El Rinche
Christopher Carmona
The Wind that Blew Betrayal
The moon hung low on that unusual April night. It wanted a better look at the incident that would change everything. It was a beautiful night for injustice. For treachery. For a knot in the narrative thread. The skies were filled with so many stars that chased every cloud from the horizon. A breeze so cool, it could only have rolled off the ocean blew in that night. It rolled off the Gulf of Mexico. The breeze blew in carrying an Eastern chill. And like all things that came from the East, it never boded well for the West.
Chonnie sat high on his saddle because he forgot how to ride low. He hadn’t ridden a horse in over five years, ever since he went away to get his law degree. He never thought that he would ever have to get back in the saddle. It was 1905 and the auto was quickly replacing the horse. In Austin, he saw roads being paved and autos parked where troughs used to water horses. He’d even had a chance to learn to drive once, but he couldn’t master the clutch. Horses were worse for him. The horse he rode this night was the only horse that ever let him ride it. He’d had this horse for ten years. Inez had cared for Güero while he was gone. She called him Güero just to tease Chonnie. Everyone else had brown, grey, or black horses that blended into the landscape like shadows casting shadows. Güero, almost shimmered in the moonlight because of his white coat. He stood out for sure. Chonnie had to have the only horse that screamed: SHOOT ME! He had always chosen the wrong tool for the wrong chore. Tonight, was no different. He rode on the hunt looking for two bandidos that had stolen five steers from their rancho. Bandidos were a steady and growing problem as more Anglos started to move onto this land. His family’s land. Tonight, though, wasn’t about the Anglos. It was about the bandidos, rustlers—thieves from Old Mexico. They had been stealing cattle from local rancheros for months now and finally, the Rangers had a lead on where they were.
Chonnie had heard about the Texas Rangers moving into El Valle when he was away at school. His mother didn’t trust them. They were all white boys from Arkansas and East Texas. Places, his mother said, where no Mexicano was welcome. But his ‘apá, Daniel, had to trust them. They came to him with the governor’s orders to protect Texas from “undesirables.” Daniel Ruiz de Plata was always a law-abiding citizen, even though he heard la gente calling them, “rinches.” Whispers of their misdeeds were louder than chicharas at night. But to Daniel, the Rangers had never done him wrong. So, when the Rangers came asking for his help in capturing bandidos stealing his cattle, he said yes. He even brought Macario and Chonnie. It was a decision that he would never live to regret.
“‘Apá, ¿cuál es ése?” Macario shouted out bringing his horse to a stop.
“What is it?” Daniel answered back in English, so the Rangers would understand.
“Allá, I see something,” Macario said pointing at the sha-dow of a tiny house with what looked like five steers.
Chonnie could barely see what they were looking at. He only saw shadows. and the Ranger’s guns. The Ranger captain drew his big Dragoon pistol from its holster. The Ranger captain put his fingers to his lips and then cocked his head for his two deputies to follow him. Daniel started to go too, but the Captain gestured him to stay and he did. Daniel, Macario, and Chonnie looked at each other and waited for the signal from the Rangers. Macario had his Winchester out and ready. Daniel had his hand on his pistol which slept uneasily in its holster. Chonnie moved his coat from over his pistol and ever so gently touched the cold metal to make sure it was still there. He even adjusted the borrowed ranger badge over his chest. He tried to swallow but his mouth had gone dry and a lump began to form in his throat. Then the wind blew. The dust splashed over his face. He had no idea what was happening. All they could hear was the clop clop clop of horses’ hooves moving away toward that little house. Strange, Chonnie thought, it’s so quiet. No chicharas. Maybe they were waiting too.
