CHAPTER XVIII
SANTA FE
After an early breakfast the _atejo_ of nineteen mules besides the_mulera_, or bell mule, was brought out of the pasture and the_aparejos_, leather bags stuffed with hay, thrown on their backs andcinched fast with wide belts of woven sea-grass, which were drawn socruelly tight that they seemed almost to cut the animals in two; thiscruelty was a necessary one and saved them greater cruelties by holdingthe packs from slipping and chafing them to the bone. Groaning from thetightness of the cinches they stood trembling while the huge crupperswere put into place and breast straps tightened. Then the _carga_ wasplaced on them, the whiskey carriers loaded with a cask on each side,firmly bound with rawhide ropes; the meal carriers with nearly onehundred fifty pounds in sacks on each side. While the mules winced now,after they had become warmed up and the hay of the _aparejos_ packed toa better fit, they could travel longer and carry the heavy burdens withgreater ease than if the cinches were slacked. The packing down andshaping of the _aparejo_ so loosened the cinch and ropes that frequentlyit was necessary to stop and tighten them all after a mile or so hadbeen put behind.
The _atejo_ was in charge of a major-domo, five _arrieros_, ormuleteers and a cook, or the _madre_, who usually went ahead and led thebell mule. All the men rode well-trained horses, and both men and horsesfrom Turley's rancho were sleek, well fed and contented, for theproprietor was known throughout the valley, and beyond, for hiskindness, honesty and generosity; and he was repaid in kind, for hisemployees were faithful, loyal, and courageous in standing up for hisrights and in defending his property. Yet the time was to come someyears hence when his sterling qualities would be forgotten and he wouldlose his life at the hands of the inhabitants of the valley.
The _atejo_ swiftly and dexterously packed, the two pairs ofbloodthirsty looking Indian guards divided into advance and rear guard,the _madre_ led the bell mule down the slope and up the trail leadingover the low mountainous divide toward Ferdinand de Taos, the gruntingmules following in orderly file.
The trail wandered around gorges and bowlders and among pine, cedar, anddwarf oaks and through patches of service berries with their small,grapelike fruit, and crossed numerous small rivulets carrying off thewater of the rainy season. Taos, as it was improperly called, lay twelvemiles distant at the foot of the other side of the divide, and it wasreached shortly after noon without a stop on the way. The "noonings"observed by the caravans were not allowed in an _atejo_, nor were themules permitted to stop for even a moment while on the way, for ifallowed a moment's rest they promptly would lie down, and in attemptingto arise under their heavy loads were likely to strain their loins sobadly as to render them forever unfit for work. To remove and replacethe packs would take too much time. Because of the steady traveling theday's journey rarely exceeded five or six hours nor covered more thantwelve to fifteen miles.
Taos reached, the packs were removed and covered by the _aparejos_, eachpile kept separate. Turned out to graze with the bell mule, withoutpicket rope or hobbles, the animals would not leave her and could becounted on, under ordinary circumstances, to be found near camp and alltogether.
Taos, a miserable village of adobes, and the largest town in the valley,had a population of a few American and Canadian trappers who had marriedMexican or Indian women; poor and ignorant Mexicans of all grades exceptthat of pure Spanish blood, and Indians of all grades except, perhaps,those of pure Indian blood. The mixed breed Indians had the more courageof the two, having descended from the Taosas, a tribe still inhabitingthe near-by pueblo, whose warlike tendencies were almost entirelydisplayed in defensive warfare in the holding of their enormous,pyramidal, twin pueblos located on both sides of a clear little stream.In the earlier days marauding bands of Yutaws and an occasionalwar-party of Cheyennes or Arapahoes had learned at a terrible cost thatthe Pueblo de Taos was a nut far beyond their cracking, and from theseexpeditions into the rich and fertile valley but few returned.
Here was a good chance to test the worth of their disguises, for thethree older plainsmen were well-known to some of the Americans andCanadians in the village, having been on long trips into the mountainswith a few of them. And so, after the meal of _frijoles_, _atole_ andjerked meat, the latter a great luxury to Mexicans of the grade of_arrieros_, Hank and his two Arapahoe companions left the littleencampment and wandered curiously about the streets, to the edificationof uneasy townsfolk, whose conjectures leaned toward the unpleasant.Ceran St. Vrain, on a visit to the town, passed them close by but didnot recognize the men he had seen for days at a time at his trading poston the South Platte. Simonds, a hunter from Bent's Fort, passed within afoot of Hank and did not know him; yet the two had spent a seasontogether in the Middle Park, lying just across the mountain range westof Long's Peak.
