Love, Let Me Not Hunger (26 page)

All of the five were miserably oppressed; their dilemma was still with them, that problem which could only be solved by money; while the carnivores ate, the herbivores starved. When the hay they had bought with their last pesetas was gone, the last of the butchered horse devoured, what then?

The full flush of morning, when the sun had climbed to its ten o’clock position, brought them a final irony and one wholly unexpected. For the old limousine taxi used upon official occasions drew up at the
finca
and disgorged Dr. Perrera. Following in a jeep were the
guardias civiles
who had been there the night before.

The five were at their regular chores as the old gentleman, flanked by the two green-coated
carabiñeros,
marched slowly into the enclosure, and they emerged to meet them. Fred Deeter said out of the side of his mouth, “Ixnay, don’t crack. It’ll be about the goddamned horse. At least the old goat speaks English. Let me handle him.”

As always, the Juez de Primera Instancia raised his hat and began with an exchange of politenesses and references to the glorious day. Finally, coming to the point, “—and it is particularly felicitous that under these circumstances I have good news for you. The very best, I am sure.”

The five stood in a semi-circle, watching, waiting and listening breathlessly, the thought in the mind of each that Marvel had been heard from, that money had arrived perhaps, addressed to them through the judge, and their ordeal was over.

“Yes,” continued the judge, “the very best of tidings. The Court has reached its decision, formulated upon the report of the pathologists in Madrid who have used the latest methods, something only recently discovered, I believe, having to do with carbon spectra.”

Still they waited with only the smallest of cankers gnawing at the high hopes that had filled them, for after all the judge had said the news was good.

“Based, then, upon these incontrovertible analyses, the Court has rendered the verdict of accidental death, an act of God, as it were. Poor Jorge Alvarez was killed instantaneously by either the first strike of lightning, the second, or both.”

“And—?” It was Deeter who said it.

“—and therefore you are now free to depart with your animals and your equipment.” The old man ceased speaking for a moment, regarded the panama hat he was still holding in his hand, and then looked up at them with a half-apologetic smile as he continued, “And we hope, without wishing to appear inhospitable, that you will take advantage of this decision. You are no doubt cognisant how welcome you have been in our midst, and how we have valued your exemplary behaviour. Yet, on the other hand, you will surely have been aware also that your presence has been something of a strain upon us. In fact, your liberation comes at a most opportune moment, for those charitable families who have been inviting you to their tables have just asked me how long this drain upon their resources is to continue. I was able to satisfy them with the news that since you would be departing at once there would be no further necessity for their generosity.”

So violent was the implication of this irony that they did not fully grasp it at first, although Toby had managed to keep from getting lost in the labyrinth of the judge’s verbosity to the point where he translated it—“That means we don’t eat.”

Deeter said harshly and bitterly, “So you want us to go—”

Dr. Perrera said deprecatingly, “Would it not seem now that you are at liberty to do so—”

The tall, lean ex-cowpoke put his hand upon his hips and drawled insolently, “Perhaps you’d like to tell us how?”

The judge took no offence at the tone but gestured in the direction of the lorries and the wagons. “There,” he said, “all your property is intact. You have only to—”

“—hitch up and pull out,” Deeter completed for him. “Well now, ain’t that nice. Now you listen to me. We’re broke! Flat! We haven’t got a
centimo
between us. We couldn’t buy enough gasoline to put into your eye. How do you think we’re gonna feed our animals? We’ve had to kill one of our horses to keep the cats alive. Where’s your goddamned S.P.C.A.? We’ve applied for help to your Señor Alcalde. The Señor passed the buck to the police. The cops passed it right back again.”

For an instant Dr. Perrera looked both confused and distressed. “I had heard from the
alcalde
that you were in some difficulties. Unfortunately, it takes time for the proper authorities to act in these cases. However, when you notify your patron, Señor Marvel, that the Court has rendered a verdict in his favour, he will come at once to reclaim—”

“Marvel’s taken a powder,” Deeter interrupted. “He’s disappeared. His old lady back home don’t even know where he is. We’ve telephoned.”

“Look here,” Toby said suddenly, “when Marvel left you made him put up a bond of some kind. Anyway, I saw him give you a wadge of money. If he isn’t guilty like you say, give it back to us and we can get out of here.”

