Those Who Cherish

Chapter 1

Silence was Father Alonzo’s constant companion. Once, it had been an enemy. A constant reminder of the burden of solitude. But now, silence was almost a friend. It assured him there were no thunderstorms, growing and gathering over distant mountains. The silence told him he still had time to make it back to the presidio before getting caught in a storm that could reach monsoon levels. But he still kept an eye on the horizon, searching for any warning signs while he scanned the ground for certain medicinal plants. Despite the reassuring silence, there was an ominous weight in the air. Heat pushed down on his covered head, and sweat rolled down his brow and into his eyes.

Alonzo straightened and wiped his arm across his forehead. His donkey, Angelica, sighed and rooted at the ground between her feet. He patted her neck affectionately, watching as strands of grass bent beneath her teeth. The bag over her haunches was already mostly full with herbs, bulbs, and flowers. He had had a good day, and there was no reason to stay in the overbearing sun when the donkey wanted to rest and he wanted a bit of wine.

“Should we go home?”

Angelica didn’t respond.

He picked up her lead rope, but he didn’t turn back to the presidio. She trudged along behind him obediently, his other constant companion. Her hooves clopped behind him, hitting the ground in a steady beat. Besides the occasional shout of a hawk, that was the only sound for miles around. Alonzo could go weeks without seeing another soul, days without seeing evidence that other people lived in the area. It was frustrating, to say the least. He hadn’t become a priest to live in utter isolation with a donkey and a Bible, but the men at Fort Davis rarely sent for him, and the heathen Indians would kill him on sight if he visited their villages. The nearest town was over thirty miles away, and they were closer to El Paso than to him.

It was utterly unnecessary to stay in the presidio, but he had his orders. And so he made the most of them and prayed God would deliver him from the torment and send him where he could do some good for somebody. But God had not seen fit to answer his prayers, and so Alonzo had no choice but to accept that he did not fully understand God’s plan for him. He never questioned that God did, in fact, have a plan. But in dark nights, when his soul called out for relief, he longed to know what he had done to be punished in this way.

“We’ll have a good dinner tonight, Angelica. And tomorrow, we’ll thank God for the bounty and spend the day in reflection and prayer.”

Angelica snorted, but otherwise, didn’t acknowledge him. Sometimes, he thought he should take a trip into the mountains. But it was too dangerous. The men at Fort Davis already thought he was insane for staying at the presidio, despite the obvious danger. They warned him that when the Indians raided the presidio, he would be left without a scalp—and if he were lucky, that’s all they would do to him. But he had faith that God would not call him to his final reward prematurely. Despite his faith, he didn’t take unnecessary risks, like journeying into the mountains on his own.

A screech drew his gaze heavenward, and he narrowed his eyes against the glare of the sun. Black dots against the washed out blue sky caught his attention, and soon he realized they weren’t hawks. They were vultures. Circling something Alonzo couldn’t see. It was probably just some animal’s carcass. Only…vultures didn’t circle remains. They were waiting for something to give up the ghost.

Alonzo hoisted himself onto Angelica’s back and kicked her into a trot. The chances were good that he was racing to a dying animal, but something moved deep inside of him. He did not question that feeling—the feeling he identified as God’s voice. He needed to be receptive at all times to the Spirit, even if sometimes he didn’t understand what the Spirit wanted him to do or why. Perhaps he would just use his knife to put some injured or trapped animal out of its misery. Mercy was never wasted.

He had never been good at gauging distances, which was a major problem living in western Texas. There was more land, more miles, more open space, than anybody back in Spain would have been able to comprehend. A person who couldn’t keep track of where he was going would get lost, perhaps never to be found again. Alonzo had no idea how far he rode, but he knew the sun was much lower on the horizon behind him by the time he reached the vultures.

Alonzo pulled Angelica up short, his heart plummeting to his stomach. Their prey wasn’t an animal. And not something to be put out of its misery.

