Ride the Savage Land No Dying Today, Parts 1 & 2 Chapter 1, a high chaparral fanfic

The High Chaparral: "Ride the Savage Land"…No Dying Today

By MJRod

Note: Henry Darrow's and Cameron Mitchell's unforgettable portrayals of Manolito Montoya and Buck Cannon resonate yet today, nearly 50 years after this episode of TheHighChaparral first aired: a tribute to two gifted actors and a stellar producer, directors, cast, crew, and writers. Special thanks go to Wendy for her buena idea about Mano's whiskey and for reminding me to show and not tell. Gracias tambien a Vicki, mi maestro de Espanol and to KD for just the right Buck Cannon phrase. Here I attempt, as so many have previously done, to fill in some of the gaps of my favorite episode, which premiered on my 11th birthday, February 11, 1968. The story picks up just as the Chaparral men spot Mano & Buck in the distance. Enjoy, and a Happy 81st Birthday to Senor Enrique Delgado / Henry Darrow, forever Manolito to all HC faithful.

Dusty and trail worn, the cowboys from the High Chaparral halted in a dry grassy clearing. Peering into the distance, each squinted from horseback into the harsh setting sun obscuring the forms of two riders.

"Can't make out who it is, Pa," said Blue Cannon, cupping a hand over his eyes.

The figures emerged from the glare. Silhouettes now, they materialized into the men's field of vision and were known.

"It's Buck and Manolito!" hollered Blue. Raucous shouts exploded from the cowboys who spurred their horses toward the riders. Even normally staid Big John Cannon broke into a smile as wide as Virginia and let out a whoop as he urged his mount forward.

But all was not right.

The group slowed and stopped as they neared Buck and Mano. Mano, unsteady, listed in the saddle. He failed to acknowledge them—no smile, no laugh, no good humored, "Hola!" Buck, face careworn and creased with worry, held a drowsy child and offered no greeting at all.

"Sam!" Buck called and the foreman dismounted and hurried to take the young girl from Buck, who jumped from his own horse just as a smiling Blue rode up beside Mano.

"Mano?" Blue began.

"I have a…dizziness…" murmured Manolito, sliding off his mount and collapsing into the arms of the waiting Buck who eased him to the ground.

"Mano," Buck urged, shaking his friend.

Manolo Montoya's eyes flickered open. He looked sideways at Buck, cracked a slight smile, then lapsed into unconsciousness, his head drooping against his chest.

Buck looked at John and the others and said in a firm, low voice, "Mucho hombre. Much man."

John Cannon, solemn, nodded, while Buck hugged Mano tighter and turned his own head away from the onlookers. Blue stared open mouthed.

Big John dismounted, untied his bedroll and strode toward his brother and brother-in-law. Kneeling beside both men, he placed a hand on Buck's shoulder.

"Buck, here's my bedroll. Let's make him more comfortable." Buck did not reply but grasped the bedroll and with John's help, arranged a rough pillow for Mano's head. The caballero's breathing was shallow but steady. One look at the blood encrusting Mano's shirt and the red welts just visible beneath his throat told John all he needed to know. He walked toward his foreman who still held the little girl.

"Sam."

"Yes, Mr. Cannon."

"We've got to get Mano to some water. He's been horsewhipped, from what I can tell, and the wounds need to be cleaned."

"Yes sir. There's a clear stream about three miles from here on the way back to the ranch. Be a good place to camp."

"Yes. Good. Why don't you and the boys head there, set up camp, and get some grub going? Send Joe back for us. I'll stay here. Blue will probably want to stay, too."

"Yes sir."

"And Sam, I think we should get Mano back to the ranch as soon as possible. We're going to need the buckboard."

"Yes sir. Why don't I send Ira and Reno back to the Chaparral after supper? They can make it in a few hours and set out with the buckboard at first light."

"That would be best," said Cannon. "If it seems risky, send them to the ranch before dawn instead. Your call, Sam."

"Yes sir, Mr. Cannon. What about this little lady?" asked Sam, indicating Olive, the girl Buck and Mano had rescued from the Apaches.