Captain Pablo Honey wasn’t really a captain. He was just a lieutenant. But the Mexicans didn’t know that. They also didn’t know that he wasn’t chasing bandidos that night. He was setting a trap for the Plata boys. Pablo Honey was hired by the Kings to get the Plata’s thousand-acre ranch for the expansion of the King Ranch. Pablo knew that John Kleberg, the current ranch manager and son-in-law to Richard King himself, wanted to buy that ranch for $50 an acre. But if that is what Kleberg really wanted, then he wouldn’t have hired the boogeyman of Brazos County to do the deal. Pablo wasn’t a dealmaker. He was a Texas Rangers and Ran-gers don’t make deals with Mexicans. It was a Ranger’s sworn duty to civilize Texas, and Mexicans were anything but. So, Pablo didn’t even offer Daniel Plata a deal. He just hired men to steal his cattle and lead them into this trap. In order to get the deed to the Plata’s ranch, all of the Plata’s had to be dead.
“Hey!” a loud whisper broke the thick silence.
Daniel turned to see Blind Tommy Melon waving them over. Blind Tommy was one of Honey’s most trusted men. He signaled for Macario and Chonnie to dismount and follow him. Daniel didn’t know why they called him Blind Tommy. He saw just fine. Maybe it had to do with his young age or maybe he didn’t see straight, which is probably why he only carried a shotgun. They followed him through the brush and into a clearing where Pablo Honey and four other men stood in front of the broke down house. No steers and no bandidos. Then Daniel heard the click. It came from behind.
“Move greasers. Your gooses are cooked.”
Daniel thought about going for his gun, but Blind Tommy had the barrel of that scatter gun pointed at the back of Macario’s head. There was no way Daniel was fast enough to draw before that shotgun went off, so he slowly raised his hands.
“Drop that heater, Chico, or I put this buckshot all through your brainpan,” Blind Tommy said to Macario poking his head with the barrel, knocking Macario’s hat off his head.
Chonnie just froze, waiting for instructions from his father and brother, but when he saw Macario drop his rifle, he knew it was over for them.
Blind Tommy pushed them forward into the clearing where the moonlight shone brighter than he had ever seen. What Blind Tommy didn’t know was that the moon was at its brightest because it wanted a better look at what was about to go down.
The scene was set. The stars watched while the moon bathed its light. The house wasn’t a house after all. It was an old weigh station—decrepit front door, window shutters barely holding on. A covered porch with creaky boards and two hitching posts. It was situated on an overgrown trail. It seems that the vaqueros had found a better trail to take their cattle. And like all things that sit, they gather dust and fall apart. The clearing around the old weigh station was still clear. All except the dirt and espinas. It was clear to everyone now that this was a special hideout for Honey and his men. This is where they brewed up the betrayal plan for the Platas. The plan required six men. Two disguised as bandidos. Two at Honey’s side, for show, and the last one to get the drop on the unfortunate Plata’s.
When Daniel, Macario, and Chonnie were dragged into the clearing, they saw the trap set in the sharpest white moonlight. Blind Tommy was still behind them. Shotgun to their backs. Captain Honey stood on the steps of the wooden porch. One foot on each step, like a conquering hero, claiming this land for him and him alone. To his left was a man dressed as a bandido, and a ran-ger standing next to him, smoking. To Honey’s right was another bandido. and another Ranger. The Plata’s were certainly boxed in. It was a kill box.
“Now, I know what you’re thinking,” Pablo said to them slyly standing between two of his Rangers and the two bandidos, “What in tarnation is going on? I thought we were chasing bandidos for rustling cattle, but here we are. Ain’t this a pickle. Tricked into this here well-laid plan. Like mice, or even better yet, cockroaches. Because that is what you people are…”
“Now, you listen here pendej…” Daniel shouted out as the anger spilled out of him, but not before Pablo’s dragoon cut him off. The bullet knocked Chonnie clear off his feet, leaving him face first in the dirt. Macario tried to react and go for Chonnie but Blind Tommy knocked him upside the head. Before Macario knew it, he was on his knees. Daniel tried to move too, but several clicks stopped him for moving any further.
“I don’t like to be interrupted when I’m just starting to monologue. Now, it looks like your youngest might still be breathing and if you want to keep it that way I wouldn’t say another word until spoken to. Am I clear?”
Daniel seethed through his teeth but didn’t say anything.
