The Valiant Women (21 page)

All the mounted men bowed in their saddles and swept off their broad-brimmed hats.

“Apaches?” asked Don Firmín.

“Yanqui scalp hunters. You may tell Don Narciso they are dead.”

The Mexicans' eyes widened with admiration. Santiago laughed. “It is not as you think. Tjúni, this woman of the Papago, and Doña Socorro killed the scalp hunters as they were murdering women and children in a camp of Mangus Coloradas.”

“I killed only one,” demurred Socorro.

“But you saved us all,” interrupted Tjúni. “If I kill Apache women, baby, then Mangus kill Don Patrick and us, too.”

Shea grinned ruefully. “All I did that day was get myself and the deer I'd shot captured by Mangus. Fortunately, they decided to take me back to camp for their entertainment. I owe my life to the valor—and mercy—of the women.”

Again Don Firmín inclined his head to Socorro and, somewhat grudgingly, to Tjúni. “Then that is the root of the tale that has reached even to Hermosillo and Don Narciso's ears.”

“What tale is that?”

“That Mangus Coloradas has given his protection to a few people at the Agua Linda ranch, that he has sent word to all his allies that he will avenge any attack on these friends of his.” His teeth flashed beneath the full mustache. “You are much envied throughout Sonora, Chihuahua and New Mexico!”

“Will you not come into the house and have some food?” invited Socorro. She looked appealingly at Shea. “Perhaps you and Santiago could talk with our guests while Tjúni and I finish planting?”

“Almost done. I finish,” said Tjúni.

So the others washed in the log trough and while Shea and Santiago helped with the horses, Socorro stirred the simmering stew of venison, corn, cattail stalk and wild greens, including lamb's quarter and
quelite
or pigweed.

The tortilla griddle was already hot, sitting over coals at the edge of the hearth. Socorro's tortillas still couldn't approach the even thinness and regular shape of Tjúni's and she sighed a little as she mixed water and meal, kneaded it and began to shape the balls from which she'd pat out the tortillas.

What did Don Firmín want? Had he been sent to evict trespassers? He certainly wouldn't have ridden hundreds of miles through Apache country except on an errand of importance.

When the men came in, she brought them joint fir tea and placed a small bowl of the precious agave-nut-seed candy on the table. There were only four drinking gourds so she gave Santiago and Shea their tea in the tin cups of the scalp hunters which were seldom used. A man's cup is more reminiscent of him than a frying pan or coffee pot.

“Don Narciso will rejoice that one of his brother's blood escaped massacre,” said Don Firmín after he had thanked Socorro with great effusiveness.

“Do you think so?” inquired Santiago, dark eyebrow climbing above his golden stare. “I wouldn't think my proud uncle would care to acknowledge our relationship.”

“But you evidently feel you have some entitlement, Santiago, to have taken over Agua Linda.”

“It is now Rancho del Socorro,” corrected the young man. “Yes, I felt I had a right to it. Don Antonio had promised me land when I married and I think you know I served him well.”

Don Firmín puffed up his cheeks. “Well, now your claim can be regularized. Don Narciso has sent me to offer a partnership.”

None of his companions had said a word, except to murmur thanks for their refreshments. Two were young, one short and chunky, the other lean with a pitted face. The third was older, barrel-chested, with incongruously slender waist and hips. They seemed ill at ease at being waited on and kept their eyes on the table.

“What is this of a business partnership?” asked Santiago lazily.

Don Firmín made a pyramid of his fingers, rested his chin on them. “As you know, your uncle's mines were deserted after the workers learned what had happened to the four hundred people of the Santa Rita mines. The land grants up here, the Agua Linda, El Charco, San Manuel—what good are they with Apaches running loose? Don Narciso has plenty of land and cattle in the south where it is at least somewhat safer. But he liked the cash from the mines. He misses it.”

“Knowing his tastes, I can believe that.” Santiago smiled. He watched Don Firmín with polite, but not eager, interest.

“I am empowered to offer a proposition to the people who have the protection of Mangus.” Don Firmín leaned forward. “If you will assume nominal ownership of the mines and assure Don Narciso that Mangus will not raid them, Don Narciso will supply workers,
conductas
, supplies, management—everything. He asks only for your name.”