Continuing on their way the next morning they camped in the open valleyfor the night, and the next day crossed a range of mountains. The nextvillage was El Embudo, a miserable collection of mud huts at the end ofa wretched trail. The Pueblo de San Juan and the squalid,poverty-stricken village of La Canada followed in turn. Everywhere theyfound hatred and ill-disguised fear of the Texans roaming beyond theCanadian. Next they reached the Pueblo de Ohuqui and here found snugaccommodations for themselves and their animals in the little valley.From the pueblo the trail lay through an arroyo over another mountainand they camped part way down its southeast face with Santa Fe sprawledout below them.
Morning found them going down the sloping trail, the Indian escortsurreptitiously examining their rifles, and in the evening they enteredthe collection of mud houses honored by the name of San Francisco de laSanta Fe, whose population of about three thousand souls was reputed tobe the poorest in worldly wealth in the entire province of New Mexico;and, judging from the numbers of openly run gambling houses, rum shopsand worse, the town might have deserved the reputation of being thepoorest in morals and spiritual wealth.
Sprawled out under the side of the mountain, its mud houses of a singlestory, its barracks, _calabozo_ and even the "palace" of the governormade of mud, with scarcely a pane of glass in the whole town; its narrowstreets littered with garbage and rubbish; with more than two-thirds ofits population barefooted and unkempt, a mixture of Spaniards andIndians for generations, in which blending the baser parts of theirnatures seemed singularly fitted to survive; with cringing, starvingdogs everywhere; full of beggars, filthy and in most cases disgustinglydiseased, with hands outstretched for alms, as ready to curse the tightof purse as to bless the generous, and both to no avail; with itsdomineering soldiery without a pair of shoes between them, its arrogantofficers in shiny, nondescript uniforms and tarnished gilt, with hugeswords and massive spurs, to lead the unshod mob of privates intocowardly retreat or leave them to be slaughtered by their Indian foes,whose lances and bows were superior in accuracy and execution to theancient firelocks so often lacking in necessary parts; reputed to befounded on the ruins of a pueblo which had flourished centuries beforethe later "city" and no doubt was its superior in everything butshameless immorality. There, under Sante Fe mountain and the pure andalmost cloudless blue sky, along the little mountain stream of the samename, lay Santa Fe, the capital of the department of New Mexico, and thehome of her vainglorious, pompous, good-looking, and brutal governor;Santa Fe, the greatest glass jewel in a crown of tin; Santa Fe, thecustoms gate and the disappointing end of a long, hard trail.
Through the even more filthy streets of the poverty-stricken outskirtsof the town went the little _atejo_, disputing right-of-way in thenarrow, porch-crowded thoroughfares with _hoja_ (corn husk) sellers andhuge burro loads of pine and cedar faggots gathered from the near-bymountain; past the square where the mud hovels of the soldiers lay; pasta mud church whose tall spire seemed ever to be stretching away from thesmells below; past odorous hog stys, crude mule corrals with theirscarred and mutilated creatures, and sheep pens, and groups of avidcock-fighters; past open doors through which the halfbreed women,clothed in a simple garment hanging from the shoulders, could be see
ncooking _frijoles_ or the thin, watery _atole_ and hovering around theflat stones which served for stoves; past these and worse plodded the_atejo_, the shrewd mules braying their delight at a hard journey almostended. Sullen Indians, apologetic Mexicans, swaggering and too oftendrunken soldiers gave way to them, while a string of disputing,tail-tucking dogs followed at a distance, ever wary, ever ready to wheeland run.
Reaching the _Plaza Publica_, which was so bare of even a blade of grassor a solitary tree, and its ground so scored and beaten and covered withrubbish to suggest that it suffered the last stages of some earthlymange, they came to the real business section of the town, where nearlyevery shop was owned by foreigners. Around this public plaza stood thearchitectural triumphs of the city. There was the _palacio_ of thegovernor, with its mud walls and its extended roof supported on roughpine columns to form a great porch; the custom-house, with its greedy,grafting officials; the mud barracks connected to the atrocious and muchdreaded _calabozo_, whose inmates had abandoned hope as they crossed itsthreshold; the mud city hall, the military chapel, fast falling intoruin, and a few dwellings. The interest attending the passing of the_atejo_ increased a little as the pack train crossed this square, forthe Indian guards were conspicuous by their height and by the breadth ofshoulder, and the excellence of their well-kept weapons. Strangers weredrawing more critical attention these days, with the Texan threathanging over the settlements along the Pecos and the Rio Grande. Peonwomen and Indian squaws regarded the four with apparent approval and asthey left the square and plunged into the poorer section again,compliments and invitations reached their ears. Hopeless _mozos_, orill-paid servants, most of them kept in actual slavery by debts theynever could pay off because of the system of accounting used againstthem, regarded the four enviously and yearned for their freedom.
