Jim Kane - J P S Brown (59 page)

"
They are mine," the Lion answered. Kane
looked away from the Lion and the horse killer as though he didn't
understand their conversation.

"
Who is he?" the horse killer asked.

. "He is a
gringo
who wanted to accompany me on this drive for a
diversion, a recreation. He can't speak a word of Spanish."

"
He chooses an odd way to divert himself,"
the rider said, gazing speculatively at Kane's saddle, chaps, pistol,
hat, horse. "Where did you find that sorrel horse he is riding?"

"
That is a horse he brought here from the
north," the Lion said.

"
He looks like a good horse."

"
He is a good horse if only for the meat he
would give," the Lion said.

The horse killer rode around behind Pajaro and looked
at the horse's hind quarters. . `

"
Look at those quarters! They would give one
hundred kilos of fresh meat apiece," the horse killer said. Kane
looked back at him smiling brightly, dumbly. The horse killer smiled
back at Kane.

"
And the
gringo
?
How much meat do you think he would yield?" the Lion asked.

"
Plenty, and all sweet if it is anything like a
gringa
girl's meat.
That is the kind I have always wanted to taste, the meat of a
gringa
woman, but maybe I should settle for a gringo man,"
the horse killer said, and he and the Lion laughed. And Kane thought,
all right, you Lion, you snaggle-tooth.

Eight horses were in the corrals of the horse
killers. The horses all were skinny with tight, dusty, dry hides.
Five horse killers were sitting on the rock corral, their mounts tied
under trees outside the corral. Another horse killer was leading a
bay mare down a wash below the corral. The vultures now had given up
their soaring and were flying low over the rider and the mare. The
mare was to be killed and quartered in the wash. The vultures would
get her fresh blood and bones.

The horses in the corral had been sheared of the long
hair of their manes and tails. A big pile of horsehair lay outside
the corral. The hair would be used for
bosals
,
lead ropes, cinches, and headstalls the horse killers would braid
when they weren't about their more profitable business of butchering
horses.

When the cattle had been penned and the
vaqueros
were at their leisure, the horse killers quit work to
visit with them.

The Lion walked to the corral and looked at the eight
head of racks on which horses had once walked. A roan horse in the
bunch was a fair-looking pony. He was young, with remnants of a fine,
wide, barrel chest and straight legs. A white ring surrounded his
eye, an eye that showed life and spirit in spite of the certain doom
awaiting him from starvation if the horse killers didn't beat
starvation to the meat that still abided on his bones.

"
That horse looks like a horse I once saw on the
ranch of Salvador Arce," the Lion announced, pointing to the
roan. "This horse is a
huinduri
,
an Appaloosa, is he not? That looks like the maple leaf brand of Arce
on the horse's hip. How did you find this horse so far from the ranch
of Arce?"

The scratch-faced horse killer who had met Kane and
the Lion on the trail got into the corral and walked around the roan
horse. He examined the brand closely though the maple leaf was twice
the size of a man's hand and could be seen clearly from across the
corral.

"
I don't know how the horse finds himself all
this way across the Sierra from the ranch of Arce if he belonged to
Arce," Scratch Face said.

"
Maybe you bought him from someone who bought
him from Arce," the Lion offered.

"
Yes. If the horse belonged to Arce we bought
him from someone who bought him from Arce," Scratch Face said,
closely examining the brand again.

"
He looks like a good little horse. Are you
going to meat him?" the Lion asked innocently.

"
Oh, yes. He is for the meat, " Scratch
Face said, straightening from his examination and walking back to the
rock wall the Lion was sitting on. "He has much meat on him."

"He looks like too good a horse to butcher, "
the Lion said. "Why don't you ride him? He looks like a better
horse than any of these ghosts you are riding."

"
Oh, yes. He is a very good horse," Scratch
Face said, looking at his companion horse killers and laughing with
them about something. "He has a good pace and he never tires.
The kind of pace ideal for old women and young girls, an easy pace on
tender rumps, or brittle ones."

"
How about for
gringos
?"
the Lion asked. "My
gringuito
says he would like to own the little
huinduri
if the horse is docile. He does not like broncos."

"
The
huinduri
would be ideal for the
gringuito
as I just finished indicating. I bet the
gringuito
suffers from tender, soft little
nalgas
."

The Lion made a series of profound signs with his
hands to Kane and uttered words like "
caballo
,"
"
quieres
, do you
want," "
comprar
,
to buy," to Kane. Kane, in turn, made signs to Scratch Face that
he wanted him to saddle the roan horse.

"
I thought you said the gringo couldn't
understand Spanish," Scratch Face said to the Lion, ignoring
Kane's communication.

"
He only asked you to saddle the
huinduri
and mount him and ride him so that he could see if he
was gentle," the Lion said.

"
Yes, but he understood your words,"
Scratch Face said.

"
No, he didn't. I can make him understand
anything I want without words. Didn't I tell you he doesn't
understand a word of Spanish?" the Lion said.

Scratch Face walked up as close to Kane as the rock
fence i would allow and shouted, "You, buy horse, much money,"
gesticulating and pointing to the palm of his hand. Kane looked to
the Lion for translation.

