Disclaimer:  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.    All mistakes and
errors are mine.

Conventions:  I make rather liberal use of the `<>' brackets
to indicate language.  Perhaps it would ease the confusion
to think of the brackets as containing what an English-
speaking person would hear/read.  Thus, a sentence spoken in
Spanish would contain `<Gracias>!', while a sentence spoken
in English would contain `<Thank you>!'.




                        MACHO CABALLO
                              
                    PART I:  CHAPTER UNO


A mockingbird called from the bushes.  Ramon Caballo
Guiterrez, known to his friends as `Macho', unfolded from
his comfortable rest atop a dawn-lit boulder and hoisted the
courier pouch into place before resuming the trail.  The
morning air remained chill as he swung along a lane worn
smooth by many feet, near the ravine and over the crest of
the next hill. Bracing the strap of his pouch, he leaned
down and picked up a rock to shy into the ravine.  How many
rocks had he and his compadres chucked into the deep ditch?
No way to know.

But the ravine would never fill up, for the rains every
winter would wash the rocks away.  Then the boys would chuck
some more.  The supply was inexhaustible.

It was several miles to the village.  Miles.  That was one
of the words he had learned at the school, and he had
learned by pacing it off about how far it was.  A yard was
so long, and a furlong was so long, and a mile was this many
furlongs.  Papa had said he was too lazy or too impatient to
learn anything.  Mama had said - well, Mama was going to be
proud of him whatever he did - Mama had said he would be the
best student in the school.

In the distance, several rises away, he could see the
cultivated fields surrounding the village, and nearby a few
scrawny cattle foraging in the Spring grass.  Mama would
have breakfast ready, about now.  Some tortillas and honey,
and eggs, if the hens were laying.  She would give him an
extra helping, since he was just come home from school.  And
maybe he could ask Papa why he had been called home so
early.

Someone was on the trail ahead, coming toward him, and he
stopped to rest until they could pass.  The person looked
familiar, somehow, but Ramon could not be sure.

Then the other spoke, half a hill away, "Hey, Macho!  Que
pasa?"  His best friend Gordo still had a baby face, but he
was taller than a year before, and more slender.

"Gordito?  Is it you?  Hey, hombre, you ain't fat no more!"

"Naw, I grew out of it.  Except around my face," he mugged
for Ramon, "How about you?  You still deserve your nickname?
You still Macho?"

"More and more worthy every day," grinned 'Macho'.

"Betcha got soft in that city school!"  Gordito hunched down
in a mock attack, arms spread as if to grapple.  Ramon slid
off his pouch and ran at him, and they tumbled across the
grass.

"How was the big city?" Gordito quizzed him, "Were there
plenty of chicas?  Did they have the bull fights?  Did you
get laid?"  They wrestled laughing in the dust until Gordito
cried that he had had enough.  "You still got it," he
laughed as he caught his breath.  They sat on a hummock by
the trail, watching the sun climb the heavens and the birds
flit amongst the scarecrow trees.

"You are lucky, hombre," sighed Gordito.

"In what way?"

"Don Pedro likes you, he thinks you are some kind of nice
person.  You get to go to the big school.  You get to go
away from this place."

"The city and the school was just a place.  Just like this
one.  And I worked hard, cleaning the buildings and tending
the horses."

"Ahhh... There's more to life than a place.  There's food -
I oughta know that!  There's girls.  There's things to see,
the stores and markets and entertainment.  And there's more
fun in the city.  And better food.  Did I mention food?  All
we have here is corn.  Fried corn.  Boiled corn.  Baked corn
at night. Ground corn for breakfast.  I get sick of corn."

"You're old enough to leave.  Go to the big city, get a
job."

A strange look came over Gordito's face, and he seemed close
to tears as he looked away from Ramon.  "Not me," he said,
"I'm never leaving this country."  He climbed to his feet
and reached a hand to help Ramon up.

"Might as well come on," he said, "I was sent to take you to
your Papa."

"But I am going home!"

"Not yet.  Your Papa has something he has to talk to you
about."

"You can't tell me what he wants?"

"No,"  Gordito smiled in an attempt to soften the harsh
word, but he would not meet Ramon's eyes.  As he started
away, he added, "Besides, you are really gonna like your
guide."

"Guide?"  But there was no answer.  He hurried to get his
pouch and follow Gordito as he marched toward the hills away
from the village.




THE SPIRIT OF THE SPRING:

There was nothing outstanding about the grotto.  It was just
a cave, a dimly lit widening with a hot spring bubbling out
of a basin.  There was a chill breeze that played tricks
with the ear, whistling about the deposits hanging from the
ceiling and chuckling over stones in the water.

He stopped on the promontory, a stone shelf which jutted out
into the basin and hesitated.  Papa said to speak his name,
loudly, and ask for guidance.  His throat was dry; Ramon had
to swallow a couple of times.

"Hello?" he said.

The water gurgled and chuckled in response.  The wind made a
lonesome whistle through some hidden orifice.  In the dim
light, mists floated above the bubbling water.

What was he doing here?  Papa was adamant - he had to
present himself to the 'spirits of the spring', to prepare
himself for the next step of his manhood.

This was just like Papa, however.  The boys of the Azuma
village were given a week-long ceremony when they became
men.  "Papa gives me a short lecture on 'being mature' and
makes me stand in a dumb cave for my 'trial of manhood'.
Next he'll probably tell me I'm supposed to spend the night
on the desert without food to prove I can stand
deprivation."

"I'll just stay here a little while longer.  That should
satisfy him."  Echoes of his voice filled the grotto
briefly, then quiet returned.  Somewhere, perhaps outside,
he heard the faint cry of a hawk calling its mate.  When he
shifted his feet the clatter of misplaced stones filled the
room.

