*********** LAS AVENTURAS DE MACHO CABALLO ************

Disclaimer:  Macho Caballo was inspired by Ranma 1/2 by
Takahashi Rumiko.  This is a work of fiction, and no person,
place, or thing mentioned in Macho Caballo is intended to
depict an actual person, place or thing.  As fiction, the
opinions and views expressed by characters are constructs
for the purpose of telling a story, may vary wildly from the
truth, and are not intended to represent views held by any
real person, including this author.  All other mistakes and
errors are mine.  C&C welcomed.  Oh, by the way - this is
not a bed-time story for young children.


What has gone before:  Ramon, cursed by the spirits of the
hot springs, is wanted by the law.  His mother suggests a
solution - hide as a girl.  While he doesn't like it, Ramon
reluctantly agrees.




                     MACHO CABALLO

                  PART I:  CHAPTER TRES


WAITING FOR PAPA:

Ramon traipsed across gravel and sand, his boots shedding
the goathorn thorns that could lacerate bare flesh.  On the
flat between the river and the hills the sun grew hot enough
to make him regret his choice of clothing, but he kept
resolutely on the trail.  At a certain stone, he left the
trail and set out toward a notch in the hill above.

A whispery rustle came from the stones ahead, the shaking of
sand in a gourd.  Ramon stepped cautiously closer until he
could see the gray scales of a diamond- back rattlesnake. It
was a large one.  He squatted to grasp a nearby stone,
forgot he was wearing a skirt, stepped on the edge of the
cloth, became entangled and sat down abruptly.

The snake slid toward him.  It's path was suddenly blocked
by an arrow which thudded into the sand before it.  It slid
around the barrier.  Ramon attempted to scuttle away from
the rattler but he was blocked by thorny bushes.  He looked
up from the advancing serpent to see an Indian maiden
striding toward him, knife in hand.

The Indian girl addressed the snake, "Ho!  Show yourself,
old faker," she said, stepping directly in its path.  The
snake coiled as though to strike, but she swung the knife
first.

"Very well, then, you are food.  And good eating," said the
Indian girl as she proceeded to decapitate and eviscerate
the snake.  The pale pink flesh went into a pouch she
carried slung about her waist after she had paused to thank
the snake for providing sustenance.

"It is good to see you, Red Cloud," said Ramon, watching
her.

"Is it?  Women should not wander alone so far from their
villages."

"Hah.  Speak for yourself, Huntress," Ramon said as he
regained his feet.

"I have been hunting alone all my life," countered Red
Cloud, "When are you going to ask the chieftain to become a
member of the tribe?"

"I was going to find your village," said Ramon, "but for a
different reason.  I'm looking for Papa."

"I have not seen the horse trader recently.  Perhaps someone
else knows where he is.  Have you looked at the corral near
the mesa?"

"I will go there now."

"Then I will accompany you.  It is on the way to the
village.  You may need protection."

"In a pig's eye," muttered Ramon.

They found no one at the corral, so as it was about noon
they made a dry camp at the base of the mesa and cooked the
rattlesnake.  While they ate, Red Cloud came close and
examined him.

"It is important that you find your father?"  She lifted his
arm and felt the firmness of the muscles, testing the hand
for calluses.

"There is a thing Mama says he must do," said Ramon, pushing
her hand away from his belly.

Red Cloud fingered his hair, smelled of it.  "Nice," she
said, "Your mother knows the proper way to clean your hair.
So, why do you walk about the prairie in a dress?"

Ramon frowned, unaware that in this form he appeared to be
pouting.  "The Alcalde's soldiers are looking for a boy
named Ramon," he said, as though it might have been his
idea. "They do not look for a girl.  I can walk right past
them."

"I have heard that your leader, the Alcalde, is a man of
much hunger," Red Cloud said, "Our leaders council us to
stay away from his men.  His soldiers have taken our people
and put them in the mines.  I do not understand why they
would do this."

"They have also imprisoned a gold-smith from the village and
his wife, trying to find where he gets his gold.  Now they
are after his daughter.  Mama has hidden her at our house."

"This gold-worker sounds like a foolish man.  He should tell
them where the gold is, and they would leave him alone."

"Perhaps.  Maybe not.  Mama has heard that they are
searching for the Aztec treasure.  They will not be
satisfied with a few measly nuggets."

"Aztecas?  I have heard that word."

"I have heard this from the teachers at the school, that
they were a mighty people long ago, very wealthy. They lived
many years ago, southeast of here.  When the Spaniards came,
the Aztec hid their gold and silver. The Spaniards still
search for it."

"Hmmph," Red Cloud said by way of expressing her opinion of
gold and men's foolishness.  She picked a bone from between
her teeth and spat.

"Now, that looked very feminine," laughed Ramon.

"Speak for yourself, horse trader's daughter!"

"Don't call me that!"

"Ahh?"  she arched an eyebrow, "You do not like horse
trading?"

"I am Ramon!  I am a man!"

Red Cloud stepped back from Ramon and stood, hand under
chin, as she studied him.  She grasped the wool crease of
her own skirt and flipped it, then placed her hands on her
breasts.  "Yes, yes," she said, "I can see that you are."