Scrub brush dotted the landscape, roughening the surface of the earth in spite of a dusty trail that wound distinctly toward the darkening sky. There weren’t many trees here, but on a slight rise some fifty feet ahead stood a tall yellow oak, its light gray bark almost silver in the setting sun. Gnarled limbs reached for the heavens, while the long, coarse leaves fluttered in the slight breeze. Its lowest branch had to be a good eight feet off the ground. Apparently, that hadn’t stopped someone from stringing a man from it. Upside down.

His long, sun-darkened body dangled from the ropes binding his feet to the thick branch, while heavy chains manacled his wrists together where they hung below his head. He was stretched to his limit, the weight of the irons keeping him from pulling up to work on the knots around his bare ankles. All he wore was a pair of dirty trousers. The finely corded muscles of his arms and shoulders gleamed in a wet sheen.

Alonzo swallowed the bile in the back of his throat. The dampness wasn’t just sweat from exposure to the sun. Rivulets of blood streaked down the man’s back, dripping steadily onto the thirsty ground below him.

Alonzo dug his heels into the Angelica’s ribs, kicking her into a run. Or as close to a run as the old, white donkey could manage. The man barely acknowledged him as he stopped just short of his hanging body. He wasn’t dead, though. His muscles still quivered every time a fly landed on a stream of blood. But he would be if he didn’t get cut down, soon.

“¿Señor?” Alonzo hunched down beside him, taking a white handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the blood coating his mouth and nose. “¿Señor?”

Though the thick lashes flickered, they didn’t part. His lips did. The tip of his tongue appeared to moisten the cracked skin, and the muscles of his throat worked as he tried to swallow. A groan escaped him, as rough and ragged as his breathing. But he didn’t otherwise acknowledge Alonzo’s aid.

Alonzo straightened and studied the knots at the man’s ankles. He would be able to cut through the rope without too much trouble, but that wasn’t his real concern. He didn’t want to drop the poor man on his head, but he wouldn’t be able to support the man’s weight.

He returned to Angelica and took the knife from her saddlebags. He had his rain slicker rolled up on the back, and he grabbed that with his canteen of water. He unfolded and laid the coat down on the ground beneath the man, so at least he would not land on anything sharp or that could cause further damage.

The knots were tight, but the rope wasn’t as thick as it could have been. Alonzo cut the first cleanly. The second was more difficult, the strands pulled taut from the man’s weight. When it gave way, the man cried out, loud enough to startle Alonzo into stepping back.

“Wait.” The deep voice was hoarse and halting. Alonzo crouched down to see the man had finally opened his eyes, blinking more than once to clear the dried blood that had stuck some of his lashes together. “Give me…moment.” He tried to take a deep breath, only to wince in pain. “Can…help.”

Alonzo opened his canteen and wet the corner of the kerchief with a dab of the precious water. He wiped it across the man’s lips, smearing the liquid across the dry skin. His tongue flicked out, clearly seeking more water, but Alonzo knew he couldn’t give him more. Not yet.

“I’ll not let you fall,” Alonzo promised. “Are you ready?”

“Wait.” The muscles in his arms tensed. Though the chains forced his arms straight anyway, the man stretched the rest of the way to brace his hands against the dusty ground. His breathing became audible, but he did not otherwise make any sound of discomfort. “Now.”

Alonzo wrapped his arm around the man’s knees, holding him tightly as he brought the blade to the rope. He sawed into the rope’s fiber, freeing it a strand at a time, until the last one finally snapped. Alonzo nearly stumbled beneath the sudden weight of the man, but he kept his feet. With the stranger’s help, Alonzo managed to gently lower him to the rain slicker.

Alonzo immediately knelt at the man’s shoulder and cradled his head, lifting it slightly so he could put the canteen to his mouth.

At first, the water ran down his cheeks, but within a few moments, the stranger managed to tighten his lips around the mouthpiece and swallow some of it down. The sharp angles of his jaw and nose were more acute in a supine position, but the skin stretched over them—while blood-stained—was unmarked. All the blood came from his lower body. Alonzo could do nothing more than glance at the raw stripes crisscrossing his flesh.