“It’s okay,” Pablo taunted Daniel, “you can answer. But let me just warn you, because I am a reasonable guy, if I don’t like your answer, I will put a bullet right through his beautiful green eye. Now, answer me. Am I clear?”
“Sí,” Daniel muttered under his breath.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you. Did you just speak Mexican? This here is Texas and you will speak American when I talk to you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Captain Honey.”
“Well, that’s better. And just because I am nice guy, I will take that answer for both questions. How’s that for generous? Now, like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted. I have led you here tonight for one reason and one reason only. John Kleberg offered myself and these here men lots of money to get you to sign over your land, and we aim to get paid. Now, he told me to offer you fifty dollars per acre, but I know that you will never sell him your land. It was granted to you by the King of Spain two hundred years ago and it has been passed down from father to son and father to son and so on. Right?”
“That is correct. My land is not for sale, not at any price, but especially not for fifty dollars an acre. That is an insult.”
Pablo stepped toward Daniel and said, “You see, that is why we are in this predicament, right here and now. You are too proud to understand that this land ain’t yours no more. It’s ours—the Americans. We took it when we licked Mexico in that war all those years back. We just been slow to acquire it.”
“We are Americans, too, and the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo guarantees my rights to my land,” Daniel shot back.
“That’s where you’re wrong—so wrong. That treaty don’t hold no sway to white man’s ambition. You ain’t no white man, and only white men are Americans. We built this country. You’re just in the way.”
“The law doesn’t see it that way.”
“I understand why you feel that way, I really do. But that law ain’t for you. It never was. It’s for me and my kind.”
Daniel gave Honey his hardest stare and said, “Really? We have more claim to this land them some güero with a Mexican name.”
“You know something Daniel, I’m gonna give you that point. I ain’t from around here. I’m from Brazos County. Around there I got a reputation. The negroes, they call me the Boogeyman. Do you know why?” Pablo said as he pointed the barrel of his Dragoon at Macario’s crotch. “Now, be careful how you answer. Your sons huevos might pay the price.”
“Because you come in the night and…”
“…I take their children first,” Honey interrupted. He then lowered the gun and moved back to Daniel. “Now, let’s get back to my Mexican name, since you brought it up. Pablo. How did a white boy like me get a name like Pablo? I ain’t Mexican. Hell, I ain’t even Spanish. But I have a Mexican name. Well, I’ll tell you. My grandma, Petrina, she loved Mexicans. She loved them so much, she gave all of us kids, my brothers and sisters, Mexican nicknames like Jose for Joe and Maria for Mary. But for me, I was the youngest and my mamma passed when she was having me. So, I was raised and christened by my grandma, and so she named me Pablo. All official and everything.”
“Your grandmother sounds like a decent lady,” Daniel said trying to keep Honey engaged.
“But you want to know a secret, Daniel,” Honey conti- nued like he didn’t hear a word Daniel said. “All my grandma’s kids, my aunts and uncles all have blond hair, blue eyes, the works. But my Daddy, he has black hair and black eyes because my Grandma loved a mongrel dog like you and now we all tainted. My Daddy always got teased on. Always called a greaser, a half-spic, the whole works. But he never believed he was one. My grandma always said, it was because we had Italian blood in us. But when I was born, my grandma finally told him the truth, and you know what my Daddy did? He hung himself in the barn with the chickens and horses. So now I got Mexican blood in me too. So, I don’t hate you. I am like you, but this here is business. Now, you got two choices here today. One, you give me everything you got, and I let you walk out of here with your two hijos, or I shoot you all dead and say those two bandits over there got the jump on us.”
“And I suppose they just so happen to get away too, huh?” Daniel said.
“Well, nope, not really. I can’t have two bandidos shoot up all of you here and just walk away. What kind of Rangers would that make us? No, those boys, got to die.”
And just then, Pablo’s two Rangers turned their guns on the “bandits” and shot them dead. They didn’t even have a chance to hear the rest of Pablo’s plan.
“You’ll never get away with this, God will punish you,” Daniel said in defiance.
“God! God don’t care about no heathen Mexicans. He only listens to Christians…”
“We are Católicos,” Daniel corrected him.
