******* Macho Caballo Chapter 33 **************
Submitted in trepidation, in light of the recent questions on
'anime/non-anime'. Long, windy introduction follows.....
Inspired by, but not from, Takahashi Rumiko's 'Ranma 1/2'.
Pointless trivia: Macho Caballo was originally intended to be a
'Ranma goes back in time' tale, but the 'new' characters took over
and it became something else. (There is one image which sticks
in my mind, though - that of a pissed Mousse confronting a duck-
hunting Buffalo Wattle.) ^_^
Just imagine a Ranma 1/2 in the Old West.
Nah, forget that and read on. This one is different.
Summary: Ramon has found his sister, got stuck as a girl, and things
have gotten a little...complicated. This is a tale that wanders, with
many sides and a couple of subplots. You really need to read it
from the beginning, but I can't twist your arm. I will be happy if
anyone reads it at all.
Oh, yes. Forgot to mention. New homesite:
http://www.wanderway.com/macho/macho.htm
For your perusal. Hope you like it.
MACHO CABALLO CHAPTER 33
RELIEF AND REVELATIONS
The night was old and gray with age. The quiet before the
sunrise faded, that time before thin fingers of light would
reach over the yellow hills to the east, extinquishing the lights
in the sky.
It was an ordinary summer dawn in southern Arizona. High clouds
to the west were becoming marginally grayer, reflecting a growing
light over an ordinary Apache camp. In this camp were ordinary
people, stirring for another days work gathering and preparing
food, getting ready to move soon to another campsite. In this
ordinary camp were some visitors: three cowboys, two Azumas from
the south (one of whom had been declared missing), a Spanish girl
and a not-so-ordinary Mexican girl.
On the outskirts of the camp, where others were not likely to
wander, two of the early risers were about to have a
confrontation. One of the participants was Yucca, who was
already in a foul mood because she had spent the night watching
for the hated Espuma. She merely hated Espuma, who had callously
placed upon her a compulsion to obey, while the person she was
about to meet would make her shudder in disgust and horror.
That person sneezed as she waited, swatting at something which
whined about her ear.
"Go away," she growled. "I am busy!"
The Apache woman, Cornsilk, was not as old as she appeared. This
fact would have abraded her pride, if pride she had left after
months of listening to the voices. The voices, silken and
gloating, wheedling and complaining, lying....
The voices took her to places she would rather not, and taught
her things...things that aged her, things that she did not want
to know, things that drove her repeatedly from her people...
things which turned her hair white. But she did not care, for
she had no vanity left, either.
The voices called at her now, until she spoke sharply, "Leave me
alone! Leave me alone or suffer!"
Cornsilk noted the resulting silence and returned to her guest,
who wished to discuss the unseasonal shortage of rodents on the
north slope.
COUNTERING A SPELL:
Yucca navigated the dusty paths of the encampment with practiced
ease, alert, prepared, searching, although she was confident that
the evil Espuma was not around. Soon she must return to her abode
and convince others that she had merely been out for an early
morning stroll. They must not know of her fear.
She was ready for anything - but when she came around the
dwelling and found two huge eyes staring at her, she froze.
"Ow...ow...owl?" she stuttered, and cursed herself for showing
weakness. The owl's face filled her vision. Tales of horror
announced by owl-sightings crowding into her mind as she watched
the large gray bird spread his wings and lift into the sky. The
muffled 'whff-whff-whff' of his passage chilled her to the bone.
"Oyeh," announced another chilling voice. "It's about time you
got here!"
Though she had no pride left, Cornsilk did have love. She loved
her daughter, and for this reason she was prepared to ensnare,
subdue, and defeat Yucca. The struggle was short and sharp, and
did not truly begin until Cornsilk reached for her leather pouch
and Yucca caught the bitter aroma of the jimson weed.
------------
"We two are very much alike, you and I," Cornsilk puffed as she
cleared a patch of sand with a tree limb. In the gravel of an
open area she drew a circle, using ochre sand from the red
mountains to the south. She then indicated the four directions,
each with their own colors - yellow, black, white, and red.
"It is my fault, I suppose. You were always such a quiet child,
content to play with the dolls and games you would make from
sticks and grass," she continued. With surprising strength for
her appearance, she lifted her squirming captive and placed her
upright within the circle without disturbing the lines drawn in
the sand.
"I never thought.... But I should have known," Cornsilk
addressed Yucca, who was struggling with her bonds. "My brother
was the shaman. I was content to be the chief's wife. But all
along I had the gift. And it appears that you are marked as
well."
Sadly, the older woman reached for the knotted fabric which kept
Yucca from speaking. "I should have known, when you had trouble
with the other children, but I was too busy. I had a family
group to administer. Hah!" Tears started down her cheeks, but
she wiped them angrily away. "What has happened to my group,
now? I have brought them sickness and death!"
