The patron of this great hacienda was not the sort of man Skye expected to see. He stood quietly at the tower awaiting his guests, intelligent eyes shelved under a pale dome of forehead that surrendered reluctantly to kinked coppery hair. He was accoutered in a fine frock coat of royal blue velvet with white knee breeches. At his arm was a raven-haired beauty in white cotton.
The hacendado’s gaze took in everything there was to see about Skye’s party, resting on the red cart with its strange insignia, then upon the trader in his broad-rimmed Panama and open white shirt, and then upon Skye, and finally, briefly, the Indian women.
“Gentlemen?” he said, in English.
“At your service, Sah,” Childress said, with a sweep of his Panama. “Traders. Perhaps we can supply your necessaries?”
“Americans?”
“I am a Texan, Jean Lafitte Childress of Galveston Bay.”
“A rebel.”
“Why, Sah, Lone Star Texan and proud of it, and if I give offense, it’s because I mean to. You’ll not find a more loyal Texan than the gent you see before you. We defended certain
sacred and holy rights promised all Texans by the Republic of Mexico and wantonly abandoned by that scoundrel Santa Anna. If we distress you, we shall depart at once. With whom do we speak?”
The hacendado nodded, and then focused on Skye. “And you, sir?”
“I am Mister Skye, London born but a man without a country.”
“Are you from Australia, then, or Van Dieman’s Land?”
“No, sir, seven years in the Royal Navy.”
“Ah, a surprise! And what do you do?”
“I am in the fur trade.”
“And why are you without a country?”
“That is my choice, sir.”
“And why are you here in Mexico?”
“I am looking for two young Indians we believe are in northern Mexico.”
“And who are these?” the man asked, waving languidly at the two women.
“One is Victoria, my wife, of the Crow people, and the other is Standing Alone, of the Cheyenne people.”
“And why are you stopping here, so far off the Taos Camino?”
Childress replied: “To trade, Sah. We have a small but select number of items for your consideration.”
“Have you the permiso from Santa Fe?”
“We’re en route, to obtain just such a license.”
“Then it is very indiscreet of you to offer merchandise in a nation where you have no right to do business.”
This man with the blue velvet frock coat exuded some strange force of will that was belied by his soft attire. Skye sensed that a word from the man could decide their fate. There was the slightest pause, while the master of this fortified rancho, almost a village, came to some conclusions.
“You will forgive me if I prefer to do business here rather
than within,” he said. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a conveyance with a skull and crossbones enameled on the side of it; pray thee, what means it?”
Childress’s response astonished Skye. “I’m a privateer, Sah, once employed by the Republic of Texas to prey on Mexican shipping. Now I prey on Mexicans in another fashion. The Jolly Roger is my whimsy, and the mark of my passage. I shall extract the highest possible price for anything I part with, having piracy in my bones.”
The response plainly nonplussed the hacendado.
Shine leaped and chittered and danced on the back of the Clydesdale. The gathered peons, sun-stained and worn, stared at the little creature.
The hacendado laughed gently. “I like candor. You’re probably here for some other reason. Admit to one sin to hide a larger one.”
This time it was Childress’s turn to laugh. The monkey chittered and jumped to the ground. Children squealed.
“I am Gabor Rakoczi,” the master of the place said, “and this is my wife, Maria Elena Salvador y Rakoczi. I have never had the pleasure of commerce with self-confessed pirates before.”
“You speak English fluently, Mister Rakoczi,” Skye said.
“Three years at Cambridge does that, doesn’t it? I speak the Spanish better. Love does that. Anyone who serves the Hapsburgs, as I did for years, would know Spanish.” He smiled at his wife. “Mrs. Rakoczi is well advanced with Hungarian, which is the language of domesticity in the home.” He paused. “Well, are you going to display your wares or is there some other purpose for which you honor us with your sterling company?”
Again, Skye sensed the iron willfulness of the man who ruled over this empire in the wilderness.
Childress hastened off his seat on the red cart and drew back his canvas. His wares suddenly looked to be few and poor.