Gradually, he became accustomed to the rustle and murmur and
all sound seemed to fade away.  He was alone in the silence.
It seemed he heard, not the wind, but a human voice singing
sadly beyond the farthrest depths.  "Is someone there?" he
called softly.  Then he did hear a voice, behind him,
someone calling for help.  Glad for an excuse to quit his
vigil, he turned to go.

"Stop," the gurgle and mutter of the spring seemed to say.
Yes, he assured himself, the spring had spoken.  Or perhaps
the mists had spoken.  Ramon hesitated for a moment.

"Stay," said the voice - a hissing, whistling, chuckling
noise.

"That sounded like the person who guided me in here, calling
for help," said Ramon.

"What do you want?"  The spirit of the mist demanded,
ignoring his statement.

"My father has sent me here to ask..."

"We did not ask why you were here, impertinent child,"
whispered another misty voice, "What do you want?"

"My father has told me to ask for a blessing," faltered
Ramon.

There was a shifting murmur to the bubbling waters, as
though the spirits were muttering to themselves.  He started
to believe that the voices were in his ears, tricked by the
gurgle and splash of the springs.

"I am to tell you my name and ask for guidance," his voice
echoed damply in the chamber.  Silence was his answer, a
murmuring hissing silence where he thought he heard voices.
He listened with all his might, and far off there seemed to
be someone calling.  Someone asking for help.  "I am wasting
my time, here," he said, "I have to go find who that is and
help them."

"Wait," hissed the voice, "You dare to turn your back on
us?"

"I have to go," he insisted.

"You are impertinent.  Who are you to disobey us?"

Ramon drew himself up to his full sixteen years of maturity,
"I am Ramon Caballo Guiterez, my friends call me 'Macho',
and I am no puny girl to be frightened by wind and noise,"
he said, and the mists swirled about him.



COYOTE, THE TRICKSTER (1):

It's not nice to fool Mother Nature... or even one of the
spirits at the hot springs.  Especially not one of the
spirits at the sacred hot springs.

Ramon struggled to keep on his feet.  He had not eaten since
the morning when he had met Gordito, and he felt dizzy with
hunger. The pines seemed different, somehow, more
forbidding, as he searched for the trail which led out of
the canyon.  Long shadows filled the sheltered crevasses
beneath the huddled trees, and he was sure he had seen
movement out of the corner of his eye more than once.

His guide had vanished, perhaps finding another way out,
perhaps even now waiting for him at the cave entrance.  At
least he hoped that this had happened.  The alternative was
too ghastly to consider.  Perhaps the sight of his guide
also being dragged into the pool was an illusion.  No matter
what, he was not returning to the scene of his humiliation
to find out.

"I will not admit that I am frightened!" he swore softly, "I
must be `un hombre', as my name says.  I must be brave."

Easier said than done, since the white mist had risen and
choked him as he mocked the sacred rites at the hot spring,
and he was flung into the water.  Perhaps Coyote was
watching, or had heard his joke and decided to do him one
better.  Perhaps it was First Woman, and the hot springs
were indeed sacred and not merely haunted.  Either way, he
had made a grievous error and would have to find someone
with strong medicine to correct it.  Assuming he could find
his way back to his father's village.

He felt ill, his head spun, and he staggered as he hurried
along the trail.  He lost his balance and fell again.  His
vision cleared for a moment and the trail swam into view,
leading through a thicket and into the cave.

"Why do I fall?"  he wondered, "What has happened to my
balance?  Has Coyote stolen my skills as well as my vision?"

He splashed through a stream warm from the springs, heedless
of the noise, hurrying for the mouth of the cave and
freedom.  The inside of the cavern was cool and damp, but
not entirely dark.  There was movement ahead, where the
other end opened onto the side of the mountain.  Someone was
there?  "Hello?" he called, hoping, "Papa?  Anyone?"  But
noone answered.

The opening was a narrow crack, making it necessary to slip
through sideways, barely wide enough for his slim hips when
he had entered earlier that day.  Now, for some reason, he
seemed to stick partway through.  His chest and his buttocks
scraped, and he finally fell through on the outside feeling
much abraded.  He had laughed at his companion earlier, now
this.  Dusting off his bottom and his chest, he felt
something odd, and stopped in rigid terror.  His chest.
Felt.  Odd.  Unusual.  Like...

And the cave entrance looked higher, as though he were a
child looking up, or... as if he were about two hands
shorter than he had been when he went in.  His cheeks.  No
downy hairs... the faint trace of a moustache he had prized
was not on his upper lip, and his chest.  Felt... odd ....

"Madre de Dios," he breathed.

And he fled as in fear for his very existence.

Father, who should have been waiting, was nowhere to be
found.  Ramon would have to find the village, and his
mother, and try to piece together what had happened.

"I must face my mother, and tell her that I..." he had run
as far as he could, and had fallen to the grass and lay in
still despair for hours, and nothing had come to make sense.
"Tell her that I..."

Earlier that day, he had returned to the village when his
father had sent word that he must attend to an `obligation'.
His mother had not seen him for a year, and his father,
instead of taking him home, had taken him to ... this...

"I must go to her and tell her..." His breath came in great
gasps, and he realized that tears were coursing down his
face and his mouth was silently forming the bawl of a calf.

"What am I saying?"

And he huddled unto himself, gathered his arms about his
knees, and enclosed himself in silence and sobs.  Even so,
he was conscious of little things; the looseness of his
pants about his waist, yet tight around his hips, and how
his blouse was loose in the sleeves and tight around the
chest.  And the place where he was smooth when he shouldn't
be.  Which made him sob all the harder.

Eventually, the tears stopped, and he went... home...


_______________________________
(1) Among certain tribes, Coyote was considered to be a
mischievous god, forever pulling pranks and practical jokes
on people.  You might compare him to Loki, of Norse
religion.



HOMECOMING:

It was not the homecoming he had expected.  It had been a
year since he had left to go to the school Don Pedro had
arranged.  It was a rare honor.  What had his mother and
father been like?  He remembered strong warmth from his Mama
and a bluff, severe patience from Papa.  Now, he was back
from the city, and he was almost grown, but he feared to
face his mother.  He had changed. His father had changed,
and perhaps not for the better.

