FELIPE CELEBRATES
It was well along in the morning when Felipe pulled up next day before
his little adobe house in the mountain settlement. The journey from the
mesa below had been, perforce, slow. The mare was still pitiably weak,
and her condition had necessitated many stops, each of long duration.
Also, on the way up the canyon the colt had displayed frequent signs of
exhaustion, though only with the pauses did he attempt rest.
But it was all over now. They were safely before the house, with the
colt lying a little apart from his mother--regarding her with curious
intentness--and with Felipe bustling about the team and now and again
bursting out in song of questionable melody and rhythm. Felipe was
preparing the horses for the corral at the rear of the house, and soon
he flung aside the harness and seized each of the horses by the bridle.
"Well, you li'l' devil!" he exclaimed, addressing the reclining colt.
"You coom along now! You live in thees place back here! You coom wit' me
now!" And he started around a corner of the adobe.
The colt hastily rose to his feet. But not at the command of the man. No
such command was necessary, for whither went his mother there went he.
Close to her side, he moved with her into the inclosure, crowding
frantically over the bars, skinning his knees in the effort, coming to a
wide-eyed stand just inside the entrance, and there surveying with
nervous apprehension the corral's occupants--a burro, two pigs, a flock
of chickens. But he held close to his mother's side.
Felipe did not linger in the corral. Throwing off their bridles, he
tossed the usual scant supply of alfalfa to the horses, and filled their
tub from a near-by well. Then, after putting up the bars, he set out
with determined stride across the settlement. His direction was the
general store, and his quest was the loan of a horse, since his team now
was broken, and would be broken for a number of days to come.
The store was owned and conducted by one Pedro Garcia. Pedro Garcia was
the mountain Shylock. He loaned money at enormous rates of interest, and
he rented out horses at prohibitive rates per day. Also, being what he
was, Pedro had gained his pounds of flesh--was alarmingly fat, with
short legs of giant circumference. Usually these legs were clothed in
tight-fitting overalls, and his small feet incased in boots of
high-grade leather wonderfully roweled. Yet many years had passed since
Pedro had been seen in a saddle. Evidently he held to the rowels in fond
memory of his days of slender youth and coltish gambolings. Pedro was
seated in his customary place upon an empty keg on the porch, and
Felipe, ignoring his grunted greeting, plunged at once into the purpose
of his call.
He had come to borrow a horse, Felipe explained. One of his own was
unfit for work, yet the cutting and drawing must go on. While the mare
was recuperating, he carefully pointed out, he himself could continue to
earn money to meet some of his pressing debts. Any kind of horse would
do, he declared, so long as it had four legs and was able to carry on
the work. The horse need not have a mouth, even, he added, jocosely, for
reasons nobody need explain. After which he sat down on the porch and
awaited the august decision.
Pedro remained silent a long time, the while he moistened his lips with
fitful tongue, and gazed across the tiny settlement reflectively. At
length he drew a deep breath, mixed of disgust and regret, and proceeded
to make slow reply.
It was true, he began, that he had horses to rent. And it was further
true, he went on, deliberately, that he kept them for just this purpose.
But--and his pause was fraught with deep significance--it was no less
true that Felipe Montoya bore a bad reputation as a driver of
horses--was known, indeed, to kill horses through overwork and
underfeed--and that, therefore, to lend him a horse was like kissing the
horse good-by and hitching up another to the stone-boat. Nevertheless,
he hastened to add, if Felipe was in urgent need of a horse, and was
prepared to pay the customary small rate per day, and to _pay in
advance--cash--_
Here Pedro paused and popped accusing eyes at Felipe, in one strong
dramatic moment before continuing. But he did not continue. Felipe was
the check. For Felipe had leaped to his feet, and now stood brandishing
an ugly fist underneath the proprietor's nose. Further--and infinitely
worse--Felipe was saying something.
"Pedro Garcia," he began, shrilly, "I must got a horse! And I have coom
for a horse! And I have thee money to pay for a horse! And if I kill
thot horse," he went on, still brandishing his fist--"if thot horse he's
dropping dead in thee harness--I pay you for thot horse! I haf drive
horses--"
"_Si, si, si!_" began Pedro, interrupting.
"I haf drive horses on thees trail ten years!" persisted Felipe,
yelling, "and in all thot time, Pedro Garcia, I'm killin' only seven
horses, and all seven of thees horses is dyin', Pedro Garcia, when I haf
buy them, and I haf buy all seven horses from you, Pedro Garcia, thief
and robber!" He paused to take a breath. "And not once, Pedro Garcia,"
he went on, "do I keeck about thot-a horse is a horse! But I haf coom to
you before! And I haf coom to you now! I must got a horse quick! And I
bringin' thot horse back joost thee same as I'm gettin' thot horse--in
good condition--better--because everybody is knowin.' I feed a horse
better than you feed a horse--and I'm _cleanin'_ the horse once in
a while, too!" Which was a lie, both as to the feeding and the cleaning,
as he well knew, and as, indeed, he well knew Pedro knew, who,
nevertheless, nodded grave assent.