Ramon glared at her, his jaw clamped tightly in anger. When
he could speak around the constriction, he said, "Let's just
forget it, alright?  I am very sensitive about it."

"About time you were sensitive about something," Red Cloud
muttered, but quit teasing him.

"I have heard a very little about these 'Aztecas'," she said
as they walked along, "They were a strong people, but not
always good. And I know something else.  They are not all
gone away."

"Never mind if they were good or bad.  Did they really have
a lot of treasure?"

"I do not know.  But we can ask the doll-maker."

"But she is so old!  How can she even remember yesterday,
never mind a couple of hundred years?"

"She will know," said Red Cloud.  "Is this why you must find
your father?"

"No, he must return to the hacienda.  Don Pedro is preparing
to buy some more horses from the Yanquis and he wants Papa
to help.  No one else could find him, so Mama said I could
go look.  Well, she didn't tell me not to."

"You are both foolish.  Haven't you heard that the Apache
have been seen again?  Two days ago, at the far end of the
valley.  They can run faster than the news."

"I have avoided the Apache before."

"You have been fortunate.  You had nothing they wanted. You
were insignificant.  You had a place to hide.  They did not
see you.  You were male."

"What has *that* got to do with it?"

"I tell you, before I would allow them to capture me alive,
I would slash my own throat.  So should you."

"I would never do that!"

"Why, would that be too cowardly an escape for you?"

"I would fight!  I would try to escape!"

"The Apache do not carry canteens full of cold water to pour
on the women they capture so they can fight.  They do
something else to them.  Something you would not find
pleasant."

"I know what they do!  I am tired of this!  I must pretend
to be a girl to avoid the soldiers, and now you would have
me stay home to hide from the Apaches!"

Red Cloud turned from him.  She kept her eyes on the
horizon, and her expression was clouded.  "You still think
like man," she said.

When she finally turned to regard him, it was as from a
distant, icy mountain peak.  "Is that what it is to you?
Pretending?"

Ramon remembered his mother's words, `How can it hurt to
play-act for a little while?'  "Yes," he said, "How else can
I face this?"

"Do you pretend when you fall and cut your knee?  Do you
play-act when you get careless and a tree limb hits you in
the face?

"My brother, take care that you do not wear that mask too
long," she said, and led him into the stunted trees toward
her village.

They trudged along the trail toward a gradual rise which led
into the next valley, their mocassins crunching on the loose
gravel.

Red Cloud turned to him with a mischievous smile and said,
"Can you run?"

Before he could answer, she raced ahead of him.  She stopped
and waited for him when she realized that he was not
remaining by her side.

"You are slow," she teased, "You used to be able to keep up
with me."

"That was when I had longer legs," fumed Ramon, gasping for
air, "I can't help it if I am slow and awkward."


MEMORIES:

Several girls clustered around them at the village, eager to
meet Red Cloud's new friend.  Ramon didn't want to say that
he knew them already.

"What's your name?" asked Sandflower of Ramon.

Red Cloud grinned at him, "Well, Machito?" she asked.

"Her name is Machita?" asked Too Cactus, "She doesn't look
very tough to me."

"It's a joke," said Ramon.  The other girls laughed politely
and returned to the lodge where they had been weaving.

A boy at the Azuma village knew where Papa was, and he set
out at a trot to find him.  Ramon and Red Cloud went to the
lodge of the doll-maker.

The doll-maker was a wizened old woman with one remaining
blackened tooth and a quizzical smile.

"The Aztecas?  What possible use would you have for such
information?" she asked.

"I'm trying to find out why the Spaniards want the gold so
badly," said Ramon.

"No one can know that, my child.  No one but the Spaniards.
Now, if you wished to know something of the Azteca, I might
be able to tell you."  The doll-maker was fashioning a doll
from cornshucks, yarn, and feathers.  The doll quickly
resembled a tiny man with headdress, shield and a stick for
a club.  "This is how I remember," she explained.  "When I
make a doll, I pull all my memories out of the corn shuck
and look at them. With this doll, I can see the Azteca
people."

"Ah, yes," she finally said.  "They were a mighty people.
Long ago, they filled the land to the south. They loved to
fight.  More than the Apache or the Comanche.  This is what
they looked like when they went out to make war."  She
presented the doll to Ramon. "This is yours, child."

"No, thank you," Ramon said.

"Here, take it!" she insisted, "I made it for you."

"I don't want your doll!" Ramon blurted before he thought.
He added, "I'm sorry.  I don't want to be impolite.  But I
don't like dolls."

The doll-maker set the doll down with a thump and frowned.
"You are a strange girl," she observed, her perpetual smile
almost faded, "A warrior doll has special significance,
especially for a girl."

"I just don't like dolls," said Ramon.

"Hmmph," the doll-maker gazed at the doll in her hand for a
moment, then said, "These people loved to fight. When they
could not find enemies to fight, they would fight among
themselves.  This is the doll of such a warrior."  She
glanced at Ramon as though expecting a change of heart.
Seeing none, she continued, "Since then, they have
scattered, blended in with the Mexica. They are not so
great."

