The Inheritance Chapter Thirteen: Return to Casa Cueva
They could smell the coffee before they reached camp.
"Oh no!" said Mano. "Buck has made the coffee. This cannot be good." Wind glanced at him yet said nothing.
Weary, they approached the fire and found Buck reclining on his side, weight on a hip, his shoulder and back resting against a saddle, pants unbuttoned and his backside three times its normal size.
"Buck, are you okay, amigo?" Mano inquired.
"Oh, I'm fine, amigo, jes a bit tender in the day-ree-air." He waved an arm behind him.
"Has it got worse, compadre? It seems more swollen than when we left."
"Oh, no, no. It ain't no worse. It's fine. Sit yourselves down and have a cup of coffee. I made it." Buck spoke too fast, his smile too wide. Mano smelled a rat and spotted a piece of light colored cloth poking out of the back of Buck's pants.
"Oh no. What is this? My dress shirt? Ay Bendita! Buck, para esa mentira, hombre!" Mano roared.
"Now Mano, you ain't using it an' it'll wash jes fine. Don't go gittin' all het up! I borrowed your socks, too. I needed more paddin'."
"Buck!" But Mano could see it was no use. The shirt was now firmly packed down into Buck's cushion. What was the point? So he sank to his saddle and reached for a cup to pour himself some coffee. Wind moved to the coffee pot first and poured them both a cup, offering Buck one as well. "Gracias," Mano replied, sipping the bitter liquid. This tastes like tar, he grimaced, swallowing, then throwing the rest onto the desert floor, away from the fire. He groaned, rose, leaned down to pick up the coffee pot, trudged down to the stream, poured the hot liquid into the dirt, and refilled the pot with fresh water. He walked back to their pack supplies, withdrew the burlap bag of coffee grounds and added the proper amount to the pot, replacing it on the flat stone in the fire to brew.
Wind took a small sip of his coffee and without a word, strode down to the stream to throw away his cupful and rinse out the dregs. Buck lay there, grinning at them both. He slurped his coffee and tried not to frown. It was purty thick. When the fresh coffee smelled ready, Mano helped Wind to a cup and then poured one for himself. Without looking at Buck, he held out his hand toward his friend, waiting for Buck's cup, which the older man handed him. Mano tossed out the remains and refilled Buck's cup with fresh coffee.
"Ay, compadre, why do you not just leave the coffee making to me?" Mano asked while Buck snickered and Wind smiled. Mano sighed, sipped his coffee, and rested on the saddle, closing his eyes for a minute.
After they had refreshed themselves a little, Buck opened, "Well ain't you two blabbermouths ever gonna tell me 'bout those horses?"
"Horses?" Mano asked, guileless and innocent.
"Horses?" Wind echoed, his voice deadpan.
"Yeah, the horses," Buck insisted. Wind's smile was almost as wide as Mano's. Buck scowled his frustration.
"Oh, the horses," Mano could no longer contain his pleasure. "Hombre, they are good!" he said at last "They are all good! Two of the mares are in foal to the stallion. I have named him Osito: the little bear. They are good horses and he will be a great stallion one day. He has such agility and grace; I think he will make a fine cutting horse and will breed excellent ranch horses."
Buck's eyebrows raised and his smile grew.
"The only question is how we are going to drive them to Casa Cueva with you..." Mano gestured to Buck's prone body "...laid up."
"Mano, those horses still need to drink don't they?"
"Sí, Wind, they do. Why?"
"If we drive them this way to the stream, they can drink their fill, and we can drive them on when they're done."
"Sí, but it would need all three of us to keep them together as we drive them down to Casa Cueva, Wind, because they are still quite wild. They don't have to do what we want and could easily run off. No, hombre, if Buck is not up to riding, we must think of something else."
"Hey, Mano, remember what you and Roy done gettin' 'em to follow our water buckets when you brung them horses down to our ranch, Remember?"
"Sí, but Buck, we do not have three or four days to wait them out. This canyon has no grazing like the other one. They need food as well as water."
"Well, what about we give 'em food, too?"
