They move to center stage where don Jesús, his wife, and Rosa wait. They greet Billy with open arms. Anda, vieja, dales de comer a estos vaqueros.
Billy takes Rosa’s hand and they walk on the open llano. They look at each other with deep attraction.
You’ve been riding hard.
Riding hard to see you. I hear there’s a baile tonight in Fort Sumner.
Yes. Don Pedro Maxwell is having a fiesta. Are you going to the baile?
Only if the girl of my dreams will accompany me.
She must be very brave.
Why?
Because you’re a bandido.
Bandido? I only draw my pistol when I have to protect myself.
They say you killed Sheriff Brady.
Brady killed John Tunstall. I was just settling the score.
We don’t want the violence of Lincoln to come here. We want to live in peace—
Yeah. Live and let live.… But down the Pecos the Dolan vaqueros don’t think like that.
And you?
Some of those vaqueros want my hide.… So I keep my pistol handy.
A person can change.
I’ve thought about that. Thought about getting myself a ranch, minding my business, running a few head of cattle. Pero no es posible.
Por qué?
The territory changed after the war. All those southern soldiers and Tejanos returning home found nothing but ruin. So this has become the new battlefield, and the man who isn’t armed gets pushed out.
My father isn’t armed.
Yeah, but the Mexicanos down in Lincoln County carry rifles. A man needs to protect his family.
A man can change.
Become a sheepherder on the llano?
We are happy, we are content. We have our families, the vecinos who help, the fiestas of the church.
There’s a U.S. warrant for my arrest. Somebody would come looking for me. Every time I try to change, someone starts a new fight.
So it is your destino.
You are my destino. He kisses her. Now, let’s go dancing.
The cantina doves change the set. A wild dance full of polkas and rancheras. Billy and Rosa spin around the dance floor while a jealous Josefina watches. Josefina is Pedro Maxwell’s daughter, and one of Billy’s old girlfriends.
Sonny tries to rise but the young barmaid pushes him down. Shh. Just watch and listen.
They’re in danger! Sonny protests, to no avail. He looks around for Coyote, but the trickster has gotten roaring drunk and is useless.
That moment of distraction is all the dream needs to fast-forward. Sonny hears Billy’s plaintive cry, but he can’t move.
Where are you? Sonny calls.
He peers into the dream stuff and sees Billy escaping from the old Dolan store in Lincoln, shooting the deputies Bell and Ollinger on the way out.
Billy slaps leather for Fort Sumner. The Mexicanos, who realize that Billy is being used as the scapegoat for the crimes of the rich ranchers and politicians, help him.
As Sonny watches helplessly, he sees a cowboy dressed in black appear.
Raven, Sonny gasps.
I hear you’re looking for Billy the Kid, Raven says to Pat Garrett.
The Kid is fast as a rattler, Garrett replies.
Ambush him, Raven whispers.
It ain’t right, Garrett replies.
Billy ambushed Brady. An eye for eye. Josefina Maxwell, the woman Billy spurned, will help.
No! Sonny shouts. Or thinks he shouts. In the dream he has no voice.
On the stage, Josefina approaches: Buenas noches, Sheriff Garrett.
Buenas noches. You’re up late.
I can’t sleep, Sheriff I walk the lonely streets at night … the people call me la Llorona. In my heart I am crying.
I’m looking for Billy. Where is he?
With his querida.
I’ve got a warrant for his arrest. I aim to take him, dead or alive.
If I cannot have him, no one can.
Do you know where he is?
Yes. Go to my father’s bedroom. Wait there.
Garrett moves across the stage to wait.
A light shines on Billy and Rosa as they enter. Sonny attempts to rise to warn him, but he is a mere spectator in the dream.
Espera aquí, Billy says to Rosa, kissing her.
No. Voy contigo.
We have plenty of time to be together, querida. Tomorrow we leave for México.
A new life.
Don Pedro wants to see me.
Why so late?
He owes me some money. Josefina said he’s ready to pay.
Josefina? No, Billy, don’t go!
Why are you trembling?
There’s no light in his room.
The old cheapskate doesn’t like to burn his oil. Wait.
Billy.