Santiago's lips twitched. “I have had no family name. How laughable that a part-Apache bastard's name should now be of value to my good uncle!”

“Of value to you, also, my son. Listen! If you can win safety for the mines, you will get a quarter of the proceeds and he will give you clear title to not only Agua Linda but the other
sitios
as well. A hundred thousand acres! It is a kingdom.”

“It is a wilderness. Ruled by Apache. Come, Don Firmín! The Cantús' ownership of these lands is empty. We can use them at will. I do not think you would care to put us off and remain to battle the Apaches.”

Turning to Shea, Santiago drawled, “What do you say, Don Patrick? Shall we see if Mangus will spare the mines?”

Shea smiled at Don Firmín. “You will understand we must ask the women. Mangus's gratitude is to them. But if they do consent, it would seem our share, after the mines' expenses are paid, should be a half.”

“Half!”

Shea lifted one shoulder. “Half is surely better than nothing.” He considered for a moment. “I suspect we may have to offer Mangus some trade goods to dispose him to agree. Such gifts, of course, would be part of the expense paid before the profits are divided.”

“Ay!” groaned Don Firmín, shaking his head. “Can I go back to Don Narciso with such an offer?”

“I expect he told you to offer a quarter and settle for up to two-thirds,” suggested Santiago smoothly. “Would I be right in believing that you hoped to squeeze some share for yourself?”

“What a thought!” reproached Don Firmín sorrowfully. “Have I not served your uncle all my life?”

“All the more reason not to love him,” returned Santiago imperturbably.

Tjúni had come in. Very shortly, the food was on the table. Socorro was glad of the wooden plates. She didn't much mind dipping from a common bowl with her friends, but she didn't care to eat after strangers who looked and smelled none too clean.

When the dishes were done, the women joined the men again. Santiago had accepted tobacco and cornshucks from Don Firmín and only Shea wasn't smoking. He looked from Socorro to Tjúni.

“You've heard the proposals about the mines. Shall we see if Mangus will allow them to be worked?”

“You choose,” said Tjúni indifferently.

“I think it would be well to have legal claim to the land,” Socorro said. “At this time it may not matter, but surely the region will not always be so wild.”

“It's stayed wild in spite of all the efforts of Spain and then Mexico for over three hundred years,” Santiago shrugged.

Don Firmín tucked down his full red lips. “The Yanquis will soon be pouring across to California. You've heard about the gold?”

“Gold?” they all said at once.

Savoring their attention, Don Firmín smiled with the superiority of one who has important news earlier than those who'd be most affected by it.

“A cousin of one of our vaqueros rode hard all the way from Lower California to bring his relatives the tidings. So they could go to make their fortunes before a tide of Yanquis arrive. Late in January gold was found at a sawmill site in the Sacramento Valley.
Californios
are swarming to stake claims. It will not be long before gold-seekers pour in from all the world. Tucson is directly on the easiest southern route and you aren't far below it.”

“Surely Apaches will keep them out!” Shea growled.

The
mayordomo
shook his head. “Apaches will kill some, others will die of thirst and exposure, but these will be small obstructions in the path of a flood. American soldiers will come to protect the travelers; there will be forts and settlements. What has not been done in the last three hundred years will be accomplished within ten, twenty, thirty years. Certainly by the end of the century. The Yanquis will not be denied.”

“The war is all over?” questioned Shea. “The terms agreed?”

“For sure the war is over.” Don Firmín grimaced. “Over long before hostilities were formally ended at the close of February. Early in February, so Don Narciso heard, a treaty was worked out in Guadalupe Hidalgo, a village near Mexico City. Now the American government, and ours, must approve the provisions.”

“And these are?” probed Shea impatiently.

“In one thing, at least, I wish the Americans luck, though they are biting off what will give them sore jaws before they chew it, if they ever can! They have promised to keep the Apaches who fall within the territory they've stolen from raiding into Mexico. They are guaranteeing to pay for damages the Indians cause Mexican citizens! Is this not a fascinating prospect?”

