take advantage of her and that he would get part of the profit. Glevack would love to be the one to insult Nepomuceno in the Market Square, to call him a worthless nobody in front of everyone. He’s called him worse, the man who was his friend and associate.
Once Glevack had nearly got him thrown in jail. The two of them had hired a mule driver to steal back some livestock that Stealman had rustled from them. When the mule driver turned up dead on the steps of the Town Hall, people blamed Glevack and Nepomuceno. Glevack testified he had nothing to do with the murder, that it was all Nepomuceno’s doing. He gave lots of details and made up others, even saying that it was Nepomuceno who had robbed the mail.
Glevack should be relishing the insult, but it’s not in his nature to enjoy anything. And his perpetual foul humor has deepened because Judge Gold won’t stop and listen to him, and because he suspects that Sabas and Refugio are turning against him. He feels beset by problems.
Olga’s got her own worries. She’s no longer eighteen, twice that in fact. She’s lost her bloom. No one, not even Glevack, looks at her like they used to. When women lose their glow they’re like ghosts to men; out on the street, no one turns to admire them. Some feel liberated by this lack of interest, but others, like Olga, won’t stand for it, they’ll do anything for attention. So Olga crosses the main road, Elizabeth Street, walks to the intersection of Charles Street, and knocks on Minister Fear’s door.
It’s not yet a month since Olga helped unpack the trousseau of the minister’s new wife, Eleonor.
Although Eleonor is a recent bride, she is no spring chicken either: she’s past twenty. Her husband, Minister Fear, is forty-five; he had been a widower for two years when he placed an advertisement for a new wife. The ad, which appeared in papers in Tucson, California, and New York, stated in succinct English:
LONELY WIDOWER SEEKS WIFE TO ACCOMPANY METHODIST MINISTER ON THE SOUTHERN FRONTIER AND ASSIST WITH HIS WORK. PLEASE RESPOND TO LEE FEAR IN BRUNEVILLE, TEXAS.
Olga knocks impatiently on the Fears’ door a second time, so hard that the Smiths’ door pops open (their house is adjacent, on the corner of James, which runs parallel to Elizabeth), and out comes the lovely Moonbeam, an Asinai Indian (some call them the Tejas Indians, though the gringos call them Hasinai, part of the Caddo tribe). The Smiths bought her for next to nothing a few years back, before it became fashionable to have Indians as servants. Now they would have to pay twice as much. She’d be a bargain at any price: she’s beautiful and hard-working with a pleasant manner about her, though sometimes she gets distracted.
Moonbeam steps into the street. A second later, Eleonor Fear opens her door with an expression of befuddlement. Eleonor doesn’t speak a word of Spanish, but Olga makes herself understood. First, she offers her services—washing, cleaning, cooking—whatever the Fears might need. Eleonor declines amicably. Minister Fear arrives (curious to see who is at the door) as does Moonbeam (the Smiths’ young slave is always interested in gossip), and Olga tells them about the incident, using gestures to make herself understood: a five-pointed star for the sheriff, a violin and a lasso for Lázaro, but Nepomuceno’s name alone is enough, everyone knows who Don Nepomuceno is.
The Fears don’t show the least interest (the minister is too prudent, and Eleonor is wrapped up in her own world) but Moonbeam is captivated. She knows how stupid Sheriff Shears is—he came to fix the Smiths’ dining room table and left it even wobblier than before—and she thinks the world of handsome Nepomuceno (the Smiths’ daughter Caroline carries a torch for him, and Moonbeam does a little too, like all the young girls in Bruneville).
When Minister Fear closes the door, Olga turns and heads back to the market. Moonbeam glances up and down Elizabeth Street, looking for a reason not to go back inside the Smiths’ and finish her chores, when around the corner come Strong Water and Blue Falls, two Lipans—the Lipans are fiercer than most Indians, but friendly with the gringos—astride two handsome mounts, followed by a heavily loaded pinto mustang, a typical prairie horse (if someone offers a good price, it’s for sale).
Strong Water and Blue Falls are turning onto James Street to avoid Nepomuceno’s men; they haven’t come to Bruneville looking for trouble.
Despite the heat, the Lipans are in long, fitted sleeves with bright, colorful stripes, and they’re wearing embroidered moccasins. They have bands of colored beads tied around their foreheads and their necks; their long hair is adorned with feathers, leather strips, and rabbit tails; and they have embossed spurs.
Neither too slowly nor too quickly—she knows what she’s doing, the street’s her territory—Moonbeam approaches them. The Lipans dismount. Moonbeam mimes what has just happened in the Market Square, using the same gestures as Olga. Then she turns and goes back inside the Smiths’ house, slamming the door, which prevents her from hearing the second shot of the morning.
Strong Water and Blue Falls interpret the Shears-Nepomuceno incident in different ways. Strong Water thinks it means something has happened at the Lipan camp, and he wants to return immediately because this bodes ill for his people. Blue Falls, on the other hand, thinks it has nothing to do with the Lipans; he’s certain the only thing they should worry about is selling their wares according to the orders of Chief Little Rib, and besides, the shaman, being omniscient, will already know all about the incident.
Should they head home, like Strong Water urges, or stay and sell their goods, like Blue Falls wants? Nothing they have with them is perishable—Strong Water argues that skins, nuts, and rubber sap will keep for weeks. But the trip is long and tiring, says Blue Falls, and they need munitions back at camp; the two shotguns they plan to buy are not urgent purchases, but they would come in handy on the way home; they had to take many detours to avoid danger on the road to Bruneville, and it would be better to return armed.
The Lipans defend their points of view, arguing ever more vehemently. They start fighting. Strong Water pulls his knife.
Inside the Smiths’ home, lovely Moonbeam gets back to work, filling the bucket at the cistern to carry water to the kitchen.
Meanwhile, at the market, Sharp, the butcher, is roaring with laughter. “Nepomuceno! That cattle thief! Humiliated in public, in the Market Square! He had it coming!”
The label “cattle thief” requires explanation. Sharp believes the cow in question is his because he bought it, but Nepomuceno believes he is right to call it his own, because the animal was born and raised on (and bears the brand of) the ranch where he himself was born. “Sharp shouldn’t be so self-righteous,” he says, “because he knew perfectly well the cow was stolen, and the price he paid didn’t begin to compensate the value of such a heifer, he can peddle that argument somewhere else!” When word of what Nepomuceno was saying got around the Mrs. Big’s Hotel, Smiley said, “Does he think Sharp’s cow is his sister?!”
Sharp puts his knife on the chopping block, wipes his hands on his apron, and, without taking it off, strides over to the Plaza.
Let’s leave him there, because we should travel back in time to just before the Shears-Nepomuceno incident—to, say, 11:55 AM—to fill in some details that matter to us.
Roberto Cruz, the leather merchant whom everyone calls “Cruz,” has been waiting some time for the Lipans, watching the main road impatiently from his stall at the edge of the market. According to Cruz, the Lipan sell the highest-quality skins, and the best embroidered moccasins (which nobody buys besides some eccentric Germans), and incomparable leather leggings, which sell like hotcakes because the women can’t ride without them lest they chafe their private parts.
Two days earlier Cruz had bought a bunch of buckles and eyelets. Sitú, the kid who knows how to burn designs into belts (a new look that’s very
