CHAPTER FOUR
Jake helped Chance to his feet, through the back door and storeroom, and into the cantina.
“Ah, señor, you woke him,” the bartender said.
“It wasn’t easy, but yes,” Jake said, helping Chance to sit at a table. The man at the other table still had his head down on his arms.
“Drinks, señor?” the barman asked.
“Yes,” Jake said. “Coffee, black.”
“Sí, señor,” the man said. “Inmediatamente!”
Jake sat across from Chance, who was now shivering.
“We’ll get some coffee into you,” Jake said, “and then get you into some dry clothes. You do have some dry clothes, don’t you?”
“Th-things have been a little l-lean lately,” Chance said. “I’m wearin’ my only clothes.”
“Well, there’s gotta be a store in town. We’ll get you somethin’.”
The bartender came over with a pot of coffee and two mugs. He poured them each full, and set them down.
“Thanks, Manny,” Chance said.
“De nada, Señor Orejas Grandes.”
As Manny went back to the bar Jake asked Chance, “What did he call you?”
“Señor Big Ears,” Chance said.
“Oh,” Jake said. “Of course.”
Chance greedily drank down half of the hot coffee and set the mug down on the table. For a moment, at least, the shivering stopped.
“Jake,” Chance said, “what the hell are you doin’ out of Texas?”
“I’m not that far outside of Texas,” Jake said. “But I came here lookin’ for you.”
“It’s been years,” Chance said.
“Nearly eight.”
“Well,” Chance said, “I hope the last eight years have been kinder to you than they’ve been to me.”
“I’m not here to compare hardships, Chance,” Jake said, “I’m here to give us both a second chance.”
“To do what?” Chance asked.
“To live again,” Jake said, “Or die doin’ what we love to do.”
“Which is?”
“A trail drive.”
Chance stared at his friend.
“Trail drives are dead,” he said. “The trails are blocked, quarantines are up—”
“We can make it,” Jake said.
“To where?”
“Dodge City.”
Now Chance looked shocked.
“Dodge is dead.”
“There’s still a railroad there,” Jake said. “Look, I’ve got six hundred head left. I want to get them to market. It’s my last drive.”
“And the Big M?”
“I sold it.”
Chance sat back in his chair.
“Sold it?”
“Let’s face it, Chance,” Jake said. “All these years I been a shit businessman. But I’ve always been a good cowboy. I probably shoulda spent the past twenty-five years bein’ somebody else’s top hand.”
“Fine time to realize somethin’ like that,” Chance said. “Okay, lemme get this straight. You’re gonna drive these cows to Dodge City yourself?”
“Right.”
“And you want me to come with you?”
“Right again.”
“Who else do you have?”
“Right now . . . nobody.”
“No one?” Chance asked. “What happened to all your hands?”
“I had a few that helped me get the herd into Candy Box Canyon,” he said, “but when they found out I couldn’t pay them until after the drive, they left.”
“So you and me—two broken-down old cowpokes—and six hundred head?”
“We’ll come up with more men.”
“How?”
“Well . . . I was hopin’ you’d be able to tell me that.”
Chance drank some coffee, then poured more while he thought.
“This is crazy to even think about,” he said, finally.
“Would you rather swamp saloons in a Mexican town?” Jake asked. “I’ll give you a percentage. Then we just need half a dozen other cowboys.”
“Half a dozen men who won’t mind bein’ paid after the drive,” Chance said.
“That’s right.”
“I ain’t been on a horse in a dog’s age, Jake,” Chance admitted.
“Ridin’ ain’t somethin’ you forget, Chance.”
Chance studied his friend’s face.
“By God, you’re really serious.”
“I am.”
“And crazy.”
“As a scalded cat.”
Chance rubbed his face vigorously with both hands, then said, “We’re gonna need Taco.”
Big Jake Motley had enough money on him to get Chance a bath and some new clothes. Once that was done, they went back to the little cantina that served the only cold beer in Matamoros.
“Tequila, Señor Orejas Grandes?” Manolito the bartender asked.
“Just a beer, Manny,” Chance said.
“The same,” Jake said.
“Sí, señores.”
Jake looked around the little cantina, saw that there was still only one other customer, the man with his head down on his arms.
“Who’s that?” he asked Manny, when he served their beers.
“Oh, señor, that is Desiderio.”
“Does he spend his days that way?” Jake asked.
“Oh no, señor,” Manny said, “only when his heart, she is broken.”
“And how often does that happen?”
Smiling broadly, Manny said, “Señor, Desi falls in love and has his heart broken every week.”
“And when Desi’s heart ain’t broken,” Jake asked, “what’s he do?”
“Ah, Desi is a vaquero, señor.”
Jake and Chance exchanged a glance. Jake noticed that his friend’s glassy eyes had cleared some with the half a beer he drank. He just had to keep Chance away from tequila for a while.
“Is he a good cowboy?” Jake asked.
“Oh, sí, señor,” Manny said. “Muy bien! But you must keep him from falling in love.”
“Should be easy on a drive, right?” Jake asked Chance.
“I would think so,” Chance said.
The two men picked up their beers, walked over, and sat on either side of Desiderio, the vaquero.
The sad-eyed Desiderio raised his head. Once he saw that neither of them was armed he was not alarmed at their appearance at his table.
“Señores,” he said. “I can help you?”
“Maybe,” Jake said, “we can help each other.”
“Oh? How may we do that, señor?”
“I understand you’re a vaquero?”
“Sí, señor, I am.”
“On what ranch are you workin’?” Jake asked.
“Alas, señor, I am without employment,” Desiderio said, “but that does not matter, as my heart is broken. I cannot work when the woman I love does not love me back.”
“Well,” Chance said, “wouldn’t you like to get out of this town, so you don’t see her every day?”
“Oh, sí, señor,” Desiderio said, “that would be ideal, but alas, no one is hiring.”
“Well now,” Jake said, “I think that’s where I can help you.”
Big Jake Motley felt that his ride across the Rio Grande to Matamoros had been a lucrative one. He came away with Chance McCandless as his foreman, and Desiderio as one of his cowboys.
However, he wasn’t quite ready to leave yet.
“We need Taco,” he said.
“Manolito will make you tacos,” Desiderio said.
“No,” Chance clarified, “we’re lookin’ for a man named Taco.”
“Ah, Taco,” Desiderio said. “Sí.”
“Do you know him?” Jake asked.
“Sí, señor,” Desiderio said, “he is my cousin.” Then his eyes widened and he smiled. “Ah, you are that Señor Jake!”
“He spoke of me?”
“Oh sí, señor, many times,” Desi said. “And you are Señor Chance!”
“I am.”
“Sí, sí,” Desi said, “he told me of many adventures you had together. Oh, this is wonderful.” He seemed to be very animated for the first time since they had awakened him. “Now I, too, will have wondrous adventures with Señores Jake and Chance.”
“That may be true,” Jake said, “but we also need your cousin Taco.”
“Oh, sí, sí, señor,” Desi said. “I know where my cousin is. I will take you to him.”
“Is he here, in Matamoros?” Jake asked.
“No, señor, but he is nearby. I will take you!” Desi said, happily.
“Do we need horses?” Jake asked.
“Sí, señor, but I have my own.”
Jake looked at Chance.
“No extra shirt, no horse,” he said, with a shrug.
“That figures,” Jake responded.