Santiago gave a long slow whistle. Shea's jaw hardened. The livid D stood out on his cheek. “And this territory? How much are the Americans taking?”

“Naturally they insist on the original bone of contention, the land Texas claimed between the Nueces and Rio Grande. The Rio will be the border with Texas. From there, the Americans take New Mexico and the line follows the Gila west, the Colorado north, then passes between Upper and Lower California to the Pacific.”

Shea sighed with relief. “Then the Americans won't get Tucson, let alone this area!”

Santiago scowled. “That battalion of Saints that passed through Tucson over a year ago, Don Patrick, they were charged with marking a wagon road. Travelers will naturally stop at a settlement, especially in the desert, rather than camp in the wilderness because of the boundary of a nation they've just defeated.”

Puffing out his cheeks, Don Firmín nodded. “So long as there was not much in California, apart from land to draw them, the Yanquis didn't go in numbers. But when they smell gold,
válgame Dios!
They will swarm like bees to honey, and the shortest way!”

Shea got up abruptly and went outside. Socorro followed him. “My love,” she said softly. “Must the Yanquis trouble you so much?”

He gazed around at the marching mountains, rounded, jagged, fierce, undulating, all different, all lit with sun and shadow, then gazed along their valley, the stands of cottonwood, walnut, sycamore and ash, the giant mesquites.

“This has been our Eden,” he said at last, putting his arm around her. “But it seems the worldly serpent is about to enter!”

“Shea! You've said yourself Americans would settle near us sometime!”

He sighed. “I know, lass. Just hoped it wouldn't be so soon.”

Because she loved him even more than this home they'd made in this place she'd come to consider her world, Socorro swallowed hard and murmured, “If you really hate the Americans so much, we could go far enough to be sure of being south of the boundary.”

He gathered her to him, pressing his face against her hair, stroking her shoulders. “God's whiskers,
chiquita
, I'm not that selfish! Or maybe it's selfish I am, being bound to hold what we've worked for!” Tilting back her head, he kissed her till she stopped worrying about whether those inside were watching. Huskily, he whispered, “The only trouble with your being so sweet is it sure is hard to wait till night! You suppose we could go down to the creek—?”

“I do not,” she said primly, though her blood was singing. The most beautiful man in the world except for that cruel brand which she seldom noticed anymore because it was part of him. “We must go in and be properly businesslike while you tell Don Firmín, if Tjúni agrees, that we will try to win Mangus's protection for the mines in return for half the profits and title to the ranch.” She furrowed her brow. “But the lands should really be in Santiago's name.”

“He insists that you and I are equal owners. Won't budge from it.” Leaning through the door, Shea called, “Santiago, Tjúni! If Don Firmín will excuse you, will you come here for a moment?”

Santiago stubbornly refused sole ownership of the properties. “I would not be alive without you,” he argued. “Nor, with Mangus as close as he was that day, do I think we'd all still be alive except for what the women did.”

“But—” began Socorro.

“We've shared our dangers, we should share our good fortune!” Santiago included Tjúni in the sweep of his arm. “Is this not how things happened? Doña Socorro saved you, Don Patrick, but she says herself she couldn't have walked out of the volcanoes without you. You know what you did for me. We brought Tjúni with us but without her shooting, no offense, Doña Socorro, the scalp hunters would probably have added your beautiful hair to their trophies!” He paused for breath. “Again, though, if Doña Socorro hadn't pitied the Apache women, Don Patrick and doubtless all of us would have been killed. We should be owners equally!”

Tjúni's eyes opened wide. “Me?”

“Yes,” nodded Santiago and Socorro again regretted the two handsome young people hadn't fallen in love.

“Papago no believe
own
land. Use it, move around on it.” Tjúni's gaze looked far beyond them, then focused sharply. “No want name on white man's paper. So Spaniards, so Mexicans took land not theirs. Enough if I not bothered when use land I need.”

Santiago looked a bit deflated at this rejection of his offer.

Shea frowned, then, as the girl met his stare unwaveringly, he said with grudging approval, “You must do what you feel is right. But the rest of us will always know and honor the right you and your family, when you get one, will have to the land.”