"
You see? He doesn't understand you," the
Lion said. He gave Kane another series of signals slow and profound.
Kane turned and looked speculatively at the horse and then at Scratch
Face and then turned to the Lion and gave him a good series of
gestures profound.

"
He wants you to ride the
huinduri
for him," the Lion said.

"
Saddle him and ride him, Leobardo,"
Scratch Face said to a wan-faced horse killer sitting on the fence.

"
You think I'm crazy enough to go along with
your clowning?" Wan Face said soberly. "I don't want to get
killed today."

"
The horse is gentle," Scratch Face shouted
at Kane, twisting his face belligerently.

"
He doesn't understand. But I do. I understand
why you don't use the
huinduri
for
a saddle horse now. He is
bronco
.
Besides that he has the maple leaf brand," the Lion said.

"
No, no, no, he would make the
gringo
a good horse. Tell him I'll trade him the
huinduri
for that sorrel horse he is riding. The
huinduri
is a better
saddle horse for this country than the sorrel and the sorrel has more
meat on him. I could ride the sorrel for a month and he would still
give me more meat than all eight horses in this corral put together."

"
No deal. We can't trade. The
huinduri
doesn't belong to you," the Lion said, taking
Kane's arm and walking away from the corral. He walked to a pile of
corn leaves outside the corral.

"
Give this pile of tasol to me for my cattle and
horses," the Lion told Scratch Face when he caught up to them.

"
Why not, Lion? Take whatever you want. We are
going to kill these horses tomorrow. We won't need much
tasol
.
Only enough for our saddle horses," Scratch Face said.

The Lion called two of the vaqueros and told them to
feed the horse killers' saddle horses and give all the rest of the
tasol
to Kane's cattle
and horses and mules.

"
Wait a minute. How much are you going to pay me
for the
tasol
, Lion?"
Scratch Face asked.

"
What? I'm giving you back the good
huinduri
horse," the Lion said.

"What? The
huinduri
is already mine."

"
Then take back the
tasol
and give me back the
huinduri
,"
the Lion said. "It is all the same to me. The
huinduri
is a good horse. Give me all the ownership papers on
him. I need the papers."

"But what have you given me for the
huinduri
?"
Scratch T Face cried.

"
The
tasol
,
of course," the Lion said. "Must I talk plainer? I would
not want to take the
huinduri
back
to Chinipas where Arce would reclaim him for wont of papers, so I am
going to let you keep him, but you are going to pay me the
tasol
for him.

"
¡Ah qué León tan listo!
How
smart you are," Scratch Face said, clapping the Lion on the
shoulder.

"
Give the horse killers' saddle horses a good
feed," the Lion ordered the
vaqueros
who were distributing the
tasol
.
"I am sure by the looks of them they will appreciate a good
feed."

That evening while Lion was making supper, Scratch
Face came to the campfire with a horse loin.

"
Here is fresh meat for you," Scratch Face
said.

"
Horse meat?
No me gusta
,
I don't like it," the Lion said.

Scratch Face offered it to some of the vaqueros. "
No
me gusta
the meat of a horse," each of
them said. Kane refused it saying, "Thank you," in English.

''Do you think he knows it is horse meat?"
Scratch Face asked the Lion.

"
No. Of course not. He thinks you are killing
coyotes, wolves, and mountain lions out here," the Lion growled.

"
Well, I just thought
gringos
might eat any kind of meat. I heard they did."

"
This one doesn't eat the meat of a horse."

"
Is it true, Lion, that you can make him
understand any word in Spanish?" Scratch Face asked craftily.

"
Naturally. I told you so, didn't I?" the
Lion said.

"
Are you sure he doesn't talk the
lengua
Maya
, the Indian tongue? Is that how you make
him understand? He looks like an Indian of some type."

"
Didn't I tell you? He is a gringo. He speaks
only English."

"
Leobardo says he knows a difficult word in
English. He says he bets you can't make the
gringo
say the word," Scratch Face said.

"
Bueno
, how much do
you want to bet?" the Lion asked him.

"
I believe that between us all at our fire we
can raise one hundred pesos."

"Get it ready. We'll be up there after supper,"
the Lion said.

Later, Kane and the Lion went to the horse killers
fire. They were sitting there waiting, and grinning at Wan Face, who
was in possession of the precious knowledge, the knowledge that would
defeat the Lion. Wan Face was taking his knowledge and the
responsibilities of his superior advantages of language very
seriously and his countenance demanded respect.

"
Leobardo once spent a year working on the
shrimp boats of Guaymas and during that time had many occasions to
see the word ‘shrimp' written in English," Scratch Face began.
"You might not know this, but much of our Mexican shrimp from
Guaymas goes to the United States. The
gringos
cannot get shrimp in the United States and must come to
Mexico for their shrimp. We have many products the
gringo
needs and one of the most valuable ones is shrimp."

"
S
í
,
s
í
, s
í
,
s
í
, s
í
,"
the Lion said impatiently, "We all know how much the
gringo
needs our Mexican products. So what is the word you want
to bet on?"