She removed the gag.
Yucca drew a breath and spoke in a deep voice. "You will release
me, at once!" she commanded, "Untie me!"
"Don't try your voice on me, Child!" Cornsilk raised a finger in
warning. "I suppose this is what comes of letting your father
apprentice you to that Hopi runesinger. Why couldn't you stay at
home and learn to be a good wife, instead?"
"Release me or you will regret it!"
"I am your mother!" snapped Cornsilk, "I already regret it! Now,
keep quiet! The more noise you make, the more this will hurt."
She brought her hands together with a muffled clap, forcing a
spray of fine bitter powder into Yucca's face. Yucca slumped,
and Cornsilk caught her and laid her back in the gravel.
On the girl's breast, Cornsilk positioned a bundle of herbs, then
cast yellow pollen to the four directions. As she chanted, the
tiny buds and leaves in the bundle shriveled and settled into
shreds.
Yucca's mind was like a wickiup, which Cornsilk entered as she
would have once gone into a neighbor's abode - casually,
unannounced, and sure in her welcome. Once there, she spent a
breath daunted by the untidiness around her before grabbing a
whisk and brushing away the debris and trash accumulated through
months, perhaps years, of neglect.
A musty, grey odor assailed her in the depths of the single room
and there she found a flitting, scuttling thing that fled even as
she approached it.
Cornsilk caught the creature by watching for it out of the corner
of her eye, held it with charmed twigs as it lashed at her with
scorpion tail, and chanted the words to banish it. She muttered
these words beneath her breath, words of quiet power which were
barely discernable an arm's length away but were like
ear-splitting howls within the confines of the wickiup. The
scorpion-thing shriveled into a husk that powdered and blew away
on the wind.
As it went, Cornsilk caught a glimpse of a larger, darker thing
in the shadows, but it, too, faded in the light which bloomed
anew in the shelter.
As Cornsilk blinked at the dawning sun and became aware again of
the outside world, Yucca stirred and stared about her in dismay.
She was free of the malignant influence, but now she relived the
months since she had met the strange man on the path back from
her sojourn. So stark was the pain in her eyes that Cornsilk
withdrew after removing her bonds, fearful of interrupting the
flood of memories.
Yuuca remembered - lived again - the months since her
ill-fated meeting with the strange being called 'Espuma', who
had placed upon her the compulsion to hurt her friends. To
her shame, her face showed her feelings. She felt as if she
were being stripped naked.
Yucca hid her face, unable to endure the naked feeling thrust
upon her by her memories. She had fled into the wilderness in
a vain attempt to seek a cure for her mother and brother, and
had returned to find them both well. In fact, her sacrifice
went unnoticed.
She had returned to an uncaring village, the people slowly
recovering from their illnesses, while her own brother - for
whom she had make her harrowing quest - was arrogantly
boasting about how his own strength had cured him.
"I...I acted badly," she said softly. "I said some words...My
friends, what few I had...Lucha must hate me!"
Yucca twisted, found the ropes gone, and leaped up from the
ground with almost hysterical abandon - that is to say, she sat
up, opened her eyes and looked about carefully.
"I am free!" she cried, "I can see clearly! What a fool I have
been!" Then at last, she raised her gaze and held out her arms,
speaking in a quavering voice, "Mother?"
"I am here," Cornsilk replied. She gathered her daughter in her
arms and clung, patting her on the back and alternating tears
with laughter.
Yucca was wary of noises and jerked at the familiar sound of
coyotes serenading the dawn. She took the tin cup Cornsilk
offered and began to sip the dour mixture obediently.
"I must make amends," she said drowsily. "I have offended many
people, including my brother."
Cornsilk laughed sharply. "You cannot offend your brother's
dignity. He is a good warrior, but he is a bit thickheaded."
"It is good that my brother is strong again," Yucca murmured as
she finished the cup. The brew was already having its effect, as
she added, "He should marry Lucha!"
"That is for Lucha to decide," Cornsilk told her. "What else do
you remember?"
"I remember...Ramon...how silly! I thought I wanted to marry
him!"
"I am glad you have recovered from *that* notion! He has other
obligations! He would not fit into our society!" Cornsilk
returned to her potions, leaving the nodding girl wrapped in the
blanket.
[Oh, but I still want him,] Yucca thought as she drifted off to
sleep. [But why should I marry a slave? And if that Machita
thinks she can keep him from me...Ohohohohoho! She has very
much to learn!]
FITS, FEVERS, STAGGERS, AND DELUSION:
Cornsilk squatted and watched her daughter, hungry for this
moment when Yucca was not attacking or fleeing.