"Mama?" he called at the entrance to the adobe house.

"I am not your mother, little one," said a warm, strong
voice, but it was indeed his mother who emerged from the
door,  "Have you become lost from your family?"

Despair crowded Ramon's heart, as he realized that Mama did
not recognize him.  "I have become twisted and ruined," he
mourned, "And there is no hope for me in this world.  Why
would Coyote the trickster do such a horrible thing to me?"

"I do not know," said his mother, and Ramon realised he had
been speaking aloud, "But that is one name we do not speak
in this house.  Especially if we do not wish to see him."

"<Lo siento>," apologized Ramon, remembering the many times
Mama had argued with Papa about his choice of religion.  "I
would not wish to bring him into this place by calling his
name."

"I understand," his mother said, "You are upset, is this not
true?  And what terrible thing has happened to upset such a
lovely child?"

[Boy, am I EVER upset!] thought Ramon.

"I have come home to see my family, and now I don't know
what to do," said Ramon, "And strange things have happened.
I do not know where to go."

"Then you will stay here," said Mama, "Until you find your
family, you are welcome.  You will be as one of the family,
along with my daughter.  Her name is Lucita but we call her
`Gentle Rain'.  And we must do something about those
clothes.  They are not suitable for a girl to wear."

Ramon eventually became aware of the other person in the
room. She sat quietly in the shadows at the end of the
lodge, a fragile flower of youth, brown eyes as observant as
the gaze of a fawn, a lock of pitch black hair straying
rebelliously across her brow.

He had no sister.  Why would his mother claim this girl?

Her name was Lucita.  Gentle Rain, Ramon remembered, was a
pet name his friends from father's village had given her.
And the last time he had seen her was at a neighbor's house.
She had been in blankets at her mother's breast.

Now she watched him with the wariness of a small deer as
Ramon huddled by the doorway and considered his options.

Mama did not recognize him... not as her son.

Papa was not here.  Would he explain?  Ramon debated this.
Papa would not endanger himself.  Papa valued his life too
much to stand before Mama and tell her the truth.

Better to pretend to be a stranger, live a lie until he
could find some answer to the puzzle.  That meant he would
have to learn to live as a...  a...  He could not complete
the thought.

He became aware of a presence close by, and looked up to see
Lucita standing beside him, peering closely at him as though
to penetrate his falsehood.

Mama returned with garments; to Ramon's dismay they were
dresses.  He stammered his thanks but bolted for the door as
soon as she turned her back.  On the path from the shack, he
hurried for the shallow river.  Then as was his habit, he
went to wash in the cool waters of the river.

And pandemonium broke loose.  He had not noticed that he had
been joined by several young maidens in the shallow bend,
and had knelt to splash water onto his face.  They had
swirled about as though he were invisible until the cold
water hit his face and he felt a momentary disorientation.
His clothes fit once more.  He was a boy again.  His elation
was short-lived.

The girls had been removing their skirts and tops and
splashing each other playfully when he stepped down to the
water, and one of them saw him immediately after his change
from a girl to a boy.

"Heyo, strange boy!" she shrieked, "Are you so bold that you
would join us in our bath?"  And they began to pelt him with
rocks and sticks until he ran from their midst.

Ramon beat a hasty retreat up the bank.  He examined his
clothes, which seemed to fit once more as they should.  "I
am once more a man," he said, though he could not explain
it.

However, he was beginning to see a pattern.  Get wet with
hot water, turn into a girl.  Cold water made him a man.  He
began to feel a tiny bit of confidence returning as he
neared the village.  That seemed safe enough.  Simply stay
away from cooking fires and hot springs, and he could quit
worrying.

Too late, he looked up to see a stream of steaming fluid
cascading toward him.

"Oh, I am sorry," apologized the old woman, "I did not see
you on the trail, senorita."

Ramon disgustedly brushed the dishwater from his face and
headed back to the river, to a secluded bank, and splashed
himself again.

He came upon a campfire, with two men drinking coffee.  It
would be awful tasting coffee, for he recognized his abuelo
(grandfather).  This meant that the man sitting with his
back to Ramon would be Papa.  That person turned and spoke.

"Machito!  It is good to see you, my son!"

"Papa!  Where were you?  Did you know what would happen to
me at the spring?"

"Of course!  You received your secret name, and you were
told of your animal guide.  You are now a man!  Normally, of
course, you would have been better prepared, but we figured
since you had been fasting on the way here you were ready
for this step."

"Wrong!  Do you want to know what *really* happened?"

"Such an attitude!" admonished Grampa, "Manuel, you must
speak to your son about his lack of respect for his elders."

"What about *me*?" cried Ramon, "Don't you care what
happened to me?"

"It is the young generation," mourned Papa, "They are so
infatuated with the Espanoles they have lost all sense of
our past and traditions."

"That is no excuse.  You have not taught this boy well
enough."

"Is anyone listening?" Ramon said, "I have a problem!"

"You are now a man!" replied Papa, "You must learn to deal
with your own problems.  You cannot come whining to me for
every little cut and bruise."

Ramon clenched his fists and waited until he could speak. "I
am not cut and bruised," he said, "It is much worse than
that."  He picked up the coffee pot and poured coffee on
himself, yelping in pain because it was so hot.

"They have given you a sacred form!" Papa stared at him,
then realized the implications.  "That's your sacred form?"
he asked, "But how can you hunt and scout if you are...?"

Grampa's reaction was a little less subtle.  "Gah!" he
cried, and he sit down with a thump, crabbing backwards away
from Ramon.

"Now that I have your attention," Ramon said as he gingerly
felt the scalded spot, "How do I get out of this?"

"We will think of something," Grampa said, warily easing to
his feet and inching closer, "You must get help from the
tribal medicine man."

