Lady Luck Chapter Eight: New Friends and Partners
Once the Chaparral men rode out of sight, Buck put his arm around Mano's shoulders and ushered him into the cabin, calling out, "C'mon Roy, let's have us a nice cup of coffee and relax a while."
Roy hustled over. Mano still hadn't said nothin' and Roy was worried. He listened just inside the cabin door to what Buck was saying to Mano.
"Compadre, they's no need to take it so hard. Boys'll forgit purty soon. You know how things go. You won't be news for long."
"Buck, I know you are trying to make me feel better, but this is the very thing I had not wanted any of them to know," Mano said, leaning against the table with his fists on it, looking downward and shaking his head. "They will not forget this little nugget, amigo mío, and you know it."
He was steamed, Buck could tell, but really it wouldn't make no difference in the long run. They had a few days to round up the horses. They could sell 'em in Tucson, pay off John, and bank what was left. That'd make Mano happier...in time.
"Mano, want I should bring in the supplies?" Roy asked. Mano looked up.
"Hombre, what supplies? We did not have supplies, did we Buck?"
"Not as fer as I know, Mano."
"There's some sacks out here on the porch. Pedro put 'em there when he unloaded his horse." Roy rushed outside and fetched in burlap sacks which they opened.
"Bacon, beans, salt beef, tortillas," Buck observed. "An' sugar!"
"Coffee too...hey compadres, Victoria must have sent us some things to keep us going," Mano sounded pleased.
"Your sister is a angel, Mano, a real angel for sure!" Buck exclaimed.
"Es verdad, hombre!"
"You mean Miz Cannon thought about you being low on stuff and sent all this up here?" Roy's eyebrows rose in wonder.
"Sí, amigo, mi hermanita!" Mano smiled, his voice filled with warmth. Victoria was precious to him and she loved him very much, this he knew. How like her to have thought about their situation sufficiently to have made Pedro bring all these things. An angel indeed, Buck was right. An angel who could scold him like none other, but an angel nevertheless.
Roy busied himself putting away the supplies, then he set the coffee pot to reheat. Mano sighed, flipped a chair around backwards and settled with his chin resting on his arms across the top of the chair back. Buck eased into a seat as well and they sat at the table in silence.
"Oh, come on, Mano, do it really matter? Really?" Buck asked after a minute.
"Sí hombre it does. It really does, but it is said now and cannot be unsaid, so I will have to live with it. So long as they do not get to hear the whole story, they can imagine to their heart's content."
"Well, I won't tell 'em and Roy here won't say nothin', will ya Roy? And John don't know it. Leastways not all of it."
"I won't say anything, Mano. I already promised and I mean it. You're my friend now, like Honch, only I think you're way better than him, so I won't say a word."
Mano smiled at Roy, nodded, rose, and clapped him on the shoulder. Buck just sat grinning at them both though he had no idea what he was smiling at. Things would be jest fine, he knew they would.
Mano chopped some salt beef and fixed a kind of bean stew that tasted real good to Roy. And they sat and jawed about how they was gonna git the mustangs in the morning. Then it got dark and time for sleep. Roy was tucked up in his bedroll snorin' before he knew it.
Buck was hoping to hear Mano snoring soon, too, but it was at least an hour before Mano's breathing got heavier and Buck could tell he was asleep. Buck was still worried about his friend. Mano'd had amigos who turned on him before...El Lobo, Miguel Morales, even that cousin Romero. Buck didn't like to think of Romero. Melanie Cawthorn fooled 'em all…'cept Mano. That low down skunk Redmond. Sumpin about this one made it worse. Mebbe cuz Mano ain't seen it comin'. That hearing with the judge cain't have been no picnic neither, even if the judge cleared him of all charges. At least Mano wasn't playing that whangy guitar… Buck dropped off.
Mano did not fall asleep at once, although he was very tired. Truth was, Redmond's betrayal bothered him more than he wished to admit even to himself. How had he, Manolo Montoya, fallen for the set up? Was he getting soft, old? Ay yi yi. And now he had this responsibility, Roy. Responsibility, the one thing he wished to avoid more than anything. Well, it could be worse. He could be mucking stables for John Cannon or listening to his father lecture him or putting up with Sam or Joe's comments made at his expense. Pedro would shut up...but those Butlers...he drifted off at last.
