Cuba Libre Page 25

  "She manages the home."

  "Lives with lepers--I have to admire her. Do you think she might know where Victor is?"

  "She doesn't know anything about us. Miss Janes has her own problems."

  "Yes, I wood think so, living here. You didn't show her what you carry-in the hammock? I was thinking perhaps you opened it to give her something."

  Amelia said nothing.

  "This hammock you have hidden someplace? Perhaps where you sleep?"

  Amelia remained silent.

  "You don't tell me there is no money. You don't say go ahead and search for it. Listen, what I'm thinking, you and I could share it. All you been through, you work so hard to get it I would be willing to give you some. Uh, what do you think?"

  Amelia said, "Do you have Tyler?"

  "The cowboy? We know where he is. Pretty soon you hear some guns? It means he's no more."

  Amelia shook her head very slowly from side to side. "You don't believe me?"

  "If you don't have him now you never will."

  "I don't care about the cowboy. I'm thinking of my life, what happens to me after this war. And you must have been thinking what happens to you--am I right? The reason you took the money? Get it, Amelia, and we leave right now, go back to Havana."

  She said, "Or what?"

  "You mean if you refuse? Then I shoot another leper-take your pick. If they don't mean anything to you, that's all right, then I shoot that woman in the house."

  Lourdes remained with her husband, kneeling over him, praying to Almighty God to take his soul, praying to St. Barbara to give her strength. Two flail women, mulattas, stood in the lane watching her. By the time Lourdes rose all the lepers had wandered off, all but these two women, waiting; and when Lourdes made the sign of the cross over her husband, the two women went into the house. Lourdes followed, walking past the two Guardias on the porch without looking at them. These were the two who had remained with Tavalera; they had brought all six horses to the porch rail and tied them there.

  In the main house Miss Janes sat at the dining table with her hands folded. Lourdes thought she looked to be asleep with her eyes open. Or in a trance, having seen a man put to death.

  One of the women who had waited brought a machete from the folds of her skirt. She told Lourdes that Amelia had taken the officer back to the house she was using. The second woman came out of the kitchen with a machete in one hand, a butcher knife in the other. Lourdes was fifty-two and loved her dead husband. She chose the machete.

  She looked out the window to see the two Guardias on the porch undoing the front of their trousers. Now both were pissing from the end of the porch into a flower bed.

  Osma, well into the grove now with the two Guardias Tavalera had given him, stopped to speak to them for the first time. He said, "The cowboy is close enough that he heard the shot. He doesn't know what it means, but it will make him more anxious to reach the house, from wherever he is back there."

  The Guardias looked around them as Osma spoke, maybe listening to him, maybe not. They were both veterans of three years fighting mambis, their eyes dull, their full mustaches covering their mouths. One said to the other, "Who did he shoot, a leperH."

  The other one said, "Of course. He won't shoot the woman. Maybe the old one, but not the woman. Would you shoot her?"

  "I don't think so, but I know I would fuck her," the first one said.

  "Listen to me," Osma said. He waited for these veterans to look at him with their weary eyes, tired and red perhaps from drink. "This one, this cowboy, he makes up his mind, he doesn't wait, he does it. He wants to be a hero and save his companions. But he knows he has to be careful and creep through these trees like a cat. But look at this growth." They weren't looking, they were gazing about. So Osma kicked at the weeds and dry dead leaves with his boot. "You see? They don't clear between the rows. That's good, so we can hear him coming. We spread out and wait. You over there," Osma pointing, "and you over that way, thirty, forty meters between us, and we wait. Like waiting for deer. We don't move. You understand? We don't want to shoot each other, so we only shoot at whoever is moving, and that will be the cowboy. My friends, we have the best part of this game."

  "You know," one of the Guardias said, "we have had nothing to eat today. You think there's food in that house?"

  The other one said, "Are you crazy? You want to eat food prepared by lepers?"

  They moved off together talking of food, the one asking the other, "What do lepers eat? I wonder, because I've never seen a fat leper."