"The Spaniards beat them, Hah?"  Red Cloud offered.

"The Spaniards are warriors, but not so fierce as the
Azteca.  What brought them down was the sickness.  The
sickness beat the people of the south, cut them down like
corn in the autumn.  You see, they had offended the spirits.
I have a tale about that."

Ramon stirred uneasily at the mention of spirits.  He was
intimately aware of what happened if the spirits disapproved
of your actions.

"These people had a love of ceremony.  You know how we like
to greet the sun in the morning, and grant the sacred dust
to the four winds to pray for good planting. But they had
ceremonies for everything. They had laws to regulate what
they could wear, and what they could eat, and what they
could say.  And they had sacrifices," she paused for effect,
then added in a chill whisper reserved for impressionable
young children, "They would grab a person and spread-eagle
him and CUT HIS HEART OUT!"

The exclamation had the desired effect.  Ramon jumped in
alarm.  Attempting to regain his composure, he squeaked,
"They sacrificed *people*?"

"People, captives, warriors, if they fought well. Their own
people, if they did not have anyone to fight. Men, women,
children.  Little girls."

"I don't believe it," said Ramon.  He was getting tired of
the dramatization.

"You are young,"  The old woman peered closely at him. Ramon
sighed.  He was beginning to feel like one of Papa's horses
being inspected for a sale.  The doll- maker held the doll
up beside Ramon's face.

"You are of the pure Azteca," she announced.

"What!?" exclaimed both girls.


MARCHING HOME AGAIN:


Time seemed to drag while they waited for Papa to return, so
they ran footraces, the girls and some younger boys at the
village meadow.  Ramon lost consistently.

"Machita, you are running with the shoulders," suggested Fox
Listens shyly, "like a boy runs."

"It is the only way I know how to run," said Ramon, "I put
my head down and go."

"A boy runs with the shoulders.  You have no shoulders."

Ramon bit back a retort.  No shoulders?  He tried harder,
and failed again.  It was no use trying, he was doomed to
existence in a deformed, awkward body.  He could beat them
all, if he could change back to a boy, but then there would
be the questions, and the shame...

Eventually, it was decided that Papa would have to return by
himself.  It was getting late and Ramon did not wish to
travel after dark.

"What a story!" exclaimed Ramon, as they started toward
Mama's house, "Imagine me looking like an Aztec!"

"Well, you don't look like us," Red Cloud said, pacing along
beside him, appearing bored and at ease while keeping a wary
eye on the horizon.

"I know that!  But why must I look like *them*?"

"Good question.  But what is wrong with that?"

"I don't like looking like a bunch of dead people."

"I told you they are still around.  Some have kept to
themselves.  There's a band over in the far mountains,
several days away.  There's more in the marshes beyond the
farthrest to the south.  There are Nahautl all over. They
aren't rich, though."

They were climbing down the side of a hill when Red Cloud
saw movement out on the flat.  She motioned Ramon back into
the brush, and they waited under cover while horsemen rode
past, talking and bantering.

"Soldados," said Red Cloud, after they had passed.

"Some of the Alcalde's men," agreed Ramon, "We'd better
hurry on home,"  and they resumed their travel at a trot.

Mama was waiting at the compound gate, with a worried eye
and a tonguelashing ready for him for going into danger.
Seeing Red Cloud with Ramon, she did not scold him.

"Go by the well, first. You have a visitor," she warned
Ramon, then asked, "You two seem cosy.  Does she know?"

"Yeah, and she won't let me forget it," said Ramon, with a
wry grin.

Red Cloud merely smiled at Mama's puzzled frown.  "We saw
soldados out on the flat," she told Mama, "They were heading
for the river bend."

"I heard there were some Yanquis trying to pan gold there,
last month," said Mama, "The Alcalde does not want them
around, but he will let them search for gold and then take
it from them."

Ramon took the shirt and pants from his mother into an
outbuilding before changing clothes and dumping the gourd of
water over his head.

"What do you know about Machito?" Mama demanded of Red
Cloud.

"Only that he has the ability to `change'."

"Do you know why this happened to him?"

"His father said he... offended... the spirit of the
spring," Red Cloud said.

"This he has explained to me.  But there is something he is
not telling me, I feel."

When Ramon returned, the two women were discussing men in
general and one in particular, and they turned to inspect
him with a critical eye.

"What!?" he said.

"Oh, nothing," said Mama.

"Or very close to nothing," agreed Red Cloud.



VISITORS:

His visitor was Gordito, stopping by after a day in his
father's cotton fields.  "I have hoed and scratched dirt all
day long," he complained, "I gotta get out of this place!"

They were on the roof, watching the twilight creep across
the sky to the red dusk in the West, while the first stars
were barely glinting.

"I guess I ought to stay around here for a while," said
Ramon.

"If I had your luck, I'd be gone in a flash!  You get to
stay in the big city school, you get to see all those
people.  I'd be outta here, hombre!"

"It's not all that way," said Ramon.

"No girls?"