"Better that we tell no one," mourned Papa, "Oh, the shame
of it!  My son, a female!"

"You must make the most of it," opined Grampa, as if that
settled that.

"Yes.  I will try.  Now, Ramon, it is important that you
remember the name of your sacred form, but tell it to no
one," said Papa.

"So what is your name, when you take the sacred form?" asked
Grampa, testing him.

"I don't know!  Why should it have a name?"

"The spirits always give a name to the initiate!" snapped
the old man.

"We must be talking about different spirits.  These just
jumped out of the water in a white mist and pushed me in!
They didn't say anything!"

"What could possibly have caused this?  You spoke the words
we told you to say, asking them for a blessing and a guide,
didn't you?" Papa stiffened as he sensed Ramon's hesitancy,
"Didn't you?  What did you say to them?"

"They said nothing that made any sense," Ramon insisted, "I
thought it was all a big joke.  I thought you were just
trying to scare me."

"I do *not* joke with these spirits!  What did you say!?"

"I said..." Ramon gulped, "I said I was not a mere girl to
be intimidated by all this trickery.  Then they pushed me
into the water.  But they didn't say anything sensible!  You
said they would ask me my name first!"

"Argghh!  My son, the mouth!" groaned Papa.

"Your son, the daughter," cackled Grampa, "Oh, this is
rich!"

Ramon morosely headed for the river again.



HOMECOMING, PART II:

Again, he approached the door, and again he called, and when
the darkhaired woman came out and looked at him with
curiousity, his heart sank.  Then, she spoke.

"Machito!  It is you!  My little Machito!" and she grabbed
him with so much force that he was nearly thrown from his
feet, "Machito, you are here!  Oh, I am so happy!"

She shepherded him in the door, examined him from head to
toe, told him how long she had been waiting to see him, and
sat him at a low table laden with bowls of tortillas,
vegetables, and flowers, all without releasing him from her
affectionate grasp.

Papa sat at the table, somehow seeming to shrink visibly
whenever anyone looked his way.  Lucita watched him
silently, her observent fawn's eyes never blinking.

"Machito, this has been the most interesting day!  There was
this girl who had lost her family, and..." she hesitated,
frowning.  "She was wearing pantalones and a jacket that
looked a lot like yours."

"Perhaps she came from the same city where our son was at
school," suggested Papa.

"It is possible.  But enough of my visitors.  Tell us about
your days in the white man's school."

"It was okay, but I do not wish to go back," declared Ramon,
picking at the avocado.

"But you must continue your school!  It is so important,
Machito!"  Mama served the dishes heaping full, as always,
and added a little extra to Ramon's plate.  "Don Pedro has
done so much for us, to send you to this school, and now you
do not want to thank him?"

Ramon chewed the tortilla in agony.  It was delicious but
his throat was so dry that it stuck.  "I do not think I
could finish it," he finally said.

"Nonsense!  You wanted it so much, and you have done so
well!  What could possibly have happened that would make you
change your mind?"

When Ramon did not answer, she prodded, "Have you met
someone at school who has made you want to do something else
with your life?"

Ramon shook his head.

"Aahhh, then. Someone here at home?" she asked, with a half
smile.

He could not meet her eyes as he shook his head again.

"Macho, something is wrong.  Tell me, what has happened?"
Mama was worried, now, and she would not let the matter
settle.  "Hijo, I am happy to see you, but I did not expect
you home before winter.  Why did you come home early?"

She saw Ramon glance furtively at Papa.

"Mama..."  began Ramon.

But Mama seemed to have something else on her mind. "Unless,
perhaps, you intend to forsake the new ways and return to
the wild, as did your grandfather."  The thought burdened
her mind for a short while, then lifted.  "But, of course,
to do that you would have to take up the ways of power, but
they are too unpredictable and dangerous, and your father
would never allow you to..."

"Mama..."

"That tone of voice..."  Mama said, "She said it in exactly
that same tone..."

"That is her," said Lucita, helpfully.

Mama sat straight up, staring at the door as if
thunderstruck.

"<La nina>," she breathed, "The girl..."

"<Que>?"  Papa said around a mouthful of tortilla.

"The girl with your clothes," said Mama.

Ramon wished desperately that he could sink through the
floor.  He wanted to slink out the door and disappear, but
Mama was watching too closely.

"...Husband of mine, what have you done?" she demanded.

"It is an affair of the men... " began Papa pompously, but
was silenced with a withering glare.

Mama had reached down a bonehandled skinning knife and held
it in a white-knuckled grip.

"There is something here that I do not understand.  Take
your bowl to the horseshed," she ordered, "You can finish
your supper there.  I will have words with your son."

And after she had sent his father away and sent Lucita to
her aunt, his mother turned to him and said, "Tell me I have
nothing to worry about, Machito.  Tell me I am wrong. Tell
me the wolves are in the sheep pen, or tell me the clouds
are free in the sky.  Tell me I am a silly old woman with
butterflies for brains.  But do not tell me you have
followed your grandfather into the darkness."

Ramon hung his head, unable to meet her gaze.

"Madre de Dios," she whispered.

"But Mama," he said, "I am *not* bad.  I have done nothing
wrong... except..."

She pulled his face up, "Tell me."

"At the spring. I  -  I made the joke..."

"Spring?  What spring could this be?"

"At the sacred spring, Papa called it, in a canyon beyond a
cave.  The cave was very small to get into.  We almost could
not fit.  I fell into the spring and..."

Mama's eyes were welling with tears.  "<Mi bebito>!" she
cried, gathering Ramon into her arms and crushing him to her
breast.  Her sobs grieved Ramon horribly, he wanted to
comfort her.  To tell her there was nothing wrong with him.
But he could scarcely breathe, and what could he tell her?
That he was deformed, that he did not know *what* he was?

"I am not following anyone!" he finally said, when she eased
her grip on his neck.  "I did not even see Grandpa!"  he
added, "Until after..."