"Buck, where are we going to get food for horses?"
"Mano, we've got some horse feed, well a sort of horse feed, anyway."
"And what is that, amigo Wind?"
"Vaquero gave us some oats. I guess he thought we might want to cook 'em to eat. He put a bag in the pack."
"Oats?"
"Yes, I'll show you." and Wind jogged over to the tree where Buck had hung the pack. He rummaged around a minute, returning with a sack holding five or six pounds of raw oats. "Look," he held up the burlap sack, then untied the top, reaching in and pulling out a handful of rolled oats.
"Ah muy bien. Those will work. Not a bad idea, Wind, not bad at all." Mano beamed. "Buck, if we pad you up really well, could you sit a saddle at a walk?"
"Shore. I could mebbe even manage a jog if it was slow."
"Bueno! Then we try… no, we will do this thing. Buck, I have some ideas about what you can do with the oats. Wind, if you carry extra water and we put more water on the pack horse and cut down the rest of what she carries, we might just arrive in Casa Cueva with a new stallion and seven mares." Smiles broke out all around, with Mano's the broadest.
That night around the campfire they planned their route to Casa Cueva to avoid the bigger water holes and to pass only one small one along the way. They meant to keep the horses moving at a slow pace, enticed by Buck's stopping every now and then to give them a mouthful of grain and Wind's offering them water. As for water containers, they had only a skillet and coffee pot, and these would not do, but Buck had an idea about the tree.
"Remember how we give water to the mustangs up at the C-Bar-M from the buckets we made? Now if one of us was to have somethin' waterproof-like oilcloth or even a rain slicker, I bet we could whittle some of them smaller limbs of that tree fer support an' make us somethin' that'd hold water. You got a slicker with you, Mano?"
"No, hombre."
"Would this do?" From his saddlebags, Wind retrieved a dark rain poncho, with a waxy sheen to it. "It's waterproof. I rubbed wax on it not long ago."
"Boy, I used ta have one like that myself. Lost it before the war. That's U.S. Cal-vary issued. Where'd you get it?"
"It belonged to my mother."
"I'll be. Ain't seen one of those since I signed on as a cal-vary scout in Oklahoma, Kansas an' Missouri before the war an' the blue bellies give me one…" Buck grew quiet, almost pensive, then added in a low, serious voice: "You shore you want us to use that? If it was yore mother's, you prob'ly wanna keep it."
"Nothing may happen to it. If we can piece together a frame, this can be the lining of the trough."
"Tha's a good idea, boy." Buck looked off into the distance rather than at Wind. His voice trailed off. Mano noticed the shift in tone and looked at his friend but asked no questions.
"I'll go to the tree and bring back enough limbs and branches so that we can see what we can do," Wind offered. "Or maybe I can chop out a shallow trough from the section that split off. The tree is young, still full of sap, so it won't suck water the way old wood might. I'll see what the tree gives me."
"Hey, pardner," said Buck, "a wood trough-now that jes might work. It jes might."
"Sí, good idea. If we lighten the load on the pack horse, she can carry more water. But let's go in the morning, Wind. Early. I will accompany you, eh? We need to get some sleep tonight," Mano said. The truth is, I need to get some sleep, he thought.
"I'll be feeling better tomorrow," Buck agreed. "I done nuthin' but rest this afternoon an' evenin' and I ain't no way near as sore as I was. But hey, Mano, I forgot to ask. How you feelin'?"
"Yeah, Mano, how are your ribs and chest? Have you recovered from our fall?"
"Yore fall? Whut happened? You didn't say nothin' 'bout no fall."
So the whole account of Wind's adventure with Mano in the canyon came out amid laughter and stories shared over their evening meal and campfire. Mano insisted he was fine, but Buck caught him wincing when he lay down that night and wasn't so sure that his friend was as all-fired fine as he was making out. No doubt the show of bein' fine was all fer Buck's benefit. Well, S'nor Montoya, we'll jes see about that tomorrow, Buck decided.
