with a thief. He held out a hand, palm up.
Beaming, the captain pressed the coins into Caleb’s hand and closed his fingers over them. But Soto wasn’t done. While he bargained with Caleb his men climbed up into the barn, and now they began tossing down sack after sack of grain. In the end Soto paid for this too, perhaps a fourth of what it was worth.
“It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Señor Bender,” the captain said, “but now I’m afraid we must go. We have other farms to visit, other purchases to make.” Soto tested the girth strap to make sure the saddle was properly secured on his new mount, and as he hooked a foot in the stirrup he glanced over his shoulder at Caleb. “By the way, we took care of the rest of the bandidos for you. El Pantera’s rabble will trouble you no more.”
The wagon driver made some kind of remark that caused a ripple of subdued, sinister laughter among the others.
The knot tightened in the pit of Caleb’s stomach. “What did you do?”
Soto’s head tilted, puzzled, as if the question made no sense.“We sent them to the garrison in San Luis Potosi, where they will be hanged.”
“You promised you would let them live,” Caleb seethed, his nostrils flaring.
Soto spread his hands wide and looked to his compadres . “Sí, and I kept my promise! I did let them live. I even made the commander of the garrison at San Luis Potosi promise that he would give the bandidos a fair trial before he hangs them.”
Caleb’s fists clenched white, remembering the words of a Jewish grocer he’d once known in Ohio. The old Jew told him a strange story handed down by his ancestors about when the Red Sea swallowed the Egyptian army. The refugees were jubilant until Gott himself asked them, “Why do you sing when my children lie drowned in the sea?” Caleb hadn’t quite understood it until now. Try as he might, he could not remain silent.
“I’m starting to think the only thing in this country worth less than a man’s life is your word, Captain Soto.”
The smile disappeared, and Soto’s face reddened as he leaned toward Caleb. “They were bandidos , gringo. Outlaws, murderers, thieves. Five of my men lie dead because of them, and three of the peasants in the village. What would you have me do, release them so they can kill again? Or perhaps I should build a nice jailhouse for them and make myself their servant. Would you have me bring them eggs and toast for breakfast every morning for the rest of their lives? Life is hard here, gringo. Mercy is a luxury we cannot afford, especially for men who only make life harder. I have no sympathy for these men.”
“You will answer to Gott one day,” Caleb spat.
They laughed at this, the captain and his men, as if it were an old joke.
“Señor Bender,” Soto said, still chuckling, “I think perhaps this has been the problem in my country for far too long—toomuch God and not enough common sense. But the new presidente is taking steps to correct the problem. He will bring order. You will see.”
Captain Soto spurred the horse he had just stolen from Caleb, and his men followed him down the lane toward Hershberger’s place.
The soldiers had just left when Domingo rode up to the barn on a mule-drawn planter. Climbing down from the seat the young native wiped his forehead with a bandanna.
He pointed with a thumb. “Wasn’t that one of your horses?”
Caleb nodded, holding out a hand to show him the coins.
Domingo raised an eyebrow. “A hundred pesos?”
“Not nearly enough for my best buggy horse.”
“Better than nothing,” Domingo said, instantly grasping the alternative.
Caleb pocketed the money. “I’m starting to wonder if maybe the federales are worse than the bandits. Twice now I have heard Captain Soto say the new president does not fear Gott. What does he mean?”
“Presidente Plutarco Elias Calles, who won the election and took office just before the New Year. He is an atheist, and he has sworn to
Beaming, the captain pressed the coins into Caleb’s hand and closed his fingers over them. But Soto wasn’t done. While he bargained with Caleb his men climbed up into the barn, and now they began tossing down sack after sack of grain. In the end Soto paid for this too, perhaps a fourth of what it was worth.
“It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Señor Bender,” the captain said, “but now I’m afraid we must go. We have other farms to visit, other purchases to make.” Soto tested the girth strap to make sure the saddle was properly secured on his new mount, and as he hooked a foot in the stirrup he glanced over his shoulder at Caleb. “By the way, we took care of the rest of the bandidos for you. El Pantera’s rabble will trouble you no more.”
The wagon driver made some kind of remark that caused a ripple of subdued, sinister laughter among the others.
The knot tightened in the pit of Caleb’s stomach. “What did you do?”
Soto’s head tilted, puzzled, as if the question made no sense.“We sent them to the garrison in San Luis Potosi, where they will be hanged.”
“You promised you would let them live,” Caleb seethed, his nostrils flaring.
Soto spread his hands wide and looked to his compadres . “Sí, and I kept my promise! I did let them live. I even made the commander of the garrison at San Luis Potosi promise that he would give the bandidos a fair trial before he hangs them.”
Caleb’s fists clenched white, remembering the words of a Jewish grocer he’d once known in Ohio. The old Jew told him a strange story handed down by his ancestors about when the Red Sea swallowed the Egyptian army. The refugees were jubilant until Gott himself asked them, “Why do you sing when my children lie drowned in the sea?” Caleb hadn’t quite understood it until now. Try as he might, he could not remain silent.
“I’m starting to think the only thing in this country worth less than a man’s life is your word, Captain Soto.”
The smile disappeared, and Soto’s face reddened as he leaned toward Caleb. “They were bandidos , gringo. Outlaws, murderers, thieves. Five of my men lie dead because of them, and three of the peasants in the village. What would you have me do, release them so they can kill again? Or perhaps I should build a nice jailhouse for them and make myself their servant. Would you have me bring them eggs and toast for breakfast every morning for the rest of their lives? Life is hard here, gringo. Mercy is a luxury we cannot afford, especially for men who only make life harder. I have no sympathy for these men.”
“You will answer to Gott one day,” Caleb spat.
They laughed at this, the captain and his men, as if it were an old joke.
“Señor Bender,” Soto said, still chuckling, “I think perhaps this has been the problem in my country for far too long—toomuch God and not enough common sense. But the new presidente is taking steps to correct the problem. He will bring order. You will see.”
Captain Soto spurred the horse he had just stolen from Caleb, and his men followed him down the lane toward Hershberger’s place.
The soldiers had just left when Domingo rode up to the barn on a mule-drawn planter. Climbing down from the seat the young native wiped his forehead with a bandanna.
He pointed with a thumb. “Wasn’t that one of your horses?”
Caleb nodded, holding out a hand to show him the coins.
Domingo raised an eyebrow. “A hundred pesos?”
“Not nearly enough for my best buggy horse.”
“Better than nothing,” Domingo said, instantly grasping the alternative.
Caleb pocketed the money. “I’m starting to wonder if maybe the federales are worse than the bandits. Twice now I have heard Captain Soto say the new president does not fear Gott. What does he mean?”
“Presidente Plutarco Elias Calles, who won the election and took office just before the New Year. He is an atheist, and he has sworn to
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