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Authors: Harold Robbins
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started down the path.
The woman ran after him. She grabbed for his arm. "Bandolero!" Her face was contorted with anger. "You are animals without feelings. Are we just receptacles for your seed? Any one of us might be carrying your child!"
Manuelo pulled his arm free, and the woman fell back a few steps. "Dog!" she screamed at him. "Do you expect us to die here?"
He stared into her face. "Yes," he answered casually, then raised the hand that still held the pistol and shot her.
The bullet knocked her backward against a tree; she fell forward to her knees, slumping finally into a small fetal curl around the trunk of the tree. Her hand clutched at the earth once and then was still.
Manuelo turned and raised the still smoking pistol.
"The other two are gone," Fat Cat said.
I looked across the clearing. Only a ripple in the foliage remained as a sign of their presence.
"Shall we go after them?"
"No." Manuelo returned his gun to the holster. "We have lost enough time with those putas already. It is still a full day's journey to the valley for the meat. They will be hungry at home if we do not hurry."
Fat Cat smiled. "It will teach those putas a lesson," he said as we began to move down the path again. "They do not own a man simply because once they have put their legs around him."
We did not reach the valley of Bandaya until early the next morning. We came down the side of the mountain in the morning mist. Suddenly the sun broke through the clouds and the valley extended green and beautiful like a thick carpet below us. I straightened in my saddle and peered down trying to locate my home. It had been more than two years since I had last seen it.
I remembered the afternoon it had been decided. My father and the general had been talking quietly on the galena. Occasionally my father would look out at me. I was playing in the yard with Perro. I had taught him a new trick. I would hurl a piece of sugar cane as far as I could, and he would run after it, barking wildly. Then he would pick it up and, chewing it ecstatically, bring it back to me.
"Dax?"
I looked back at my father, my arm still holding the piece of sugar cane poised for the next throw. "Si, Papa?"
"Come here."
I threw down the cane and started for the galena. Perro picked it up and, chewing it happily, tried to put it between my legs to trip me. When I started up the steps he stood looking up after me with a puzzled expression.
I laughed when I saw the way he stood there. He knew he wasn't allowed on the galena. "Wait for me," I called.
Perro lay down in the dirt and began to worry the piece of cane between his paws like a bone. His tail wagged slowly.
I looked at my father as I walked toward him. There were lines on his face I had never noticed before, and his normally dark skin had taken on a weary gray tinge. I stopped in front of him.
"The general tells me he has spoken to you about going to his home in the mountains."
"Si, Papa."
"Do you think you would like that?"
"He said I could have a burro," I said. "And a pony of my own when I got bigger."
My father didn't say anything.
"He also said you would be going away with him," I said. "Do you have to? I would rather stay here with you."
My father and the general exchanged glances. "I don't like to leave you, my son. But I must."
"Why?"
"It is important," he said. "The general and I have made an alliance."
I still didn't understand. My father continued. "The people are oppressed, there is injustice and hunger in the land. We must do what we can to help them."
"Why don't you bring them here?" I asked. 'There is enough for everybody."
Again my father and the general exchanged glances. My father drew me up into his lap. "We cannot do that," he explained gently. "There are too many."
I knew all the campesinos in the valley. There weren't that many of them, and I said so.
My father smiled. "There are many more campesinos beyond the hills."
"How many?" I asked. "Twice as many?"
He shook his
The woman ran after him. She grabbed for his arm. "Bandolero!" Her face was contorted with anger. "You are animals without feelings. Are we just receptacles for your seed? Any one of us might be carrying your child!"
Manuelo pulled his arm free, and the woman fell back a few steps. "Dog!" she screamed at him. "Do you expect us to die here?"
He stared into her face. "Yes," he answered casually, then raised the hand that still held the pistol and shot her.
The bullet knocked her backward against a tree; she fell forward to her knees, slumping finally into a small fetal curl around the trunk of the tree. Her hand clutched at the earth once and then was still.
Manuelo turned and raised the still smoking pistol.
"The other two are gone," Fat Cat said.
I looked across the clearing. Only a ripple in the foliage remained as a sign of their presence.
"Shall we go after them?"
"No." Manuelo returned his gun to the holster. "We have lost enough time with those putas already. It is still a full day's journey to the valley for the meat. They will be hungry at home if we do not hurry."
Fat Cat smiled. "It will teach those putas a lesson," he said as we began to move down the path again. "They do not own a man simply because once they have put their legs around him."
We did not reach the valley of Bandaya until early the next morning. We came down the side of the mountain in the morning mist. Suddenly the sun broke through the clouds and the valley extended green and beautiful like a thick carpet below us. I straightened in my saddle and peered down trying to locate my home. It had been more than two years since I had last seen it.
I remembered the afternoon it had been decided. My father and the general had been talking quietly on the galena. Occasionally my father would look out at me. I was playing in the yard with Perro. I had taught him a new trick. I would hurl a piece of sugar cane as far as I could, and he would run after it, barking wildly. Then he would pick it up and, chewing it ecstatically, bring it back to me.
"Dax?"
I looked back at my father, my arm still holding the piece of sugar cane poised for the next throw. "Si, Papa?"
"Come here."
I threw down the cane and started for the galena. Perro picked it up and, chewing it happily, tried to put it between my legs to trip me. When I started up the steps he stood looking up after me with a puzzled expression.
I laughed when I saw the way he stood there. He knew he wasn't allowed on the galena. "Wait for me," I called.
Perro lay down in the dirt and began to worry the piece of cane between his paws like a bone. His tail wagged slowly.
I looked at my father as I walked toward him. There were lines on his face I had never noticed before, and his normally dark skin had taken on a weary gray tinge. I stopped in front of him.
"The general tells me he has spoken to you about going to his home in the mountains."
"Si, Papa."
"Do you think you would like that?"
"He said I could have a burro," I said. "And a pony of my own when I got bigger."
My father didn't say anything.
"He also said you would be going away with him," I said. "Do you have to? I would rather stay here with you."
My father and the general exchanged glances. "I don't like to leave you, my son. But I must."
"Why?"
"It is important," he said. "The general and I have made an alliance."
I still didn't understand. My father continued. "The people are oppressed, there is injustice and hunger in the land. We must do what we can to help them."
"Why don't you bring them here?" I asked. 'There is enough for everybody."
Again my father and the general exchanged glances. My father drew me up into his lap. "We cannot do that," he explained gently. "There are too many."
I knew all the campesinos in the valley. There weren't that many of them, and I said so.
My father smiled. "There are many more campesinos beyond the hills."
"How many?" I asked. "Twice as many?"
He shook his
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