11
The abandoned ranch proved to be the best place for the three of them to rest. Carlos spent the days out on a high point using the field glasses, seated cross-legged on an old blanket under the lacy shade of a mesquite bush, looking for any signs of riders’ dust.
They drew water and took baths in the horse tank. Slocum worked on the worn-out portion of their tack, repairing it and making certain it was sound.
She mended their clothing. Deep in her own world, she walked among them like they weren’t there. She spent long hours under the canvas shade that Slocum hung up for her, looking off in the distance at something he couldn’t see. She never even hummed. If she heard Slocum or the boy speak, she never answered or showed any sign that they were there. But when she and Slocum were alone or in the bedroll, she would make wild, fierce love to him. Completely unrestrained and driving hard—during the wildest part of the lovemaking, her vaginia contracted like a man’s fist and grunting noises would come from her throat, but no words, not even when they came.
All at once, she would become as excited as a tornado and couldn’t get enough of his dick, but when she finally let go, she would sleep for hours in a stupor he couldn’t wake her from. There was never any expression on her lovely tanned face—no smile even.
He’d swear she’d smiled a time or two in the beginning after they’d had a good session in bed, but that was before the outlaws took her. That experience must have pushed her over the last cliff. One night, they were having supper—rice, frijoles, bacon, and corn bread—when she rose on her knees, put down her plate, and then came over to kiss him.
Slocum knew what she wanted. He said, “Carlos, let us be alone.”
“I’m leaving. I’m leaving.” The youth scrambled to his feet and ran outside, trying to suppress his laughter.
She had him on his back and was rubbing his crotch.
“Hey, Slocum,” Carlos shouted. “You better get out here. We’ve got company coming. Bring your rifle, too. It ain’t nice company either.”
He set her hands aside, holding both her forearms, and shook his head. “Not now. We have company.”
Her eyes welled with tears, and she fell on the pallet silently crying. Nothing he could do about her for the moment. He jerked on his boots and hopped across the room, pulling the last one on. He straightened up in the doorway to see four single-feather bucks on horseback by the corral. The sun’s last rays gilded them in the golden light. On their chests they wore eagle bone breast coverings and balanced rifle butts on their bare brown legs while holding back their calico ponies, which seemed to be pawing for a drink.
Slocum shifted his rifle to his left hand, and held his right hand up in a peace sign, while looking the Indians over closely for any sign of aggression about to spring up. They looked safe enough for the moment.
One rode forward. In sign language, he said his name was Red Hawk. They and their horses needed a drink. It had been a long ride for them. Would he allow them to get water?
He motioned for Red Hawk to sit down, and called Carlos over to translate.
“Tell the others to come also,” he said to the boy.
When Carlos spoke, they nodded and bailed off their horses. Adjusting their loincloths, they looked around suspiciously, then joined Slocum and Red Hawk in a half circle seated on the ground.
“Tell then I must know about a white woman that was among them.”
Carlos spoke with little hesitation, and they searched each other’s faces as if they were unsure they should tell him anything.
“Tell them it’s the woman who has no tongue.”
They began to nod and talk about a whiskey trader getting some men drunk and taking her from them.
“Where did they find her in the first place?” Slocum asked.
When Carlos translated their words, Slocum frowned. “They say two Mexican pistoleros traded her to some Comanche bucks for four horses.”
“Who were these men?”
“They say that those men brought her doped, tied, wrapped in a blanket, and belly-down over a horse. They said to kill her if she ever tried to escape, for if the white soldiers learned that they had fucked her, they would cut off the manhood of every buck they caught. Even dead, they would need their manhood in the next world.”
“That’s why they were after her.” Slocum sat with his Spencer over his lap. “All we need to know is how those Mexicans first got hold of her and where that was so we can take her home.”
“Should I tell them she is with us?” Carlos asked.
“Tell them we can fix it with the army so the soldiers won’t harm their body parts either dead or alive.”
When the boy finished telling them that, Red Hawk stuck out his hand and they shook on it.
“You’ll be safe leaving his land, he says,” Carlos explained.
“That’s good. Ask him where those Mexicans were from.”
Carlos came back with: “From the direction of the Llano River.”
“Good. Someone back there will know who she is then.”
Carlos looked at the ground as if troubled. “What will they do with her?”
“Put her in a home, I’d guess. Maybe in time, she’ll come to her senses.”
“That would be a big shame, wouldn’t it?”
“What are you thinking?”
“We could keep her in Cally. Nobody would mind her ways there, that’s for sure. Me and Woodberry would look after her. She could be free anyway. What do you think?”
“If I think her family can’t take care of her, we’ll do that. I thought you might go back to Dominga when all this was settled.”
“Oh, she don’t need me as bad as maybe this lady does. What if we leave her at Cally and go look for her people? Then they won’t know she even exists until we tell them when and if the time comes.”
“What are you thinking really?”
“I’ve been an outcast myself among the Comanche and white people, too. I know how bitter it is—”
Slocum stopped him. “Tell Red Hawk to water his horses and may the spirits of the wind and the great eagle ride with him.”
They all rose, making head and hand motions that they were grateful, and the bucks went to water their horses. When Slocum and Carlos drew close to the house, the woman came to the doorway and handed Slocum his plate of food.
“Have we got enough left to feed the Indians, too?” he asked Carlos.
He nodded and went over to tell the Indians there was food for them. At the news, each of the bucks smiled and waved at Slocum.
With his back to the wall and picking through his food with a fork, he tried to piece together the entire story as he knew it. Two Mexicans had brought her to the Comanches under the influence of drugs, and traded her for four horses. How much were four horses worth? Very little. Why would two tough border pistoleros risk their lives trading a pretty woman for some worthless horses?
Why, she’d bring no less than five hundred in gold from the Mexico white slave trades. Those ponies wouldn’t clear a hundred dollars in this country. Besides, most folks were broke from the recent war and there was no money in Texas.
How did the pistoleros get her? He had questions galore and no answers, except that maybe she came from the western hill country. Should he do as Carlos asked, go there and ask questions before he delivered her? She might be much better off up at Fort Concho than with her own. He’d sleep on it.
A smile crossed his mouth as he chewed on his supper, standing outside the cabin in the growing darkness, four bucks close by eating with him and talking in their guttural language. Maybe he’d even sleep on top of her tonight. Oh, hell, this was a mess.
And there looked like there was no quick end to the situation he found himself in. In two days they could be at Fort Concho, in four more they’d be on the Llano River talking to folks. Maybe they could cut off some of that time, but they’d better get moving at sunup.
The big question was, could he trust these bucks not to steal his horses and gear? Best if he and the boy took shifts as guards to be sure they didn’t do that.
So he let Carlos have the first shift. Then he went inside and climbed in to the bedroll to join her. When he threw his arm over her bare hip, she rolled over and began kissing him. In minutes, he was on top of her and they were riding for the end of the world. Raised up on his stiff arms over her, he felt the contractions inside her pulling at him like a whirlpool. Then she threw her head back and strained. The hot flush from her went all over his privates and she fainted away. It was over for the night.
What would they do with her? A man couldn’t have an incoherent wife that dragged him off to bed whenever she wanted to have sex with him. Why, such actions would shock society. He chuckled to himself and reached over to gently fondle her long teardrop breast.