"You'll make better time if she waits here with us," replied John, who turned kind blue eyes upon the silent child.

"Miss Olive, I'm John Cannon. I own the High Chaparral ranch. Tomorrow my men will take you there. My brother, Buck, and brother-in-law, Senor Montoya, are the ones who brought you here," Cannon continued, nodding at the pair now joined by Blue.

"Your sister, Miss Ann, is at my ranch with my wife, Victoria," continued the rancher. The little girl offered a shy smile. "Your sister is safe and she will be very pleased to see you. For now, though, why don't you stay here with us while the men go to prepare camp?"

Sam set the little girl down and she took Big John's hand. Together they walked to the unconscious Mano. Buck, head buried in his hands, sat speechless beside his friend while Blue knelt nearby, watching.

Olive tiptoed to Buck, sat down beside him, and slid her small arm in his. Buck pulled her close, cradling her head against his chest and enfolding her with his right arm. Silence reigned as the Chaparral men mounted up and rode off. Olive nodded, then dozed. Manolito still slept.

"You want to tell us about it, Buck?" John finally broke the silence.

"Ain't much to tell," Buck replied. "I was headed to Tucson to see if I could get anyone to ride with me. Mano come after me."

"Yeah. He told Victoria he was going to try to change your mind," said John.

"Well, I guess that's what he done, John. He had this idea that we could buy this little gal from the A-pach. She was nothin' but a slave to 'em. Made sense. He had some money from his daddy, so we figured, why not?

"We had a set-to with a little Apache scouting party. Three. We buried 'em, John, but they shot Mano's horse. So we headed off on ol' Rebel and come upon them buffalo soldiers stringing telegraph wires at Calabasas."

"We buried them, Buck," commented John, voice deep and somber.

"Bad, John. Real bad. We was there just 'fore it happened. Mano bought a horse from the sergeant. Three braves come riding up, a scouting party, and John, that old boy sergeant, he didn't know how to talk to them Apache. Wouldn't listen to us none. It wasn't long after we rode out that we heard shots, so we went back to see what we could do. Too late, John. Too late. Reminded me of Gettysburg, third day. Nothing left but the dead.

"There we was and up come a whole raiding party. Mano convinced 'em to take us to their camp." Buck paused.

"Then what happened, Uncle Buck?" asked Blue.

"Well, Blue Boy, I am here to tell you that if it wasn't for S'nor Montoya here, we'd be dead." Looking at John, he continued. "And John, if it wasn't for your wife, we'd be jest as dead."

"Victoria?" John asked, surprised.

"None other. There we was in the camp and that old boy Chief Tobar, he wasn't having none of our bargaining. Mano savvied that we was gonna be handed to the squaws for torture. I guess they'd a had a whinga dinga of a time with this here boy, but I don't like to think 'bout it.

"Then out come the old Ghost Medicine Man hisself. He knowed the name Cannon, John. He knowed Victoria, that she helped that A-pach, Nock-Ay-del. We made it clear pretty quick Mano was her brother. That changed Tobar's tone."

"He sold you the girl?"

"Not exactly. He said one of us would have to pass a test of courage, and if he passed we could have this here little gal. They made us draw for it. Mano lost. He wouldn't trade with me, John."

"Buck, I doubt the Apaches would have let you trade."

"Mebbe not. But it weren't his place to do it. It was my idea. I wanted to take that test."

"What was the test, Uncle Buck?" Blue asked.

Buck fell silent. His throat caught. After a few moments, he rasped, "They strung him upside down on a cross and give him a whuppin' he ain't never gonna forget." Buck's gravelly voice cracked. His eyes watered; a stray tear glistened on a coarse cheek. He blinked and wiped his face with his shirtsleeve.

"Braves rode at him on horseback. Each one struck with a whip. He couldn't cry out or nuthin' or I wouldn't be here telling you this, Blue Boy.

"Mano, he just kinda grinned and didn't say a doggone word. Hangin' there, not one dang word."

Buck paused, swallowed hard, inhaled and exhaled, his chest moving up and down.

