that, too. I wonder why he came here?”

  “At first I thought maybe you were a spy, too,” Mia said, watching Maeve closely. “Because the other man talked to you, too, and I thought, you are at the cantina sometimes in the afternoon, at siesta time, and what if spies came there then, and talked to you, and nobody knew. And you sent the young one that little note in the tortilla. A spy would do that.”

  “Mia, you know I’m not an American spy,” Maeve scoffed. “Everybody knows I’m from Chollo. I went to get my father and my brother and brought them back here. I told you where I was going. Didn’t you get in trouble with Chaco because you didn’t tell him that?”

  Mia touched her still-bruised eye. “I forgot,” she said peevishly. “I just wish I could tell Chaco something about the spies who rescued the American.”

  “Well, maybe they dressed up like people we know,” Maeve suggested. “Remember the young one told me he wanted to buy Indian silver? That day there was a man in town riding a donkey, wearing a serape, like that old piel roja who lives up in the mountains. If the gringo talked to him, no one would think anything about it. But what if that was the American with the wooden leg?”

  “You saw the old man that day?” Mia asked. “Riding a donkey? Talking to the American? Why didn’t you tell Chaco? You are his woman. You should want to help him.”

  “I didn’t think anything about it then,” Maeve said. “I just thought it was strange, because I didn’t think he had come out of the mountains in a long time. I would never think such a person was a spy. But Mia, do you really think that could be who it was? That it was an American spy? Maybe the old man is dead, and this spy took his place and pretended to be him. You know, if it was a spy pretending to be the old man, maybe whoever helped him never came to town. They would just get the American and take him up to the shack in the mountains and keep him there until Chaco gave up searching. Chaco would never think to go there.”

  “You’re right,” Mia breathed. “But that shack is three da
ys away.”

  “Chaco needs to find those Americans,” Maeve said. “And the one who lost his wooden leg, he might be hurt, and the other one is hurt for certain. They would be very slow. Chaco might catch them long before they get that far, if someone tells him.”

  “Where is your brother, Vienta?” Mia asked. “He’s so funny.”

  “That reminds me,” Maeve said. “My papacito had such a bad night. When he gets like that Herve gets upset, and he just sits and rocks and won’t leave him. Please get the doctor, and tell him my papacito is worse and I need him to look at him.”

  Mia nodded and ran out. Ham stuck his head out the bedroom doorway and demanded a translation. When Maeve explained, he smiled.

  “That was some quick thinking, ma’am,” he said.

  “It was Zachary’s idea, beginning to end. Now if only Chaco believes his little informer,” Maeve said fervently. “But, with all these guards our rescuers still aren’t going to get through. And if they aren’t coming the doctor is. Zachary can’t wait any longer. We need to eat, and then we have an appointment in the bedroom.”

  Zachary looked ashy and took a few sips of the broth from Angelita. He rolled his head on the pillow. “Captain Jessup, I’m sorry ... sir, but I can’t ... do this,” he said. “It’s too important, and ... I don’t want to ... mess it up because ... my head’s funny. You’ll... have to do the ... preaching.”

  “What?” Ham asked. He looked at Maeve. She cooled Zachary’s forehead with a rag while Angelita gave him more broth.

  “Zachary wanted to tell Angelita about God – you know, what it is that you believe. I was going to help. But he’s too sick, I think. You’ll have to tell me in English, Ham, and her in French.”

  “Oh,” Ham said, fumbling with his walking stick and looking at Zachary. “He comes from a whole line of god-fearing men, no doubt was born waving a Bible in his chubby little fist. I’ve been saved a couple of months. And I get to deliver the message. The Lord works in mysterious ways.