Maria's Trail (The Mule Tamer) (18 page)

Maria finally took leave of the Mexican
Germans, despite Juana and Ulla’s protests. She remembered Ulla crying and
Juana with her little impish grin standing by, waving, as she rode off. She
also waved to another new friend, a tall skinny Irish woman named Bronagh. She
stood proud and gave Maria a resolute look as she rode off. It was Bronagh who
did not try to keep Maria from leaving. Maria thought about Bronagh as she rode
along.

Bronagh had married one of Ulla’s cousins and,
as with so many marriages between the Germans and the Irish, it was a
complimentary union. It seemed unlikely, like mixing water with oil, but the
resolute, hardworking, serious Germans and the wistful, dreaming, wandering
Irish often made for good marriages.

She remembered Bronagh’s words, in her lilting
accent, “Go on with ya, girl. Get the wanderlust out of yer system, then settle
down.” She looked  at Ulla and Juana, “The child’s got the Irish in her, I
swear it. The lass has Irish blood.” And Maria was struck by that. Why did she
want to move about so? The people, Juana’s people wanted her so badly to stay.
She could have had any of the eligible men, and perhaps, even if she were so
inclined, some of the not so eligible men. They were a handsome bunch and so
sincere, serious, even grave, yet she could tell that they had a deep respect
and admiration for her.

She decided to take the coastal route and visit
the lady fence. She had the gringo Colonel’s watch and really had no use for
it. Maria planned her day according to the sun and the moon, not a timepiece
and she thought it would fetch a good price. She also had the bandits’ guns and
she’d gotten three gold teeth out of them.

She rode along and was overwhelmed by the
beauty and vastness of the Pacific. It felt good with the constant breeze from
the sea, and she wondered why more people did not live here. She thought about
how difficult life was in the desert with the old woman, and now, near the sea,
it seemed one would never go hungry; there was so much bounty from it and along
the shore. She resolved to perhaps someday live somewhere along the coastline.

She made her way through various sleepy
villages, ate her new favorite, fish, and traded with the locals. She stopped
in Acapulco de Juárez and made a little fortune gaming there. She was getting
better reading men who played cards or shot craps or generally spent their time
gaming and she was especially successful at the ones that did not involve
chance.

Maria hated chance, hated games of luck as
she’d never had much of it in her life. She thought again about the old woman
and the mirror. She stuck with games where the outcome could be determined by
her intellect and skill, not by the toss of the dice or the turning of a wheel.
It all came down to the only one in the world she could truly rely on: Maria.

And so time passed and weeks stretched into
months and Maria slowly made her way north. She was in no hurry and had no
intention of taxing Alanza. Her lovely horse was to be preserved and, as she’d
brought along an extra mount, a nice dapple grey gelding, the three never got
too tired in their travels.

She arrived at the lady fence’s store on a late
afternoon and was surprised to see it staffed by a pretty Chinese woman. The
woman bowed to her and Maria asked about the lady fence. “I will get her,
Miss.”

She looked happier this time and she was
pleased to see Maria. She presented her new assistant and gave Maria a knowing
squeeze of the hand. Now Maria understood her happiness. “I am glad for you,
lady. I am very glad.”

They conducted business and Maria added to her
bankroll. Soon she’d have enough to buy Uncle Alejandro out, if he were ever
inclined to sell. They dined and then swam at the familiar spot and Maria
watched the lady fence in love and it was a relief to see. Her companion was
very sweet and Maria learned that she was from the states, from San Francisco,
and was traveling south when she stumbled upon the lady fence’s shop. They were
immediately compatible and now inseparable.

After a time, the young woman went off to bed,
leaving Maria and the lady fence alone. She regarded Maria as they shared
another bottle of the French wine.

“You look tired, Maria.”

And she was but not overly so. Maria looked
older, more wizened, more cynical, more mature since the last time she’d
visited the woman, and this is what the lady fence was now seeing in Maria. It
made the fence a little sad. Maria was old beyond her years the first time they
met, and now she was like a grizzled war veteran to the lady fence’s way of
thinking.