Morning dawned cool and clear when the smell of fresh coffee awakened the men. The boy was already up. He had gathered wood, laid the fire, and lit kindling. Flames consumed the smaller pieces and licked up about the larger logs. The coffee pot boiled on the stone.
"Fire's about ready. I'll head on up to the horses and be back soon with something from that tree to hold water," Wind said. "Don't wait for me to eat. I'm not hungry and I drank a little coffee already." He stuck his hatchet in his belt along with a hunting knife and set out on foot for the canyon.
"All right," Mano said. He winced a little as he rose from his bedroll to fetch the skillet. Buck eyed him, thinking, you're ailin' an' when you're good an' ready, S'nor Montoya, mebbe you'll tell me what's goin' on. I'll jes wait you out a little longer.
"We are running low on supplies," Mano said as he placed the last of the bacon in the skillet and the last of the tortillas on a tin plate to warm next to the fire. "Good thing we are returning to Casa Cueva today. Buck, we'll save a little for Wind. Here, hombre. I think he makes better coffee than you do." He handed his friend a tortilla with bacon and a cup of coffee before returning to the fire and getting his own food and drink. Mano sank back down next to Buck and the two men ate in silence. Mano fetched them each a second cup of coffee, then closed his eyes to think of all they had to do.
A good hour had passed when Wind marched back into camp, carrying a shallow trough, maybe two or three feet long and four inches deep, under one arm.
"I just finished what the lightning started," Wind said as Mano stood, took the rough wooden trough, and held it up to admire it.
"Hey, this will do nicely, amigo. It won't hold much water but maybe three, four horses can drink at a time."
"How bad you hurtin', Mano?" Buck interrupted, surprising the other two.
"Cómo?"
"You heard me, S'nor Montoya. How bad?"
"Not bad. I'm fine, really. Do not worry, amigo."
"I ain't worried, but I ain't convinced either. You was sore last night, I see'd. You could hardly lay down."
"Buck!" Mano replied, annoyed.
"Don't you Buck me. You tell me what's ailin' you, afore I whomp you to find out."
"Para esa mentira, hombre," Mano sighed. "All right. My ribs are sore; my chest, it pains me to breathe. I think I may have hurt myself when I pushed Wind out of the way of Osito. I believe I bruised my ribs again. It is not important."
"Mano, I had no idea."
"No, Wind, It is all right. I do not wish to talk about it."
"Boys, this means we all got to go slow, because you cain't rush around with banged up ribs and I cain't go quick cos o' my injured 'pride'. Wind, you're gonna haveta take quite a bit of the load yourself, son."
"I can do it, Buck, Just tell me what you want done. We should make the drive in a day if we start soon."
"Sí," Mano nodded. "We leave now and just keep going. No stopping, no waiting, just riding. Slow we may be, but at least we'll get there. Maybe by nightfall."
"Wind, you are gonna haveta stay close and keep an eye on all them horses. Mano and me, we can lead and drive 'em some. I can throw a few oats out now and then for 'em to pick at and we can rest a couple times to water 'em, but we cain't take too much time. We just gotta keep 'em happy."
"I can handle it."
Wind loaded the pack horse with six canteens full of water, his rain slicker tied like a wineskin to hold more, the trough, and dry goods, including a ten pound burlap sack of sugar. Mano took the coffee pot, coffee, skillet and other provisions in two saddlebags. Buck had the oats and another saddlebag with the rest of their items. The three men—now three friends—rode to the box canyon where Mano looped a rope around the fallen tree and prepared to drag it out of the way with Macadoo whenever they were ready to release the horses. Poised upon Reb, Buck opened the sack of oats and held it, ready.
"Aw right. I's jes gonna be like at ol' Pied Piper, tossin' oats here an' there to git them horses to follow," Buck said. "Jes call me Farmer Buck, sowing seeds. Mano, once you move 'at tree and let 'em out, you bring up the rear, keep after the stragglers."
"Bueno. Vamonos, Macadoo!" Mano said, the rope tightening as Mac took out the slack and strained to pull the tree. The foliage gate opened.