"Chief figured Mano passed and they give us little Olive here and let us go. Said they wouldn't hurt us none. The old boy who took my hat even gave it back. We been riding toward Chaparral ever since."

Mano groaned and stirred. Blinking, he slitted open his eyes and looked at the three Cannons.

"Mano, you all right? You need something?" Buck asked with eagerness. Olive opened sleepy eyes before nodding off again.

"Si, agua, por favor."

Blue snapped open his canteen and held it to Mano's lips.

"Gracias." Then, awaking a bit more and squinting at John and Blue, Mano uttered a hoarse, "Hey, good to see you. Looks like we made it, Buck."

"Yep, we made it, Mano. We gonna have to clean them cuts though."

"Si, entiendo. Momento, por favor."

"The boys are setting up camp near the river. We'll get you fixed up and back to Chaparral tomorrow," said John.

"Si," replied Mano.

"Mano, I'm sorry about all this," said Buck.

With a grimace, Mano rose a little from his prone position, supporting himself with his left elbow. His right arm burned. The shoulder had been dislocated as he had hung upon the cross and was sore, although he had succeeded in popping it back into place with the assistance of the medicine man, who as it turned out, knew about such things.

"Buck, you are to listen to me, here in the presence of this your brother and his son," Mano said in a firm, quiet voice.

"I did not want to go after la muchacha, it is true. I also did not want to see you dead. This you must know. Compadre, you were right. I was wrong." Indicating the sleeping girl, Mano continued. "And amigo, knowing what I know now, I would do it again. Buck, escuchame. I would do it again, entiendes?"

"Yeah, Mano. I do," said Buck in a low voice, as Mano lay back, exhausted.

"Hey, chihuahua…better me than you, compadre. Those braves would have been blinded as the sun glanced off your ugly white gringo skin, amigo," Mano added with a faint grin, attempting a joke to break the tension before closing his eyes again. The Cannons smiled.

Nothing more was said.

Olive slept. The others fell silent with their thoughts and their thoughts fell to the caballero now resting before them.

Buck knew he had found in this younger man a kindred spirit who ride with him to hell and back and stop at every saloon and cantina on the way. Weren't nobody like Mano. Nope. Nobody.

Blue figured he had underestimated Mano. He liked him well enough, even though he could get a body in nine kinds of trouble with them women he favored. Perlita. Conchita. Would that fella ever settle down? Not likely. Mano understood him though. Mano understood what it took to run a big spread and why he, Blue, wasn't near ready for it. Mano understood what it was to deal with a demanding pa. Mano just flat understood.

John reflected on the first time he had met this brother-in-law of his. Mano had saved his life, then stolen his horse. Fate played strange tricks. Who'd have thought that drifter the son of Don Sebastian Montoya? Why Mano hadn't wound up dead in an alley in Nogales or shot by the rurales, John did not know. Talked himself out of trouble most times, John guessed. Didn't take foolish risks. Counted the cost. Handier in a gunfight than a fistfight. Women, Mano had his pick. A smile flickered across John's face and he shook his head. Mano got into so many scrapes, but none so big that he couldn't wriggle out of them. Mano could teach Blue how to survive. Yep, he'd get Blue into trouble, but he'd also get him out of it. He knew every comanchero, bandito, and most of the Apache chiefs and sub-chiefs. And his Apache came in handy too. Victoria told him many times what having Mano at the High Chaparral as part of the family meant to her. She had feared for her brother's life often. He had been a wild one. John Cannon figured that on that day he married a Montoya and Mano came as part of the deal, it was really he who struck gold all around. He hoped his brother-in-law was going to recover from this.

The setting sun painted the sky with red and bronze streaks, bathing the Cannon men, Mano, and the girl in soft golden light. Blue stood and stretched stiff limbs.

"Joe's comin', Pa," Blue said, spying the distant rider approaching from the east.

Buck roused the little girl. "Miss Olive, this here's my nephew Blue Boy. You's going to ride with Blue for a bit," he told the girl, who turned calm eyes upon the younger man. Living among the Apache as a slave had made her adaptable and compliant. She was used to being told what to do.