"_Si_," admitted Pedro. "_Pero ustede--_"
"A horse!" thundered Felipe, interrupting, his neck cords dangerously
distended. "You give me a horse--you hear? I want a horse--a horse! I
don' coom here for thee talk!"
Pedro rose hastily from the keg. Also, he grunted quick consent. Then he
stepped inside the store, followed by Felipe, who made several needed
purchases, and, since he had his enemy cowed, and was troubled with
thirst created by the protracted harangue, to say nothing of the strong
inclination within him to celebrate the coming of the colt, he made a
purchase that was not needed--a bottle of _vino_, cool and dry from
Pedro's cellar. With these tucked securely under his arm, he then calmly
informed Pedro of the true state of his finances, and left the store,
returning across the settlement, which lay wrapped in pulsating noonday
quiet. In the shade of his adobe he sat upon the ground, with his back
comfortably against the wall. Directly the quiet was broken by two
distinct sounds--the pop of a cork out of the neck of a bottle, and the
gurgle of liquid into the mouth of a man.
Thus Felipe set out upon a protracted debauch. In this debauch he did
nothing worth while. He used neither the borrowed horse nor his own
sound one. Each day saw him redder of eye and more swollen of lip; each
day saw him increasingly heedless of his debts; each day saw him more
neglectful of his duties toward his animals. The one bottle became two
bottles, the two bottles became three, each secured only after
threatened assault upon the body of Pedro, each adding its store to the
already deep conviviality and reckless freedom from all cares now
Felipe's. He forgot everything--forgot the stolen money, forgot the
colt, forgot the needs of the mare--all in exhilarated pursuit of
phantoms.
Yet the colt did not suffer. Becoming ever more confident of himself as
the days passed, he soon revealed pronounced curiosity and an aptitude
for play. He would stare at strutting roosters, gaze after straddling
hens, blink quizzically at the burro, frown upon the grunting pigs, all
as if cataloguing these specimens, listing them in his thoughts, some
day to make good use of the knowledge. But most of all he showed
interest in and playfulness toward his mother and her doings. He would
follow her about untiringly, pausing whenever she paused, starting off
again whenever she started off--seemingly bent upon acquiring the how
and why of her every movement.
But it was his playfulness finally that brought him first needless
suffering. The mare was standing with her nose in the feed-box. She had
stood thus many times during the past week; but usually, before, the box
had been empty, whereas now it contained a generous quantity of alfalfa.
But this the colt did not know. He only knew that he was interested in
this thing, and so went there to attempt, as many times before, to reach
his nose into the mysterious box. Finding that he could not, he began,
as never before, to frisk about the mare, tossing up his little heels
and throwing down his head with all the reckless abandon of a seasoned
"outlaw." He could do these things because he was a rare colt, stronger
than ever colt before was at his age, and for a time the mare suffered
his antics with a look of pleased toleration. But as he kept it up, and
as she was getting her first real sustenance since the day of his
coming, she at length became fretful and sounded a low warning. But this
the colt did not heed. Instead he wheeled suddenly and plunged directly
toward her, bunting her sharply. Nor did the single bunt satisfy him.
Again and again he attacked her, plunging in and darting away each time
with remarkable celerity, until, her patience evidently exhausted, she
whisked her head around and nipped him sharply. Screaming with pain and
fright, he plunged from her, sought the opposite side of the inclosure,
and turned upon her a pair of very hurt and troubled eyes.
Yet all the world over mothers are mothers. After a time--a long time,
as if to let her punishment sink in--the mare made her way slowly to the
colt, and there fell to licking him, seeming to tell him of her lasting
forgiveness. Under this lavish caressing the colt, as if to reveal his
own forgiveness for the dreadful hurt, bestowed similar attention upon
her--in this attention, though he did not know it, softening flesh that
had experienced no such consideration in years. Thus they stood, side by
side, mother and son, long into the day, laying the foundation of a love
that never dies--that strengthens, in fact, with the years, though all
else fail--love between mother and her offspring.
Other things, things of minor consequence, added their mite to his early
development. One morning, while the mare was asleep, the colt, alert and
standing, was startled by the sudden movement of a large rooster. The
rooster had left the ground with loud flapping of wings, and now stood
perched upon the corral fence, like a grim and mighty conqueror,
ruffling his neck feathers and twisting his head in pre-eminent
satisfaction. But the colt did not understand this. Transfixed, he
turned frightened eyes upon the cause of the unearthly commotion. Then
suddenly, with another loud flapping of wings, the rooster uttered a
defiant crow, a challenge that echoed far through the canyon. Whereat
the colt, eyes wide with terror, whirled to his mother, whimpering
babyishly. But with the mare standing beside him and caressing him
reassuringly, all his nervousness left him, and he again turned his eyes
upon the rooster and watched him till the cock, unable to stir combat
among his neighbors, left the fence with another loud flapping of wings,
and returned to earth, physically and spiritually, there to set up his
customary feigned quest for worms for the ladies. But the point was
this--with this last flapping of wings the colt remained in a state of
perfect calm.