"Wind! When they come out, you stick close to Osito, y'hear?" Buck hollered. "You got that sugar an' water. Use it to keep him happy and keep him followin' along."
"Got it," Wind replied. "I've got two kerchiefs ready now."
The horses emerged from the canyon ready to forage on their own.
"Sow your oats, hombre!" Mano yelled, grinning. Buck laughed but held open the sack, spilling a stream of oats onto the ground. Osito and his mares smelled the sweet food and rushed to find it. Soon they understood they could find food by staying close to the men.
Wind kept Osito occupied with kerchiefs full of wet, sticky sugar. The first time Wind dismounted, he allowed Osito to make the first move. Once the stallion found the sugary kerchief, sucked on it, dropped it, and saw Wind putting it away in his pocket, he stayed close to the boy. For his part, Wind not only tempted Osito with sugared treats, but he also jumped on and off his mount to give the horses drinks of water from the trough, which he refilled from the wineskin slicker and then the canteens. I am glad it is you, muchacho, with all that up and down, Mano thought. Buck just grinned.
"Here you go, girls," Wind said in a calm voice as he poured water into the trough and allowed the mares a few drinks, thus ensuring they associated him with water and continued to follow. Buck supplemented the temptation with oats.
When they stopped to water the herd at a pond, Wind gave Osito another treat. They only stayed for a brief time, maybe twenty minutes at the small watering hole, and then pushed on. It was slow going, the moon rising as they at last they approached Casa Cueva. Vaquero, alert, spotted them coming along the trail.
"At last we are here, amigos," Mano said with a smile as Vaquero rushed to meet them.
"Roy, Teresa, open the small corral and help to get these horses in," the alcalde cried. "There you go. Close the gate, por favor."
"They'll be happy in here," Roy said. "There's water in the trough an' I'll git 'em some feed an' hay, too."
"Sí, in the corners, Roy," Vaquero added.
Wind, Buck, and Mano dismounted as Vaquero snapped shut the gate latch. The two older men handed the reins of their horses to Wind, whom they both thanked as he took their saddle horses and Sally the pack horse off to the stables. There Wind rubbed them down, fed and watered them. They had worked very hard and deserved their reward, too.
"These are fine horses, Manolito," Vaquero exclaimed as the men looked over the mares and stallion while Roy finished putting down the hay.
"Sí, Don Mano y Buck," Teresa added, sidling up beside them and smiling. "Qué bonita!"
Mano and Buck nodded and smiled, then Buck rested a hand on his amigo's shoulder and steered him on a slow walk toward the adobe. "Le's go inside, Mano."
In Vaquero's tiny home, they sank into two chairs at the table. Vaquero followed after, pouring them each a cup of hot coffee from the pot on the stove. "Amigos, are you hungry? We have eaten but Teresa has food which can be warmed."
"Gracias, Vaquero. That would be good, but let's wait for Wind. He has worked very hard and must be hungry," Mano said. Vaquero nodded. Teresa and Roy entered, Teresa dropping her husband's hand when she saw the men needed to be fed. She bustled about the stove.
"That shore smells good, Missy Teresa," Buck said as the scent of onion and pork wafted toward them from an iron skillet on the fire. "What is that? Beans an' pork?"
"Sí, it is called frijol con puerco," Teresa explained. "Oh, Roy, grab a crate so Wind can sit at the table," she smiled at the young man who just entered the house from the stables. A faint smile crossed the Pawnee's face as he accepted the crate and sat down with the men. Roy joined them.
"Where'd y'all find 'em? That is one fine stallion!" Roy began. Before Mano or Buck could answer, Wind spoke.
"Well, it was like this, Roy…." and the young Indian told some of the story, speaking so much that Vaquero's eyes widened, the only indication in his otherwise taciturn face that showed surprise. I may have been wrong about you, muchacho, Vaquero thought. Or maybe you have changed. This journey may have done much for you.
"The Inheritance" is the creation of VKS & MJRod, who originated the characters of Teresa Lauder, Valencio Ruiz, and Pacquito Ruiz with the intention of honoring all those involved in the making of our favorite western, "The High Chaparral."