When the Owl Cries Part 35

"My G.o.d!" he exclaimed. "Que paso! Luis, Luis!" he shouted. Where was Farias' son?

On the stairway, clutching the rusty banister, he called:

"Luis ... Salvador ... Manuel! Get Dr. Velasco!"

Then he returned to examine Farias. The man felt cold. Without a doubt, he had been murdered hours before. But by whom, why?

Presently, a corral man came and then another; he sent one of the men for Father Gabriel and another for Luis. He covered Farias and sat on the stair, his eyes shut. He blamed his father, blamed himself ...

this was another ugly mess for Petaca. What was wrong with men?

Gabriel limped up the stair, a torn notebook in his hand. He must have been doing some scribbling when the corral man called him. His gla.s.ses seemed about to plunge from his nose. Breathing unsteadily, hand on the rail, he paused by Raul and asked:

"What ... happened ... to Farias?"

"Someone killed him."

"Let me see. Step aside."

Raul stepped away.

"Let me see." Raul watched as Gabriel folded back the blanket and crossed himself.

"Madre de Dios ... dead. Who could have killed him? He's been beaten.

Blood all over. Why, Raul! Raul, where's Luis?" He began to pray, asking understanding, asking peace. Adjusting his gla.s.ses and fumbling with his notebook, he came toward the door.

"I sent someone to find Luis," said Raul.

Dr. Velasco arrived, annoyed at being wakened early. He had spent the better part of the night playing dominoes, and losing. Stopping at the top of the stair, seeing Gabriel, he said, "Now, what kind of alarm is this?"

"Someone killed Farias last night," said Gabriel.

Dr. Velasco made a noise and went into the room.

His heavy-lidded eyes screwed up as he examined Farias: he stripped his shirt and turned him over: a knife had gone in again and again.

Velasco had a magician's face, gray hair, gray goatee: the features seemed to be hiding something absurd, a little vulgar; that vulgarity and absurdity disappeared as he bent over Farias. Short, small-boned, quick, he swung around to face Raul.

"He's been dead several hours."

"I've got to clamp down on Petaca. Who is capable of doing that kind of killing?"

"We're rarely short of that kind of fellow," commented Velasco.

Gabriel took Luis into the room, and stayed with him, talking kindly.

Even in the bad light he saw the youngster's face grow pale; tears streaked his rawboned features; his shoulders jerked.

"Pedro did it," Luis said.

"How do you know?" asked Velasco, in the doorway.

"Sure ... Pedro," the boy repeated, his hands waving. "You did it, you did it," he said, as if Pedro had come into the room.

"Have you seen Pedro?" asked Gabriel, standing behind Raul.

"No. But a few days ago my father and I found his hut, near Mountain Rancheria, in a canyon. Guns ... guns in the hut ... rifles, pistols.

Pedro came to the hut with a woman, as we hid. We tried to slip away, but my horse made a noise. Pedro shot at us. He saw us both. He shouted threats. He said he'd kill us. My father and I got back last night. He was going to tell you, Don Raul."

"It's lucky Pedro didn't find you," said Raul.

Gabriel had covered Farias, and bent over him in prayer again.

Manuel appeared on the stair, stopping about midway. "Don Raul," he said. "Did you call me?"

"Pedro has killed Farias. Have three horses saddled, Manuel. I'll go with Luis and see if we can get Pedro. You ride to Colima and get the rurales. Can you show me the way, Luis?"

Luis tapped his thigh where he had worn his gun on trips with his father. "My father," he began, but his voice broke. He walked down a hall to his own room, where he s.n.a.t.c.hed up his revolver, holster and belt. He returned, strapping them on, trembling.

"Don't go, Raul," said Gabriel, coming out on the stair. "Let the law take care of Pedro Chavez."

Raul was at the bottom of the stair.

"The rurales can have Pedro. I won't stop them. Pedro's not at Mountain Rancheria. We can get there before he does, if we move fast.

We'll have a chance to get his guns. Let's at least try to get them.

Come on, Luis. Manuel, look after the horses! Get water bags. I'll see to the food. We may be able to get to Rancheria within five days."

But it was a hard push, through bad weather, and it took six days to get there and four to come back, ten days of rough riding, wet weather, poor food and little rest. They found Pedro's hut, his woman and guns.

Luis had to cover her with his revolver while Raul removed the guns and ammunition, stuffing them into long grain sacks. They rode off in a hailstorm that gradually became a torrential rain. Making a cairn, in the downpour, they cached the guns and ammunition. Freezing cold, they mounted and rode on, hoping to reach a cabin before night.

When they returned to Petaca, through driving mist, Raul was astonished to see rurales in front of Father Gabriel's room. Dirty, f.a.gged and sore, he dismounted and gave his reins to Luis, saying: "I hope this means they've got him."

A stranger opened the door, and Raul found Gabriel in bed, covered with serapes.

"Raul, thank G.o.d, you're safe! Is Luis all right?" he asked.

Raul nodded and said:

"What happened to you, Gabriel?"

"Malaria.... This is Captain Cerro.... This is Senor Medina."

They shook hands, the captain holding his riding gloves in his left hand. Raul had heard good reports of Cerro's having organized his rurales into an efficient corps. He was hard-mouthed and gray-eyed; he seemed the kind of a man to do his job.

"I hope you've had better luck than we've had," Cerro said.

"I couldn't find Pedro," Raul said. "I didn't expect to find him. I found his hut and took his stock of pistols and rifles. His ammunition. The people at Mountain Rancheria are afraid to talk about him."

"My men got there shortly after you had taken the guns. You disappeared in the rain." Cerro drew his gloves through his fingers as he talked.

"We cached the guns. I'll send Luis for them with some men."