Of the four Indians, a tall, strapping Delaware, stooping to be lessconspicuous, whose face was the dirtiest in the _atejo_, suddenlystiffened and then forced himself to relax into his former lazy slouch.The rattle of an imported Dearborn, which at all times had to be watchedclosely to keep its metal parts from being stripped off and stolen,filled the street as the vehicle rocked along the ruts toward them,drawn by two good horses and driven by one Joseph Cooper, of St. Louis,Missouri. At his side sat his niece, looking with wondering anddisapproving eyes about her, her pretty face improved by its coat ofhealthy tan, but marred somewhat by the look of worry it so plainlyshowed. She appeared sad and wistful, but at times her thoughts leapedfar away and brought her fleeting smiles so soft, so tender, as tobanish the look of worry and for an instant set a glory there.
Her glance took in the little pack train and its stalwart guards andpassed carelessly over the bending Delaware, and then returned to lingeron him while one might count five. Then he and the _atejo_ passed fromsight and she looked ahead again, unseeing, for her memory was racingalong a wagon road, and became a blank in a frightful, all-night storm.At her sigh Uncle Joe glanced sidewise at her and took a firmer grip onhis vile native cigar, and silently cursed the day she had left St.Louis.
"Load of wheat whiskey from th' rancho, I reckon," he said, and pulledsharply on the reins to keep from running over a hypnotized ring ofcock-fighters. "How your paw can live all th' year 'round in this festerof a town is a puzzle to me. I'd rather be in a St. Louis jail. Cigar?"he sneered, yanking it from his mouth and regarding it with palpitantdisgust. He savagely hurled it from him. "Hell!"
A tangle of arms and legs rolled out of a rum shop and fought impotentlyin the dust of the street, and sotted faces grinned down at them fromthe crowded door. A flaky-skinned beggar slouched from behind the cornerof the building and held out an imploring hand, which the driver'scontemptuous denial turned into a clenched fist afloat in a sea ofSpanish maledictions.
The pack train having reached its destination, the two pairs of guards,clutching their "writin'" from Turley, departed in hot haste to claimtheir payment, and not long thereafter, rifleless, wandered about onfoot to see the sights, gaping and curious. In the hand of each was awhiskey jug, the cynosure of all eyes. The _Plaza Publica_ seemed tofascinate them, for they spent most of their time there; and when theypassed the guard house in the _palacio_ they generously replied to thecoaxing banter of the guard off watch, and went on again with lightenedjugs. Here as elsewhere they sensed a poorly hidden feeling of unrest,and hid their smiles; somewhere north of Texas the _Tejanos_ rode withvengeance in their hearts and certain death in their heretic rifles. Noone knew how close they might be, or what moment they would storm intothe town behind their deadly weapons. But the fear was largelyapathetic, for these people, between the Apache and Comanche raids ofyear after year, had suckled fear from their mothers' breasts.
Finally, apprehensive of the attention they were receiving, the strangeIndians left the plaza and sought refuge with the mules of the _atejo_,to remain there until after dark; and at their passing, groups ofexcited women or quarreling children resumed their gambling in thestreets and all was serene again.
Gambling here was no fugitive evader of the law, no crime to be enjoyedin secret, but was an institution legalized and flourishing. There evenwas a public gaming house, where civil officers, traders, merchants,travelers, and the clergy grouped avidly around the _monte_ tables andplayed at fever heat, momentarily beyond the reach of any otherobsession. Regularly the governor and his wife graced the temple ofchance with their august persons and held informal levees among thetables, making the place a Mecca for favor-seekers and sycophants, and agolden treasury for the "house." At this time, so soon after the arrivalof two great caravans and the collection of so much impost, part ofwhich stuck to every finger that handled it, the play ran highthroughout the crowded room.