Thus he learned, and thus he continued to learn, in nervous fear one
moment, in perfect calm the next. And though his hours of life were few
indeed, he nevertheless revealed an intelligence far above the average
of his kind. He learned to avoid the mare's whisking tail, to shun or
remove molesting flies, to keep away from the mare when she was at the
feed-box. All of which told of his uncommon strain, as did the rapidity
with which he gained strength, which last told of his tremendous
vitality, and which some day would serve him well against trouble.
Yet in it all lurked the great mystery, and Felipe, blustering to
occasional natives outside the fence during his week of debauch, while
pointing out with pride the colt's very evident blooded lineage, yet
could tell nothing of that descent. All he could point out was that the
mare was chestnut-brown, and when not in harness was kept close within
the confines of the corral, while here was a colt of a dark-fawn color
which would develop with maturity into coal-black. And there was not a
single black horse in the mountains for miles and miles around. Nor was
the colt a "throw-back," because--
"Oh, well," he would conclude, casting bleared eyes in the direction of
the house, wearily, "I got soom _vino_ inside. You coom along now.
We go gettin' a drink." Which would close the monologue.
One morning early, Felipe, asleep on a bed that never was made up, heard
suspicious sounds in the corral outside. He sprang up and, clad only in
a fiery-red undershirt, hurried to a window. Cautiously letting down the
bars, with a rope already tied around the colt's neck, was the mountain
Shylock, Pedro Garcia, intent upon leading off the innocent new-comer.
Pedro no doubt had perceived an opportunity either to force Felipe to
meet some of his debts, or else hold the colt as a very acceptable
chattel. Also, he evidently had calculated upon early dawn as the time
best suited to do this thing, in view of Felipe's long debauch upon
unpaid-for wine. At any rate, there he was, craftily letting down the
bars. Raging with indignation and a natural venom which he felt toward
the storekeeper, Felipe flung up the window.
"_Buenos dias, senor!_" he greeted, cheerfully, with effort
controlling his anger. "Thee early worm he's takin' thee
_potrillo_! How cooms thot, _senor_?" he asked, enjoying the
other's sudden discomfiture. "You takin' thot li'l' horse for thee
walk--thee exercise?" And then, without waiting for a reply, had there
been one forthcoming, which there was not, he slammed down the window,
leaped to the door, flung it open--all levity now gone from him. "Pedro
Garcia!" he raged. "You thief and robber! I'm killin' you thees time
sure!" And, regardless of his scant attire, and stringing out a volley
of oaths, he sprang out of the doorway after his intended victim.
But Pedro Garcia, though fat, was surprisingly quick on his feet. He
dropped the rope and burst into a run, heading frantically past the
house toward the trail. And, though Felipe leaped after him, still clad
only in fiery-red undershirt, the storekeeper gained the trail and set
out at top speed across the settlement. Felipe pursued. Hair aflaunt,
shirt-tail whipping in the breeze, bare feet paddling in the dust of the
trail, naked legs crossing each other like giant scissors in frenzied
effort, he hurtled forward exactly one leap behind his intended victim.
He strained to close up the gap, but he could not overtake the equally
speedy Pedro, whose short legs fairly buzzed in the terror of their
owner. Thus they ran, mounting the slight rise before the general store,
then descending into the heart of the settlement, with Pedro whipping
along frantically, and Felipe still one whole leap behind, until a
derisive shout, a feminine exclamation of shrieking glee, awoke Felipe
to the spectacle he was making of himself before the eyes of the
community. He stopped; growled disappointed rage; darted back along the
trail. Once in the privacy of his house, he hurriedly donned his clothes
and gave himself over to deliberations. The result of these
deliberations was that he concluded to return to work.
After a scant breakfast of chili and coffee he moved out to the corral.
He leaned his arms upon the fence and surveyed the colt with fresh
interest.
"Thot li'l' _caballo_," he began, "he's bringin' me mooch good
luck. Thot _potrillo_ he's wort' seven--he's
wort'--_si_--eight dolars--thot _potrillo_. I t'ink I haf sell
heem, too--queek--in town! But first I must go cuttin' thee wood!" With
this he let down the bars and entered the inclosure. Then his thoughts
took an abrupt turn. "I keel thot Pedro Garcia soomtime--bet you' life!
He's stealin' fleas off a dog--thot _hombre_!"
Felipe drove the borrowed horse out of the inclosure, and then singled
out the mate to the mare. As he harnessed up this horse, the colt,
standing close by, revealed marked interest. Also, as Felipe led the
horse out of the corral the colt followed till shut off by the bars,
which Felipe hurriedly put up. But they did not discourage him. He
remained very close to them, peering out between the while Felipe
hitched the team to his empty lumber rigging. Then came the crack of a
whip, loud creaking of greaseless wheels, the voice of Felipe in lusty
demand, all as the outfit set out up the trail toward the timber-slopes.
But not till the earth was still again, the cloud of dust in the trail
completely subsided, did the colt turn away from the bars and seek his
mother, and then with a look in his soft-blinking eyes that told of
concentrated pondering on these mysteries of life.