The judge pondered this for a moment, and then a look of regret crossed his features. He replied, “Impossible, unfortunately. For the decision of the court only frees Señor Marvel from criminal responsibility. Since poor Alvarez was actually at the moment of death still in the employ of the circus, there remains civil liability, and the Court has turned the funds deposited by Señor Marvel over to the widow in compensation. And in view of what you have just told me about the extraordinary defection of your patron, it would seem—”

“—that you had scored another bull’s-eye,” Deeter completed. “Heads you win, tails we lose. So what do we do now?”

The courtesy of Dr. Perrera remained undiminished in spite of his disappointment and dismay at the turn events had taken. He had thought to be rid of the problem which had been affecting their community; now it was still with them. He said merely, “It is difficult, is it not? For the time being, then, you may remain where you are while I consult with my colleagues. You will, of course, prosecute your patron.”

Deeter drawled sarcastically, “Oh, sure!”

“Until later, then,” the judge said, and, entering his taxi, departed, followed by the police.

Toby said, “So what will happen now?”

Deeter said bitterly, “Nothing. You can bet your ass on that. The old goat’s up a tree.”

Mr. Albert put in, “And in the meantime we don’t eat any longer.”

“That’s for sure,” Deeter said.

The camp, which had been peaceful and co-operative during the trying days when they had been expecting Sam Marvel back became filled with tensions again. They themselves were subsisting on scraps of meat from the butchered horse. As Deeter had forecast, there was no word from the judge or the
alcalde
or anyone in the town. They were out of sight, and if not out of mind, their plight would only be subject to a round-robin of buck passing between Madrid and Zalano and various municipal functionaries. The added problem that assailed them now was sleep. Someone had to watch over the horses.

It was the second day after the visit of the judge that Fred Deeter announced quite quietly in the morning, “I’m pulling out of here.”

Toby cried, “You’re doing
what?”

“You heard me,” Deeter said. “You know as well as I do that little son-of-a-bitch there is trying to figure out a way to kill my horse, and when he does I’m going to shoot him, and next time I won’t miss. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life rotting in a Spanish jug.” His trap mouth, set in a cynical grin, directed at Toby, “Unless, of course, the next is one of
your
horses, and if you’re a man then
you’ll
kill him.”

Janos laughed. “Ho, ho, ho! How you know that? Sure I kill another horse till they all gone. Then I start on you.”

Toby laughed. “So you’re running out on us? I always thought you were kind of yellow.”

Deeter did not seem offended. “Well, not exactly,” he said. “I suppose every man’s got a bit of coyote in him. But I’ve had an idea. What were doing here now is just senseless, sitting on our asses, doing nothing. We couldn’t help it before, but the situation has changed now in two ways. For one thing, we know Marvel ain’t coming back, or at least nobody knows where the bastard is. And for another, you heard the judge say we’re free to go and move out what we can.”

Toby asked, “What’s the point? We can’t move the lorries. And like you found out before, we can’t sell ’em either on account of the customs.”

“That’s right,” Deeter said, “but there’s no duty on horses. There’s eight of Marvel’s Liberty horses left. They’re all in fair shape now since they’ve had a feed. I’ll ride Marlene, herd the rest up to Madrid, and sell ’em; and we’ll use the dough to get us all out of here. Then we’ll find Marvel and push his stinking face in.”

Toby said suspiciously, “Why not sell ’em here, then?”

Deeter laughed unpleasantly. “You’ve got a beautiful body but the brains of an acrobat, kid,” he said. “These are trained horses here. You gonna sell ’em for ploughing? They’re an act. They’ll fetch four times as much in Madrid. We’ll have to take it easy on account of the paved roads, but I ought to be able to make it in three to four days. There’s an all-year circus in Madrid. We may have to let ’em go cheaper, but they’ll fetch more than they will here. What about yours? I can sell those too!”

Toby was not unaware of his dilemma. He swallowed hard and said, “They’re not mine to sell. They belong to my old man.”

Deeter merely nodded and said, “Okay, suit yourself.” Then he asked, “Will you be able to get along until I get back?”

To their surprise it was Rose who replied to this question with a sudden lift of her head and the parting of her lips. “Yes, we’ll get along,” she said. “You can go.”