The round of festivities attending the arrival of the wagon trains werenot yet stilled, and fandangoes nightly gave hilarity a safety valve.Great lumbering _carretas_, their wheels cut from solid sections of treetrunks and the whole vehicle devoid of even a single scrap of preciousiron, shrieked and rattled through the dark streets, filled with shoddycavaliers and dazzling women, whose dresses seemed planned to tempt theresolutions of a saint. _Rebosa_ or lace _mantilla_ over full, rounded,dark and satiny breasts; fans wielded with an inherited art, to coaxand repel the victims of great and smouldering eyes of jet, which meltedone moment to blaze the next--this was the magic segment of the clock'sround. Now the eyesores of the squalid town were hidden from criticalsight, and the alluring softness and mystery of an ancient Spanish citymade one forget the almost unforgetable. Life and Death danced hand inhand; Love and Hate bowed and curtsied, and the mad green fires ofJealousy flickered or flared; while the poverty and the sordid tragediesof the day gave place to tingling Romance in the feathery night. Violinsand guitars caressed the darkness with throbbing strains, catching thebreath, tingling the nerves and turning dull flesh to pulsing ecstasy.
To the fandango came a flower of a far-off French-American metropolis,strangely listless; and here felt her blood slowly transmute to wine andevery nerve become a harp-string to make sad music for her soul.
Small wonder that Armijo stood speechless in the sight of such a one asshe, and forgot to press his questioning as to four who had somewhereleft that wagon train; small wonder that he gave no heed to men in thepresence of this exotic flower not yet unfolded, in whose veins theFrench blood of the mother coursed with the Saxon of the father, andplayed strange and wondrous pranks in delicate features, vivacious eyes,and hidden whimsicalities now beginning to peek forth.
The coarse sensuality of the governor's face revealed his thoughts toall the room; his eyes never had known the need to mask the sheerness oftheir greedy passion, and in such a moment could not dissemble. Whatman like him, in his place and power, with his nature, would glancetwice at a lazy, dirty Indian looking in through the open door, or knowthat the murder beast was tearing at its moral fetters in the Delaware'sseething soul? Without again taking his burning eyes from the womanbefore him the governor tossed, by force of habit, a copper coin throughthe
door, alms to a beggar to bring him luck from heaven to further hisplans from hell. Nor did he know the magazine his contemptuous gift hadset aflame, nor see the convulsive struggle between the Delaware andthree other Indians. The guard laughed sneeringly at the fight theymade, three to one, over a single piece of copper: Who was to know thatthey fought over a hollow piece of steel, charged twice times three withleaden death? Who was to read the desperation in that furious struggle,where a beast-man fought like a fiend against his closest friends? Thestruggling four reeled and stumbled from the house, leading away a fierytempest and faded into the crooning night. That open door nearly hadbeen an Open Door, indeed!
Within the room the vivacity died in the woman's eyes, thewhimsicalities drew back in sudden panic at the beast look on thegovernor's face; the swing was gone from the strumming music, the rhythmfrom the swaying dance. At once the festive room was a pit of slime, thesmiling faces but mocking masks, and the dark shadow of a vulturedescended like a suffocating gas. Like a flash the wall dissolved toshow a long, clean trail, winding from Yesterday into Tomorrow; restfulglades and creeks of shining sands, windswept prairies and a clear, bluesky; verdant glades and miles of flowers--and a tall, dark youth withsmiling face, who worshiped reverently with tender eyes. She drewherself up as white streaks crossed her crimson cheeks like some dartingrapier blade, and, bowing coldly to the pompous governor, stood rigidlyerect and stared for a full half-minute into his astonished eyes, andmade them fall. Deliberately and with unutterable scorn and loathing sheturned from him to her father and her uncle, who forthwith shattered theabsurd rules of pomp by showing him their broad backs and leaving atonce. The room hushed as they walked toward the door, but no man stayedthem, for on their faces there blazed the sign of Death.
Armijo, still staring after them, waved his hand and three men slippedout by another door, to follow and to learn what sanctuary that flowermight choose. As he wheeled about and snapped a profane order thefiddlers and strummers stumbled into their stammering music; the dancewent on again, with ragged rhythm, like an automaton out of gear.
Down the dark street rumbled the Dearborn, rocking perilously, theclatter of the running horses filling the narrow way with clamor.Sprinting at top speed behind it came barefoot soldiers: And then ahuman avalanche burst from a pitch dark passage-way. The Dearborn rockedon and turned a corner; the soldiers groped like blinded, half-stunnedswimmers and as the secretive moments passed, they stumbled to theirfeet and staggered back again with garbled tales of prowling monsters,and crossed themselves continuously. About the time the frightenedsoldiers reached the house they had set out from, four Indians creptalong an adobe wall and knocked a signal on the studded planks of aheavy, warehouse door. There came no creaking from its well-oiled hingesas it slowly opened, stopped, and swiftly shut again, and left the darkand smelly courtyard empty.