"Mano," Buck said but words were not necessary as the younger man had already begun to stir. Buck assisted him to a sitting position.

Joe Butler dismounted.

"Camp's ready, Boss," he said to John. "I brought Mano some fresh water." Joe offered an opened canteen to Buck who lifted it to Mano's lips.

Slowly Buck and Joe helped the caballero to his feet and together they hoisted him upon his horse, no easy matter but one accomplished in silence and without complaint.

John held the reins of Mano's horse and steadied both horse and brother-in-law while Buck and Joe mounted up. The three rode out at a gentle pace, Buck and Joe flanking Mano in case he should falter.

John lifted Olive and handed her to Blue atop Soapy before mounting his own stallion and riding after. The journey to camp was uneventful and brief.

Sam had located a good spot, John thought, in the foothills. Boulders and scrubby trees surrounded a small clearing. Twenty yards away a small stream bubbled, filled with mountain run off. Bacon and frijoles simmered on the fire, the smell blending with that of the coffee Pedro had set to boiling. Reno and Ira had wolfed down a hasty meal and already departed for the Chaparral. Men rushed to help with the horses as the travelers entered the camp.

John dismounted, handed the reins to Sam, and lifted Olive from her perch beside Blue.

Joe and Buck helped Mano off his mount, then led him just beyond the camp to the stream, where they eased him onto a flat rock near the water, peeled off his shirt and removed his boots. The night was still hot and they knew they must work with haste before the evening chill.

Pedro brought empty tin coffee cups and freshly cut aloe vera.

"Buck, you can use the sap from this aloe to treat his wounds," explained Pedro. "My mother always did this with us when we were ninos and had scrapes and stings. It is a balm."

Buck nodded. Joe and he filled cups with water and began rinsing the cuts on Mano's torso and the skin on his ankles rubbed raw by the ropes of the Apache.

"Mano, I think these welts are gonna heal up jest fine," said Buck. "But you got a coupla deep cuts here, under your ribcage."

There the skin was flayed and the rinsing only opened the wounds which had begun to crust over. Blood seeped again.

"Senora Cannon, she give me this roll of bandages before we left," said Pedro, fetching a package from his saddlebag. "She say she had a bad feeling."

"Glad she did," muttered Buck, taking the bandages and tearing off a wad which he soaked in the stream and used to clean the deep cuts. Mano winced.

"Ay, contra. What are you doing, hombre? Trying to kill me?" he uttered, irritated.

"Got to do this. You know'd it." Buck worked fast, brow furrowed and eyes focused.

"Joe, got any whiskey?" Joe produced a small flask and Buck poured some on Mano's side before tearing off another wad of bandage, pressing it into the clean wounds, and wrapping the whole with a strip of cloth. The remaining welts he dabbed with aloe. He nodded to Joe, who walked off to join Pedro by the fire.

"Mano, I don't think they's gonna be too many scars, iffen we keep ointment on 'em. But we got to watch them gashes."

"Si. No telling what the Apache use to lubricate their whips," Mano grimaced. "Bear grease, buffalo fat, dung, human excrement."

"Hell of a thing you did, Mano. Hell of a thing."

"Heroes are those who have no choice, compadre."

"How'd you keep from yellin' out?"

"Ay, no se. The alternative was to die like a dog. This shuts one's mouth most effectively," Mano paused. "I will tell you. This would make my sister, Father Ruffino, and Padre Sanchez most happy and it is the truth. After the first blow, I did not think I could remain silent. I started saying 'Hail Marys' and 'Our Fathers' over and over again in my mind. That is all I could think of to do. It worked."

"I guess the Big Man wasn't ready for us today, Mano," said Buck.

"Si. Estoy de acuerdo. Why not is another matter, compadre."

Buck helped Mano pull back on his shirt and boots and struggle to his feet.