"No girls.  It's an all guy school.  And I don't get that
much school.  I think they keep me as a janitor. I spend
more time in the stables cleaning up after the guys whose
parents are important than I do in class."

"No shit?  Does your Mama know?"

"No.  I don't tell her that.  She thinks I am a `scholar'.
But I am the son of a horse trader, and that's how they
treat me."

"Ooh.  I think I see.  You got a problem, then?"

"Yeah.  The friars who run the school want me back, so they
wrote the mission here.  Then the Alcalde got hold of the
message telling them to send me back, and he decided to
throw me in jail as an example to other kids."

"*That's* why he's after you?  Hell, man.  I thought you
done something *bad*!"

A scratching from the side of the house caught their
attention, and a moment later Red Cloud swarmed over the
edge of the roof.  Remaining low, she motioned to Ramon and
Gordito to get down.

"What's the matter?" Ramon asked.  For answer, she yanked
them both off their feet with surprising strength.

"Quiet!" she hissed, "Soldados!"

Then they heard the creak and jingle of saddle and harness,
the sound of hoofs as men rode up and horses shoved up to
the watering trough, and the soft voices of several men as
one gave orders and others responded.

Ramon could hear Mama's voice as she responded to their
questions, and he ached at the way she allowed a whine of
self-pity into her words.  He pulled Red Cloud's hand from
his mouth, but said nothing.  Softly, he eased over to the
edge of the roof and watched the soldiers as they stood
around.  The sergeant and one man went into the house for
long moments, then emerged.  Finally, they all mounted and
rode away into the night.

Hurrying down the poles set in the corner of the house, the
three youths met Ramon's mother at the stoop.

"Were they after Lucita?"  Ramon wanted to know.

"Or searching for Machito?" asked Gordito.

"Neither," said Mama, "Someone has told them that we have a
strange girl living here, and they wanted to make sure she
was not an Indian."

"Uhm," said Ramon, aware of Red Cloud's eyes on him.

"I told them the truth, that there was no Indian girl living
here."

"What girl?" Gordito wanted to know.

"They may be looking for Lucita," said Ramon, cutting his
eyes over toward Gordito, trying to make Mama understand
without speaking that he didn't want his secret known.

"Oh, yes, I suppose so," she said.

"I bet that they are after that new girl in the village,"
Gordito volunteered, "I hear that she's... ahh," he suddenly
noticed that his audience was not all male, "I've heard that
she is very .. ah .. pretty."

Red Cloud snickered while Ramon glowered.

"It is fortunate that Rain is at her aunt's house," said
Mama, "I must go get her."



REFUGE:

He was awakened in the small hours by a scrabbling and
whimpering sound from the kitchen.  Mama responded drowsily
when he shook her awake.

"Wake up, Mama.  It is Lucita, she has had another
nightmare.  She is under the bench in the kitchen."

"Then put her back to bed, Machito."

"I have tried, Mama.  I.. She draws away from me.  I
frighten her."

Mama roused enough to gather in the trembling child and took
her to bed with her.  The next morning Lucita still had not
slept, so Mama asked Ramon to stay with her while she went
to the rancho.

Ramon stayed within sight of the house all day long. Lucita
did not want to go to her aunt, and she cried whenever Ramon
came close, so he stood his guard from a distance.

Finally, in the afternoon, he sat by the stoop and debated
his fortune once again.  His dreams of being a horse-trader
were frustrated because Papa had wanted him to become
educated, and did not want him to waste his life being a
`horse-tramp'.  His dreams of going to school had seen him
become practically a servant of the other students.  His
dreams of becoming a matador... well, maybe those dreams
were a bit foolish, anyway.

He became aware of a presence close by, and looked up to see
Lucita standing beside him, again peering closely at him.
Lucita was holding a pitcher, which proved to contain warm
water that she poured over Ramon's thick black hair.

Ramon restrained his angry outburst as Lucita set the
pitcher down, crawled into a now female lap, and fell asleep
with her head against Ramon's breast.

As her mother had sat with him, so Ramon sat, uncertain of
what to do but determined to be still as long as he could
and not disturb the troubled child resting so trustingly in
his arms.

Finally, Mama came in from the rancho and beheld Ramon
drowsing against the doorpost.

"Here," she said, "let me take her and put her in bed."

Ramon released the child from his numbed arms and spent
several minutes enduring pain as the feeling returned to his
feet and legs.  Finally the tingling subsided and he could
walk to the well for a dipper of cold water.

Papa finally strolled in, a day late.  Mama announced that
tomorrow they would go to the rancho together.




CHAPTER TRES:  END





                        MACHO CABALLO

                   PART I:  CHAPTER QUATRO


DICLOSURES:

Don Pedro de Muerte was a big man, with reddish gray hair
trimmed short in a military style.  He moved about in a
wheelchair, a trundling contraption brought from his native
Spain.  The wound which had cost him the use of his legs was
a thing of legend in the village, for he was said to have
been a great soldier in the mountains and jungles of South
America.

He watched the family approach, smiling with his eyes while
his mouth took on a firm line.  "Hey, horse-trader!" he
called, "Why do you make your family walk when you have so
many horses?"

