Carmen Navarro Chapter Six: Crisis in Casa Cueva
The wedding was now four weeks away. To Hermosillo for three days, Victoria and Maria whisked Carmen. Appointments with the dressmaker had been made. Carmen would wear ivory. Not white, for she had been married before...but a silken ivory gown with a matching bolero and an ivory lace mantilla. Initial fittings were scheduled. She could not escape.
Mano and Buck saw their chance.
"Nogales, eh Buck?" Mano asked his friend as the carriages carrying the ladies and their maids, with armed escorts on horseback, pulled out of the hacienda courtyard.
"Yessir. Nogales. We kin check out them horses Ruiz tol' us about an' mebbe a cantina or two." The two grinned and made for the stables. They did not see the stable master, but a boy fetched their horses and soon they were heading north at a gentle lope on Reb and Mac. Ruiz had tipped them off to the plight of an hidalgo fallen on hard times who might wish to sell some excellent horseflesh at a good price. But a few miles out from Hacienda Montoya, Mano had another thought.
"Buck, why do we not first go to Casa Cueva?"
"Why?"
"I might as well pay a visit to Padre Sanchez to begin my series of confessions," Mano answered.
"Yeah. You might oughta. That could take some time, Mano," Buck said with a smirk.
And so the two took a roundabout route to the tiny pueblo, entering the village from a back street rather than riding through the adobe's broken arch as they might have done on another day, thereby missing the panicked messenger who had just galloped straight to Casa Montoya from Casa Cueva in haste.
"I spect the good padre's in fer business today, Mano," Buck said as they rode into the pueblo. "But let's have us a drink first."
The cantina was quiet. Since it was early in the day, this was to be expected, but it didn't stop Mano and Buck from going inside and waking poor Chico, the bartender, from his accustomed siesta. Buck, as always, howled with glee as he patted Chico's round face to rouse him. Chico lurched awake and scurried to fetch his best bottle of tequila. For Don Manolo and the friend of Don Manolo, nothing was too much trouble...especially when Don Manolo remembered to pay.
As the amigos chuckled over something and nothing, enjoying their tequila, Vaquero burst through the cantina doorway, his face bathed in sweat. His breathing came hard and fast.
"Qué pasa compadre?" Mano asked, his thoughts jumping to Roy or Teresa. Was the baby ill?
"Vaquero, amigo, whut's up? Is it Roy? Teresa? Lil Ana?" Buck gave voice to Mano's fears.
"No, it is Ruiz!" Vaquero exclaimed. "I saw your horses and came to tell you."
"Ruiz! What has happened to him?" Mano's face darkened with concern.
"Come quickly and see."
They bounded from the table, knocking over their glasses of tequila as they rushed from the cantina, trailing Vaquero to his home beside the livery stable. Teresa sat beside a pallet on which Ruiz lay. His face was gray, even grayer than usual. His breathing was shallow. Blood soaked the front of his shirt, oozing through the cloths serving as bandages.
"Ruiz, what has happened? Qué pasó amigo?" Mano exclaimed.
"Ah, Don Manolo, I am sorry! I have lost your treasure and mine." Ruiz wheezed and coughed. His shirt became redder.
"What are you saying? What treasure?"
"Toronado."
"What about Toronado?"
"I was bringing the stallion here for Teresa and Roy to help me with some work," Ruiz wheezed. "I am old and do not have the agility of my youth. I thought the young people," he gasped for air. "I thought the young people would be able to carry out my methods to make Toronado...quieter and more tractable." He coughed and groaned.
"Of course, Ruiz, it is to your credit that you thought of them as your helpers. What I do not understand is how you could lose Toronado on the way here. It is only a short distance from the Rancho Montoya to Casa Cueva."
"Ah Manolito!" and the old man's eyes filled with tears. Mano patted his hand and soothed him, shushing him and letting Teresa lay a cold cloth on his forehead. Ruiz sank back into the pillow.