"Who did this?" she asked. "Who would dare?"
Her thoughts were interrupted by the stiffening of the hair at
the nape of her neck, the peculiar prickle of ants crawling. The
dust about her became agitated as though stirred by a multitude
of insects, and the whining voice became audible again.
"White-haired Mistress! Heed us!"
"What? How dare you intrude upon my privacy?" Cornsilk cried in
smoky wrath, "You have caused me enough sorrow! Prepare to pay!"
As she started a singsong chant, leaves on nearby bushes began to
char into frosty tatters.
"Wait!" cried the voice, "White-haired Mistress! Wait! Do not
punish us for doing our duty!"
"Your DUTY?!? What duty nearly costs me my daughter? What duty
makes you sicken my people and cause me to be banished? Who are
you?"
Hesitation.
Then tentatively four different voices recited, "We are Fits,
Fevers, Staggers and Delusion."
Cornsilk blinked. The voices had spoken to her before, but they
had never given their names.
"Let me rephrase that," she snapped. "WHAT are you?"
"We are Imperial Servants, White-haired Mistress. We are the
finest guardians in all of Babylon."
"What? You claim to be servants of the King of Spain?"
"No, not Spain, glorious benefactor!" said one.
"Where is Spain?" asked a different voice, higher pitched.
"Somewhere to the west coast. Toward Atlantis," responded yet
another.
"I had forgotten! Oh, woe is us! Our homeland has gone
forever!" said the second.
"A moment of respect," sniffed the first. "Alas, Babylon is no
more...."
"You are ghosts or demons, and I am going to get rid of you, once
and for all!" Cornsilk thrust her gnarled hand into her
shoulderbag and withdrew a tiny clay pot, about the size and
shape of a thimble, which seened to be leaking a strange green
vapor.
"No! No, White-haired Mistress! We have bonded to you in order
to remain in this realm! We cannot be released until our service
has been completed! If you banish us, we will have to find
another host, and we have seen that you do not wish harm to come
to any of your people!"
Cornsilk lowered her hand as she snarled, "Stay with me if you
will! But if I cannot be rid of you, then I shall make you
suffer!"
"Please, Mistress! We have to warn you! There is a danger
approaching!"
Suspicion darkened crafty eyes as she tried to glimpse the
transparent shapes flitting about in the shadows.
"Danger? Why should you care?"
"A terrible danger, Mistress! A horrible creature seeks to
invade your temple during a ceremony! This creature will destroy
your idols and trample upon your sacred relics!"
"You have no idea about what we consider holy!" growled Cornsilk,
"What is the matter, did you meet someone you could not frighten
with your gibbering and mewling?"
A pause.
"This is a most vicious creature, Mistress!"
"Humphhh. You cannot touch him, then!"
She heard a collective sigh.
"Yes, Mistress. We can stop his master, because his magic gives
us power, but this monster uses guile."
Cornsilk smiled one of her less pleasant smiles.
"Tell me more about this creature, and why you fear him," she
said.
"His master summoned us to protect a treasure," the one she was
learning to call Fits spoke.
"You could not protect a bowl of stew," said Cornsilk.
"You would not think so, would you? You would err. We draw our
strength from the power of our enemies! The more powerful the
magician, the more perfect is our defense!"
"This magician is powerful, hmm?"
"He is despicable, a robber of tombs. We spit upon his memory!"
said the first.
The second added slyly, "So, we did not warn him when he forgot
to exempt himself from our protection!"
"So, now he cannot retrieve it," gloated the one she guessed to
be Staggers.
"But he has sent his servant to fetch it," mourned one of the two
remaining voices. "We can protect against a powerful magician, we
reflect his magic back upon him, but this vile creature knows no
such force."
"Though he be created with magic, all he can do is use tools,"
explained Fits.
"But that is enough to make him dangerous," said the fourth one.
Cornsilk decided that he was Delusion.
Cornsilk dismissed them with a wave. "You have given me much to
think about," she said. "Now, leave me! I wish to be alone with
my daughter!"
WISPY GRAY OF DAWN:
In Willow Woman's shelter, Ramon shrugged and stretched into a yawn,
scrubbed his nose, and wondered whether to open his eyes. With his
hands he explored his night garment and found it to be loose cotton,
little more than a sack - a night gown. Further brief examination
confirmed that he was...still... decidedly female.
"It was only a dream. Bother!" breathed Machita, which
translated, roughly, into, 'Caramba!'
"How much longer?" she wondered.
She looked around the shelter. Red Cloud's bedding had been
cleared away, but Lucha and Willow Woman were both fast asleep
and Estrellita snored softly on the far side of the wickiup.