"Lean on me, Mano." Supporting Mano's left side, Buck helped him hobble into the campsite where Mano collapsed atop a pallet laid by Pedro next to smooth boulder. Buck fetched plates of frijoles, cups of coffee, and canteens of water for them both. Mano ate but a few bites yet drank deeply. He spied Olive, sitting near the fire by Blue who amused her by drawing stick figures in the dirt. Except for the Apache clothes on her body, paint on her face, and marks on her throat, she could have been any little girl anywhere enjoying a game.

Buck and Mano watched.

"I know why not, Mano," said Buck, indicating the girl.

"Es verdad, amigo."

Buck rolled his bedroll next to Mano's and they passed a fitful night, with Buck offering water to Mano often, urging him to drink. After a few hours shut eye, both awoke and the rest of the Chaparral crew stirred.

"Be noon at best 'fore Reno and Ira return with the rig," Buck told John. "You best go on and git this little gal to her sister. Let Joe stay with Mano and me and y'all ride on out."

"You're right Buck. Victoria will be worried. I'm sure Reno and Ira told her some of what happened," said John.

"That littlun 'ill take her mind off things a bit. Y'all got to get ready for Mano. Them wounds is nasty, couple might need to be worked on. We gonna need bandages, ointment, alcohol, aloe…and a big ol' tub a clean water."

"Yep," the rancher replied. "Well, we'll push on after breakfast."

And so they did, but not before Pedro had left Buck well supplied with freshly cut and peeled aloe.

Buck changed Mano's bandages, rinsing off the welts with fresh water brought from the stream in canteens. The gashes near his rib cage looked redder than yesterday, the surrounding area puffy and hot to the touch. Buck frowned.

"Mano, we's gonna have to do something about them cuts."

"Si. First wash your hands, amigo," Mano, eyes merely slits, barely moved his lips.

"Yes sir, Mr. Montoya," chuckled Buck, "Yes, sir." But his smile faded as he walked to the stream and rinsed his hands and knife. He heated the blade in the campfire and let it cool before approaching Mano.

"Joe, grab hold of him so he don't kick," Buck said.

Joe was not needed, but he held Mano anyway while Buck used the knife to clean out the wounds. Mano groaned but offered no resistance. Joe helped spread aloe on the welts. Mano felt hot to both men, hotter than the previous day. Sweat ran down his face. After pouring the last of Joe's whiskey and wrapping the most grievous injuries, Buck soaked a wad of lint in cold water and placed it on Mano's forehead.

"Gracias," Mano said and closed his eyes, lapsing again into unconsciousness. He would drift in and out of consciousness until the buckboard arrived long past noon.

By then, Mano's fever had worsened. Infection, thought Buck. Well, it'll wait, I think.

It wouldn't wait.

A quick check of Mano's bandaged cuts revealed fiery redness and the beginnings of crimson streaks just beneath the skin. Blood poisoning. Buck had seen it in the war, seen how a man with a minor wound could pick up an infection, become delirious in a matter of hours, and be gone shortly after. No time to waste. Ordering Joe to build up the fire again, Buck pulled out his knife, honing it razor sharp on the small whetstone he always carried. He poured water upon the knife, wiped it clean, then heated it in the fire and allowed it to cool.

"Joe, hold him down in case he wakes up," Buck ordered.

Mano was only semi-conscious when Buck peeled off the bandages and again used the knife.

"Whiskey?" Buck said.

"I'm out," Joe replied.

"Well, get some boys. Check the saddlebags."

"Here's some in Mano's," Reno called out, digging into the saddlebag slung across the horse that had once belonged to a corporal.

"Bring 'er here," Buck responded.

"No, hombre, no," wailed Mano, suddenly alert. "Do not use my whiskey. It is imported from Scotland. My father waited ten months for a case to arrive in Mexico City. I kept a bottle as my price for retrieving it for him."

"But Mano," said Buck, taking the bottle from Reno.

"Do not you realize," said Mano, "A woman can conceive and give birth to a child in less time. Please, I beg you. Not my whiskey."

Buck sighed. "I do understand friend, but if we don't sterilize them wounds, you will probably die. Then you won't get to drink it anyway."

"And if I live, I will want to die, knowing how my bottle of whiskey was used."

"I wondered why you insisted on bringin' that bag."

