“Señor Chavez is here to see you, Señor Mackie,” said the housekeeper.
“Thank you, Maria. I’ll see him in the library.” Mackie pushed back his chair and looked over at his wife. “You’ll excuse me, Helen?”
“Of course, Nelson.” Helen Mackie was a pale, washed-out woman who answered in the affirmative to anything Mackie asked her, having been bullied into submission over the ten years of their marriage.
Mackie was seated in front of the fire when Chavez appeared in the doorway.
“Come in, Chavez. Would you like a drink?”
The man nodded and sitting opposite Mackie, reached out his hand for the shot glass of whiskey. He drained it in one gulp.
“Another?”
“Gracias, señor.”
Chavez sounded Mexican, thought Mackie, gazing at the puzzle that was his hired gun. But he certainly didn’t look it, with his light brown hair and green eyes. Wolfs eyes, thought Mackie.
“So, you visited the Simpsons?”
“Yes,” said Chavez, swirling the whiskey around in his glass.
“And?” Mackie demanded impatiently.
“They are very eager to sell, Señor Mackie.”
Mackie laughed and poured himself another drink. “Here’s to another three hundred acres. You’re a good man, Chavez.”
A good man was exactly what he was not, Juan Chavez thought ironically as he emptied his glass. A good man wouldn’t be suggesting to a small rancher like Simpson that there had been so little rain, señor, and things were so dry that it would not be surprising if, one day, his ranch burned down? It would be better to take Señor Mackie’s offer, si…? “Si,” said Simpson.
A good man wouldn’t be working for Nelson Mackie.
Mackie pulled out a map of the valley. He had traced his own property lines in blue and the other ranchers in red. More and more lines were turning purple, however, as Mackie took over. There were still a few pieces outlined in red on the edges of Mackie’s property. And there was one large area that pushed itself into the blue boundaries. That was Michael Burke’s spread.
Mackie was tapping his pen right in the middle of Burke’s property. “You can spend some of your time with the likes of the Garcias, but Burke’s is the one I want to get.”
“And he won’t sell?”
“I’ve made him two offers, damned good ones. But he just smiles and gives me that Irish blarney of his. It’s bad enough that he owns such a big piece of the valley. But that he’s running sheep on it and ruining good grazing land! And the rest of the men listen to him, damn it. It’s why I can’t get some of them out. So, I’ll have to become more, uh, persuasive,” said Mackie. “Or rather, you will.”
Chavez gave him a bland look. “Just how persuasive?”
“To start with, you will be the one making my last offer. Politely, of course, but let him know it is the last time he’ll have a chance to get out with any profit.”
“Si, Señor Mackie. I’ll go tomorrow.”
* * * *
Juan Chavez walked slowly back to the bunkhouse. A few of the men were playing poker and invited him to join them, but he said no and pouring himself a cup of coffee walked out and sat on the bench outside, leaning his head against the bunkhouse wall.
He watched the stars come out and silently named the constellations. When he sat like this for a few minutes each evening, he felt free and at peace. He smiled as he remembered when he started stealing this time for himself. He was ten or eleven and had been at the Romero hacienda for three years. The first years of his captivity had been a blur. He’d understood nothing yet was beaten when he didn’t obey old Tomas’s orders. He’d learned Spanish quickly; he’d had to in order to stop the beatings. Or most of them. One night, after all the fires were banked, he’d snuck out and sat down for the first time that day. When he lifted his head, there they were winking down at him. The same stars his father had named for him. No matter where he was, the same familiar patterns would appear. He got back a little of himself that night. He was Jonathan Rush. From Boston. He didn’t remember much more than that and the names of the star patterns and his father’s voice. From then on, wherever he was, whomever he was working for, he would take those few minutes of freedom.
* * * *
In the morning he was up and out early. He went alone. He preferred being alone and he worked better that way. He didn’t need any riders to back him up. He was very good at conveying Mackie’s threats all by himself.
Elizabeth was watering her flowers when she heard him ride in. She looked up, ready to smile and invite a neighbor in for a cup of tea. It was a warm morning, but she felt herself grow cold when she recognized Chavez. He was alone, thank God. Maybe he was just on his way somewhere and had stopped to water his horse? She put her bucket down and wiping her hands on her apron, walked up the porch steps and called to her husband.
“Michael. We have a visitor.”