"I was almost here. Almost at the arch, when suddenly, a rifle shot. Toronado reared. I thought he had been hit and I dismounted immediately. I rode him because," Ruiz wheezed, "because he is easier to control from horseback. Once I was on the ground beside him there was another shot, but I did not hear that one, only felt the bullet as it bit deep into me."
"Enough, Ruiz, enough. Do not speak now. Rest. Get better. You can tell me more later." Mano's concern lent urgency to his words. Ruiz's breathing, shallow and gasping, alarmed him. His old friend could not die.
At that moment, the doctor entered. Vaquero had sent word to the hacienda and Don Domingo had called for the physician, who had ridden hard to see what he could do for his friend Ruiz. Dr. Ramirez ushered all of them out of the small back room, where the cot lay. He assured them he would do all he could, and with that they had to be content.
"Mano, whut you figger happened?" Buck's voice came deep and low, his distress palpable.
"I do not know compadre, but if I were to guess, comancheros. Maybe even our old friends Sánchez and Slim trying to pay me back for putting them in prison."
"You think they 'scaped and come round here deliberate?"
"Quién sabe? Possible. But there will be a trail, whoever it was."
"Well, ifn you's right we in real trouble, coz they wuz none too happy at our last meetin'. That's right too—they seen Toronado then, didn't they?"
"Sí compadre, they saw him and they realized his worth, I am sure."
"No need to wait on Señor Ruiz then. Let's get outta here and go find whutever hombres done this. Quick."
They said nothing further. One look at Roy told them he understood their worry. He helped them load supplies into their saddlebags, then glanced at his wife. Her eyes were moist as she picked up her cooing baby from the cradle, pressing the child to her breast. Roy slipped his arms around Teresa's waist while Vaquero stood in silence as Mano and Buck nodded and walked out the door to their mounts. The dust left by their horses' hooves was all that was visible in Casa Cueva as the two men proceeded at a fast lope in the direction of the hills. A long hour later, having slowed their horses to a walk once away from the village, Mano noticed tracks in some dirt beside a wiry ocotillo bush. "Buck!" he called "Over here!"
"Whatcha got, Mano?" Buck, still astride Rebel, called. He peered at the spot that Mano, now down on the ground, knelt to pore over.
"Two horses with riders and a third shod, but not being ridden. This must be them, amigo."
"Shore sounds like it. You lookin' a little puzzled though. What's the problem?"
"Well, for one thing, they are going in the wrong direction, and for another, they are not in any hurry."
"What wrong direction? Whut do you mean?"
"I would expect comancheros to take the horse either north over the border or into the hills to their hideout until things got quieter and they could bring him out to sell in one of the many horse markets here in Sonora."
"Yeah, sounds about right," Buck agreed.
"But they have turned. Not to the hills. Not north. Instead, southwest and down," Mano said. "They appear to be heading toward the main trail to Mexico City, amigo! Along the coast."
"Whut?!"
"Exactamente! Not the trail to be taken by any comanchero and certainly not at the speed they are going. I judge them to be traveling at a walk or jog at best."
"You don't think they's doing this jus' so they kin double back later?"
"No. It is as if they do not expect anyone to follow, or as if they do not care if anyone does follow. I think we must be very careful compadre, very careful indeed."
Without any more talking Mano remounted and they set off along the well-marked trail left by the robbers, whoever they were. After a while, they walked their horses, since it was plain their quarry was in no hurry and the light was fading.
"We need to make camp for tonight, Buck, and I think we had better make it a cold camp."
"Yeah. Shoot, Mano, I ain't gonna be worth anythin' without my coffee."
"I know, hombre. Tomorrow morning, once it is light, we can build a very small fire, assuming we are downwind of them. If our 'friends' get wind of us, literally, they could well take advantage."
"Yup. I guess yore right," Buck groused but agreed.
None can copyright the characters of "The High Chaparral," for that has been done, but the authors do claim the creation of others, especially Carmen Navarro (whose first name comes from a David Dortort script proposal), Rancho Navarro, the entire Vargas and Santos clans, Valencio Ruiz, Teresa Lauder, and Delgado, whose appearance, we trust, may remind our readers of an older Henry Darrow.