Qué?
Te amo.
Y yo te amo a tí. They embrace warmly, then Billy turns and softly enters don Pedro’s bedroom. He senses Garrett.
Quién es? Quién es?
That’s him!
Garrett?
Garrett fires once, Billy grabs at his gut in pain, steps forward, reaching for Garrett. Pat … you got me cold-blooded.
Garrett fires again. Billy winces, stumbles. He falls and the figure of la Muerte stands over him.
There is a scream, and Rosa rushes in to gather Billy in her arms. Billy! Billy! Oh, Bilito.
I love you, Rosa.…
Amor, amor.… She rocks the bleeding Billy in her arms.
Sonny can no longer hold back the tears. Convulsive sobs shake his body as the grief he feels comes pouring out. The cantina ladies have put on a great play, but it wasn’t meant to be this way! Sonny knew he was supposed to take a part, to direct the dream play!
The bed shakes with Sonny’s sobs, and a worried Rita is instantly at his side. She touches a wet cloth to his forehead and can only guess why tears flow from his eyes.
16
Outside, the storm intensifies. Pre-Christmas snowstorms don’t often drop as far south as Alburquerque. Taos, Santa Fé, and the villages of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains receive the snows of early winter. From Chama to Questa to Raton, the same storms that sweep across Colorado strike with cold and snow, but the Duke City is most often spared.
At 5,280 feet above sea level, Alburquerque lies at the foot of the Sandia Mountains, protected from the cold fronts that drop down from Canada when the jet stream dips south. Those cold masses of air slip down as far as the Texas panhandle. The arctic fronts freeze the eastern part of the state, as anyone raised in Clayton, Tucumcari, or Santa Rosa knows.
Such blizzards have been described by those raised in that eastern llano, those whose ancestors traveled there to hunt buffalos. Los cibolleros, comancheros, tough, hardy Nuevo Mexicanos who learned Comanche ways. When the going was good, they sat around and smoked the pipe with the tribes of the southern plains, traded goods, drank rotgut whiskey, mula, the New Mexicans called it. When the going was tough, there were skirmishes on the plains, and those who the prior year had called each other amigos now scalped each other. In the end the Comanches lost, not to the presence of the Nuevo Mexicanos, but to the presence of the Tejanos. The Texans wiped them out.
The Comanches were the Vikings of the plains, Sonny remembers reading in a book. It filters through his dream.
When things got dull fighting the Osages, or after a long, cold winter, they would swoop down to México for horses, women, and kids to work like slaves. They rode south to just plain kick ass with the Mexicanos. And of course, México was warmer than the plains in the winter. There were pretty Mexicanitas there, women to capture and bring north as slaves, to bring to the teepee as wives.
And the pulque, the drink of the Aztec gods, distilled from maguey, the liquid that burned the intestines also burned the mind, and visions came in drunken stupors. One could get roaring drunk and wasted on pulque. A man could go wild, fuck forever, become invincible. There was nothing like it on the pla
ins. So what if the headaches came after days and nights of drinking. The Mexicanos had menudo, a rich stew made from the tripe of sheep. Spiced with hot chile, menudo cured the stomach and cleared the head.
While the young warriors attacked the Mexicanos, the old men, the shamans of the tribe, went out into the desert to collect the peyote buttons. Cactus medicine. Peyote god. Yes, they called him el Señor Peyote, because he deserved their respect and because he brought the visions that were far sharper and more sacred than those of pulque. Don Peyote, el Mero Chingón, un diosito who took you into another world—why, he was worthy of a new religion, a new faith, new followers.
Some of those same Comanches were captured by the Nuevo Mexicanos and brought back to the Río Grande settlements. They became farmers and began to dream of corn, give thanks to the Corn Mothers. They began to pray to the kachinas for rain for their dusty fields.