The man didn’t protest when he pulled the canteen away. “My thanks,” he said, though his voice was still coarse. He sank back onto the ground, his gaze darting upward to the manacles weighing his arms down. He sighed and promptly closed his eyes again. “Though perhaps it’s best if you go.”

“No, I can’t do that.” Alonzo leaned over to inspect the manacles. The chain was not thick, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it there. Dried blood lined the cuffs and colored the man’s palms. He had no doubt that if he didn’t get those off his wrists, an infection would set in. “We have a little time before we need to leave. It’ll give you a chance to catch your breath.”

“It’s your breath I fear for, Father.”

But the stranger left it at that, resting there nearly motionless as he seemingly gathered his strength. It gave Alonzo a few moments to absorb more details, like the auburn glints in the dark hair that fell in straight sheets past the man’s shoulders, and the wide s***h of his mouth, the lips surprisingly full in spite of being cracked and bleeding. His youth surprised Alonzo. His face was unlined, even though it was obvious he spent a great deal of time in the sun. It was likely he was at least five years less than Alonzo’s twenty-seven.

“What’s your name, señor?”

The narrow nostrils flared, and the man swallowed again. “Ben.”

“I’m Father Alonzo Vargas. I live in a presidio west of here. You’ll be able to stay there until you’re…healed.” Alonzo wanted to push for more details about the young man, but he knew the facts would come out with time. If they surfaced at all. “There’s nobody else there but me.”

Ben tried to shake his head, but the stretch of his arms imprisoned him too well. He opened his eyes instead, the dark depths pleading. “You don’t need my kind of trouble, Father.”

Alonzo was too captivated by Ben’s dark eyes to answer him immediately. At first glance, they were nothing out of the ordinary. But a more careful perusal revealed tiny golden glints buried in their depths. “It’s my duty to care for the sick and the weak, señor. I’m afraid that I don’t have a choice in the matter.”

“What if I told you it was Sheriff Cullen who strung me up in that tree?”

An almost alien flare of anger erupted in his chest. He knew Sheriff John Cullen, by sight and by reputation. Though he had never heard of the sheriff stringing people up by their feet, he wasn’t the least bit surprised to hear that the sorry excuse for a man was behind this disgusting display.

“I would remind you that I answer to a higher authority than Cullen.”

His soft exhalation was half sigh. “I don’t think Sheriff Cullen would see it that way.” He tried to shift his weight and winced, grimacing in pain. “Might I trouble you for another drink?”

“Yes, but you have to take it slow.” Alonzo supported his head again and held the canteen to Ben’s lips. “If you drink too fast, it’ll make you sick.” He only allowed a few swallows before pulling the water away. “How long have you been here?”

“Since noon. Sheriff said he wanted me up while it was hot, so the buzzards would have plenty of time to sniff around.”

It was possible Cullen was still in the area—or planned to return to check on his handiwork. In that case, Alonzo wanted to be safely ensconced in the presidio as soon as possible. They were too vulnerable out in the open.

“You can ride Angelica, my donkey, back to the presidio. Do you think you can stand?”

“I…I can try.”

The muscles in his jaw tensed as he clenched his teeth, but he didn’t ask for help as he rolled onto his side. The chain dragged through the dust, and Alonzo covered his nose with his kerchief to keep from sneezing. Ben seemed unperturbed by the disturbance, his nostrils flaring as he worked to straighten. Every muscle stood out, even those half-exposed from the flaying Cullen must have given him. It took several minutes, but he finally stood on his own two feet, shockingly straight and tall.

Alonzo gingerly wrapped his arm around Ben, trying to give him the support he needed without applying too much pressure to the wounds on his back. He whistled softly at the donkey, and she approached them with plodding steps. She wasn’t a tall donkey, and Alonzo was able to lift the young man on her back—he was so light. Had he been in the town’s jail for long before Cullen left him to die?

Once Ben was secure, Alonzo gathered up the coat and draped it over the other man’s shoulders. The clouds he had been watching for were finally gathering over the mountains. He just hoped they didn’t get caught out in the storm.