“No, sir,” Pablo shot back at him, “Catholics are the worst kind of Christians. They serve a pope over their own Lord and Savior. That ain’t Christian.”
“The Pope is a servant of the Lord.”
“I ain’t here to have a theological discussion with you. I’m here to fulfill my legal duty and take what is rightfully ours. Now, the proposition still stands. Your land or your lives.”
Daniel thought long and hard about his situation. He knew that whatever he decided, they were not going to make it out of there alive. “We are law-abiding citizens. Upstanding in the community. No one will believe that I just signed my land over to Kleberg. No matter how you spin it, the law won’t just let you take my land.”
“The law is changing, Daniel. That is why we are here. Sworn officers of the law, defending this land from all foreign threats. And you are foreign.”
“We were here long before you gringos. You are the foreig- ners,” Macario shouted out from his kneeling position.
Pablo looked down at Macario and said, “Well, now. Someone wasn’t paying attention to the rules I clearly laid out a minute ago.” Pablo leveled the barrel on Chonnie’s prone body and fired. The bullet smashed into his chest and Chonnie just shuttered.
“Penalty for breaking the rules.” Pablo leveled his dragoon at Macario’s head and said, “You got one son left, so here’s the deal, Daniel. You sign over all of your land to John Kleberg or I end him right here and now.”
Daniel begged for the life of his son, “No, Captain Honey, don’t…”
“So, you’ll sign over everything?” Pablo said cocking the hammer of his gun.
“Captain Honey, please…”
“One…”
“Okay, okay, I will do it.”
Macario looked over at his father, shocked and angered and said, “No, ‘Apá, don’t give this rinche any…”
But Macario never got to finish. Pablo’s bullet ate Macario’s last words. The bullet also ate Macario, from his eyes to his ears, leaving no nose and only half teeth. Pablo had a habit of keeping his bullets starving until the right moment. Then he would release them. He would watch gleefully as his bullets devoured whoever was in their path. Macario was no different. The bullet that ate Macario though, wasn’t alone. It was the pack leader that let loose all the other bullets in all the other rinche’s guns. They tore through every one of the Plata’s that night. Chonnie heard it all, lying on the ground. His breathing so shallow only the wind could hear it.
Chonnie sat high on his saddle because he forgot how to ride low. He hadn’t ridden a horse in over five years, ever since he went away to get his law degree. He never thought that he would ever have to get back in the saddle. It was 1905 and the auto was quickly replacing the horse. In Austin, he saw roads being paved and autos parked where troughs used to water horses. He’d even had a chance to learn to drive once, but he couldn’t master the clutch. Horses were worse for him. The horse he rode this night was the only horse that ever let him ride it. He’d had this horse for ten years. Inez had cared for Güero while he was gone. She called him Güero just to tease Chonnie. Everyone else had brown, grey, or black horses that blended into the landscape like shadows casting shadows. Güero, almost shimmered in the moonlight because of his white coat. He stood out for sure. Chonnie had to have the only horse that screamed: SHOOT ME! He had always chosen the wrong tool for the wrong chore. Tonight, was no different. He rode on the hunt looking for two bandidos that had stolen five steers from their rancho. Bandidos were a steady and growing problem as more Anglos started to move onto this land. His family’s land. Tonight, though, wasn’t about the Anglos. It was about the bandidos, rustlers—thieves from Old Mexico. They had been stealing cattle from local rancheros for months now and finally, the Rangers had a lead on where they were.
Chonnie had heard about the Texas Rangers moving into El Valle when he was away at school. His mother didn’t trust them. They were all white boys from Arkansas and East Texas. Places, his mother said, where no Mexicano was welcome. But his ‘apá, Daniel, had to trust them. They came to him with the governor’s orders to protect Texas from “undesirables.” Daniel Ruiz de Plata was always a law-abiding citizen, even though he heard la gente calling them, “rinches.” Whispers of their misdeeds were louder than chicharas at night. But to Daniel, the Rangers had never done him wrong. So, when the Rangers came asking for his help in capturing bandidos stealing his cattle, he said yes. He even brought Macario and Chonnie. It was a decision that he would never live to regret.
