The Drop Edge of Yonder (22 page)

When Hatchet Jack and Zebulon walked over, several men threatened them with pistols, then pulled Delilah from her chair. They dragged her to an oak tree, where one of them bound her wrists while another threw a rope over one of the branches.

"Hold on!" Hatchet Jack shouted, pushing his way towards them. "This woman is not some mail-order slave you can do what you want with.... She's a princess with noble blood hailing from King Solomon's ranch down there in West Texas. She's the daughter of an English general, a purebred queen of the Amazon. More than that, she's a god-fearing Christian who knows how to cook and roll biscuits and pray to the Lord!"

Hatchet Jack pointed at Zebulon. "Does this man look like he would put his brand on a slave? Hell no! He's an alcalde! A man of the law from San Francisco. Do you particulate what that means? He's here on business, appointed by the Governor General of the State of Californie to fix the corruption of the mines, as well as to get himself hitched in the town's church to this woman whose neck you're about to stretch. If you people mess with an alcalde you're messin' direct with the State of Californie, or my name ain't Lorenzo de Calderon Vazquez de Gama."

The Australian spat on the ground. "And I'm sayin' that you're a horse-thieving half-breed. The only way this black whore will get herself hitched is in the court of hell."

His companion slipped the noose over Delilah's head while another carried over a chair for her to stand on. With a loud "Hurrah," they lifted her up.

Delilah spoke her last words to Zebulon and Hatchet Jack: "Let go whatever comes, good or bad. And when your time is up don't leave a mess behind."

Before the chair could be pulled out, four caballeros in black velvet suits embroidered with silver trim, entered the square from the cathedral, carrying an open Chinese palanquin on their shoulders. An ancient figure sat in the middle of the palanquin in an ornate armchair, his frail body wrapped inside a black cloak. A dozen well-armed vaqueros rode behind him.

Even though Don Luis Arragosa was over a hundred years old and half-paralyzed by a recent stroke, his presence commanded attention. As the last titled owner of one of the few remaining great Spanish ranches in California, he remained a beloved symbol of past glories to the Mexican population of Calabasas Springs.

After the caballeros lowered the palanquin to the ground, Don Luis sat quietly; contemplating Delilah as she balanced herself on the chair. Finally he spoke in a hoarse, barely audible whisper: "It is a sacrilege and sin to be disturbed in prayer, particularly at this sacred time of the year."

When several of the Australians objected, Don Luis raised a hand for silence.

"What crime has this woman committed?"

"She broke the law," replied one of the Australian exconvicts.

"Whose law?"

"Our law," said another Australian. "The only law that counts. She struck one of us with her quirt for no reason. The woman is a slave and a whore. What else does anyone need to know?"

Don Luis turned to Delilah. "What is your response to this charge?"

Delilah straightened her shoulders, pointing at her accuser. "As I was riding into town, this man grabbed the reins of my horse and demanded that I engage in a carnal act with him. He treated me like a prostitute, so I slashed him with my quirt, and I would be pleased to do it again. It was not my intention, nor was it that of my companions, to cause trouble. We have more important matters to deal with."

"And what are those matters?" Don Luis asked.

"To witness the death of my husband, Count Ivan Baranofsky, who, as you must have heard, has been unjustly sentenced to hang."

Don Luis turned to the Australians. "You are sadly mistaken if you think that you can ride into this town like drunken San Francisco vigilantes and commit whatever outrage suits you. It is one thing to rape and pillage the country in a compulsive quest for gold - a quest, I might add, that will soon be exhausted - but it is quite another matter to violate a woman, no matter her color or race or religion. This woman was defending her honor. And you, Sir, obviously have no honor."

Exhausted, Don Luis sank back in his armchair.

The local population, along with the Chileans and Peruvians, surged forward, expressing their approval. For a moment it seemed that fighting would break out, but the caballeros held their ground, pointing their rifles at the Australians while Zebulon and Hatchet Jack removed the noose from Delilah's head and helped her down from the chair.

Don Luis sighed. "There will be only one hanging in Calabasas Springs, and that act will take place the day after tomorrow at six o'clock in the evening. To my mind, the decision is unfortunate: but it is the law, no matter if one agrees or disagrees."

An Anglo miner stepped forward.

"Know one thing, old man. There's a new bunch comin' to town, not to mention pourin' into this whole side of the country - immigrants, businessmen, scoundrels, all kinds, you can be sure of that. They're rollin' in every day. There's no stoppin"em, and none of 'em give a good goddamn what you think. Them old days when your people held the cards are over. Best thing for you is to stay out of the way"

"I don't disagree," Don Luis said. "This country has certainly been invaded by barbarians who offer us only selfish ambition and greed. But I will make you a promise. If my men ever see you or any of your companions in Calabasas Springs again, even once, they will shoot you like rabid dogs."

Don Luis' chin sagged to his chest. No one was sure if he was still breathing until he raised a claw-like hand, and four caballeros picked up the palanquin and carried it to a waiting carriage.