La Nueva México was becoming the crossroads of the southern belly of the continent, the womb. Here all could mix, produce the mestizaje, and here all could make war against each other. To the northern Río Grande came the Comanches, Navajos, Utes, Apaches, Mexicanos, farmers and hunters, Catholics and converted Jews, peninsular Spaniards and criollos, mestizos and genizaros, all came to the land of the Pueblos. Then arrived the Americanos, the Anglos, the gringos, gringos salados, gabachos, gueros, los Americanos de los estados unidos, speaking a strange tongue, praying to the Christ in the Bible, not the bloody Cristo on the penitente cross. There were the Yankee traders from St. Louis, and there were the mountain men, French fur trappers, too. This mixed bag began to call themselves New Mexicans.
“What’s he saying?”
“He seems to be telling stories about the people of the llano.”
“Sonny, get to Rosa. Where is Rosa?”
It is don Eliseo telling him to get on the stage. Billy is dead, and Raven will now go after Rosa.
Sonny groans deeply and returns to the dream.
Please be seated. The second act of our play is about to start, the cantina lady with the red hair announces. (Is she doña Loneliness, la puta who comes to sing the blues in the hearts of lonely men?)
It’s July 14, 1881, and Billy is dead, she says in a sad voice. A grieving Rosa walks the dusty street to the church. A dry, hot wind moans across the flat landscape, sweeping up dust and tumbleweeds, whispering as it stirs the sere grass of the scorching summer.
The cantina lady withdraws, and everyone in the bar turns to look at the stage.
Rosa appears, dressed in black, and a lovelier Mexicana never walked that road to the church. The young men take their hats off as she passes, partly in grieving and partly in lust. Oh, what a beauty had given her heart to Billy. Her red lips once so full and warm with the fire of love, now whisper only prayers. Her dark eyes shine with tears. Her black hair is tied in a bun and covered by a black veil. There isn’t a vaquero in Fort Sumner who wouldn’t give his best horse to console the grieving Rosa.
Raven has other plans. He steps out of the saloon where he has been celebrating Billy’s death. He has plans for Rosa. He walks out into the middle of the street in front of her. He, too, is dressed in black. Black hat, black shirt, black kerchief around his neck, black pants. Even his holster and pistol are black.
The villagers see Raven step out into the street, and they scurry for cover. The young men know they are no match for Raven’s fast gun.
Billy’s dead, he tells Rosa, a thin smirk on his face. Now you’re mine.
Rosa looks at him, unflinching. Murderer! she replies. I will never belong to you! You are evil!
Evil is as evil does, Raven answers coldly. It’s time to come with me.
Now! Coyote nudges Sonny. It’s now or never!
Yes, it’s time to act. With Coyote at his side he knows he has the will to direct his dream. He can stop Raven!
No! Sonny shouts from where he sits. Rosa and Raven turn to look as Sonny struggles to stand. They are surprised to see him on his feet.
Sonny!
You don’t belong here! Raven shouts. Stay out of this!
Is he worried that I’ve found a way to face him in my dream? Sonny thinks, and looks down at his legs. They have been numb for so long, but now they seem to be holding him up. He takes a step and tests their strength.
He turns to Coyote. Help me.
Coyote nods. He understands the soul of this young man, understands the goodness within, and there stands Raven, an old enemy from long ago. Raven can move back and forth into the dreamworld because evil sorcerers taught him how. But this is not the trickster bird of many an Indian legend. This Raven is a sorcerer in the guise of the forest bird.
The world of the spirits is bound to the world of the flesh, Coyote says, twirling a rope. The flesh dreams, the dreams yearn for flesh, both are one. In the heart.
Sonny shakes his head. He doesn’t understand. He only knows Raven will not wait forever. He is ready to take Rosa.
Can I play the main role in my dream? His words stumble, one upon the other.
Yes. There are not two worlds. Dream and waking, it’s all the same. Raven and the sorcerers separated the worlds. They set themselves up as the priests who could take you into the dreams to interpret them. But the road of symbols is clear to anyone who wills to see.
This is what Owl Woman taught us.
That and many other things, Coyote replies. The Calendar of Dreams holds your dreams.
Sonny feels the hot July breeze cool the sweat on his neck. He steps forward, slowly, feeling the blinding sun overhead, the shadows of two turkey vultures circling overhead. There’s something rotten on the road to Tucumcari.
He feels the Colt .45 strapped to his side, the pistol of his bisabuelo, Elfego Baca. He has never used the pistol. Can he use it now?