"Hombre, I thought we might have occasion for a last drink before paying our visit to the Apache. Why should we not drink the best?"

Buck poured a generous amount over the wounds before taking a swig himself. Mano's eyes opened wide but, restrained by Joe, he did not move.

"You are a sadist, amigo," Mano said through clenched teeth. "Ay yi yi, what did I ever do to you? That is a waste of good whiskey. Give me a drink."

"Just trying to save yore life, amee-go," Buck replied. "I hate this more than you do."

"That is what they all say."

Buck gave him a drink and passed the bottle to the others, who each took a swallow.

"I'm afraid this one's gonna stay with you, Romeo. Perlita may not like 'at scar," said Buck.

"No matter, compadre, other women will find it attractive and Perlita has become much too expensive. She will not even open the door to me if I do not arrive with a dress from Victoria, and one day my sister will is going to realize what I have been doing."

Reno and Ira chuckled, their laughter nervous. Even Joe cracked a smile. Mano was the only guy they knew to whom women never said no.

Buck bandaged the wounds, tied his horse and Mano's mount to the side rail, and climbed into the rear buckboard seat. Mano lay just behind, half shaded and resting on blankets brought from the ranch. Ira clucked to the team and they set out. Joe rode in silence beside rig, drivers, and injured man. Reno sat shotgun.

The sun blazed overhead for a few hours before beginning its descent, cooling the desert bit by bit. Buck often made them stop or slow to force Mano to drink. Groggily, he did so, yet each time found it harder to return to sleep. Desiring no conversation, Mano kept his eyes closed. His side throbbed and his chest burned.

Ay, Manolo, this just may be it for you, hombre. What will your father say? A stupid way to die for a stupid son. Mano smiled. No grandchildren for you, Papa. At least not from me. I have often thought I might die because of a woman, but strangely I always envisioned her to be over nine. Ay muchacha, a little child will be the death of me. Ahora, if this is my time, there is no priest. Would Victoria send to Tucson for Father Ignatius? So much to confess. A glance upward showed Buck sprawled sideways, staring into the distance. Sensing Mano, Buck darted his eyes to Mano's and turned to his friend.

"Mano, you awake? You need somethin'?"

"No, companero. Estoy bien," Mano replied and closed both eyes again. Buck would not let him die, if Buck could help it. To have a friend like that, perhaps this is why he stayed at the Chaparral. It had been nearly a year since their arrival, Victoria and he, at the rancho. Then he was to protect her, to assure her well-being. This was no longer necessary. Should he die now, Victoria would be fine. His beautiful sister had actually fallen in love with that gringo John Cannon, much older than she. Mano would have never imagined it. She could have had her pick of suitors, far younger, far richer. Manito, you do not understand the women. Admit it, caballero. Victoria saw in John Cannon honor, principle, a dream. Well, it was his dream as well, for now at least, thought Manolito. For Don Sebastian Montoya, the highest value was expedience. For John Cannon, it was something more. And John Cannon now looked at Victoria with warmth and even desire, both of which Mano knew well. This was good. Only a block of stone could resist Victoria, but for a time, Mano had feared John capable of being nothing more than granite.

"Mano, drink some water. Ira, slow up a bit," Buck insisted. Mano complied. What un gran amigo was Buck. Mi gran amigo. Si, it was worth it to die to save your hide, Mano thought.

Many friends Mano had always enjoyed, and he had ridden with them. But there were none who would refuse to lie to his face. Many extended kindness only because of his father, this he knew. El Lobo, Miguel, they would kill him as soon as look at him. Well, Miguel at least, would do this. Es cierto…and ahora, Lobo, too, ensconced at Yuma prison. At Chaparral he had friends who would not betray him. This is why he stayed. Papa probably expected him to have already grown bored and returned to Sonora. He was free to come and go. John asked little of him on the rancho, but the truth was he was needed there, and he had never been truly needed anywhere. An appendage, an accessory, the son of my father…this was Manolo Montoya. He rather liked the idea of being needed. Best to hang on to this life awhile longer…because I am needed.