Rakoczi dismissed them at a glance. “It is not even a good show, Mister Childress.” He grinned, displaying even white teeth. “And that brings us to purposes. What does a handful of tinker’s items conceal? A filibuster, perhaps? What a word! A coinage of Washington, District of Columbia, I think. Are you examining northern Mexico as a plum to be plucked? Are you here to assess my strength? Ah, I will show you if you wish. Behold the tower. There’s a six-pounder in it, and plenty of grapeshot and ball, and my muchachos are experienced cannoneers. Arms? I can put thirty men into the field on horse, all with good Prague steel in hand. Lances, pikes, muskets. We are a cavalry troop, in case you wonder. Good Spanish Barb stock I brought up from Vera Cruz, Toledo sabres, pikes and pistolas. Say, would you sell me your Clydesdale there? I saw them in England and thought them dumb and docile, just like the English. Yes, a sturdy animal, useful here, but not a thrifty eater. We would have to fatten him. He’s rather gaunted, wouldn’t you say? I’ll give you a piratical offer for it, or maybe just take it from you if you protest too much at the few pesos in my palm.”
Skye stared at this hacendado who was toying with them before the gates of his rural fortress, and enjoying every moment of it. The man could do anything he threatened to do.
Childress laughed politely.
“The monkey’s a good touch,” Rakoczi said. “Yes! See how he entertains while you conduct your reconnaissance. Your insignia’s a fine touch, too. It starts conversations all by itself. Yes, and how much information you can fetch in a hurry, with a monkey and a crossbones.” He turned suddenly to Skye. “Now tell me about these Indians you seek.”
Skye scarcely knew how to approach this man, but candor had always served him best. “Two Cheyenne children were abducted by the Utes four years ago and sold here in Mexico, as far as we know. This is their mother. We hope to free them.”
“Sold? Sold? Free them, Skye? You are suggesting they are not free?”
“It’s Mister Skye, mate.”
“Mister Skye, is it?” Rakoczi’s teeth were showing again. “This is the Mexican Republic, and there’s not a soul here who is held in bondage, unlike the American South, or the misnamed and alleged Republic of Texas.”
Skye ignored him. “We’re prepared to purchase the two Indian children. They’d be almost adult now, about sixteen and thirteen.”
“Purchase, Mister Skye? Are you suggesting that mortals are bought and sold here? Are you telling me that you’re talking about slavery?”
“Peonage, Senor Rakoczi. Binding laborers to the land with debt. Indenture. Do you have peons?”
Rakoczi laughed softly. “Slavery! I have never heard of it. I shall tell the bishop of Durango. The church would be distressed. Come, let us talk to these slaves.”
He drifted toward a young couple who stood nearby. “I shall translate the Spanish, and Mr. Childress can correct me if he detects the slightest flaw in my translation, yes? I take it you speak Spanish, yes?”
He didn’t wait for a response, but questioned the couple intently, while Childress listened.
“They say, Mister Skye, that they are glad to work for me, and are proud to be under the protection of so great a master as the owner of the Hacienda de Las Delicias, which is very like heaven to them, and the master is very like a saint who will sit at the right hand of God.”
Skye nodded.
Standing Alone was sitting her horse, restlessly studying the fifty or sixty people clustered there.
“Are there any Indians here?” Skye asked, abruptly.
“We always employ some, Mister Skye.”
“If any of them are the children of this woman, we wish to reunite them with their mother, who grieves for them.”
“They drift in, and who knows, sir. Some are domestics, and some are herders. Shall we seek them out?”
Skye thought he might do just that. “They are free to leave, then?”
“Oh, it might not be quite that simple. Perhaps they owe something. Often they have to be equipped with clothing, and tools, and of course we add their room and board.”
Skye nodded.
“But come in, my English friend, and see. Tell the Cheyenne woman she is free to examine my whole placita.”
Childress translated.
“And if the Cheyennes are hers, sir, and wish to leave your employ, then what?”
“I am a Christian gentleman, the nephew of a cardinal bishop of Hungary, Mister Skye, and you will find me utterly opposed to your effort to surrender them to their heathen mother when I can provide them with all the civilizing virtues, as well as the True Faith, all of which is to their benefit.
“Shall I send a young man on the brink of accepting Our Lord back to the pagan life from which he came? Never. It would be a sin. But such as you describe aren’t here; let her look among us.” He glanced at the low sun. “Come to vespers and see for yourself. And freshen yourselves with us for the night. You are guests here at the estancia of Don Gabor. I’ve never entertained a pirate before, nor a monkey, nor a rebel Texan, nor men who drown beavers for a living, and I look forward to it. Maria Elena is eager to welcome such exotic company, men of callings beyond her experience. She will be especially interested in pirates.”
He beckoned them to enter the placita, which they did. But Skye wondered whether they would freely leave it.