That night Maria slept alone in the garret as
the lady fence and her new love had a proper bedroom on the first floor, next
to the kitchen. The bed and sheets were as lovely as ever, yet Maria felt a
little let down. She was saddened by the fact that she would not be sharing her
bed with the lady fence. This was ridiculous as she was not emotionally or
sexually attracted to the woman, but some human contact would have been nice.
It was one of the things she’d hoped for, looked forward to as she approached
the store that day.

She was lying in her bed and thinking of all
the people she knew and wondered what they were doing at this very moment.
Juana and Gerhard, probably making love; the lady fence and the Chinese woman
below her, probably the same. The padre, praying. Ulla, nursing her baby,
dreaming of her husband, making love perhaps to a new suitor? She hoped the
latter. Bronagh, praying, perhaps just finished making love, or perhaps
ordering her German husband to do something, some final chore before bed, then
making love.

She snuggled deeper into the sheets, pressed
her back against the soft mattress and remembered all those years ago with
Crisanto. That was the best gift she’d ever given anyone in the world and she
liked it, enjoyed it as well. She wondered when she’d find a man. It wasn’t a
matter of if, it was when. She wanted a man, she was sure of it. She didn’t
want just a rutting bull, either, or a harem. She wanted one man, her man who
would love her and help her raise a family and give her all the love he had to
give. She wondered what he’d look like.

He’d not be one of those in the saloon, she
knew that. She didn’t like any of them in the saloon. Even the ones who were
good at cards did nothing for her and she wondered at that. Why not? She smoked
and drank mescal and gambled, yet she found no man who lived that way at all
appealing.

She thought about the men who she liked in her
life. The old man was really the only one. He was the kindest to her. He taught
her to be so good with everything that was useful and important; how to ride,
shoot, gamble. He taught her all of it. She liked… she loved him as one would
love her father or grandfather. Maybe that is what her husband would be like.
It probably would.

Thinking about the old man got her out of her
mood and she was no longer lonely. She was tired now but wanted to be cozy
under the warm covers. She got up and opened a window and looked at the moon
over the Gulf of California. It turned everything silver and the wind off the
gulf blew in over her, through her, and she felt a great chill. She hopped back
into bed and scooted under the lovely sheets and the heavy covers and fell into
a deep sleep.

The Cage

Maria arrived in the states on a clear
afternoon, surveying the town of Bisbee. It was one of the bigger towns she’d
been to and it would be good for gaming. She had a nice bankroll and planned to
double it. After that, she thought she’d move north. Someone told her of a town
way up north called Flagstaff where there were lumbermen and she was also told
that lumbermen were not good gamblers. She didn’t know if this was true, but
thought it would be a good adventure and this is what Maria wanted.

She rode along the bad part of town, which was
substantial at this time in Bisbee, and looked for the most ornately decorated
saloon. She came upon one that featured a giant gilt bird cage hanging from a
fancy scroll bracket at the corner of the building. The sign read simply The
Cage, in elegant gold-painted script. It was inspired by the success of the
Bird Cage Theatre up in Tombstone where the whores had little cubbies along the
walls hanging from the ceiling. This is where they plied their trade.

The owner of The Cage, a wily consumptive and
alcoholic showman, decided to take it up a notch and hired a local blacksmith
to make giant, human-sized cages which were painted gold. These he hung from
the ceilings about the place and his girls would sit or stoop or stand in them
and put on a little show. The big joke about The Cage was that you’d never take
a meal sitting directly beneath one for fear of things falling down.
Mercifully, the whores would take their customers to more private facilities to
consummate the business at hand.

Maria regarded them and it made her feel as she
had when she met the yellow-haired whore. It was just another example of the
inhumanity one person or group of people could heap upon another and Maria
decided to look away. She cast her eyes around the room and was immediately
admonished by the barman. “No guns, Chica. No guns.”

Maria eyed him and looked at the six shooters
on her belt. Before she could respond a drunken man called out. “Awe, Hank,
it’s Annie goddamned Oakley.” He leered at Maria; she did not know the joke.