“‘Apá, ¿cuál es ése?” Macario shouted out bringing his horse to a stop.
“What is it?” Daniel answered back in English, so the Rangers would understand.
“Allá, I see something,” Macario said pointing at the sha-dow of a tiny house with what looked like five steers.
Chonnie could barely see what they were looking at. He only saw shadows. and the Ranger’s guns. The Ranger captain drew his big Dragoon pistol from its holster. The Ranger captain put his fingers to his lips and then cocked his head for his two deputies to follow him. Daniel started to go too, but the Captain gestured him to stay and he did. Daniel, Macario, and Chonnie looked at each other and waited for the signal from the Rangers. Macario had his Winchester out and ready. Daniel had his hand on his pistol which slept uneasily in its holster. Chonnie moved his coat from over his pistol and ever so gently touched the cold metal to make sure it was still there. He even adjusted the borrowed ranger badge over his chest. He tried to swallow but his mouth had gone dry and a lump began to form in his throat. Then the wind blew. The dust splashed over his face. He had no idea what was happening. All they could hear was the clop clop clop of horses’ hooves moving away toward that little house. Strange, Chonnie thought, it’s so quiet. No chicharas. Maybe they were waiting too.
Captain Pablo Honey wasn’t really a captain. He was just a lieutenant. But the Mexicans didn’t know that. They also didn’t know that he wasn’t chasing bandidos that night. He was setting a trap for the Plata boys. Pablo Honey was hired by the Kings to get the Plata’s thousand-acre ranch for the expansion of the King Ranch. Pablo knew that John Kleberg, the current ranch manager and son-in-law to Richard King himself, wanted to buy that ranch for $50 an acre. But if that is what Kleberg really wanted, then he wouldn’t have hired the boogeyman of Brazos County to do the deal. Pablo wasn’t a dealmaker. He was a Texas Rangers and Ran-gers don’t make deals with Mexicans. It was a Ranger’s sworn duty to civilize Texas, and Mexicans were anything but. So, Pablo didn’t even offer Daniel Plata a deal. He just hired men to steal his cattle and lead them into this trap. In order to get the deed to the Plata’s ranch, all of the Plata’s had to be dead.
“Hey!” a loud whisper broke the thick silence.
Daniel turned to see Blind Tommy Melon waving them over. Blind Tommy was one of Honey’s most trusted men. He signaled for Macario and Chonnie to dismount and follow him. Daniel didn’t know why they called him Blind Tommy. He saw just fine. Maybe it had to do with his young age or maybe he didn’t see straight, which is probably why he only carried a shotgun. They followed him through the brush and into a clearing where Pablo Honey and four other men stood in front of the broke down house. No steers and no bandidos. Then Daniel heard the click. It came from behind.
“Move greasers. Your gooses are cooked.”
Daniel thought about going for his gun, but Blind Tommy had the barrel of that scatter gun pointed at the back of Macario’s head. There was no way Daniel was fast enough to draw before that shotgun went off, so he slowly raised his hands.
“Drop that heater, Chico, or I put this buckshot all through your brainpan,” Blind Tommy said to Macario poking his head with the barrel, knocking Macario’s hat off his head.
Chonnie just froze, waiting for instructions from his father and brother, but when he saw Macario drop his rifle, he knew it was over for them.
Blind Tommy pushed them forward into the clearing where the moonlight shone brighter than he had ever seen. What Blind Tommy didn’t know was that the moon was at its brightest because it wanted a better look at what was about to go down.
The scene was set. The stars watched while the moon bathed its light. The house wasn’t a house after all. It was an old weigh station—decrepit front door, window shutters barely holding on. A covered porch with creaky boards and two hitching posts. It was situated on an overgrown trail. It seems that the vaqueros had found a better trail to take their cattle. And like all things that sit, they gather dust and fall apart. The clearing around the old weigh station was still clear. All except the dirt and espinas. It was clear to everyone now that this was a special hideout for Honey and his men. This is where they brewed up the betrayal plan for the Platas. The plan required six men. Two disguised as bandidos. Two at Honey’s side, for show, and the last one to get the drop on the unfortunate Plata’s.