You can’t have her, Raven! Sonny calls. She belongs to my history. She’s one of my grandmothers.
Raven turns and hurls his curse into the wind: I will erase your memory forever!
The townspeople shrink from his words, words that can destroy many of them if Sonny’s history is unraveled. All scurry to hide.
This is my dream! Sonny replies. If you’re going to take her, it’s over my dead body.
Raven’s birdlike eyes narrow. There is concern there. Has Sonny learned to act in his dream?
He curses Coyote: May your name be erased from the legends of all people, Coyote! You meddlesome freak!
Coyote merely laughs. His twirling rope becomes a whirlwind. Hats, tumbleweeds, trash are swept up in the roaring wind.
You belong to me, Sonny says to Rosa. You are my history.
Sonny! Rosa cries and starts toward him.
A young man who would one day be her grandson has come to rescue her from the anonymity with which Raven threatens her. Even Billy the Kid, the young man she had truly loved, had not been able to do this. Billy was too caught up in his karma, too much of the world of the flesh. He did not truly know that to love is to dream. He had been caught up in the violence created by Raven, too trusting in his gun.
But Sonny is different. Sonny knows how to fight Raven, and now he has found her in the dreamworld. He had come to make sure her life is lived out. He knows generations must issue from her womb, and the blood of birth bathe her loins. Yes, she will people the llano, and from her sons and daughters will come one of the families of Sonny’s past.
No! Raven shouts, and grabs her arm. She’s mine!
Let her go! Sonny cries, his fingers resting lightly on his pistol.
You haven’t found the way! Raven tests him. You’re not here! You’re not in the dream! Your grandfather’s pistol is worthless.
Sonny hesitates, looks at Coyote.
You need not be the victim of your dreams, Coyote assures him. The dream is yours, it’s part of the memory of many generations. It’s the blood speaking. The dream is the dream of your ancestors.
Yes. Sonny knows. He turns to face Raven.
I’m here all right, Sonny replies. Make your mov
e.
He glances out of the corners of his eyes. The people of the adobe village have taken cover. Eyes peers from dark windows, from behind parted curtains.
Damn you! Raven cries, flinging Rosa aside and drawing his pistol. The report of his pistol echoes across the dry land, startling men and beast alike. The bullet strikes Sonny in the chest, its force like a fist. Sonny reels from the impact, but does not fall. There is no blood: Raven has met a man who cannot die!
The people step outside and cheer. Raven cannot stop Sonny.
Raven looks surprised. Yes, he knew Sonny would be strong, guided as he was by Coyote, his old enemy, but not this strong. He has withstood the force of the bullet.
I underestimated you, he says with a smile, drawing back.
Sonny advances, walking slowly. According to the rules of the Old West, he now has the right to draw his pistol and fire at Raven.
I’m in control now, Sonny replies with confidence. I claim Rosa, my grandmother.
So you’ve learned to enter the dream, Raven sneers, hate contorting his scarred face. Coyote helped you! He and the meddlesome don Eliseo! And la bruja Lorenza!
Yes, Sonny replies. I can enter my dreams, so can every man, woman, and child. You and your sorcerers have separated us from our dreams for too long. Now we return. Your power is failing you, Raven.
Raven grits his teeth; his voice is strident. We’ll see about that! I promise you, we will meet again! He turns, mounts his horse, and rides out of the village.
Rosa rushes into Sonny’s arms. My son, my son, she cries. You saved me.
You got him! Paco slaps Sonny on the back.
The townspeople rush forward to surround Sonny, smiling, cheering.
The mayor steps forward to place a sheriffs badge on Sonny. Young man, you have saved our town, and our women, from that scoundrel. Please stay and be our sheriff. We’re tired of the violence and murder that sweeps across our territory.
I can’t stay, Sonny replies, looking at the sun setting in the west. Raven is still out there, in the night.
He feels under his shirt and touches the gold Zia medallion. Raven’s bullet struck the medal, and it saved his life.
He mounts his horse. The villagers look up with sadness, the women touch hankies to their eyes, the men take off their hats and hold them over their chests. In respect.