Yet, among the stillness, something had awakened her. Something
she now felt on the top of her head.
-tap-
Machita shifted quietly around in the dim light, folding away her
bedding until the spot was neat and clean. Then she lifted down
a basket, within which she found several combs, unidentifiable
bone tools, assorted ribbons, and a hairbow fashioned of leather
and wood. She held the hairbow up to the faint light from the
doorway, admiring the beadwork.
"This is nice. Too bad my hair is so short," she mused. "I
would look really cute wearing this...." The bemused smile on
her face turned to shock. "What am I saying?" She fought down a
sudden desire to clean and comb the tangles out of her hair, to
try and look more attractive.
[Oh, yes, of course,] she thought with a sour smile, [THAT was
what she was trying to remember.] Someone was putting a spell on
her. There were very few people in the camp who could do such a
thing. One particular person came to mind - a cantankerous old
woman. Machita stomped out of the wickiup, heading into camp.
Occupied with her thoughts, she almost trod on the small gray
shape tied by the doorway.
Wolfwalker stirred, smelled a familiar scent, and roused enough
to see a figure hurrying away. [Ramon?] he thought, [No, that
was a girl.] He dropped back into contemplation of his fate, the
connection between scent and reality almost - but not quite -
complete.
WHO IS FOOLING WHOM?:
Sandy listened to the rustling in his boot, before he upended it
and shook out an assortment of six-legged and eight-legged
creatures. As he roused from sleep and watched the slow pace of
the waking camp, Sandy managed to almost forgive Machita for the
embarrassment of the night before.
Almost.
He remembered the troubles Ramon had endured and sympathized with
his friend's plight, though he wondered why his friend remained
in a female state of body. Was Ramon getting used to it? Sandy
shivered at the thought.
When the first gray fingers of dawn were enough to show Sandy the
brush and gravel about him, he tied up his bedroll and wandered
into the main camp in search of food. He found Lonesome seated
near a spread of knives and iron tools.
Lonesome was unsurprised by the younger cowboy's appearance. He
merely grunted and bundled his wares when Sandy said 'good
morning'.
"Well, kid," Lonesome said, "I figured you'd show up out here.
Grab some grub from them squaws and let's figure how we're gonna
get out of this place."
"I'm for gettin' out of here," agreed Sandy morosely.
"You okay, Kid?"
"Yeah. I'm fine. But they got Will Larribee trussed up,
claiming he stole a pony. They are going to kill him!"
"If they were going to kill him, he'd be dead right now,"
Lonesome shrugged, "I'll put in a word with the chief. He's
supposed to be Comstock's friend."
"You're sure confident," noted Sandy, "You gettin' in thick with
these people?"
"What do you mean by *that*?" Lonesome demanded.
"Nothin'," Sandy shrugged, and they continued to lean back and
watch the camp come to life.
It was a lazy morning, with no one in a hurry - except for the
woman who handed Sandy a bowl full of food. She became impatient
and thrust it at him again when he did not take it immediately.
Sandy looked in the bowl doubtfully. "What IS this stuff?" he
wondered aloud.
"Nuts, berries, squash, corn, and mescal," said Lonesome as he
squatted beside Sandy. "And a little groundhog and rabbit."
Sandy picked out a lump of grayish brown and asked, "You ever eat
mescal?"
"Yup," Lonesome worked his jaws in memory. "Bought a wad of it
off a squaw woman last year. Took me six months to chew it
enough to swallow it."
"Aww, you're pulling my leg," Sandy said. He picked at the other
food, watching the camp activity while he ate.
"It's gospel how chewy it is. Puts me in mind of cornshucks
soaked in blackstrap."
"Then I think I'll pass on that till I'm a bit hungrier," Sandy
said. He sat and chewed as he watched the women cooking at the
fire, and soon he had emptied the bowl. It was not long before
his solemn expression eased.
His frown faded into a knowing grin, and he added slyly, "Heard
you had a girl-friend."
Lonesome slapped the ground. "Dang it! I knew you were going to
bring that up! Is that why you came out here?"
"Angie told me about it, yesterday. But I rode on out because
she said she had word from Ramon."
"Yeah? Did you find him?"
The mouthful of berries suddenly lost their savor. Sandy's
resentment rekindled and he spat out the mouthful.
"I found him," he said, wiping his sleeve across his mouth.
Lonesome frowned at the masticated berries. "Shouldn't waste
good food," he admonished his junior partner.
"Unh huh. Right. So you're going to marry her?"
"Not if I can get out of here before tomorrow morning!" Lonesome
had taken out a sharpening stone and was whetting a blade upon
it. Sandy did not know where the knife had appeared from.
