The Captive Heart by Dale Cramer Page A

toward the barn to talk. Caleb led them that way without meaning to. He had it in the back of his mind that the owner of the hacienda had come to inquire about yesterday’s bandit raid, and the barn would help him recall the details. Hidalgo stepped carefully after they went through the gate into the barn lot, working interesting little feats of stride and balance to keep from soiling his fancy shoes or getting manure on his expensive suit.
    â€œSeñor Bender, I was very sorry to hear about what happened here yesterday,” he said as they passed from hard sunlight to the cool shadows inside the barn. “Was anyone hurt?”
    Caleb’s hand went involuntarily to his ribs, one or two of which he suspected might have been cracked. He couldn’t take a deep breath without a stab of pain.
    â€œNo. Thank Gott no one was hurt. Only my wife and eldest daughter were home, and the bandits didn’t harm them. They killed one of my cows, though.” Even now, his wife and the other women were preparing a feast of steaks for the whole Amish community. The beef would not last long.
    â€œOf course there was no way for me to know,” Hidalgo said. “But if I had known what was happening, I assure you these bandidos would have paid with their lives.”
    It was common knowledge that he kept a force of twenty well-trained mercenaries to protect the hacienda.
    â€œThank you, Don Hidalgo, but I would not want anyone to die—certainly not over a couple of mules and a few sacks of grain. We have neighbors who will help us recover from the loss. In the end I am only glad that most of my daughters were in your village when the bandits came.”
    Levi and Ezra nodded at this. The Amish would take care of their own. But Caleb had seen the fire in Levi’s eyes and knew that his son-in-law had an axe to grind.
    Levi glared at Hidalgo. “What kind of country is this, where bad men are allowed to roam free and take whatever they want? Is there no law? Would we chust have to wait and let them kill us all?”
    â€œMy men are at your disposal,” Hidalgo explained patiently, “but you are miles from the hacienda, so we do not know what is happening until it is too late. When you see trouble coming you should send a rider immediately and then barricade yourselves in the house and defend your home until my men can get here.”
    â€œWe can hide in our houses,” Caleb said, “but we will not use guns against men. We are a peaceful people.”
    Hidalgo took off his white fedora and wiped his brow with a silk handkerchief, staring into an empty stall for a moment. When he spoke again, Caleb could hear frustration in his voice.
    â€œSeñor Bender, things have changed. When you came to Paradise Valley we had little to fear from Pancho Villa’s men. Now that he is dead, there are no guarantees. I cannot promise you that hordes of bandits will not sweep down upon us. It is different than before.” He waved his hat in the general direction of the hacienda. “Always before, my little garrison at the hacienda was an adequate deterrent against the rabble that passed through your valley, but now I cannot say. Again, I would advise you and your people to arm yourselves. I cannot promise to be able to defend you against what may come.”
    Caleb shook his head slowly and repeated, “We will not take up arms against our fellow man.”
    â€œThen I don’t see how I can help you if you will not defend yourselves. Perhaps you could appeal to the government for help, send someone to talk to the official I told you about in Monterrey—see if he will send troops to Paradise Valley.”
    â€œWe have already done this,” Caleb said, his own patience wearing a bit thin. “Señor Montoya would not help us. He said his troops were badly needed in other places and he could not be bothered with a handful of gringo farmers.”
    Hidalgo sighed and gave a tired