When Daniel, Macario, and Chonnie were dragged into the clearing, they saw the trap set in the sharpest white moonlight. Blind Tommy was still behind them. Shotgun to their backs. Captain Honey stood on the steps of the wooden porch. One foot on each step, like a conquering hero, claiming this land for him and him alone. To his left was a man dressed as a bandido, and a ran-ger standing next to him, smoking. To Honey’s right was another bandido. and another Ranger. The Plata’s were certainly boxed in. It was a kill box.
“Now, I know what you’re thinking,” Pablo said to them slyly standing between two of his Rangers and the two bandidos, “What in tarnation is going on? I thought we were chasing bandidos for rustling cattle, but here we are. Ain’t this a pickle. Tricked into this here well-laid plan. Like mice, or even better yet, cockroaches. Because that is what you people are…”
“Now, you listen here pendej…” Daniel shouted out as the anger spilled out of him, but not before Pablo’s dragoon cut him off. The bullet knocked Chonnie clear off his feet, leaving him face first in the dirt. Macario tried to react and go for Chonnie but Blind Tommy knocked him upside the head. Before Macario knew it, he was on his knees. Daniel tried to move too, but several clicks stopped him for moving any further.
“I don’t like to be interrupted when I’m just starting to monologue. Now, it looks like your youngest might still be breathing and if you want to keep it that way I wouldn’t say another word until spoken to. Am I clear?”
Daniel seethed through his teeth but didn’t say anything.
“It’s okay,” Pablo taunted Daniel, “you can answer. But let me just warn you, because I am a reasonable guy, if I don’t like your answer, I will put a bullet right through his beautiful green eye. Now, answer me. Am I clear?”
“Sí,” Daniel muttered under his breath.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you. Did you just speak Mexican? This here is Texas and you will speak American when I talk to you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Captain Honey.”
“Well, that’s better. And just because I am nice guy, I will take that answer for both questions. How’s that for generous? Now, like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted. I have led you here tonight for one reason and one reason only. John Kleberg offered myself and these here men lots of money to get you to sign over your land, and we aim to get paid. Now, he told me to offer you fifty dollars per acre, but I know that you will never sell him your land. It was granted to you by the King of Spain two hundred years ago and it has been passed down from father to son and father to son and so on. Right?”
“That is correct. My land is not for sale, not at any price, but especially not for fifty dollars an acre. That is an insult.”
Pablo stepped toward Daniel and said, “You see, that is why we are in this predicament, right here and now. You are too proud to understand that this land ain’t yours no more. It’s ours—the Americans. We took it when we licked Mexico in that war all those years back. We just been slow to acquire it.”
“We are Americans, too, and the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo guarantees my rights to my land,” Daniel shot back.
“That’s where you’re wrong—so wrong. That treaty don’t hold no sway to white man’s ambition. You ain’t no white man, and only white men are Americans. We built this country. You’re just in the way.”
“The law doesn’t see it that way.”
“I understand why you feel that way, I really do. But that law ain’t for you. It never was. It’s for me and my kind.”
Daniel gave Honey his hardest stare and said, “Really? We have more claim to this land them some güero with a Mexican name.”
“You know something Daniel, I’m gonna give you that point. I ain’t from around here. I’m from Brazos County. Around there I got a reputation. The negroes, they call me the Boogeyman. Do you know why?” Pablo said as he pointed the barrel of his Dragoon at Macario’s crotch. “Now, be careful how you answer. Your sons huevos might pay the price.”
“Because you come in the night and…”
“…I take their children first,” Honey interrupted. He then lowered the gun and moved back to Daniel. “Now, let’s get back to my Mexican name, since you brought it up. Pablo. How did a white boy like me get a name like Pablo? I ain’t Mexican. Hell, I ain’t even Spanish. But I have a Mexican name. Well, I’ll tell you. My grandma, Petrina, she loved Mexicans. She loved them so much, she gave all of us kids, my brothers and sisters, Mexican nicknames like Jose for Joe and Maria for Mary. But for me, I was the youngest and my mamma passed when she was having me. So, I was raised and christened by my grandma, and so she named me Pablo. All official and everything.”