In spite of the weights around his wrists and the injuries to his bare back, Ben held himself remarkably upright as Angelica plodded along. The rough terrain jostled him more than once, but the strongest reaction he ever gave was a mild frown. Whether it was pride or stoicism that helped him maintain such a brave front, Alonzo didn’t know. For now, though, the distinction was unnecessary. The important matter at hand was to get back to the presidio as quickly as possible.

Alonzo followed the tracks that they left in the soft dirt, squinting into the darkness as the sun fell faster and faster. Eventually, it was even too dark to follow those, but by then, Alonzo could see the vague outline of the presidio. Ben rode in silence. It was almost as if Alonzo was traveling alone again. Ben needed to keep his strength, so Alonzo did not prompt him to speak. Instead, he mulled over what he could feed the injured man. He had plenty of cornmeal, and a few eggs from the hens he kept.

The first cold drop of rain on his cheek stunned him. He looked up into the heavy blanket of clouds in time to catch a jagged slice of lightning.

“You should leave me here.” They were the first words Ben had spoken since leaving what would have been his grave, but when Alonzo tried to make out his features, the darkness masked them. “The storm does not bode well for you.”

“I’m not going to leave you here.” He tugged on Angelica’s rope, prompting her into a faster walk. “Given your injuries, this storm could kill you.”

“The same could be said for you, if the Sheriff discovers you took me in.” The chains clanked as Ben bent over Angelica’s neck and attempted to reach for the rope. “I’m not worth putting yourself at risk, Father.”

“I don’t fear Cullen.” Alonzo gently pushed Ben’s hands away. “And you are worth every risk.”

For all his bravado, Ben remained slumped forward, his broad shoulders sagging. Exhaustion finally. It would make it easier to take him the rest of the way.

“Do you know you saved a killer?” The rain came down faster now, fat drops that splattered on contact. Ben’s voice cut through all of it. “An unrepentant killer at that.”

“That is between you and God.” Though Alonzo hoped Ben would change his mind about being unrepentant. They were all sinners in the eye of the Lord, but that didn’t mean they were without hope. And when Ben spoke, Alonzo heard a man who had no hope left. “I haven’t been tasked with the burden of judgment. And I would be just as guilty if I left you to die.”

“And you have no fear for your own life? I’ve killed once. How do you know I won’t kill you at the first chance I get?”

“I don’t know that. But I have faith in God’s plan for me. I don’t believe you would kill the man who rescued you from a painful, ignoble death.”

“I would if you were one of Cullen’s men.” A rush of breath. An almost silent wince. “Except Cullen’s men would never show such mercy.”

“I’m not one of his men. Cullen already has reason to dislike me. Last year, I refused to let him torture two Mexican boys who were accused of stealing a horse. Not long after that, I received word that I was being reassigned to the old San Elizario presidio.”

Rain trickled down the back of his collar, cooling in spite of the discomfort of being wet. Beneath his feet, the ground remained firm, drinking in every drop and then begging for more. It would take more than this one storm to sate it.

They were almost to the presidio’s gates when Ben spoke again.

“Thank you, Father. I hope you are right about your God’s plan.”

“So do I.” He led Angelica right up to the door before stopping and offering his hand. Ben took it, his fingers surprisingly strong, and allowed Alonzo to help him off the donkey. “You go inside. I’m going to take care of Angelica.”

Ben took a single step and stopped. Shrugging off the coat Alonzo had placed over his shoulders earlier, he managed to catch it before it fell to the ground.

“Here.” The hem dragged in the wet dust, but he held it out as best he could with the manacles weighing him down. “You will need this more than I.”

Alonzo disagreed, but he would rather have Ben inside where it was mostly warm and mostly dry than outside arguing with him. He took the coat and draped it over his shoulders. “There’s fresh water inside. And some wine, if you need it.”

He waited until Ben disappeared into the low building before turning to take Angelica to the stable in the back. He understood the younger man’s fear, but with God’s strength, Alonzo was certain he could heal Ben’s physical and spiritual wounds.