She traced the line of his cheek, with its faint promise of
down, and whispered, "What have they done to you, my
Machito?  You are my little man, my promise of the future.
What has happened to you?"

"Errr... I become a girl," admitted Ramon.

Mama's eyes grew round with horror.  "<Mi bebito>!" she
cried, "<Mi bebito es un... un... emasculado>!"

"No, Mama, no!"  Ramon hastily tried to correct her,
remembering all too well the shattering convulsion he had
felt when he first discovered that his other form did not
come equipped with certain accustomed features, "Not
emasculado... a girl."

"<Una nina>?   How... what...?"

"Let me get some hot water and I will show you," said Ramon,
and he did.  When he splashed his face with warm water, his
mother gasped.

"It was *you*!  You came to the door, and called me Mama,
and I thought you were lost..." she declared, and froze,
torn between relief and anger.  Finally, she clutched the
girl who was her son to her and wept anew.

It was difficult to speak around the lump in his throat, "It
was me," he finally said, "I came home because I did not
know what to do."

"You?"

"<Si, Mama>."

"But how?"  Mama drew back, wanting to hold him but suddenly
afraid, somehow, that holding him only made things worse.
Afraid that he had become something unclean.  Ramon squeezed
back the tears that forced their way to his eyes.

"I do not know.  But I change.  It was because I made the
joke at the spring.  Because I laughed at the spirit of the
spring."

"So you became a girl, for punishment?"  This was something
Mama could understand, even if it was powerful stuff.

"Yes, Mama."

"And now it is over, no?"

"Oh, I wish so, Mama... but I am afraid that it is not so."

And again Mama clutched her to her bosom, "<Mi Bebita>!" she
wailed.

"What a terrible tragedy!" she finally sobbed,  "And yet...
and yet..."

"What, Mama?"

"Yet... you are such a pretty girl..."

"Mama!" Ramon pulled away from her, "Do not joke about this!
I am disfigured!  I am a freak!"

"<Mi bebita>... I was not joking.  You are beautiful."

"I would sooner be ugly and strong... and male," declared
Ramon.

"But you are not.  At least not now," a discomforting
thought creased her brow, and she added, "You *can* change
back, can you not?"

"With cold water.  Here, I will show you."

Mama gently held Ramon back.  "In a minute," she said, "Let
me look at you.  You are such a pretty girl!"

"Mama!"  Ramon felt his face warm and knew he was blushing
furiously.

"<Es bueno, mi machito>," sighed Mama with a faint smile,
"Let me see you turn into the boy again."  After this deed
was accomplished, she said, "You must go with me to get your
sister."

"But Mama," objected Ramon, "I have never had a sister!"

"Shhh, don't say this when there are listeners around.
Lucita came to us when the soldiers took her mother away."

"When I came through the town everyone acted afraid.  And
you tell me the soldiers come and take our neighbors. What
is happening here, Mama?"

"Oh, it is bad, Machito.  The Alcalde does not govern the
land as did the Commandant, he only wants slaves to work in
the mines.  When they found that Arturo was a goldsmith they
tried to make him tell them where he got his gold, and then
they took him and Elizabeta to the mines.  Before they came,
Elizabeta begged me to hide Rain, so I brought her to our
house."

"<Una hermanita>.  I never had a sister."

"You must never say to anyone that she is not your sister.
Somewhere, her mother trusts us to protect Rain.  You must
be a strong man and keep this secret."

"A sister," Ramon repeated.  He liked the idea.  Someone to
protect.  He imagined himself beating up the soldiers who
came to kidnap her.  Yes, he could do that.

"And don't do anything foolish like fighting the soldiers,"

"Yes, Mama," sighed Ramon.


CHAPTER UNO:  END



                     MACHO CABALLO
                              
                  PART I:  CHAPTER DOS


Mama worked at the big house, at the rancho.  She walked
there, early every morning, out the compound, down the road,
and through the gardens to the hacienda.  This morning there
was a lift to her step she could not explain.  Her son was
home, afflicted with a terrible curse, yet the cool of the
morning and the sounds of birds greeting the breaking day
filled her with elation.  She felt good.

She walked along the rows of the garden, amidst the scents
of cavendar, lilac, and sage.  Berries and melons grew in
the open spaces, while beans and scallions and tomatoes
flourished in the rows.  Don Pedro was generous to all who
worked for him, and he would give them any of the fruits of
the garden.  But while she admired the abundance, it never
occurred to her to accept the hacendado's offers to take
what she wanted for her own family.  She preferred to
bargain for vegetables at the town market.

Don Pedro had a guest for breakfast at the large table in
the dining room.

"Your son is well, I trust?" said the visiting Fray
Fernando.

"He is healthy, and eats like a horse," Mama said, "You knew
he was home from the school?"

"Yes, and I must speak to you about this," said the friar,
drawing her aside, "I fear we may have caused some trouble
for you."

"What could the church possibly do to give a mere mother
concern?"

Fernando coughed lightly, an affectation he had assumed to
gain him some relief from the occasional demands placed on
him at social functions.  "The friars at the school are very
proud of your son," he began, "and they were concerned when
he left without waiting for their permission. They... Ah...
sent a message to the mission to tell us to Ah... request
that he return as soon as possible.  They say he has great
promise as a scholar."

"I am pleased to hear this, but I could have told them
that."

The friar smiled wryly.  "Unfortunately, as you know,
Senora, all messages must past through the offices of the
Alcalde.  It is a mere inconvenience, usually, a delay as
some clerk shows off his education.  The... Ah... Alcalde
decided that your son must be made an example, to show
others what happens when they disobey."

"But - Fray Fernando - "

"Shh.  We are doing everything we can to correct this, but
until we do, I suggest that you keep your son at home."

"I must talk to the Alcalde at once!"  Mama sputtered,
"Ramon should not have to skulk in his home because of some
idiotic clerk!"