Papa laughed at him, "Because I work for the tightest, most
miserly patron in the whole of North America!" he replied,
"If my wife did not work for you, we would have to go
hungry!"

Don Pedro accepted his embrace, patted him on the back
vigorously.  "You got a good woman, there," he said, "You
better take care of her."

"She takes care of me," said Papa proudly, "My boy, he does
good, too."  Ramon watched Mama to see her reaction to the
unfamiliar praise.  She seemed not to notice.

"Are you ready to get the horses?" asked Don Pedro.  His
wife, the Dona, had brought out a tray of pastries and
coffee cups.  Marie, the servant girl, lugged the kettle of
coffee.

"First, there is something you must know," said Papa, "Can
we go inside?  We must be alone to talk to you of this."

Ramon wondered what he meant.  After Marie had pushed Don
Pedro into the cavernous den and departed, Papa lifted a cup
of coffee.  "This should be hot enough," he said.

"Papa! No!" cried Ramon.

"Machito, he must know," said Mama.  Ramon turned to her in
confusion.  He could understand Papa doing something
foolish, but why would she betray him?

"Why?" he asked.

"Manuel, is this another of your jokes?" asked Don Pedro,
while the Dona moved behind him, "The boy is frightened of
something."

"He is frightened of discovery.  He is one of mine."

Ramon's head whirled.  One of his?

"Machito," said, his father, "Look at me!" and he poured the
coffee on himself.   The Dona gasped as he disappeared and a
badger waddled out of the clothing heaped on the floor.
Ramon gaped in dismay.  His father turned into a badger?  He
also was cursed!

"This was why I did not want you to follow your grandfather
on his path," said Mama, "But of course, it is too late,
now."

"Is your whole family cursed?" asked Don Pedro.

"Only these two, the father and now the boy," said Mama,
"And perhaps the grandfather. But with the grandfather it is
harder to tell."

"But that means the boy..."

"... Cannot return to the school, as you wished," said Mama,
"The school is run by the church, and while I attend church
regularly, I do not think my piety would help my son if he
should change in front of a group of friars.  They have put
people to the torch for witchcraft for doing less than
that."

"And that is why you asked me to refuse the school's
request," said Don Pedro as he studied Ramon.

"Yes," said Mama, her head bowed.  "Now, I have shamed my
husband and my son in order to do this."

"Nonsense," said Don Pedro, and to his wife he said, "Give
them some cold water, will you?"

"I will never get used to it," said the Dona as she
complied. She handed the water to Mama and turned her back
before Mama upended the tumbler of water onto the badger.
Papa scrambled back into his clothing.

"But what does the boy turn into?" asked Don Pedro, "If you
don't mind my asking, that is."

"Ramon?" Mama said, "You don't have to tell him.  He will
understand."

"It is okay, Mama," said Ramon, "If Papa can do it, so can I."

The coffee had cooled somewhat, but it was still warm enough
to effect the change.  Again, the Dona gasped, but the tone
of her voice was different.

"How wonderful!" she exclaimed, "It is like seeing a
butterfly!"

"I am *not* a butterfly!" cried the girl whose hair was
dripping coffee onto the expensive carpet.

"Senora Caballo, I apologize for doubting you," said Don
Pedro as he appraised the girl, "If this had happened in
that boy's school, we could hear the padres' screams all the
way from here in Villarica."

"Papa, why do you tell him this?" asked Ramon, "And why do
you show that you have a curse, that you turn into the
badger, when you would not even tell us?"

"Your mother knew, as did the Patron," said the elder
Caballo, "But we thought it wiser not to burden you."

"Burden me?  Burden *ME*?"  Ramon felt her throat constrict
until he had to swallow to ease the tension.  "Did you ever
think that I might need to know that I was not alone in
this?  That I could get some understanding from someone else
who had to endure this... this nightmare?"

"I think I'd better leave you alone," said Don Pedro,
motioning the Dona to roll him out.

"Wait!" cried Ramon, "There is something else.  You knew
about my father's curse.  Are you cursed, too?"

"Don't be foolish!" snapped the old man, "Why should I do
something as stupid as that?  Besides," he added just before
the door closed, "my wheelchair wouldn't fit through the
cave."

He left Ramon pondering as Mama approached with the cold
water.



A TURN OF EVENTS:

They assembled before the big house, where Don Pedro had
provided horses for them to ride.  Ramon climbed onto his
black mare and waited while his father and two vaqueros
finished their coffee and mounted.

"Your boy is impatient," joshed Francisco.  He wore leather
chaps with silver conchos and buckles, and a gaudy sombrero.

"Like father, like son," agreed Pablo, an older balding man
wearing a woolen blouse with buckskin pants and worn boots.

"I once was in a hurry," said Papa, "Now, I know better. Let
everyone else wear themselves out first."

"Ahah," laughed Francisco, "Just when did you learn
patience?  You did not have it when we were young bucks!"

Pablo swung closer to Ramon, "Someday we will tell you about
the times we went to deliver horses to the Comanche," he
said, "They had many good looking girls, there.  I think you
would like to meet one of them."