Five hours later, they neared the High Chaparral. An hour from the gate, Joe had ridden ahead to prepare those who waited within.

Those within were uneasy. Victoria had questioned Ira and Reno the previous night. She had been overjoyed to learn that Buck and Mano were alive and the little girl safe, but the hesitance in Reno's voice betrayed him and Ira looked away as they delivered the news.

"They are all right, are they not?" she demanded.

"Yes, ma'am, only…ah…Mano has been hurt," Reno replied.

"Hurt? What has happened?"

"Well, ma'am, we don't exactly know, except Mr. Cannon told Sam to send us back for the buckboard. Mano, uh, he cannot ride," Reno answered, looking around for a means of escape.

"I think he'll be fine, ma'am," Ira said at last. "Please excuse us, Mrs. Cannon. We need to get some sleep so we can leave early."

"Si, gracias," Victoria replied. She turned to walk back inside while the men asked the night sentry to wake them long before dawn. They probably wanted to avoid her in the morning, she thought. Well, best to be hopeful. She uttered a short prayer and went to tell Ann the good news. Together they rummaged through an old chest till Victoria found a dress she had worn as a child. She had been saving it for a daughter of her own, but Olive's need was more urgent and without hesitation she gave it to Ann for her sister.

"I believe Olive will be here early tomorrow with some of the men," Victoria told Ann. "Perhaps you should get some rest now."

"Yes, ma'am," replied Ann. "How are Mr. Buck and Mr. Manolito?"

"They are alive, but I fear my brother has been injured, Ann. I do not know how badly. I am going to say a prayer for him."

"I will do that as well, Mrs. Cannon."

Victoria smiled at the girl. "Good night dear. Thank you for your prayers."

Ann nodded, took Olive's dress, and went to her bed, heart full of gladness and also concern for the men she had convinced to risk their lives to rescue her sister.

Victoria closed the door to the room that John and she shared. Covering her head with a lacey mantilla, she knelt beside the small altar above which hung a crucifix, an addition she had made to their bedroom. There she prayed that Our Father would spare the life of her brother.

The next morning, the look on John's face as he rode into the yard confirmed her fears. She ran to embrace her husband as he dismounted. John grasped her and kissed her with firmness.

"Oh John, what has happened to Buck and Manolito?"

"They are alive, Victoria. Alive. Buck is fine but Mano is hurt. I believe he will recover."

"Oh John, he must."

Squeals of joy interrupted the bittersweet reunion as Blue handed Olive down to Pedro and the sisters embraced. Victoria smiled and welcomed Olive before summoning the housekeeper, Violeta, to take charge of the nina and see her bathed, dressed, and fed. She turned again to her husband.

"John, tell me what has happened." He did, and Victoria's eyes grew more troubled and sorrowful the longer he spoke.

"He cannot die, John. He cannot. What will it do to Papa?" Or to me, she thought. Mano was a constant in her life, the one whose affection she had always commanded and had loved in return. Only a short time ago had she won the heart of John Cannon. Mano and she had together endured the demands of their father and the death of their mother. And now in the home of her husband, in her home, Manolo had found a place and a purpose. No, Senor, no, do not take my brother who at last has a home. Madre de Dios, spare mi hermano, I beg you.

"I refuse to worry," she announced. "I refuse." As if saying it could make it so.

Evening turned to night as the buckboard drew close to the High Chaparral compound. A single shot from a sentry signaled its approach. John, Victoria, and Blue stepped onto the veranda and watched as Ira maneuvered the rig near to the house.

Mano opened his eyes. His forehead burned, his side throbbed, and his chest felt raw. He tried to prop himself up using his left elbow, since the right arm still ached. He could not move. Buck straddled the buckboard seat, then edged his way down beside Mano.

"Blue Boy, kin you pull them blankets Mano is settin' on toward you a little?" Buck asked. Blue did so and the two men and John eased the caballero out of the rig. Buck and Blue supported Mano into the house and up the stairs to his room where a tub of clean warm water awaited and fresh sheets covered the bed. John wrapped his arm around the stricken Victoria, who called her brother's name, causing the three to pause at the door to Mano's room.