"It... it... Ah, it's not that simple, I'm afraid.  We have
already objected, only to be told that it is out of our
hands. The order has been given to the Seargeant to find
Ramon and arrest him, for some theft."

"Madre de Dios!  Oh, forgive me, Fray Fernando."

"It is acceptable to express yourself, my friend. Especially
under the circumstances.  I would like to vent a few choice
words, myself, were I permitted.  We at the mission have
sent a message to the school, but until they respond, your
son will be in danger."

It was later than evening when Ramon hurried to help his
mother with the bundles of cloth and sewing supplies she had
brought home.

"I have talked to the padre while he visited at the
hacienda," she started, "He tells me that the sergeant is
going to try to catch you."

"Me? What did I do?"

"The padre says you are accused of stealing something from
the school.  You did not."  It was not a question.  "The
people at the school sent a message for the padre to ask you
to return as soon as possible.  The Alcalde intercepted the
letter.  This the padre told me.  The Sergeant has decided
to treat you as a criminal."

"A criminal?"

"If you are to remain free, you must hide, for a little
while.  The padre says they will have the matter resolved in
a few days."  Mama lifted the pot from the fire.

"I will go to them and explain," protested Ramon.

"They will not listen.  We can be certain the fathers did
not lie when they said they had simply asked the Sergeant to
tell you it was time to return to the school.  But now the
Sergeant is looking for you for a crime you did not commit.
They do not want to sent you back to the school.  They want
you for some other reason."

Ramon pulled himself up from the chair, to peer out the
small kitchen window.  "I have done nothing," he said.

Mama had a cup of steaming water ready.  "I know," she said
as she poured it over him.  Ramon felt the change as his
mother seemed to shoot up several inches and his clothes
pressed in on him in different places.  He looked up at her,
a question in his eyes.

"I am thinking you may go about freely as a girl," explained
Mama. "But first, you must learn to act like one."

"I cannot act like a girl!  I would die first!"  Ramon
protested.

"Look at you, you are so stubborn.  Like the donkey.  How
can it hurt to play-act for a little while?"

"I will not priss and prance about like some showpony!"

A look of determination came into the woman's face.  "There
is more to acting like a lady than `prissing and prancing',"
she said, "We will start by dressing you properly."

"I *am* dressed properly."

"For the jailhouse?"  Mama favored the girl with a hard
smile, "Show your face as Ramon and they will put you away
so quickly that you will not have time to `act like a man'."

"I will not wear a dress!"  Ramon had been pushed as far as
he could stand.  This was indignity piled upon indignity.

"Machita, listen to me," she drew the young girl close to
her face and said, "If I lose you, man or woman, I shall
die.  Except for your father, I have no one but you.  You
are my future, my reason for living.  I will not lose you
because of your stubbornness."

"Mama, I would rather hide as a man than roam free as a
woman," Ramon gulped, "Leave me some pride!"

"I cannot,"  Mama took her in her arms, looked deep into her
eyes, and sighed.  "The heavens help me, I cannot.  Soon,
the soldiers may come and search every house.  They know
where we store things, the hiding places.  What they do not
find, someone who knows may tell them about.  If you run
away, they will chase you with the Navajo trackers.  If you
hide, they will find you.  Only if you are *not* you will
you be safe,"  she clutched the girl's shoulders tightly.
"They must *not* find you!"

Looking up, Ramon saw his mother's eyes blurred with tears.
He drew his arms around her waist and sighed, "Mama?"

She shook her head, lips pressed tightly together.

"Okay, Mama...  I'll do it."

Mama patted her gently and held her a while longer.

"First," she said when she finally spoke, "you must learn to
wear the dress.  Do not stiffen so.  It is not torture."

Ramon nodded glumly.  He had other opinions on the matter.

"I have some dresses I was making for the hacendado's
granddaughter.  She is about your size, I think they will
fit nicely."  From the shelf in her sewing nook, Mama drew a
white garment with red and yellow flowers and green vines
embroidered about the bodice.  After making certain that the
curtains were drawn and privacy assured, she turned to
Machita.

"Take off your shirt," she instructed.

"What!?"

"Take off your shirt, child.  How can I put this on you with
your shirt on?"

"But I'm wearing nothing underneath!"

"Don't you think I know this?  Would you take off your shirt
as a man?"

"Well... yes."

"I have seen you without a shirt, baby, boy, and man.  I am
your mother.  I am a woman, I am not offended by the sight
of the breasts.  Now, take off your shirt."

Ramon did so, reluctantly, feeling chilled and vulnerable.
Involuntarily, he looked down, and a blush spread from his
face downward.

"Now, though it is a shame to bind up such beauty, we must
fit you with a halter.  And you should wear some
underclothes.  You are going to have to remove your
pantalones."  Seeing the blush deepen to a brick red, she
added, "I will turn my back."

"Is all this really necessary?"  Ramon sighed noisily as he
complied.

"Believe me, child, it is the only way.  And this is only
the first of many things.  You must practice to sit, stand,
and walk naturally and with ease.  We must do your hair.
And tomorrow I must go to the market, and I want you to go
with me."

When Mama had finished, the dress fit perfectly, though
Ramon squirmed in the unaccustomed clothing, wanting it off.
The  fabric brushing against his legs sent shivers of agony
up his spine.  Mama offered him a mirror, but he pushed it
away, refusing to see himself.

"You look... Well, you are really very pretty," said Mama,
and seeing the rebellion beginning to flare up in the girl's
eyes, she added, "And a little like a wild stallion in an
evening gown."

The image of a horse enduring the indignity of a skirt
struck Ramon as so comical that he laughed in spite of his
humiliation, and soon Mama was laughing with him.  It took
some of the discomfort out of his own situation.



TO MARKET:

At the plaza, going from shop to vendor's stall, Ramon
crowded close to Mama, watching the faces of passersby.  He
had never felt so exposed, so naked.  Soon, someone would
recognize him and say, `Look at Macho, everyone!  How
foolish he looks in a dress!'