"I've already met one," said Ramon, "and she almost killed
me."

"What, did you try to kiss her too soon?"

"No, I tried to wrestle her,"  The others laughed until
Ramon blushed.  "It was not like that!" he insisted, "It was
a contest!"

"It always is," agreed Pablo.

"There's the corral," said Francisco, finally, "But where
are the horses?"

There was a lone Yanqui standing at the corral.  "<Howdy>,"
he said.

"<Donde estan los caballos>?" asked Pablo, then repeated in
English, "<Where are the horses>?"

"<Well, it seems your town boss, the Alcalde, said we had to
do our business in the middle of town>," said the cowboy,
"<He was real insistent about it>."

Papa and the cowboy rode off together toward town, and the
others followed.

"What's the matter?" Ramon, unable to understand English,
asked of the two vaqueros.

"We must go to the town plaza," said Pablo, "The Alcalde has
decided that he wants to see what we are doing."

"We aren't going, are we?"

"Of course!  We must go where the horses are."

"Not a good idea!" blurted Ramon, "You forget the Alcalde is
after my hide."

"He won't bother you!" insisted Francisco, "No one messes
with Don Pedro!  The Alcalde would not dare interfere with
our business."

"Not a good idea," repeated Ramon, but he followed along
with them.



INTO THE LION'S DEN:

The village was quiet as they walked their horses down the
street.  There was little traffic, even though it was a
market day.  Ramon glanced about cautiously, feeling as
though there were eyes on him.

A train of burros blocked the way for a moment, and a white
paper caught his eye, a picture on the signboard.  It was a
crude drawing, but it was recognizably his face.  Beyond a
miner's freight wagon, he saw a uniformed man coming his
way.

Ramon slid off the horse and fled the middle of the street,
almost as a shout arose.  The soldier, on foot, had spotted
him and began pursuit.

Down the alley he ran, gaining on the older man, until he
came to a shallow watering trough.  It had been sitting in
the hot sun all morning, would the water be warm enough?  He
bent over the edge and splashed his face, just as a rough
hand on his pantalones yanked him up.

"Oh, sorry, Senorita!" said a startled soldier, "I thought
you were..."  he broke off and looked down the alley where a
dozen possible escape routes could be found.  The soldier
pelted off.

Ramon ran the other way.  He caught up with his horse
shortly, but the vaqueros were not immediately to seen.
Vaulting back onto the horse, he grabbed the reins before
the horse bolted and held it still while he looked about.
Then he headed it toward the center of town.

He should get out of the village while he could, but Papa
had impressed on him how important it was to keep the
appointment with the Yanquis.  `We must not offend these
people,' his father had said, `these horses are important to
Don Pedro, and we must keep the good will of the Yanquis.'

The mare, nervous since he had mounted so abruptly, tried to
trot but he kept it to a walk as he headed toward the plaza.
There he found the vaqueros, who were surprised to see the
horse with an unfamiliar rider.

"Saludos!" said Francisco, "Where is the boy?"

Ramon's mind went blank.  They did not know of the curse.
How could he explain?

He was rescued by his father, who called from the center of
the plaza.  Fifty or more horses were milling about in a
rope corral.  "Machita!" cried Papa, "Get on over here! I
need a rider."

Francisco turned to Pablo, who also looked dumbfounded.
"Machita?  What kind of a mother would name a girl *that*?"

"It's a joke," said Ramon, as he slid off the horse.  He
handed them the reins and pushed through the onlookers to
the corral.

"Pick out a good one for the rancherita," said Papa.

Ramon eyed the herd, picked up a riata and walked around the
corral.  The horses moved about skittishly; browns, blacks,
a pinto of the kind the Yanquis called `paint', and a couple
with unusual markings.  He selected one of these, a reddish
brown stallion with a white blaze zigzagging down its nose.
It was alert, with its head up, brown-gold eyes watching
him.

"<You letting that little girl do your horse work>?" asked
one of the Yanqui cowboys.

"<She is as capable as a boy>," said Papa with a mischievous
gleam in his eye.

"<Well, I hope she has better sense than to choose that bay
she's looking at.  That's the sneakiest critter God ever put
on this earth>."

"<She better be sittin' a horse if she plans on ropin' one
of these mustangs>," said another.

"<She works on foot>," said Papa, "<Machita can ride, when
she chooses.  But now she does not choose to do so.  I
taught her everything he knows>."



ROMANCE:

Ramon flipped the loop about the neck of the bay and pulled
it close.  Some things were the same, the rope obeyed as
well as when he was male.

"<Whoooeee>!" said a cowboy, "<Ain't she a corker, though!
She really knows how to swing that lasso>!"

"<Macho is good with la riata, true>?"

"<Macho>?"

"<Ahhh... Machita.  She and her brother help me with the
horses, sometimes>."

Ramon got the bridle on and swung the blanket into place.
The bay, feeling playful, brought his head around and shoved
Ramon from behind, knocking the saddle from his hands.
Ramon smiled in anticipation.  This one was going be fun to
ride.