Lonesome growled, "This Apache shaman told me I didn't have to do it,
but then he told me something that made my skin crawl. You
remember that hombre that Ramon's grandpap was warning us about?
I think he's here, hanging around this camp, just waiting to make trouble.
Bet he followed your friend, Ramon."
Sandy made a sour face. "I think you're right," he said, flexing
a sore shoulder. "I think I just met both of them, in fact."
"That shaman put on the dangdest show, last night. Had me
convinced he was talking to a spirit," said Lonesome, not
grasping what Sandy had said. He tied the last knot and faced
Sandy. "I tell you, that's TWO things I ain't never seen before,
and I don't hardly want to see again! That duststorm dumped us a
hundred miles from where we were, and that ain't natural! Now
this shaman conjures up some spook bear and I durn near swallow
my tongue!"
"Only two things?" Sandy said with a mirthless grin, "Why, you
ain't even got started, yet!"
"Listen!" Lonesome spoke earnestly in a low voice, "We can't hang
around here! We need to find your friend and his sister, so's we
can go back to Mexico."
"Ramon's here. So's Red Cloud and Wolfwalker, so I hear. I saw
Ramon and Red Cloud last night."
"Yeah, that's right. There was a bunch of commotion last night
before you rode in," said Lonesome. "I'm not sure what was
happening, but someone said there was somebody else planning on
getting hitched."
"It wasn't my idea!" blurted Sandy, before he could stop himself.
He clamped both hands over his mouth, but it was too late.
"What wasn't your idea?" Lonesome asked, "All I said was...you
mean it's you?" One look at his companion's tormented face
answered his question. Lonesome tried to keep his face straight,
but his mouth worked and his chin quivered until he had to laugh
aloud. He managed to gasp, "Do you mean that little rancherita
finally popped the question?"
"Ahh...not exactly," Sandy's face was distorted with misery.
"Then what? Don't tell me you met another girl!"
"Well - sort of - ," Sandy squirmed.
"Son, you manage to get around. Is it anyone I know?"
Sandy pointed across the grounds to Machita, who stormed past
without seeing them. "She told everyone we were engaged," he
said.
"Hey! I've seen her before!" Lonesome stared at the vanishing
girl, "But I can't recall...wait a minute! Wasn't she the one in
jail with your little rancherita?"
Sandy nodded, then made another grimace as he realized that he
was acknowledging a relationship.
"And she followed you here? Kid, she must be hot for...."
Sandy was shaking his head miserably. No, nononono.
"Well, don't you beat all," said Lonesome, a broad grin spread
across his face. "You mosey into camp and claim a pretty girl
before the trail dust settles. Of course, my wedding ain't for
real, but I don't know about yours."
"Wedding?" Sandy whimpered, then squeaked in alarm, "What
wedding?"
"Thought you said this gal told everyone you were engaged."
"Yeah, but.... That didn't mean that we...omygosh! They want to
do it NOW?"
"Well, I heard they're fixing up a double shindig."
Sandy looked about in near panic. "I gotta get out of here! Can
we run for it?"
"I plan on it...." Lonesome started.
Their conversation ceased as a warrior trotted into the area for
a drink. Black Elk fixed the two cowboys with a frown. The
frown eased as he glanced down at Sandy's shiny leather boots.
Then he lifted his eyes to the lookouts posted on the surrounding
hilltops, smiled, and turned back to the water basket.
"...but it might be a chore getting out of here," Lonesome
finished, and Sandy agreed.
"Suppose you have to go through with it?" Sandy wondered.
"This shaman said there weren't nothing to it. He would say a
few words and they make us spend the night together in a tipi."
Lonesome saw Sandy's stare and added hotly, "Not that I intended
to take advantage of it, you understand. He just wanted this gal
out of camp."
"I think you have a problem," said Sandy. "You can fool all
these people, but how are you going to make this gal believe you
are married if you really ain't?"
"Well, I was going to...." Lonesome stopped, going over in his
mind the events which could occur if he went through with the
wedding. If the girl agreed to the marriage, and she thought it
was binding, and the shaman did not explain it to her....
"I really haven't thought about that," he admitted. "This
medicine man may be sneaky enough to pull a fast one on me. You
should have seen the way he suckered me with that fake spirit
trick."
Lonesome let his mind wander back over the prospect of a bride
not privy to the shaman's plan. "That gal was not that bad
looking...wait a minute! They ain't gonna trick me that way!
Anyway, that shaman seemed to think there wouldn't be any
problem. Surely he has talked to her about it."
"No problem for him, maybe. What about you? How about *me*???
At least you're marrying a real girl! I gotta marry a...a...I
can't stand it! This is crazy!" Sandy stopped walking in
circles and announced, "They can't do this! They can't make me
do it!"