The noise of the marketplace was a steady murmur.  Some
booths were bordered on the sides by low walls, others were
merely tables laden with produce; all were sheltered by
brightly colored awnings supported by poles.  It seemed
everyone in the local country was there.

"Come out from behind my skirt, little one," said Mama, "I
cannot bargain properly while you are under my feet.  And do
not skulk."

"I do not wish to be seen," protested Ramon.

"Nonsense!  Why, this is the best place to be seen!  Come,
help me carry these beans."  She concluded her bargaining
with a farmer's wife, collected a large bowl of fresh bean
pods and handed it to Ramon.

His arms seemed shorter and thinner than they should have
been, but by jamming the side of the bowl against his
abdomen, Ramon managed to grab both sides of it and hold it
steady.  When his arms began to ache with tension from
supporting the heavy burden, Mama added to his discomfort by
piling several yellow squash onto the heap of green beans.

"Mama!" cried Ramon, "I can't hold this very much longer!"

"Then place it on your head, child.  Here, I'll roll up this
scarf to make a cushion and help balance it."

The bowl balanced comfortably on his head, Ramon found he
had a different problem in keeping his neck and upper back
straight so it would not tip.  After a few near spills, he
found a way to keep the bowl still by keeping his upper back
stiff, moving only the lower part of his back and swaying
carefully as he stepped through the crowded market, one hand
balancing the bowl.

There were many people, going to and fro.  Children played
among the stalls.  Old folk sat and gossiped on benches
thoughout the plaza.  Then Ramon nearly lost his entire
burden when he saw the boy looking at him.  It was Antonio,
from the other side of the rancho. They had played together
during the summers, years ago.  He peered straight at Ramon
as though he recognized him.  Ramon's breath stopped, and
the weight of the bowl and its contents made his knees
shake.  But Antonio simply stared at him, and made no move
to jeer.

"Is he sick?" Ramon wondered.

"Is who sick, child?"  Mama had heard him.

"Antonio.  He just stared at me."

Mama merely smiled, "No, he is not sick.  He is a boy."

"That's no answer,"  Ramon continued to puzzle over it.
Finally, he stopped, grasped the bowl carefully with both
hands, and turned fully around.  His heart stopped for a
second.  There were two more boys with Antonio, the three
just looking at him.  Gawking.

"They have *got* to be sick," he decided, before carefully
turning about to follow his mother.

Before they reached the end of the street, there were more
boys, and a couple of men, some glancing at him then quickly
away, others staring openly.  "They are so rude!"  Ramon
fumed, his earlier embarrassment forgotten.  He glared at
one, but gave it up when the recipient of that glare simply
grinned goofily back as if he had been awarded a prize.

"Why are they *doing* that?"

"I have told you before, and you would not believe me.  You
will not listen to your mother.  So let them stare.  They do
no harm."



HOME AGAIN:

Lucita drifted along the trail to the big road,
scuffling her bare feet in the dust and searching the skies
for nothing in particular. The spring rains were late, and
the dew was fading quickly in the warm sun. On the big road,
there were some men.  They were filling a hole where winter
rains had washed away the stones. Rain stopped to watch.
The woman she tried to think of as her 'Mama' had warned her
to remain in the house, but she was impatient for them to
return, and 'Mama' and the other person were late.

There were birds singing to her from the brush, and rabbits
pushing through the grass.  The dust felt cool upon her
feet.  She paused for a moment to watch the workers.
They were straining to move a boulder which had fallen into
the roadway, levering it over to the ditch beyond.

Suddenly, she couldn't breathe, and the movement of the
large stone filled her with dread.  When she heard the
boulder roll into the ditch, breaking tree limbs and
crushing rocks, she screamed and fled.


Ramon was weary by the time they had walked from the village
to the house.  The bowl seemed to grow heavier by the mile,
and at last he lifted it down and carried it in his arms to
relieve the strain on his neck.

"But why were they staring at me?" he asked, "They did not
know who I was."

Mama smiled her mysterious smile and said nothing.

"And Antonio.  Dancing like a rooster.  It was as if he
*wanted* me to watch him."

"Perhaps he did," agreed Mama.

They were within sight of the house when they heard Gentle
Rain's high piping shriek.  Ramon started to run, found the
bowl an inconvenience, hurriedly sat it down spilling beans
and squash and ran on.  "Rain!" he called.

They found her huddled under a bench in the main room, stiff
with fright.  Ramon lifted her up and held her and she clung
tightly while Mama went back to get the bowl.  Rain would
not release her hold on Ramon's neck until Mama took her and
put her to bed, singing softly to her.


VISITORS:

It was late in the afternoon, between the gold of the day
and the purple of the dusk, when they had a visitor.
Hearing the sound of hoofbeats, Mama looked about worriedly.
The horse stopped just outside the patio.

"Machito!  You there?" called a female voice.

Ramon released his breath.  "Estrellita!" he said.

"I will go out and talk to her," said Mama, pushing him
toward the earthen jug filled with drinking water. "You must
get out of the dress, first.  Then, douse yourself before
she sees you."

Remembering his condition, Ramon hesitated.  His first
thought was to face the hacendado's granddaughter and tell
her the whole truth.  She had always been a friend.  His
second thought was to run for his life.

"You hurry and change.  You were about to go straight out
there, weren't you?  How would you explain the dress?" Mama
asked, with a trace of humour in her voice.  She did not add
her thought, [And how would you explain who *you* are?]  She
hurried out the door to talk to the rancherita, knowing that
otherwise Estrellita was likely to invite herself in.

Ramon found the buttons awkward to manage, placed as they
were on the back of the dress instead of the front.  As he
struggled to get them undone, movement in the mirror caught
his eye.  He froze, seeing himself in the reflection.  The
girl in the mirror lifted her hand to her cheek, her large
eyes echoing his own shock.  He turned away hurriedly, to
scramble into his own clothes and dash cold water onto
himself.