Ramon bent to pick up the saddle, but it was already up.  He
looked up to see a huge grin attached to curly wheatcolored
hair, freckles, and a sunbaked felt hat.

"<Here ya go, Seen-yore-reeter>," said the cowboy.

`Oh, no,' Ramon groaned inwardly.

"<Here, Ma'am>," said the cowboy, "<I better show you how
it's done>."  He proceeded to throw the saddle over the
horse's back and began to cinch it down.  Ramon saw the
glint in the bay's eye as the horse watched the cowboy, and
kept silent.

"<Better stand back, Senyoreeter>," said the cowboy as he
stepped into the saddle, "<This here horse don't like to be
rode>."

The bay allowed him to settle in, took a few steps and then
stiffened his legs, bowing his back at the same time as he
bounced, which efficiently jettisoned the young cowboy.  The
cowboy got up, grinned, dusted off his chaps and hobbled
over to his boss. "<You want to let me try again, Mister
Calpern>?"

Calpern shook his head, "<You done good, Sandy>," he said,
"<Can't expect to break them at the last minute>."  To Papa,
he said, "<Better pick out another for that rancherita.  I
ain't seen anyone can stay on this bay.  Less'n you geld
him, he won't be good fer anything but stud.  Hate to see
anyone pickle him, though.  He's got spirit>,"

"<Tell you what>," said Papa, "<I get someone who can ride
him, *and* keep him for stud, what do you want for him>?"

The Yanqui boss considered.  "<You seem a good fella>," he
said, "<Providing you treat him right, I'd practically give
the sun-of-a-buck to you, half-price.  Sort of had my eye on
him, myself, but I ain't got the means to keep him when I
head home>."

"Hey, Machita!" called Papa, "Get on him!  He's yours!"

"You mean it!?"

"This man just said so.  All you gotta do is ride him."

"<Bueno>!"  Ramon clambered aboard.  The bay, startled,
jumped a foot into the air.  When he came down the horse
shied sideways, reversed, and stopped suddenly the better to
roll his rider over his head.  Ramon still clung tightly in
the saddle.  Experimentally, the bay stiffened and bowed his
back, with the same result, then launched into a series of
violent turns.  Finally, he stopped and rolled his eyes to
the side as far as he could with the reins taut, trying to
observe his rider.  What he saw must have satisfied him, for
he settled down and walked placidly back to the group of
cowboys.

"<Well, I'll be a cross-eyed mule>," crowed the cowboy who
had been bucked previously.  "<Would you look at that gal
ride>!"

"<Taught him myself>," said Papa, but he said it quietly.



ALCALDE:

A darkhaired, sunbrowned cowboy nicknamed `Lonesome' came to
Calpern and said, "<Company, boss. Sojers>."

Three soldados marched up, escorting the Alcalde. The
Alcalde, a lean hard man with precisely trimmed mustaches,
smiled broadly and approached the trail boss with an
extended hand.

"It is good to meet you, Mister Calpern!" he said, "I trust
you are making a profit, no?"  The sergeant behind him
repeated the words in English.

"<I reckon I am>," admitted Calpern, "<If'n I have my way.
Couple more buyers and I'll break even>."

The Alcalde frowned microscopically and turned to the
sergeant. "What did he say?" he asked, "I cannot understand
him."

"<Seems we need an interpreter>," said Calpern, "<Why not
him>?" He pointed at Papa.

"<The Alcalde would prefer not to use his services>," said
the sergeant.

"<Well, you can tell the Alcalde here that we are fine, and
thank him for asking>."

"Excellent!" replied the Alcalde, after the interchange,
"Allow me to introduce myself.  I am Bertran Sinestro, the
mayor of this fine city.  Thank you for conducting your
negotiations here."

"<Not like we had much choice>," said Calpern, "<But thank
him for having us.  My men are enjoying the hospitality>."

"You understand that the men you are dealing with may not
always be here," smiled Sinestro, "The politics, you
understand."

"<Nothin' lasts forever>," Calpern leaned against the
makeshift gate and fumbled with his pipe.

"First, there is the revolution, always the revolutions, and
now the Empire.  Soon, the Spaniards, they may all go away.
The people who replace them will remember that you did
business with Don Pedro.  Then who will you sell the horses
to?"

"<Reckon I'd find someone with a big spread who needed
horses>," the trail boss scratched his neck as he thought.

"Perhaps me, no?"

"<You plannin' on takin' up ranching?  That takes money.
Mucho Dinero>."

"I have big plans, Mister Calpern."

"<Well, I'd have to see what the lay of the land was, before
I'd start making promises>."

Sinestro turned to his sergeant.  "See that they leave
immediately after their trading," he told the sergeant, "I
don't want them in town any longer than necessary."

The sergeant said to Calpern, "<The Alcalde regrets he must
leave to handle an urgent affair.  Please enjoy your stay>."

"<Much grass, hombre>,"  Calpern resumed watching the
horses.  After the soldiers had gone he said almost
inaudibly, "<When hell freezes over.  Two-faced pile of
manure.  Don't want us in town, eh>?"

To Papa he said, "<Senor, I'd say you and him ain't exactly
bed-mates>."