"Let's find this shaman and talk some sense into him. Let him
know we ain't going along with his scheme."
"I'm all for that," said Sandy, "But what if he won't change his
mind?"
Lonesome looked over at him and quirked his mouth upward, saying,
"Should'a thought of that before you got engaged."
Sandy clasped his hands to his head. "I'm gonna kill him!" he
muttered, "I'm gonna *kill* him!"
GRUDGE MATCH:
"Have you seen the crazy old woman?" Machita demanded.
"Over there, beyond the edge of the camp," replied a girl, one
Machita recognised as Lucha's friend, Little Mouse. Little Mouse
was sitting around the fire with some other women, getting in
some last minute gossip before her family had to leave.
The other women who were preparing the morning meal about the
fire ignored her. One woman holding an infant in a carrier
glanced at her, expressed irritation with an unmoving face, and
indicated the same direction with her chin. Only the child's
face was visible, watching Machita with interest.
Machita followed the trail through the gloom. The faint trace
led away from other campfires, into an area of dismal solitude,
where a familiar shape knelt by a tiny fire. Cornsilk was
pouring a thin brown liquid into a gourd cup as Machita stormed
up. Not until the last drop fell did the old woman lift
questioning eyes to the irate girl.
"What do you mean, putting a spell on me?" cried Machita.
Cornsilk asked in mock shock, "Did I do that?" Her eyes, half
hidden in wrinkles, glowed in innocence.
"Yes! I know it was you! I recognized the taps!"
Cornsilk regarded the angry girl standing before her. "Not ready
to fight at all - your stance is too open, your eyes are on me
and nothing else, you are vulnerable to any attack, magic or
physical. You are not even aware of danger."
Ignoring Machita's challenge, the withered old woman mused, [What
is it that my daughter sees in this lad? There has to be
something. Yucca has shied away from many other boys even when
they made so bold as to approach her in friendship. They were
much more capable and better suited. This one has to have an
attraction that I cannot see.]
[Still...] she continued her musing as Machita jittered with
impatience , [...the Azuma girl requested that he be made ready
to confront some challenge. The Sisterhood must know him very
well, or they have some knowledge which is not apparent.]
"Look, Old Woman!" Machita finally cried, "Are you gonna answer
me or not?"
"Foolhardy, thoughtless, impulsive...." Cornsilk tried to see him
a positive light and failed, until she thought of observing him
with the second sight.
"Mmmpphhh," she grunted. "A little potential. Very little.
Still, if my daughter likes him...."
"Why have you done this?" Machita repeated.
Cornsilk sipped the brew, leaned back to peer at the girl.
"It does not seem to have harmed you," she replied.
"You made me feel things I should not have felt! I do not want
to feel warm and soft and gooey, and be hurt by harsh cloth, and
fly through the air - well, the flying part was okay, but you
should have let me know about that - and I do not want to be
sensitive, like...like...like a girl!!"
The gnarled old woman tasted the liquid again before answering,
"Exactly what is wrong with being sensitive?"
"It is simply wrong! I am not supposed to be soft and warm and
gooey and...."
"Who commands this?"
"...What?" Machita was taken aback by the question.
"Why should you not be gentle, and warm, and caring?"
"That is not what I am saying!"
"Sounds to me like that is exactly what you are worried about!"
Machita glowered. "I am not worried! I am angry!"
"Afraid you will get just a little...shall we say...womanly?"
"Yes!"
"Oyeh." Cornsilk wiped her hand across her eyes.
"What does THAT mean?"
Cornsilk sighed. "Look at yourself, boy. What do you see?"
"Well...I have seen myself! I am...I am a girl! I don't like
it, and I will fight it. I am not going to give in and be
a...a...."
A faint tired smile played across the wrinkled old face. "Before
you can go forward, you must go backward," she said.
Machita folded her arms with a stern glare at the old woman.
"Just don't do it again, okay?" she growled.
Cornsilk tossed off the remainder of the cup, gasped a lung-full
of air, and asked, "Do what again?"
"Don't make me feel...." Machita moved her jaws, but the only
sound she could produce was a whisper. She tried again, but
again only succeeded in becoming red-faced. She resorted to the
only means of communication left to indicate her emotions by
balling her fists at the old crone.
She was giving all her attention to Cornsilk and failed to see
another person approaching. Yucca slammed into her, flailing
with both arms, and bore Machita to the ground.
The Apache girl's reddened eyes and tangled hair gave her a
frightening appearance and she used the surprise of her attack to
advantage, pummeling Machita before she could rise and defend
herself.
Machita found herself warding off blows, ducking and dodging as
Yucca hit her again and again. Machita did not return the
attack, but backed away trying only to keep the Apache girl's
blows from striking home.