  Osma hissed at them, "We have to separate, spread out!" But they continued walking away, paying no attention to him, and now they were hidden among the trees. Osma moved off in the other direction, not far, took out his Broomhandle Mauser and squatted down among the hanging fronds to sit on his heels. He could still hear the Guardias moving in the leaves. That kind--they didn't argue or even speak to him, because he was mulatto. It was the way it was, here and even with Americans. He had heard that they blew up their own ship, the Maine, so they could blame the panchos and have reason to declare war on them; and it was all right to destroy the ship because most of the crew were Negroes and all. the officers, who were of course white, had gone ashore. From his own experience Osma believed it could be true. He checked the Broomhandle Mauser now, feeling the weight of it, twenty rounds in the magazine that extended down from in front of the trigger guard. He loved this gun Tavalera had got for him.

  You could shoot this beauty all day without having to reload. He heard something and got to his feet. Not the Guardias, not from that direction.

  It sounded like... It was, a horse coming, Christ, running hard, cutting through the trees, those big leaves waving, breaking and there he was, the cowboy on the dun coming right at him. Osma extended the Mauser, wanting so bad to shoot him, but in that moment saw the revolver pointing at him, saw the smoke burst from the muzzle as it fired and felt himself punched in the chest so hard he took a step back, still on his feet as the dun rode him down, slammed him flat on his back to lie in the dead leaves. Now he was looking at green ones hanging over him and part of the sky, not knowing how this could have happened. He said to himself, I was ready. Wasn't I ready? I was watching.... 0sma had time to think this before he saw the cowboy standing over him blocking the sky. He tasted blood in his mouth but couldn't swallow and felt it warm on his cheek. He saw the cowboy--his face with a beard he didn't have before, on the train, and a different hat-come closer to him to say in a voice he could barely hear, "This one's gonna do it, partner. Your luck's run out."

  The two Guardias squatting in the shade looked at each other, waiting to hear the mulatto call out that he got him. One shot. He had spoken forever about the Broomhandle and the twenty rounds it held and now he would boast of having to use only one to kill the cowboy. They rose, pushing up on their carbines. Now, waiting in the silence that hung over the grove, the two Guardias looked at each other again. One of them shrugged and called out, "Osma?"

  They waited, beginning to look about them.

  Amelia and Tavalera had come to the one-room house where she stayed. Both were looking at the thatched ceiling that began low on the wall and rose to a peak. Tavalera, holding his hat in one hand, pointed with the other. "There?" "Higher."

  Amelia saying no more than she had to, and even this required an effort.

  "I need something to stand on," Tavalera said, still looking at the ceiling as the sound of a gunshot came from out in the grove.

  Amelia turned to the window facing the wall of trees and stood waiting.

  Tavalera didn't move, his face still raised, listening now. Finally he said, "Only one shot," and looked at Amelia. "One or a dozen, uh? It makes no difference. Your cowboy is no more to be." For several moments he held his hat to his chest; but when Amelia failed to turn around he threw his hat on the cot and began looking around the room again.

  "What can I stand on? Not the cot--what else?"

  Amelia offered no help. She turne
d to see him walk to the door, look toward the main house and call out a man's name, and then another. He waited and called the names again and waited a few moments before turning from the doorway. "I think they with the horses. I know they won't go in that house with the lepers. No, they would choose to be with horses." He looked around again. "You don't have a chair in here?" He said, "Excuse me, I have to get the one outside, by the table."

  He left and Amelia turned to the window again, to the wall of trees, their broad leaves hanging motionless, then beginning to stir as a breeze came through the grove. She heard him in the house again, and when he said, "Here?" turned to see Tavalera standing on the chair, reaching up to pull out clumps of straw. She said, "How do you know the shot was for Tyler and not one of your men?"

  He didn't answer, busy pulling out straw, tearing at it until the rolled, rope-tied hammock appeared, part of it hanging out of the thatch. He tugged at it, leaned aside, and the hammock dropped to the floor.

  Amelia stood watching as Tavalera came off the chair saying, "All that work, uh?" and went to his knees on the floor. Untying the rope, he said, "I trust Rollie sent the money and not played a joke." And said, "What's the matter with me? Of course it's money, or you wouldn't hide it."

  Amelia looked up to see Lourdes watching from the doorway.

  The dun began sniffing at Osma, and Tyler led her off through the rows of trees to what he believed was the middle of the grove, those broad leaves close around him. He looked up at the sky to make sure he knew which way he was facing: due south, the way back to the cottonwoods and the hay barn.

  All he'd heard was the one voice call out to Osma, coming from over on his left, which was east, the voice coming just the one time and getting no answer or encouragement. There could be more than one Guardia over there, or they could be spread out. But Lionel only came with five and had four left.