Jake had gone for the mail yesterday, and Michael was engrossed in the newspaper. “Who is it, Elizabeth?”
“I believe it is Mackie’s man, Chavez.”
Michael took off his reading glasses and stood up. Chavez. He looked over at the wall where his cavalry pistol hung. He didn’t wear a gun regularly, although he always rode with a rifle. He’d worn a pistol long enough in the army, he told anyone who asked. Well, he was not putting it on today, he decided. Not and appear scared of scum like Chavez.
He pushed open the screen door and stood next to his wife.
Chavez had tied his horse and was watching Gabriel work one of the two-year-olds, just as if he were any neighbor here for a visit.
“Wait here, a ghra,” Michael told his wife.
“Buenos dias,” he said quietly when he reached the corral fence.
“Buenos dias, Señor Burke. Parece que usted se consiguió un hombre que sabe de caballos.”
“Yes, Gabe is very good with my horses. Are you interested in buying one, Señor Chavez?”
Chavez laughed and turning to Michael, put out his hand. “I don’t think we have ever really met, Mr. Burke.”
“No, I haven’t had the pleasure of a formal introduction, Chavez. But I feel like I know you,” Michael added. He kept his hand by his side and finally Chavez dropped his.
“I am not here for the pleasure of watching your beautiful horses, Mr. Burke. I am here on business.”
“And would that be your business or Mr. Mackie’s business?” Michael asked caustically.
“Mr. Mackie’s business is my business.”
“Yes, so I thought, Señor Chavez.”
“Señor Mackie sent me to tell you that he has reconsidered his offer.”
“Em, he has decided that he doesn’t want my ranch after all?” asked Michael with dry humor.
“No, he has decided he wants it so much he is willing to give you twenty dollars more an acre.”
“ ‘Tis a more than generous offer,” said Michael.
“Yes. It would be to your advantage to take it, Señor Burke.”
Michael was silent for a minute and Chavez turned back to watch Gabe.
“Em…exactly why would you advise me to accept, Chavez?”
“Because not only is it a more than generous offer, it is Señor Mackie’s last offer, Señor Burke.”
“ ‘Tis indeed?” said Michael. “You mean he’ll be giving up on me after all this?”
Chavez turned. “Mr. Mackie never gives up on anything he wants, señor. Let us just say it is the last time he will be so generous.” Chavez’s eyes were unreadable as he continued. “You have a nice place here, Mr. Burke. Beautiful horses. A lovely wife and daughter, I hear.”
On the surface, Chavez’s words were only a polite litany, but the undertone had nothing of politeness in it.
“Are ye threatening me, Señor Chavez?” Michael asked calmly.
“Why, I am just making an observation, señor. But life is, I am sure you would agree, uncertain. I would urge you to take advantage of Señor Mackie’s offer.”
“Tell Mr. Mackie I appreciate his generosity, but I prefer the uncertainty of life to being driven off my land by a bully and his hired gun.”
Chavez gave Michael an empty smile and said: “I am sorry that is your decision, Mr. Burke. Hasta luego….”
“You are sorry, my arse,” muttered Michael as he watched Chavez ride away. “And I’m sure I will be seeing you again.”
* * * *
Gabe had seen Chavez ride in and had considered interrupting the lunging for a few minutes. But Chavez was alone and Michael right inside, so he decided to go on with his work and just keep his ears and eyes open for trouble.
He ignored Chavez when the man came over to the corral. He couldn’t hear what Michael and his visitor were saying, but their faces were calm enough, so he put his attention on the two-year-old. After Chavez had ridden away, Michael stayed by the fence and watched until Gabe had finished.
“She’s a sweet-tempered filly, isn’t she, Gabe?” he said when his employee led the horse over to the fence.
Gabe stroked the filly’s nose. “She is, Mr. Burke.” He hesitated and then added, “I saw you had a visitor.”
“Señor Chavez, yes.”
“I know that this is none of my business,” Gabe said hesitantly.
“ ‘Tis indeed yer business, boyo, if you work for me. Mr. Nelson Mackie had made me another offer. His last offer, so I’ve been told.”
“And you refused,” Gabe said quietly.
“I refused,” said Michael. “I will not let anyone buy me off a place I’ve built with me own sweat and hard work. ‘Tis my home and my family’s and this is one Irishman who won’t be driven off his land.”
“Good for you, Mr. Burke.”