"<True enough>," agreed Papa, "<If you wish to reconsider
selling us the horses, I will understand>."

"<Hell, I didn't say I disagree with you.  Anytime some
hombre gets my back up the way he did, I'd walk a mile outta
my way just to spit in his eye>."

Papa smiled.  "<Bueno>," he said, and they shook hands.

"<I take it your Don Pedro will be wanting more horses>?"

"<This many, and more>."

"<Gotta tell you, though, that not all my horses are going
to be as good as the thirty you got this time.  Sometimes we
can find them, sometimes they just ain't there>," the
grizzled boss took a long draw on his pipe, watched the
smoke plume into the sky above the mission roof, "<But you
got a good eye.  And if you can't make it, just send that
little gal of your'n>."

Papa smiled at some inner thought, then said, "<Perhaps.  Or
her brother>."

"<Take me a couple of months to get them rounded up and
fresh-broke.  Meanwhile, any objections to me leaving one of
my hands down here to help finish breaking these that you
bought>?"

"<There is no need.  We have our own way of breaking
horses>."

"<All the same, I'd take it as a favor, you let this kid
stay and learn to speak some Mexican.  He's sort of
family>," Calpern indicated the sandy-haired youth, "<Plus,
he seems to be kinda taken with this place>."

"<He will be disappointed>," said Papa.

"<Yep.  You know that, and I know that, but he don't.  Time
he got a little sand under his saddle and learned about
life>."



ALL THINGS COME TO SHE WHO WAITS:

It was late before the thiry horses Papa had bought were all
bedded down at the rancho, the rider's mounts stripped of
saddle and tack and rubbed down, and the vaquero's
paraphenalia put away.  Ramon was tired.  Don Pedro, from
his wheelchair on the portico, insisted that Ramon and his
father spend the night in the big house, where rooms were
waiting.  They agreed.

Ramon did not even consider reverting to male form; he was
so weary he could not focus his eyes as he shuffled into the
room Don Pedro had indicated, threw off his shoes and drew
the shirt over his head.  A noise from the end of the room
caused him to waken sharply.  There was someone in the bed.

Estrellita had pulled the blanket up to cover herself.  "Who
are you?" she demanded.

"Estrellita?"  Ramon groaned.

"Wrong, whoever-you-are!  *I'm* Estrella!  I want to know
who *you* are!  And just *what* do you think you are doing
in Ramon's room?"

The blond girl wrapped the blanket around her and advanced
on Ramon.

"This is *my* grandfather's house, and this is *my* friend's
room, and you have some nerve sneaking in here trying to get
in my friend's bed, with your..." she glared at Ramon's
exposed breasts while pulling the blanket tighter about her
own.  "...your... anyway, he's not here, so you can get
out!"

Ramon pulled the shirt back on and stumbled out the hall and
down the stairs.  He found a pitcher of cold water, poured
it over his head, then collapsed with a sigh on the
horsehair bench in the great room.  Almost immediately, Dona
Mercedes, the hacendado's wife, was tugging him to his feet.

"You just come right along, I've got a nice soft feather bed
in Esteban's old room.  I won't tell her you are there."




---------------

The next morning they gathered at the huge table in the
kitchen. Estrellita was late for breakfast.  Her eyes were
red from lack of sleep, and she ignored Ramon.  She pushed
away from the table after only a taste of the pancakes.

"I'm not feeling well," she announced, on her way out to the
corral.

She was raking horse manure from a stall when Ramon found
her.  "Go away," she said, "I said I'm not feeling real
good."

"Was it something I did?  You wouldn't even look at me at
breakfast."

"Naw," she shrugged nonchalantly, "You're a big boy.  You
can do what you want to."

"Is it about last night?"

She turned on him.  "What *about* last night?"

"I guess I was so tired when I came in that I fell asleep in
the front room.  Senora de Muerte put me into your father's
old room."

"She did?" Estrellita said increduously.

"Yeah.  I was really tired.  Guess I woke her up, stumbling
around."

"She should have put you in your own bed.  But perhaps it's
better she didn't."

"Why?  What happened?"

"Nothing.  Let's just say I'm not very proud of myself."

"Who did you beat up this time?"  Ramon ventured a smile.

"I didn't..." she stopped raking for a moment.  "Do you know
any girls around here?  Besides me, that is."

"No... unless you count Red Cloud."

"Well, I suppose she is a girl.  But I was talking about
Mexican girls.  You know what I mean.  Competition."

"Against you?  No way."

"It pays to be sure.  I just want to know who..." she paused
and sighed.  "Maybe it was a dream.  Or not.  Anyway, I
almost did something I would have regretted.  I sort of wish
I could be regretting it right now."

Ramon kept silent and found a pitchfork to help her clean
the stall.




CHAPTER QUATRO:  END


<Muchas gracias> to my prereaders Yvonne and Harry and close
kin, as well as to Andre for his excellent advice (which I
did not always heed, but always appreciated).
C&C welcomed.

James and the Bluejay
   jeeades@ix.netcom.com
   http://www2.netcom.com/~jeeades/bluejay.htm