  He'd keep at least a couple for himself, wouldn't he, to back him up? And send Osma out here with the other two to lie dog go and kill him unawares.

  Tyler thought about it as he checked his.44s, the one and then the other, spinning the cylinders and replacing the round he'd fired. He could go directly to the house, but would be leaving one or two here to come up behind him. He could turn it around, wait for them to get tired and start moving around. But that bushwhacking was a bunch of shit; he could sit here all day waiting. Hell, flush 'em, same as you drive strays from a brush thicket. Tyler rubbed the dun's nose, saying, "Mind me now, honey, what I tell you." And stepped into the saddle thinking, as the realization came to him: You call this animal a sweet name but've never called Amelia honey or dear or sweetheart. What's wrong with you? Are you scared of her or what?

  It helped sometimes not to know too much, how things would come out--Tyler thinking this as he whistled a quick sharp note, nudged the dun and they took off in a hurry up a narrow space through the tree rows, covered about the length of a square acre when he nudged the dun again, laid the reins across her and she answered, cutting left to go brushing through those big leaves, nudged her again and the dun swerved at the touch, cut back north stretching to run and there was one of them right in front of him raising up with a carbine at his shoulder, firing, but in too much of a hurry and was throwing the bolt as the dun came past, Tyler putting his44 on the Guardia and barn, took the man's hat off with a good part of his skull. Tyler kept on straight ahead, the dun digging in, and a carbine discharged behind him, the report singing off in the air to let Tyler know there was another one. He got the dun to cut left, the tree fronds whipping him, and left again, bringing him back to mid-grove--Tyler telling himself the live Guardia right now would be checking on the dead Guardia, occupied. Tyler came around in a tight circle through the trees, back to where he hoped to see the dead one and, sure enough, there was the live one stooped over him--live for a few more seconds as Tyler came down on the Guardia bringing up his carbine, Tyler pointing a.44 at the carbine pointing at him, fired and fired again and fired again and saw the carbine fly up in the air. This time Tyler kept going all the way to the road before he pulled up, took time now to breathe and reload.

  He saw the horses in cottonwood shade, four of them at the porch rail, tails shooing flies, and Lourdes there in the deeper shade of the porch. She raised her arm, motioning for him to come and he walked the dun out of the grove, trusting the woman, all the way to the house.

  Tyler stepped off the dun and let the reins trail on the ground. Coming up on the porch then he saw the board floor wet, drying in places, and a mop sticking out of a bucket of pale-pink dirty water, the handle leaned against the wall by the window. He4ooked in to see Miss Janes seated at the table staring--not at him, he realized--at nothing. He turned to Lourdes.

  "Amelia?"

  "I tell you about her," Lourdes said, and motioned him to come with her. H took her arm as she started into the house.

  "The Guardias Civiles."

  She said, with an accent like Victor's, "Two of them are in hell as we speak," pointing a finger straight down. She said then, "Come with me," and he followed her inside, pausing to look at Miss Janes again.

  "She saw terrible things happen she not use to," Lourdes said. "She saw the officer shoot my husband and she saw the two Guardias Civiles put to death."

  "Where are they?"

  "You don't have to know. Or be concern about this woman. I get some whiskey for her, she be all right. Come, please."

  He followed her through the kitchen and across the yard to the stone house where he had lived with Amelia during the past two months. He didn't want to see her lying on the cot again. There had been six horses and two were gone.... He didn't know what to expect. Lourdes entered and then Tyler.

  He didn't look at the cot. The first thing he saw was the hammock lying open on the floor, empty. His first thought: it was the one he'd been sleeping in. But then looked up and saw where the thatch had been torn open. Lourdes had begun speaking as they entered. Telling him, "The one who kill my husband, the officer of the Guardias Civiles, he say to Amelia he going to take her to Havana with him. I like to send him to hell with the two soldiers, but he took out his pistol when he saw me here and there was no way I have to go near him. You understand? He hears the guns and then he don't hear nothing. He call to his men and still he don't hear nothing. Then he seem to want to leave, not stay here longer but go right away."

  "And he took Amelia."

  "Yes, he tell Amelia he going to give her back to a man mI think his name is Rollie. Amelia, she don't want to go, so he use the rope from the hama ca to tie her, and then pull her with the rope to go with him."