Mano turned his head and caught his sister's eye, giving her a slight smile and a wink. "Hola, hermanita mia," before his escorts shuffled him inside.

Vaquero stood in the corner with bandages, alcohol, aloe cuttings, and ointment. Buck and Blue helped Mano remove shirt, pants, boots, and bandages, easing him into the tub. He sank into the warm soapy water as deeply as possible. It stung his wounds but otherwise felt good.

"Ay yi yi," he moaned.

"Vaquero and I got this, Blue. Would you mind asking Victoria if she has some soup or broth for him to eat? Mebbe she can warm some up."

"Sure, Uncle Buck."

"How's it feel, Mano?"

"Estoy bien."

"Vaquero and me, we's gonna let you soak a bit, then get you out and bandage them cuts again."

"Si. Do not hurry."

"Vaquero, stay with him," Buck said. He strode to the kitchen and asked his sister-in-law to wash his knife and heat its blade on the stove as she warmed the broth.

"This is just in case Mano's side looks worse than it did today, Victoria," Buck explained.

"Si," she replied, eyes moistening. She took the knife, blinked back the tears, and breathed hard. John stood behind her, touching her arms, a solemn look on his face.

Buck returned to Mano's room. Vaquero and he hoisted the younger man out of the tub, assisted him in toweling off, and helped him into the clean white trousers of a peon which he so favored for sleep. The welts were red and raw, but the gashes far less than they had been. Eyeing Vaquero, who nodded in agreement, Buck poured alcohol on Mano's side, pressed wadding into the wounds, and dressed the site. The both men dabbed aloe on the welts and helped Mano to a sitting position in bed.

Victoria knocked, hot soup and clean knife on a tray. She gasped when she saw the angry welts but, recovering herself, carried in the tray without dropping it.

"That ain't gonna be necessary, time being," Buck said softly, indicating the knife. She nodded, relieved.

"Well, Manolito, I see you have had an adventure," Victoria said with a brave smile.

"Si. And something occurred which will make you most vain, my sister."

"Vain?"

"Si, downright conceited."

"Manolito."

"You see, the Apaches know you by name, hermanita mia. You are a great healer to them, the only good one of the white eyes. Only you. Buck and I, we basked in your reflected glory at the camp of the Apache."

"Manolo, what do you mean?"

"He means that he and I'd be dead right now, Victoria, iffen that old Ghost Medicine Man hadn't a know'd what you done for that Nock-Ay-del awhile back," Buck explained.

"Si," Mano smiled, swallowing the spoonful of soup she offered. "You are quite well known. I have it on good authority that many Apache will be lining up outside the gates of the rancho so you can treat them for minor wounds. They are on their way now."

John, who had entered behind his wife and remained in the background, smiled.

Victoria beamed. "In that case, I will treat them gladly." She fed Mano two more spoonfuls of soup.

"I just wish, Victoria, that you had done a little more for Nock-Ay-del. Perhaps then I would have been spared this beating," Mano chuckled, then grimaced. "Ay, gracias, mi hita por la sopa. Ahora, quiero dormir, por favor." With effort, he settled down into the bed and gave his sister a nod and a slight grin before closing his eyes. All left the room except Buck, who would stay there all night sprawled on a chair, waking Mano every few hours to make him drink water and watching his friend rest until the next dawn.

"Hey Buck…que tal?" Mano rasped in a hoarse voice as the sunlight streamed through the window slats, awaking him.

"Jes' fine, Mano," replied Buck, stirring. "How 'bout you, compadre?"

"I believe I will live, amigo. I believe I will live."

"Good, 'cause there ain't no priest here to hear your confession, which'd surely take hours iffen you could remember it all, an' I don't want you to die un-ab-solved," Buck grinned.

"Hey, any more of my whiskey?

"Thought you'd never ask, a-mee-go." Buck produced the bottle, poured two glasses full, and the two drank a toast to friendship, life, and the young girls they had saved.

"Salud."

"Salud, compadre."

There would be no dying today at the High Chaparral.