Read Online Paloma and the Horse Traders by Carla Kelly - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Carla Kelly
Ads: Link
down Marco’s back as he watched some of the Navajos
and Utes melt into the background, too.
He looked for the lawyer and suppressed a smile
to see that several of the town’s leading businessmen had pushed
him forward. Marco took a deep breath. Soon everyone would know
what the man was made of. He touched the pouch tied to his own
belt, hefting it, wondering.
His breath came faster when the Indian with the
smallest blond boy seated in front of him dismounted. He held the
rope around the child’s neck loose in his hand, looking up at the
boy in the saddle, then around the silent circle of people, and
then at Enrique Rojas.
“ I have a slave here, taken in a
raid near Isleta,” he said in perfect Spanish. When he said
“Isleta,” someone in the crowd gasped—perhaps a relative of the
boy. People moved aside to allow that person passage forward, but
no one took a step toward the Comanche.
The Comanche held up five fingers. “ Cinco
reales ,” he said in a loud voice.
The figure was preposterous; everyone knew it.
Who in their cash-starved economy had such money? Marco felt the reales in his pouch, his heart sinking. He had only four,
more than enough for his original plan to buy a team of horses, but
the Comanche wanted five. He saw other mothers hurry their children
away, running down a side street now.
The lawyer looked around, then at the Indian.
“That is a stupid amount. You must think we are idiots. We will
bargain,” he began.
“ No, please no,” Marco whispered.
“At least show him what money you have.” Toshua tightened his grip
on Marco’s arm.
The Indian raised his eyebrows. He looked
around elaborately, then yanked on the rope, spilling the child
from the saddle and snapping his neck with a sound heard all around
the circle. Whatever suffering he had endured at the hands of his
captors was over.
Rojas went deathly pale, and tried to retreat
into the circle. No one budged to let him in. He looked around in
terror.
The young mixed-blood woman put her hands to
the rope around her own neck, crying out when the Indian
controlling it tightened the knot. “Please help me, someone,” she
implored. “Mary, Mother of God!”
Four reales . Marco shook off Toshua’s
hand and strode into the circle that grew wider as people continued
to back up. He walked to the dead child first, swallowing his
tears, and knelt beside the little body. He closed the boy’s eyes,
and made a small sign of the cross on the dusty forehead. He took a
deep breath and stood up.
He knew all eyes were on him as he deliberately
untied the pouch from his belt and willed his hands not to shake.
He held it up, coming closer to the man Toshua had called Great
Owl.
“ I have four reales in this
pouch,” he announced, grateful that he was far beyond the age when
his voice would squeak. “I will give all of it to you for the
woman.” Please, Se ñ or Rojas, surprise me and be a
better man than I think you are , he thought. If Owl won’t
take four, please offer at least one real .
“ I asked five for a mere child,” Owl
reminded him. He said something in the language of The People, and
the other Comanches laughed.
Marco felt the hand of death draw near to the
desperate woman. “True, you did.” Maybe he could appeal to the
man’s vanity. “I can understand that. This pobrecito was a
Spanish child, and worth more.” He looked at the young woman, who
had clasped her hands together, as if in prayer. “She is Ute,
perhaps? Maybe there is some Spanish blood in her, but she is not
worth five reales . I doubt she is worth four, because all of
you have probably ridden her hard.”
He hated to say such ungentlemanly things, but
this was a harsh bargain with men made of flint. “Four,” he said
again. “It’s a very good offer for broken-down goods.”
He stared at the Comanche, who stared back. I will walk naked through this town before I will look away
first , Marco thought. He heard his own heart thundering in
and Utes melt into the background, too.
He looked for the lawyer and suppressed a smile
to see that several of the town’s leading businessmen had pushed
him forward. Marco took a deep breath. Soon everyone would know
what the man was made of. He touched the pouch tied to his own
belt, hefting it, wondering.
His breath came faster when the Indian with the
smallest blond boy seated in front of him dismounted. He held the
rope around the child’s neck loose in his hand, looking up at the
boy in the saddle, then around the silent circle of people, and
then at Enrique Rojas.
“ I have a slave here, taken in a
raid near Isleta,” he said in perfect Spanish. When he said
“Isleta,” someone in the crowd gasped—perhaps a relative of the
boy. People moved aside to allow that person passage forward, but
no one took a step toward the Comanche.
The Comanche held up five fingers. “ Cinco
reales ,” he said in a loud voice.
The figure was preposterous; everyone knew it.
Who in their cash-starved economy had such money? Marco felt the reales in his pouch, his heart sinking. He had only four,
more than enough for his original plan to buy a team of horses, but
the Comanche wanted five. He saw other mothers hurry their children
away, running down a side street now.
The lawyer looked around, then at the Indian.
“That is a stupid amount. You must think we are idiots. We will
bargain,” he began.
“ No, please no,” Marco whispered.
“At least show him what money you have.” Toshua tightened his grip
on Marco’s arm.
The Indian raised his eyebrows. He looked
around elaborately, then yanked on the rope, spilling the child
from the saddle and snapping his neck with a sound heard all around
the circle. Whatever suffering he had endured at the hands of his
captors was over.
Rojas went deathly pale, and tried to retreat
into the circle. No one budged to let him in. He looked around in
terror.
The young mixed-blood woman put her hands to
the rope around her own neck, crying out when the Indian
controlling it tightened the knot. “Please help me, someone,” she
implored. “Mary, Mother of God!”
Four reales . Marco shook off Toshua’s
hand and strode into the circle that grew wider as people continued
to back up. He walked to the dead child first, swallowing his
tears, and knelt beside the little body. He closed the boy’s eyes,
and made a small sign of the cross on the dusty forehead. He took a
deep breath and stood up.
He knew all eyes were on him as he deliberately
untied the pouch from his belt and willed his hands not to shake.
He held it up, coming closer to the man Toshua had called Great
Owl.
“ I have four reales in this
pouch,” he announced, grateful that he was far beyond the age when
his voice would squeak. “I will give all of it to you for the
woman.” Please, Se ñ or Rojas, surprise me and be a
better man than I think you are , he thought. If Owl won’t
take four, please offer at least one real .
“ I asked five for a mere child,” Owl
reminded him. He said something in the language of The People, and
the other Comanches laughed.
Marco felt the hand of death draw near to the
desperate woman. “True, you did.” Maybe he could appeal to the
man’s vanity. “I can understand that. This pobrecito was a
Spanish child, and worth more.” He looked at the young woman, who
had clasped her hands together, as if in prayer. “She is Ute,
perhaps? Maybe there is some Spanish blood in her, but she is not
worth five reales . I doubt she is worth four, because all of
you have probably ridden her hard.”
He hated to say such ungentlemanly things, but
this was a harsh bargain with men made of flint. “Four,” he said
again. “It’s a very good offer for broken-down goods.”
He stared at the Comanche, who stared back. I will walk naked through this town before I will look away
first , Marco thought. He heard his own heart thundering in
Similar Books