"I can't hit you! You're a girl!" cried Machita.
"Demon! Leave my family alone!" cried Yucca. She drew a flint
knife and followed Machita until they were away from Cornsilk's
campfire.
Machita escaped with her dress tattered and ripped, fleeing
without caution across an area where horses were tied. Two
events occurred, one unexpected and the other inevitable - a
horse snapped at her when she got too near, and Rayo shoved
between them, diverting her flight. Machita sat down suddenly.
As she arose, a peculiar aroma came to her attention and she
realized that her landing had not been without consequence, being
too soft and squishy.
"Awww, man!" she groaned, "What next?"
GIRL TALK:
Lucha was next to rise. She was lying quietly for a moment,
drinking in the cool air, preparing to rise, when she heard the
Spanish girl talking in her sleep. Estrellita cried, "No, Ramon!
Don't hate me!"
Lucha frowned mightily. [What kind of beast is this brother of
mine?] she wondered.
She opened the door-flap and found the wolf cub tied outside,
cowering away from her.
"You poor creature!" she said as she knelt to free him, "Who
would have bound you here, when you must run free?" The cub
stood after she had freed it, staring up at her in rapt awe, until
she nudged it with her foot and it bounded away.
Red Cloud was approaching from the main camp as the wolf cub
fled. "At least he had a place to sleep," she said. As she
entered the wickiup and gathered bowls for breakfast, Estrellita
saw the ointment on Red Cloud's arms.
"Oh! Those scratches look terrible!" Estrellita screwed her eyes
tight in sympathy, "You must have fallen into the briars!"
"It is not too bad," Red Cloud admitted. "I was very lucky. It
could have been much worse."
Lucha also could not take her eyes off Red Cloud's arms.
"Yes, you were very fortunate," she said, then drew a deep
breath. "My sister has told me of your power. Does she speak
rightly?"
As Red Cloud nodded solemnly, Lucha gathered her thoughts and,
with a visible effort, put them away for later study. She turned
to Estrellita to ask, "You know my family. What can you tell me
about my sister and my brother?"
"Who?" Estrellita frowned at the question.
"You would call her Machita..." Lucha began, then frowned. She
took the four wooden bowls from Red Cloud as she added, "...and
Ramon."
"Oh...oh!" the rancherita said as she understood. "Yes, of
course! I know them both! And you have met Machita, but you
have not met... met...." Estrellita could not continue for
snorting giggles.
Lucha's frown became yet darker and she set the bowls down with a
thump. "Is there something about my brother that I should know?"
she asked.
"Only that...only.... (giggle) Oh, I just can't tell you!"
"Ramon looks a lot more like you," Red Cloud said, helpfully.
"I am not sure that is a good thing to hear." Lucha lifted a
water basket and said, "I must get more water. You are welcome
to stay here in our wickiup. There is room."
FULL DISCLOSURE:
There was this about the spring near the camp. Its waters fell
across the boulders and meandered along for a short while,
crossing through what appeared to be an impenetrable thicket,
before coming to rest in a sheltered pool beyond. Within that
cluster of bushes and stunted trees was another hidden pool,
where the older folks rarely went and the children played in the
heat of the day.
This early in the morning, the hidden pool was deserted except
for a lone girl, muddy and disheveled, complaining about her lot
in life.
"Idiot! Dummy!" Machita growled, "I didn't even see that mess
lying there!" She picked her way through the shadowy brush
toward the hidden pool and the clearing. Once there she twisted
about to look at the smear on the beaded leather and cried,
"Oooohh! This dress is ruined!"
Machita stopped abruptly, her eyes wide. She gasped in alarm,
"What am I saying? I sound like a girl! Oh, man! I am going to
be scarred forever!"
As she had hoped, the pool was empty, though she found a pair of
leggings heaped on a ledge. Drawing the mantle off, she slid the
spoiled skirt onto the ground. "Ahh!" she said in anticipation,
"Cool water!"
Something in the shadows moved, a low gray shape creeping toward
the mounded clothing. "Lucha's pet wolf?" said Machita, "I
thought so. Why do you stare? Bashful?" She dropped the
skirt and stepped toward him.
The wolf cub froze, with his large, panic-stricken eyes on her.
"Shoo!" Machita said, trying to wave the animal away, before
returning her attention to the pool. She moved to pick up the
leggings, and the wolf raced to reach them first.
The result was a collision and a tangle, with both of them falling
into the pool.
It was Ramon, instead of Machita, who rose from the chill waters.
"Ha-hey! I'm me again!" Ramon slapped his thighs and chest and
laughed, "I am back to normal! I can...."
He was interrupted by a splash and a rattle of pebbles. A
jubilant voice rang from behind him.