Now a curious kind of exchange of glances passed between the ex-cowboy and the girl, and so sharp were these looks, vivid and expressive, that it was almost as though they have been conversing with one another with words, yet no one knew exactly the meaning of it all, except that Mr. Albert had the feeling that somehow Deeter had lost a battle, for it was he who first turned his head away.

Deeter said, “Maybe you could find work somewhere for a couple of days.”

“Don’t worry,” Rose said.

Deeter blinked. “Okay, then, if it’s all right with the others. What do you say?”

Toby said, “I suppose it’s a good idea. What do you think they’ll fetch?”

“Between six and seven hundred quid,” Deeter replied. “Enough to get us all off the hook.”

Janos laughed. “Hokay, hokay. You bring back money. We buy meat. It’s hokay with me.”

Mr. Albert nodded, and wondered what it was Rose knew that they did not.

Deeter said, “I’ll start off in the afternoon. I figure to give an exhibition or two on the way up and pass the hat. That’ll get us there. I ought to be back in about a week with any luck.”

Later, Toby asked Rose, “What did you take a bite out of Deeter for like that? What do you know?”

Rose said, “He’s yellow, just like you said. He’s afraid of Janos. That’s why he’s going.”

“Don’t you think it’s a good idea, him selling those horses? It’ll serve Marvel right.”

Rose did not reply. She could not bring herself to say to Toby what she felt about Deeter. Nor could she see under the circumstances that it mattered, except that in the long run the camp would be a better place without him.

They walked with Deeter as far as the cross-roads connecting with the main turnpike north of the far side of the town to bid him goodbye. And the gaily caparisoned octette of Liberty horses on a lead line in tow of a cowpuncher in a ten-gallon hat mounted on a creamy-eyed palomino horse drew hardly a stare from the townspeople, so used by then were they to have the remnants of the circus in their midst.

The horses were dressed in all their finery. Toby and Deeter had worked all the night before oiling the harness and polishing the brass, as well as grooming them, and they wore their red, white, and blue head-dresses proudly and smartly, and stepped out as confidently as though they were in the ring. Over their breast-bones were affixed their metal number shields, consecutive from one to eight. It was the number-two horse, a chestnut mare, that Janos had slaughtered, but the spare horse carried for emergencies, a bay, had dropped automatically into the number-two slot and the team was now complete.

Deeter had donned the old, stained cowboy hat he wore when he presented his trick horse, and his coiled lariat was at the saddle horn. He wore leather chappareras, and a pistol belt and holster with his long-barrelled Colt in it. His two saddlebags were bulging.

The cross-roads were situated on the flat plain half a mile outside Zalano, and there was an inn located close by. It was called Las Flores. Far from being in the style of the old Spanish hostels or
paradores
furnished by the government for the tourist trade, it was a modern, neon-signed roadhouse, strangely out of place in this country. Painted in red and blue, it had a rakish, saucy air about it, somewhat like a chorus girl finding herself in the midst of a group of dowagers. There was a glassed-in verandah restaurant, and at one end a sign which read
BAR
. The flowers from which it took its name must have been the wisteria which spilled down from the roof, but otherwise it stood tree-less and stark, an incongruity against the Spanish landscape.

Deeter halted his horse to bid them goodbye before turning into the road north. And then when he had done so they all found that none of them had very much to say to one another. Finally, Deeter grinned at Janos and said, “I’m glad I missed you, you little bastard. I wouldn’t a second time.” Which sent the dwarf into peals of loud laughter.

Toby said, “Take it easy.”

And Rose, with her hands clasped behind her back, looked at him levelly and said, “Goodbye, Fred.”

Deeter mocked, “Don’t say goodbye. Say
au revoir”
and wondered whether she knew, and if she did, why she did not say so and try to prevent his going.

A car containing four men drew up at the roadhouse down by the bar section. They got out and made as though to enter, but stopped when they saw the curious group: the eight cockaded Liberty horses, the cowboy and the palomino, the dwarf, the old man in a rusty frock coat, the boy, and the girl. And they stood there with their backs to the inn, watching them and discussing the sight in Spanish in low tones. But it was neither the horses nor the men which arrested their gaze, but the figure of Rose. She was wearing blue jeans and a blue cotton blouse, and her coppery hair, which had grown longer, was shining in the strong sunlight. She stood a little apart from the four men, feminine, slender, and provocative.