Before the carriage rode away, a caballero rode back to Delilah. "Don Luis asks that you and your friends join him at his ranch, where he will be pleased to welcome you for the night."

"You two go on," Hatchet Jack said. "After I grab some shut eye, I'm gettin' rid of this town and everything that goes with it.

He looked at Delilah. "Including you and your Count."

fter the carriage drove off, Zebulon and Delilah were escorted to Don Luis' hacienda. None of the remaining Argonauts believed Hatchet Jack's explanation that Zebulon was an alcalde. A few even suspected that he was the outlaw, Zebulon Shook, recently written about in The San Francisco Star. And if that were the case, there was bound to be a reward for his capture as well as for that of his Abyssinian whore.

HEY ENTERED DON LUIS' ESTATE THROUGH AN ORNATE iron gate and passed a guardhouse, tanning vats, a blacksmith shop, several smokehouses, a butchering shed, and five outdoor bake ovens. Further on, a forty-foot clock tower dominated the end of an overgrown garden whose crumbling adobe walls were covered with flowering bougainvillea. On the other side of the garden, a long stately colonnade introduced an imposing twostory Spanish adobe ranch house with a corroded red-tiled roof and thickly latticed windows, most of which were in serious need of repair.

A vaquero escorted their horses to a nearby stable, where a stooped white-haired retainer led them through a massively carved wooden door into a generous entrada lit by iron chandeliers. At the far end of the entrada they entered a library.

Despite the logs blazing in the massive fireplace, an air of gloom pervaded the musty high-ceilinged room with its cracked and peeling walls lined with overflowing bookcases and portraits of the Spanish court by Velasquez and Goya, as well as a mural celebrating the Conquistadors conquest of Mexico.

Don Luis sat in front of the fire in the middle of a deepseated leather couch, his frail body almost invisible inside a buffalo robe. Behind him in a far corner of the room, a threelegged French clavichord stood next to a collection of lutes, mandolins, and guitars, all hanging from the walls on sagging wires.

They sat on a row of armchairs facing Don Luis, sipping a dry red wine from his vineyard. After waiting an hour for Don Luis to speak, Zebulon finally broke the silence. "Maybe this ain't the right time to trample on your peace, Don Luis. We can pay our respects another day."

"In these dark days, every moment is precious," Don Luis replied. "Whoever you people are, wherever you are going, for this one night, mi casa, su casa. I am embarrassed that Calabasas Springs, a town my family has been proud to be part of for over nine generations, has now entered a state of anarchy and barbarism. In past years the entire town would have gathered at this ranch to celebrate Easter Sunday, but now.... Forgive an old man's ramblings about the ravages of time. But permit me to ask you: What is happening to this land? Why is it being raped and profaned and exhausted? But of course, how would any of you know the answer to such a question? You are obviously strangers here, and confused more than I about the way this country has always nourished itself, carried on its business, only to be - I don't know. God help me, it has all but disappeared."

He looked at Delilah. "Is it true what those savages said back there in the town square: that you're nothing more than an ambitious slave who will stop at nothing to get her way?"

"Perhaps at one time I could have been perceived that way" she said. "Certainly it was true for a short period in Africa, although that was due more to circumstances than character. But when Count Baranofsky made a proposal to me at an early age that I become his consort and eventually his wife, I was freed of any hunger for mere survival. He also saw to my education in many of the capitals of Europe. For his extraordinary generosity, I shall always be grateful."

Don Luis nodded, impressed by Delilah's diction and refinement. "A noble tradition, that of the consort," he said wistfully; "one that I have personally honored from time to time, even to the point of making a fool of myself - but that's another story."

"Certainly it has its advantages as well as its limitations," Delilah said. "On both sides."

"Of course," Don Luis said. "Why, not long ago.... Where was it? Madrid or Mexico City? Perhaps Venice. It doesn't matter. Another time, another place."

Don Luis shivered, pulling his robe around his shoulders as a sudden chill entered the room. "Let me add, my dear, that I was immediately struck by your courageous presence, by the way you stood on your chair calmly accepting your fate. Your resolve reminded me of my own situation - waiting... sinking... ready to depart.... I have made my final visit to Calabasas Springs. I will never go there again, not even to Mass; nor do I choose to go anywhere else.... In times past... before the insane gringos showed up... when my father was still alive... and his father and his father before him, they would have rescued your Count. No matter if he deserved to hang.... They knew how to please a guest in those days. Even if it meant arranging for his death, it would have been done in the right way-. Precisely. With a certain amount of grace. Without this useless horseshit."

He slumped back inside his buffalo robe, his head sagging to his chest. "What I meant to say to you.... I talked to your Count last week. He told me many things about you, things that you yourself might not even be aware of. Things that were, quite frankly, disturbing."

No one in the room spoke or even moved.

"May I sing for you?" Delilah asked.