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Page 5
"Don't look so haughty, dear,
Banish all fears,
Kiss me and melt to me,
I'll drink up your tears!"
His alcoholic tenor trailed off into the night.
"Tell me what they call this ranch, woman?" the ser-
geant asked.
"Limon," the woman replied curtly, carrying wood to
the fire and fanning the coals.
"So we're in Limon, eh, the famous Demetrio Macias'
country, eh? Do you hear that, Lieutenant? We're in
Limon."
"Limon? What the hell do I care? If I'm bound for
hell, Sergeant, I might as well go there now. I don't
mind, now that I've found as good a remount as this!
Look at the cheeks on the darling, look at them! There's
a pair of ripe red apples for a fellow to bite into!"
"I'll wager you know Macias the bandit, lady? I was
in the pen with him at Escobedo, once."
"Bring me a bottle of tequila, Sergeant: I've decided
to spend the night with this charming lady. . . . What's
that? The colonel? . . . Why in God's name talk about
the colonel now? He can go straight to hell, for all I
care. And if he doesn't like it, it's all right with me. Come
on, Sergeant, tell the corporal outside to unsaddle the
horses and feed them. I'll stay here all night. Here, my
girl, you let the sergeant fry the eggs and warm up the
tortillas; you come here to me. See this wallet full of nice
new bills? They're all for you, darling. Sure, I want you
to have them. Figure it out for yourself. I'm drunk, see:
I've a bit of a load on and that's why I'm kind of hoarse,
you might call it. I left half my gullet down Guadalajara
way, and I've been spitting the other half out all the way
up here. Oh well, who cares? But I want you to have that
money, see, dearie? Hey, Sergeant, where's my bottle?
Now, little girl, come here and pour yourself a drink.
You won't, eh? Aw, come on! Afraid of your--er--hus-
band . . . or whatever he is, huh? Well, if he's skulking in
some hole, you tell him to come out. What the hell do I
care? I'm not scared of rats, see!"
Suddenly a white shadow loomed on the threshold.
"Demetrio Macias!" the sergeant cried as he stepped
back in terror.
The lieutenant stood up, silent, cold and motionless
as a statue.
"Shoot them!" the woman croaked.
"Oh, come, you'll surely spare us! I didn't know you
were there. I'll always stand up for a brave man."
Demetrio stood his ground, looking them up and down,
an insolent and disdainful smile wrinkling his face.
"Yes, I not only respect brave men, but I like them.
I'm proud and happy to call them friends. Here's my
hand on it: friend to friend." Then, after a pause: "All
right, Demetrio Macias, if you don't want to shake
hands, all right! But it's because you don't know me,
that's why, just because the first time you saw me I was
doing this dog's job. But look here, I ask you, what in
God's name can a man do when he's poor and has a
wife to support and kids? . . . Right you are, Sergeant,
let's go: I've nothing but respect for the home of what I
call a brave man, a real, honest, genuine man!"
When they had gone, the woman drew close to
Demetrio.
"Holy Virgin, what agony! I suffered as though it was
you they'd shot."
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