  Tyler listened, seeing Amelia with Lionel Tavalera. He was taking her back.... But something didn't make sense and he wanted to be sure he had heard it right.

  "He's taking Amelia and the money to Havana, to give to Rollie." Lourdes shook her head. "No money. He is taking Amelia only."

  "But it was in the hammock. What happened to it?" Lourdes. said, "Oh, you talking about that money. No, your friend Victor took that money. Yes, in those saddlebags he bring to put it in. Was this morning and then he left. You don't know that? Sure, your friend Victor. I know him a long time ago when I, and also two other women here, we were amazon as during the time of Paulina Gonzales. It was when we were with Gomez, before our affliction and we have to come here."

  "He tell you where he was going?"

  "Victor? I ask him. He say, "Oh, someplace I can grow bananas." He say he give me a hundred dollars if I put the hama ca up there again, make it look like nobody ever touch it. I say, "You mean it, a hundred dollars?" He say, "Sure, why not? I got a lot of money." " Lourdes smiled. "That Victor, uh?"

  Chapter Twenty-five.

  ONCE IT WAS DECIDED GUANTFINAMO Bay would make a dandy coaling station, Huntington's marines were sent in to secure the area. The battalion boarded the steamer Panther in Key West and arrived off Guantfinamo June 10,their objective: occupy a Spanish blockhouse that sat on a round, green-covered hill on the east side of
the bay inlet.

  Corporal Virgil Webster stood at the rail of the Panther looking at the hill, which did not appear to be much of a climb, only about a hundred and fifty feet, but that green cover was a dense growth of brush and dwarf trees. This time Virgil didn't have a career marine who happened to be the captain's orderly to ask what in the hell are we doing here, so he asked Lieutenant-Colonel Huntington himself, who seemed to admire Virgil for having been blown off the Maine and could be spoken to as a man.

  "Why here? Why that hill? Virgil, you know the difficulty of laying a collier alongside a battleship in the open sea?"

  Yes, he did; it was always a tricky maneuver.

  And especially difficult, Huntington said, on this south coast of Cuba with its easterly winds. What they needed was a coaling station in a sheltered area not far from Santiago, where they had the Spanish fleet blockaded, and even closer to where American troops would come ashore to engage the enemy, and Guantfinamo Bay filled the bill. There were six thousand Spanish troops fifteen miles away in the city of Guantfinamo, but insurgents were up there keeping them busy. They also had a fort up the bay at Caimanera; but the Marblehead and the Texas would cruise up there and pound it to hell. So once the high ground around here was secured they'd have a coaling station: the reason for starting the war here.

  Virgil, with Huntington's marines, went ashore on the tenth. First thing, they burned the Spanish barracks and huts on the beach, in case they were contaminated by yellow fever. Then they looked up at that blockhouse on the hill. It had been shelled good by the cruiser Yankee, which had run the dons out of there. But they were still around in force, so holding the blockhouse would not be a picnic.

  Which turned out to be the case, mainly on account of the dense green cover on this hill and the ones nearby. Once the dons began to skirmish they kept at it three days and nights, laying down He on the blockhouse and outposts that had been set up. Virgil and his mates kept waiting for an all-out assault that never came, the dons not anxious to charge the marines' automatic Colt machine guns or the Hotchkiss 3inchers. But they sure raised hell firing Mausers from cover, with their smokeless rounds that never told where the shooter was. Soon they were sniping from up on nearby hills that were higher than the blockhouse hill and gave the snipers a birdseye view of the marines. Any time the fleet turned its big rifles on the hills it would clear them out for a time, then pretty soon they'd come sneaking back. These dons did not lack for courage, regulars in their pinstripe uniforms and funny-looking straw hats. Virgil wished they were Volunteers or Guardias, ones he had reason to hate. Huntington got tired of staying put and sent two companies of marines and about fifty insurgents to Cuzco, six miles east, where there was a heliograph station they used to blink messages to Caimanera, also a well that supplied the dons with their drinking water and five hundred dug-in Spanish troops. Virgil and his mates laid down fire with their Lee rifles, taking trenches and a blockhouse, fought the dons from eleven in the morning till mid-afternoon, finally to drive them off and blow up the well, losing two marines killed and six wounded. Virgil's first sergeant, a man name of Rawley, tallied the enemy casualties and came up with "Sixty-two garlics killed and a hunnert and fifty put on stretchers."