“Well, now, Gabe, I don’t know that it will be good for me,” Michael responded with a wry smile. “It might be very bad for all of us.” He looked Gabe in the eye and said seriously: “Now is the time for leavin’, Gabe. I’d not think ill of you if ye did.”
Gabe returned Michael’s gaze steadily. “Why, I haven’t finished with these horses, Mr. Burke. And there is still Night Sky to gentle for your daughter.”
Michael nodded. “Well, don’t say I haven’t warned ye, lad. But I can’t deny I was hoping ye’d say it. ‘Twas a good day for us when Eduardo sent ye here.”
* * * *
It wasn’t hard for Elizabeth to guess what Chavez wanted. She didn’t have to be there to know Michael’s answer: he’d never sell their land. Or be driven off alive. And neither would she. Mackie would have to kill both of them if he wanted the Burke property.
She picked up her bucket to go and fill it again and as it bumped her leg she was suddenly overcome by fear so strong she thought she was going to faint. She set the bucket down and sat on the edge of the porch, leaning back against one of the posts.
“Are ye all right, a ghra?” asked Michael as he walked toward the house.
The fear had risen and washed over her like a wave, leaving her drenched in a cold sweat. She shivered, even though it was a hot day. “I just felt a bit faint, that is all, Michael,” she said in a low voice.
Michael sat down next to her and put his arm around her. “You are shaking, Elizabeth.”
She was and she couldn’t seem to stop. Michael pulled her closer and his body heat and the reassuring feel of his arm around her gradually relaxed her.
“Is it Chavez, a ghra?”
“I don’t know, Michael. Something just…came over me when I went to fill the bucket. I am not really that frightened of him, though I suppose I should be with his reputation. I can guess what he came for.”
“And ye know my answer?”
“It is mine, too, Michael, you know that.”
“Mackie is not going to be such a gentleman now, Elizabeth. No, I am wrong,” he continued, with an ironic laugh. “He’ll act the gentleman as usual and let his hired wolf do the dirty work. Chavez looks like a wolf, with those green eyes of his. There seems to be no feeling in the man, Elizabeth, or else he couldn’t be doing his job.”
Elizabeth had finally stopped shaking. “Are ye feeling better, a ghra?”
“I am, Michael. And what about Gabe? Will he stay, do you think?”
“He’ll stay, Elizabeth. And we are lucky he will.”
* * * *
That night, Elizabeth dreamed of her family. Her father was lying there, that black-red rose of blood on his white shirt. Her mother was on the ground, skirt above her waist. And she, Elizabeth, was walking up the bank, her bucket full. “Here’s the water you wanted, Ma.” But Jonathan, her little brother, was gone.
She awoke with a start, her chest aching with unshed tears and she felt Michael’s solid warmth next to her. She burrowed into his arms and let the tears fall.
Michael woke immediately. “Elizabeth, what is it?”
“I had a dream, Michael. A nightmare about my parents.”
“Oh, muirneach,” he whispered and he stroked her hair gently.
“I used to dream of it every week,” she whispered, “but that was long ago in Santa Fe. Before I married Thomas. When I became his wife, I guess I felt safe again.”
“And are ye feeling unsafe now, Elizabeth?” asked Michael with pain in his voice.
“Oh, I feel safe here with you, Michael,” she protested, reaching up to stroke his cheek.
“I know ye do, but with Chavez riding in like he did….”
“I suppose he reminds me of the Comancheros,” she said after a moment. She shuddered and her voice broke. “They were lying there, Michael, just like they were that day. My father and my mother. I was coming back with the bucket of water they sent me for. I had wanted my little brother to go, you know. If he had, Michael, then he’d be alive today and I’d be….”
“But thank God, ye’re alive here with me, Elizabeth, for what would I have done without ye all these years, muirneach.” He kissed her gently on the lips and she responded with an almost desperate passion. “Make love to me, Michael,” she whispered.
Their lovemaking usually began slowly and tenderly and built to a crescendo. Tonight, however, Elizabeth was ready for him almost immediately and Michael entered her after only a few kisses. He could feel his body respond to her need and he drove into her as deep as he could as she raised herself to meet him.
“Oh, Michael,” she whispered as she lay there afterward, her head cradled on his chest, “If anything happened to you….”
“Whist, my dear one, nothing will.”
But he lay there after she fell asleep, wondering if he would be able to keep his promise.