We must have been quite a sight; a gringo riding bareback on a big jack mule, weighed down with canteens and assorted bean sacks all tied to a wagon harness. Although the trip back to San Rafael wasn’t all that hard, when we finally arrived in town a little past noon, I was again on foot. I had been leading the mule for the last half hour, on account of his having thrown a front shoe hard enough to crack the hoof. I couldn’t help wondering what else would go wrong. After all I’d been through, a blacksmith’s own mule goes and cracks a hoof on me! It made me remember that old saying about the cobbler’s kid’s shoes.
After watering Bruto at one of the troughs scattered along the street, I left him hitched to a post outside of the livery with instructions to take good care of him.
I wanted to clean up, change clothes, and get something to eat, so I headed for the mercantile store, just down the street about four buildings away, on the side opposite the town’s only boarding house. The street was fairly deserted, but that wasn’t unusual for this time of day.
Folks around these parts like to siesta, so things usually quiet down from noon until early evening. Those that weren’t asleep were probably inside the cantina drinking or outside of town at the local social club, partaking of whatever pleasures of the flesh were available, heat allowing.
I was dog tired and hungry to boot, so, after entering the shop, the first thing I did was pull a large can of sliced pears down off the top shelf. Prying it open with a clasp knife the owner kept tied to a nail for such purposes, I gulped all the juice, and then used the point of the knife blade to pull out the pears. That sugary juice hit the spot and felt better than anything I could remember for quite sometime.
I finished the pears and took a box of ammunition off the counter and pocketed it away in my shoulder pouch. The storekeeper went by the name of Sam Martin. We’d been on good terms before, but, since he was usually a talkative sort, I found it strange that I’d been in the store almost ten minutes without him saying a word. He just kept staring at me from behind the counter like I was a ghost or something. I was about to ask him for a little extra credit toward a new pair of pants and a shirt, when Rosa Hernandez walked in.
After all I’d been through, she was more than just a sight for tired eyes, so I walked over and smiled. I was going to ask about her father when she suddenly smacked me right across the face with her riding crop.
“How dare you! How could you, after we all trusted you?” she cried. Rosa was about to hit me again even though I was still stunned from her first quirting.
“Hey, what was that for?” I said, grabbing her forearm in defense.
“You dare ask me that after what you did to my father and his men? You knew how important that herd was to us! Let go of me.” She was struggling to get her arm free, while at the same time kicking my left shin, hard.
“Ouch! Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Someone bushwhacked me out there and left me for dead. Here, just look at my head if you don’t believe me.” I let go and pointed. “And I mean up here on top, not where you just whipped me.”
“Rodrigo was there when you rode in and ambushed our men. The man who led the thieves was masked, but Rodrigo recognized you nevertheless. The big gringo with the bay horse is what he said.” She was still angry, although maybe now not quite as much.
“I swear to you, Rosa, it wasn’t me. Think about it, would it make any sense for me to come back here if it had been?” I asked. “The man who shot me and stole my horse was obviously part of the gang that rustled your herd. He left me for dead out there. It was all I could do to get back here in one piece. Trust me, I would never do anything that would bring you or your father any harm.” I was speaking more softly now.
She looked at me and raised her eyebrows slightly as if reconsidering the situation.
I raised my hands up to her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “I’m telling you the truth.”
“Even if I were to believe you, Chavez would not,” she said after a moment of hesitation. “He is mad because after you convinced my father to change directions, you rode safely away. He says you had planned all along to leave them there in a trap.”
“Well, now you know he’s wrong,” I said firmly. “Maybe I can talk to him or your father. What do you think?”
“They wouldn’t give you the chance,” Rosa replied, shaking her head.
I glanced around uncomfortably. If the vaqueros were as worked up as Rosa described, they’d likely shoot first and ask questions later. The last thing I wanted was to be forced into fighting men I’d ridden with, especially those I’d grown to respect.
I went to the window and checked the street. It was almost deserted, except for a passing buckboard and a woman on her way to the seamstress. Thankfully none of the vaqueros was anywhere in sight.
“I can’t just stay here waiting for them to come over and lynch me.”
“If you can get to your horse and ride out of here, maybe I could meet you somewhere? After I explain things to my father,” she offered.
I shook my head. “I don’t want you in the middle of this. Besides, I don’t have a horse, mine was stolen, remember? I had to ride in on one of Chango’s mules.” I looked quickly around the store, and then grabbed a pair of saddlebags down off the shelf. After cramming as much as I could into them, I turned to Rosa. “I’ll have to let you pay for this now, but I swear I’ll be back to settle things. You have my word on that.”
She looked into my eyes. “I believe you. Don’t be foolish. Just go away now, quick, and don’t come back.”
Years of hard work and loneliness suddenly came to a head. Under different circumstances there might have been a chance for a good life here with someone who mattered. I don’t know why, but I somehow felt there still could be. Rosa made my heart ache every time I saw her, but it was a good kind of ache, the longing kind. She was a woman who any man would be proud of, yet any chance I might have had with her was about to be destroyed by a rotten dry-gulcher and a band of murdering horse thieves.
On impulse, I grabbed her in my arms and, before she had a chance to object, I kissed her, hard and long. There are some things that just happen, things you can’t control. At first she was surprised, but she soon relaxed into my embrace and kissed me back. My heart raced.
“I’m leaving. I’ve no choice about that,” I said, stroking her hair. “But I’m coming back. That you can count on. I’m innocent, and now I’ve got a special reason to prove it, one more important than the law or my reputation. I’ve got you. Believe me, I’ll be back with the herd, or the money for it, or I’ll die trying.”
“I believe you will,” she said quickly. “Try to reach my horse, querido, it’s over at the stable. You can ride away. If nobody else sees, maybe I can convince Chavez, later, that he was wrong about you.”
I nodded back at her and rechecked the window.
“Cuidate, carino,” she whispered as I darted out the door.
The street was still empty as I headed toward the stable, but before I made it halfway across one of the vaqueros, Ricardo, suddenly emerged from the café across the street. He took one look at me and immediately went for his gun.