Roy woke to the smell of bacon. Man, he loved this new life. He was eatin' better than he ever had and these people seemed to like him. Mr. Cannon kinda made him jumpy but he seemed like a good boss.
Buck walked in from outside. "Hey Roy, you're awake! You sure can sleep." Buck laughed.
Roy, sheepish, managed a small smile.
"I'm just funnin' Roy. I don't mean nothin'. You're a fine boy, real fine!"
That made Roy feel better, but the truth was he hadn't felt safe enough to sleep deep for a long time and this new life was real, real good.
Mano burst through the door, hauling a fresh bucket of water. He strode to the coffee pot with purpose, filling it and swinging it onto the cooking fire before he spoke in a tone edged with sarcasm.
"Whilst I am happy that we have the coffee, compadres, occasionally I would like to be the one enjoying a cup without having had to fill the pot and brew it myself!" He waved one hand in the air to punctuate the point and Buck and Roy gaped in amazement. Sometimes Mano's Latino temper could just blow through a room like a tornado and you could only watch its progress or take cover.
"Well, has no one anything to say?" Mano demanded.
"Whew. Mano, ain't nothin' we can say," Buck hooted.
"Er, Mano?" Roy ventured.
"Sí?"
"Is that bacon burning?"
"Ay chihuahua!" Mano gripped the iron skillet with his left hand, then let go, grabbing his hand and letting fly a stream of Spanish that neither Buck nor Roy understood. He plunged his burnt hand in the bucket of water he'd just carried in and snatched a cloth off the shelf. Using the cloth as protection, he yanked the skillet from the fire and spun round to shoot an angry glare at the other two who were choking back their laughter. He blinked, looked down at the skillet and back at Buck and Roy with large, round eyes. Then he started to laugh, a very small laugh at first. He dropped the smoking skillet onto the table with a bang. His laughter grew in intensity till he bent over double in mirth, grasping the back of a chair for support. Roy and Buck, tickled, roared just as loud. It was a few minutes before the sounds of men laughing died away and Mano shook his head. Ay, Manolo. It has come to this, has it? And he laughed again, collapsing into a chair when he could laugh no more.
"Mano," Buck said, still chuckling. "It ain't that we can't make coffee. It's just that you are so darn picky about your coffee that we don' wanna try. How's your hand?"
"Ah, I will live," he sighed, blowing on his reddened fingers and palm.
"What can I do, Mano?" Roy asked.
"Well, for a start, take that and refill it with fresh water from the well," Mano replied, indicating the bucket.
"Sure thing!" Roy jumped up and shot out the door, bucket in hand.
"He a good kid, Mano," Buck said, watching Roy. "Nice to have a young fella round here agin."
"Sí. You are perhaps thinking of Blue, eh?"
"Ever' day. Ever' blessed day."
"Eh, compadre, Blue will be back when he has finished his education."
"I know'd it. He hadda go to that art school. I know'd it. Shore would be nice if John would talk about it. Mention Blue's name, he clams up, walks off ramrod stiff. My brother is a stubborn man."
"Blue will return, amigo. A man raised on a ranch cannot last in a city."
"Lessen he marries a city gal."
"Even then, he will be back."
Buck nodded. "I hope you're right, Mano."
Roy barrelled inside just then, water sloshing out the top of the bucket he hauled.
"Show me what to do, Mano. I'll make coffee next time."
"Better you than Buck. I have showed him. It does no good."
"I don't mind cookin' none either, if you tell me what to do," Roy continued.
Mano nodded. "Claro. Well perhaps we shall have a cooking lesson later. For now, burnt bacon and tortillas will have to do. Ay yi yi, this skillet, it is ruined."
"No it ain't, Mano. I ac-shully know how to clean that," Buck spoke up. "Mama always had cast iron. Lemme at it, after we eat." Buck paused, then mused, "Makes you appreciate your sister a little more, don't it?"
"Sí, but even Victoria has help. Violeta and her daughter come on washday you know. Of course it is nothing compared to the housemaids and servants at the Rancho Montoya. I would have never imagined my sister to be content with such a life as she now has."
"You neither, fer that matter," Buck observed.
"Me neither," Mano agreed, glancing at Roy, shaking his head and giving a wry grin. "Shall we eat, compadres?"
"Yep, we got us some work to do," Buck said.