“More like Anita goddamned Oakley. Don’t give a
damn if it’s Carrie goddamned Nation, no goddamned guns in the saloon.”

A raspy voice came into it over her head and
Maria looked up long enough to see a skinny woman swinging in one of the cages.
She was wearing underclothes like the yellow-haired whore, yet she wore nothing
on her bottom. “Leave her alone. A lady needs a gun in this shithole. God knows
you bastard men have ‘em.”

“That’s the wrong kinda gun.” The drunken man
beamed at his own cleverness.

The woman laughed and began coughing
uncontrollably and Maria could now feel a light mist of spittle strike her face
and neck The skinny woman reeked of sex and sweat and body odor, her pudenda
hanging there like a beacon of depravity, naked and thick with matted hair only
inches from Maria’s face. She was the most pathetic creature Maria had
heretofore seen, yet she was somehow fascinating in her ugliness. Maria
regarded her as she removed her guns and pointed them at the man menacingly,
“I’m no Chica, gringo.”

The drunken man laughed. “Come on over here, darlin’,
I’ve gotta gun for ya.” He was bold now that Maria was unarmed. He reached out
and grabbed her by the wrist.

Maria smiled at him and did not pull away. She
leaned in close, so close that her breath tickled his hairy ear. She whispered,
“Gringo, if you don’t let go of me, I’ll cut your balls off and shove them up
your ass.” She stood up as his face and grip slackened. She smiled at him and
wiped her wrist clean, as if it had just been subjected to a dung heap. She
walked on.

By this time Maria had amassed a rather
impressive vaquero outfit. Her gun leather was even more ornately appointed
with conchos and silver dots. She wore men’s trousers and a pretty print blouse
that unbuttoned down the front, displaying all the gifts given her by the
Almighty. Even without her six shooters, she looked mean, tough, and this was
remarkable for a beautiful woman who stood not much beyond a height of five
feet. She was turning heads.

She finally settled on a table with serious
men. These men did not ogle or comment about her appearance. They were
businessmen and their business was cards. Maria watched them. One man was
especially successful, as evidenced by the pile of money to his right. He was a
severe looking man and Maria could tell that he was dangerous. She would play
him and double her money as quickly as possible.

She sat down without asking and they all
regarded her with contempt. “Whores don’t sit at table, woman.”

“Good, gringo, I will tell one when I see her.”

“This is a thousand dollar table.”

“Oh, I will settle for that, I guess.” Maria
pulled out a wad of bills, more than two thousand dollars, and laid it on the
table. She lit a cigar and waited. She was dealt the next hand.

She bet conservatively until she could get a
feel for what the players were about, what cards they had, what they had face
up. There were many players at the table and Maria soon had a good grasp of
what hands could be left for her adversaries to play. In short order she had a
successful run and in two hours had increased her bankroll significantly.

She was becoming comfortable now and a little
complacent. She did not follow the old man’s rule to quit when she’d achieved
her goal; the cards were good and her opponents mostly bad. The Cage was
beginning to intrigue her and the whores were giving her some attention. They
liked to see a woman besting the men.

One whore was especially attentive and kept
Maria in good supply of drink and cigars. Maria refused liquor and sipped only
beer. She did follow the old man’s advice in this always. Never get drunk when
gaming. It would affect the mind and she’d not win.

Soon it was down to the severe looking man, his
friend and Maria. Most of the severe looking man’s pile was now on Maria’s side
of the table, as were the bankrolls of her other opponents. This made the
severe looking man very brusque. He still retained his poker face.

In another hour Maria was finished. She had
amassed over six thousand dollars. The men were not ready to let her walk away.
A crowd was gathering and finally, with the barman standing close behind her,
the severe looking man announced, without looking at Maria, that she was a
cheat.

Maria grinned as she rolled up her winnings.
She pulled her blouse down to expose a little more bosom, just to throw them
off a bit. It worked. She deposited the pile of money there and looked up at
the gringo through the smoke of her cigar. “Gringo, you are like a little boy
who lost his marbles at the school. Why don’ you just take it, like a man?”