Estrellita, the hacendado's granddaughter, had come to
visit.  She was still mounted when he came out, a slim sandy-
haired girl on a handsome buckskin pony.

"Well, I heard you were back," said Estrellita as he closed
the door, "Look at your wet hair.  Did you work that hard,
or did you fall into the water?"

"Estrellita?"  Ramon said in surprise, "You sure have
changed.  I thought you were still a pip-squeak."

"Humph.  I am no mouse, silly.  Hey, I have just got back
from Mexico City, myself.  I want to get out and see the
ranch.  You want to go riding?  I brought your favorite,
Trueno."  She indicated the second mount, a black mare with
gray speckles.

"More like Truena.  She's a mare, why can't you give her a
mare's name?" he joked as he took the mare's reins, waved
good-bye to his mother, and scrambled into the saddle.

"When she was given to me, I was too young to know the
difference," she pouted.

"Machito!" cried Mama, "Don't forget... Do not be seen."

"What was that about?" asked Estrellita as the horses picked
their way out of the compound.

"The sergeant is looking for me," said Ramon, "I don't know
why, and I'm not going to ask him."

"We'll stay away from the village.  I know some back
trails."

"Yeah, I bet you do.  You won't get me lost, this time."

She pouted prettily.  "It's more fun when we get lost once
in a while.  I wouldn't mind."

"Well, I would.  Besides, I can't take a chance on coming up
on someone who knows me.  Let's stay close to here."

"We won't get out in the open."  She paused, then added, "It
would be even better if we hid in a cave."

Ramon regarded her, enjoying the view.  Estrellita was
blonde, hazel eyed, and built like a... well, she was good-
looking.  Her honey blonde hair was braided instead of
shoulder-length like her mother preferred, and she held her
back straight so her chest would be more noticable.  He
remembered her as being a pest, forever following him around
until her grand-mother would tell her to come home and leave
him alone.  She had been a thin child with large eyes and
mousy hair, but she had matured during the year he had been
gone.  Obviously, she had developed some mature ideas about
what 'play' constituted.

They rode through the brush and trees toward the mountains,
away from the houses.  The sagebrush was blooming and
flowers were everywhere.

"You like to live dangerously, don't you?"  Estrellita said,
catching him in a moment of reflection.

"Not me.  I try to be very careful."

"Are they really after you?"  she rode closer.

"Mama said she heard it yesterday at the hacienda.  But we
didn't see anything earlier, today."

"Oh, my!  You walked into town with them looking for you?
That doesn't sound very careful!"

"No, I..."  he had almost blurted out something about
'disguise'.  Better to quit talking now, before he said too
much.  "We need to go back," he said, "Mama's worried about
Lucita."

"Oh, yes.  I didn't know she was your sister.  I thought she
was Elizabeta's daughter."

"My sister?"

"That is what your mother is telling everyone to say.  Why
would she do that?"

"Because the soldiers may come and get her."

Estrellita laughed.  It was a musical sound, and he liked to
hear it.  "You sound so serious!  Why would the soldiers
want to take a little girl?"

"I don't know," admitted Ramon, as they turned the horses
toward home,  "There are some bad things happening here, and
I am worried."

"Well, you shouldn't have to worry about *that*.  Soldiers
don't go around kidnapping children."

"I don't know," Ramon repeated, "But the Sergeant is after
me, and the soldiers took away Lucita's parents.  I am
afraid they will take her, also, if they find out where she
is staying."

"Then I won't tell anyone," she promised, "Although I can't
believe that they would be so cruel."  They rode in silence
back to the compound, and Ramon turned to her after stepping
down from the saddle.

"Thank you," he said.

"<De nada>," she smiled, and bent down to kiss him lightly
on the cheek.  He stood holding his cheek while he watched
her ride off leading the black mare, then he walked back to
the house.

"Hey, you got the chicas, ain't you?"  called a familiar
voice.

"Hullo, Gordo."

"Hey, what's this?  You sound like you ain't so glad to see
me."

"Did you know where my pop was taking me?"

"I don't know nothing, hombre.  He tell me to meet you and
take you to this place, someone else will show you the rest
of the way.  Then, I go home.  We had corn again.  How about
that, hombre?  You got some luck with the chicas, or not?"

Ramon considered his friend for a moment, then relented.  He
nodded his head, which Gordito took for assent.

"Hey, what *did* happen to you, you got such a long face?
Some kinda punishment, or something?  You come back from
school too early?"

"Yeah, some kind of punishment, or something.  You're sure
you don't know?"

"Nada, man.  Hey, you been to town, lately?"

"No, I've been laying low.  I think the Sergeant is after
me," Ramon answered evasively.

"Hey, no shit?  You are *something*, man!  Back in town two
days and already got the law after you!  You are really
macho!"

"Don't mention it," said Ramon sourly.

"Hey, reason I asked... Antonio tells me there's some hot
new chica in town.  Said he saw her at the market."

Gordito was not watching closely, or he would have seen the
emotions racing across his friend's face.  The shock of
surprise.  The pale of fear.  Elation, then doubt.

"He says this new chica is hot, man.  She wags her ass like
nobody's business.  Said she even smiled at him.  I bet he
was lying.  He can't get into *anybodies* dress.  But I bet
you could!"

"Not me," grinned Ramon shakily, "I'm too macho to get into
a dress."

Gordito looked at him with puzzlement in his eyes, until he
realized what Ramon had said.  "Oh, yeah!  That's a good
one!  I gotta use it some time!"

They talked of inconsequential things, and the subject of
music eventually arose.  Gordito had brought his battered
trumpet given to him by a an uncle killed in the revolution,
and Ramon found his father's old guitar.  He strummed while
Gordito blew melodies, and Mama stood in the doorway and
listened while they recalled her favorite tunes.

When Gordito had gone, Ramon sat on the fence and pondered.
'Wagged her ass?'  Did *he* do that?



CHAPTER DOS:  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).

James and the Bluejay