"Aha! I knew it! I knew there was a reason you were so weak and
feminine!"
"Wolfwalker!" cried Ramon, "Oh, no...I am discovered!"
Wolfwalker had grabbed the leggings from the pile of clothing and
was hastily pulling them on, the leather clinging and sticking to
his wet skin.
"You have a sacred form!" chortled the Azuma lad, "You become a
*girl*! A weak, clumsy *woman*!"
"I did not want this!" cried Ramon, "It was not my idea! It was
forced on me when I...."
He stopped and looked around the clearing, at the dry stones and
boulders and the one pathway.
"How did you get in here?" he wondered, "There was no one in here
but a tame wolf cub!"
"I came down the path, while you were squealing about how fine it
was to be male!" gloated Wolfwalker, "As if you would know!"
"No, no. You could not have stolen in here, taken off your
clothes, and jumped into the pool behind me, unless...." Ramon
sputtered with laughter. "You are the baby wolf!"
Wolfwalker drew himself up with an indignant glare.
"Lies!" he said.
"Oh, yes! I am right! But why were you so intent on protecting
your pants?"
"Because I needed them," Wolfwalker said, and he indicated the
brushy path. Someone was moving toward them, investigating
the noise they had heard.
Ramon barely had time to grab the discarded buckskin skirt and
hold it before his nakedness before a familiar face appeared.
"Hello, Lucha," Ramon said.
"Who are you?" she demanded, "And how do you know my name?"
Ramon shrugged and gulped and looked about, but there was no escape.
"Uhh - I'm Ramon Caballo," he said. "Sorry about this."
Wolfwalker remained silent, gazing at Lucha.
"I did not believe our sister when she told me of you!" said
Lucha, "Now I see it is true! You have stolen her dress! How
sick are you?" She drew her knife and advanced on him. "Better
you die, now, before others learn of your sickness!"
"What?" yelped Ramon, "What do you mean?"
"She thinks you are a pervert," supplied Wolfwalker, with great
satisfaction in his voice.
Lucha stopped in her tracks, dismayed. She recognized the tall
wrestler whom she had admired the day before, but he was in the
company of a man who danced naked with a woman's dress. She drew
a shaky breath and flared, "You are with him! You are both
perverts!"
Wolfwalker watched her storm off through the bushes and heaved a
tremulous sigh. "She is so beautiful!" he exclaimed, "And yet,
I feel as if I have known her all my life...."
An awful realization struck him. He faced Ramon directly.
"Did she just say 'our' sister?"
Ramon nodded.
"As in hers and yours?"
Ramon nodded, waiting for an explanation.
"Oh, no!" Wolfwalker said in agony, "No...no...."
"What *is* your problem?" wondered Ramon.
"I have finally found the girl of my dreams...and she is *your*
sister? What have I done to deserve this?"
"I do not have all morning to tell you. Will you quit
complaining and go get me some clothes? Por favor?"
"Get them yourself!" Wolfwalker retorted, "Why don't you hold
those garments before you?"
"No," Ramon set his jaw in determination. "You will have to get
my clothes. If you think I am going to dash half-naked through
camp wearing my dress as a loincloth, you are crazy! And
besides...Lucha thinks you are also a pervert!"
"That cannot be true! I am a man!"
"She saw me hiding behind a dress, and you pulling on your
clothes. What is she to think?"
"She must not believe this!" Wolfwalker gasped in horror, "She will
never respect me!"
"If you will get me my clothes, maybe I can help."
"In your cursed form, no doubt!" Wolfwalker snarled, "She will
not let you near her in your true shape!"
"True," sighed Ramon, "If I go near the wickiup to get my
clothes, she may not hesitate to use her knife. That is why you
must go there and get them. At least she will not kill you."
The Azuma lad hesitated and muttered, "I will think about this."
Ramon tried again. "Let us discuss this. She does not know of
my curse. Should she know of yours?"
"You wouldn't tell her!" Wolfwalker gasped.
"Try me, Lobito! I really need my clothes!"
Wolfwalker sagged in defeat. "I will get them, then," he growled
as he padded away. "You are truly a lowlife!"
Ramon glanced about to be absolutely certain that no one else was
around to see him, then knelt to clean the smear from the beaded
leather skirt.
END: Chapter 33
James and the Bluejay
---------------
Gratitude to Lyn Daniel, for her support and patience, for kind words
from Mike Allen and Ted Holeman, as well as a bunch of others.
Earlier chapters of Macho Caballo can be found at:
http://members.tripod.com/~LynD/Macholyn.html
http://www.concentric.net/~Halogen/macho/macho.htm
http://www.wanderway.com/macho/macho.htm