“Your grandmother sounds like a decent lady,” Daniel said trying to keep Honey engaged.
“But you want to know a secret, Daniel,” Honey conti- nued like he didn’t hear a word Daniel said. “All my grandma’s kids, my aunts and uncles all have blond hair, blue eyes, the works. But my Daddy, he has black hair and black eyes because my Grandma loved a mongrel dog like you and now we all tainted. My Daddy always got teased on. Always called a greaser, a half-spic, the whole works. But he never believed he was one. My grandma always said, it was because we had Italian blood in us. But when I was born, my grandma finally told him the truth, and you know what my Daddy did? He hung himself in the barn with the chickens and horses. So now I got Mexican blood in me too. So, I don’t hate you. I am like you, but this here is business. Now, you got two choices here today. One, you give me everything you got, and I let you walk out of here with your two hijos, or I shoot you all dead and say those two bandits over there got the jump on us.”
“And I suppose they just so happen to get away too, huh?” Daniel said.
“Well, nope, not really. I can’t have two bandidos shoot up all of you here and just walk away. What kind of Rangers would that make us? No, those boys, got to die.”
And just then, Pablo’s two Rangers turned their guns on the “bandits” and shot them dead. They didn’t even have a chance to hear the rest of Pablo’s plan.
“You’ll never get away with this, God will punish you,” Daniel said in defiance.
“God! God don’t care about no heathen Mexicans. He only listens to Christians…”
“We are Católicos,” Daniel corrected him.
“No, sir,” Pablo shot back at him, “Catholics are the worst kind of Christians. They serve a pope over their own Lord and Savior. That ain’t Christian.”
“The Pope is a servant of the Lord.”
“I ain’t here to have a theological discussion with you. I’m here to fulfill my legal duty and take what is rightfully ours. Now, the proposition still stands. Your land or your lives.”
Daniel thought long and hard about his situation. He knew that whatever he decided, they were not going to make it out of there alive. “We are law-abiding citizens. Upstanding in the community. No one will believe that I just signed my land over to Kleberg. No matter how you spin it, the law won’t just let you take my land.”
“The law is changing, Daniel. That is why we are here. Sworn officers of the law, defending this land from all foreign threats. And you are foreign.”
“We were here long before you gringos. You are the foreig- ners,” Macario shouted out from his kneeling position.
Pablo looked down at Macario and said, “Well, now. Someone wasn’t paying attention to the rules I clearly laid out a minute ago.” Pablo leveled the barrel on Chonnie’s prone body and fired. The bullet smashed into his chest and Chonnie just shuttered.
“Penalty for breaking the rules.” Pablo leveled his dragoon at Macario’s head and said, “You got one son left, so here’s the deal, Daniel. You sign over all of your land to John Kleberg or I end him right here and now.”
Daniel begged for the life of his son, “No, Captain Honey, don’t…”
“So, you’ll sign over everything?” Pablo said cocking the hammer of his gun.
“Captain Honey, please…”
“One…”
“Okay, okay, I will do it.”
Macario looked over at his father, shocked and angered and said, “No, ‘Apá, don’t give this rinche any…”
But Macario never got to finish. Pablo’s bullet ate Macario’s last words. The bullet also ate Macario, from his eyes to his ears, leaving no nose and only half teeth. Pablo had a habit of keeping his bullets starving until the right moment. Then he would release them. He would watch gleefully as his bullets devoured whoever was in their path. Macario was no different. The bullet that ate Macario though, wasn’t alone. It was the pack leader that let loose all the other bullets in all the other rinche’s guns. They tore through every one of the Plata’s that night. Chonnie heard it all, lying on the ground. His breathing so shallow only the wind could hear it.
Comment Box is loading comments...
|
|
