Gold Envy

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

1987

In this remote place, the mist of early morning was slow to rise, hiding for a time behind the distant mountains. On three sides, the thick growth of mesquite was creeping in on the clearing that once housed a small Catholic mission. In the background, bougainvillea spilled over crumbling adobe walls. Two saddled horses were tied to the one remaining door of the old mission. The horse's breath made small clouds of vapor in the cold morning air.

Hot coals held a battered coffee pot. A man squatted beside the coals, smoking a thin cigar and taking frequent sips from the tin cup that held the steaming liquid. A black, low-crowned hat the Mexicans call a tejano put his face in shadow. He wore a black jacket that was showing age and a great deal of dust from desert riding. A clean white shirt was tucked into faded jeans that tapered down hard legs into worn, handcrafted boots. Around his waist was a g*n belt and on his right hip hung a .45-caliber Colt with a well-oiled grip.

He changed his position and tilted his hat so that the feeble rays of the sun could touch his face. In his veins ran the blood of Spanish Dons. His hawk-like nose, clear brown eyes, and olive complexion complimented his even white teeth. Underneath the band of the hat, the black hair was shot with gray. The deep lines in his face contrasted his well- muscled body.

His name was Francisco Ropero. A Renaissance man whose family emigrated from Spain some two-hundred years before and built a cattle empire in what was now southern Arizona. Although he was taught the cattle business by his grandfather and father, and was attentive to their teachings, his heart and mind were filled with thoughts of high adventure and stories of treasure to be had for the taking. Now, danger and possible death were tracking his every move, and the border and safety were a long twelve hours away.

Flipping the butt of his cigar into the coals, he called in a soft voice, “Niño, wake up!"

Near, where the horses were tied, was a small body wrapped in a blanket.

Suddenly, the head of a young Mexican boy popped up. "Forgive me, Señor. How did I sleep so long?"

Ropero laughed softly. "When one is young, one can sleep, the sleep of the saints. Come, have some coffee and biscuits."

The boy scrambled out of his blanket, rolled it up, and came to the campfire. He was dressed in a loose-fitting Mexican wedding shirt, faded jeans, and dark brown boots. In his face was a blend of the Indians who once ruled this land, mixed with the bloodlines of some long forgotten Conquistador. "If my father knew I was spending my life sleeping, he would never let me go with you again."

The boy dug into the sack of biscuits as Ropero poured coffee into an extra tin cup.

"Jesus, I promise not to tell if you won't."

Taking the cup from Ropero, he squatted by the fire, biting into his biscuit.

Ropero seemed thoughtful. His eyes were troubled and he measured each word slowly as he spoke. Jesus stopped eating and listened carefully.

"Jesus, you are still a boy, a boy of only eleven years, but I am going to give you the responsibility of a man."

Reaching inside his shirt pocket, Ropero pulled out a gold chain. Attached to the chain was what appeared to be a locket or a medallion. It flashed in the sunlight as Ropero cupped it in his hands and showed it to Jesus.

"This is the Medallion of the lost La Dura. As you have heard in story and song, this is the key to the greatest known treasure in the entire world."

Jesus’ eyes were dazzled by the Medallion sparkling in the sun. Carved in the gold was a beautiful dove, rising on the wing to escape the deadly fangs of a striking rattlesnake. The boy felt a shiver go up his spine as Ropero continued.

"I don't know why, because I have found no evidence, but I think we’re being followed. If this is true, the reason is the Medallion and this envelope."

From the inner pocket of his jacket he took out a sealed envelope made of heavy parchment. "Your father has been at our ranch since the day he was born. We grew up together. Your grandfather helped my grandfather drive cattle from Texas to stock our ranch back in pioneer days. The lives of our families are intertwined forever, amigo. That is why I am putting this in your care."

The boy was wide-eyed, shaking his head. He didn't want to hear this kind of talk. "Oh Señor, do not speak of possible trouble. We are only one day away from the border. The time of great adventures is past history. We are in a modern world."

"Jesus, listen to me and listen well. It could be the year five thousand but in this part of Mexico, time has stood still. The clocks stopped somewhere back in the 16th century. Remember the little mission where I left you while I went to the mountains? Nothing had changed. It would have been the same in the time of Cortez. The old Padre is living the same way other padres did centuries ago. Trust me, Jesus, the old fears, the legends, and the lost La Dura are real ... very real."

Jesus shook his head, not wanting to believe what he was hearing, but Ropero pressed on.

"My intuition tells me something is wrong, I know it. Now, here is what you’re to do, and no questions, comprende?" He placed the chain with the Medallion over the head and around the neck of the boy, Ropero then handed him the parchment envelope containing the map.

If anything happens to me, or if I tell you, you’re to ride for the border as hard and as fast as possible. Don't hesitate and don't look back. Put the Medallion away until my daughter is grown, then give it to her. It will be my legacy. The best thing I could ever leave her."

Jesus buttoned his shirt to hide the Medallion.

"Momento, patron, your daughter is only a month old. What would she know of La Dura?"

A smile played at the corner of Ropero's mouth as the memory of his infant daughter flashed through his mind. "That is now, Jesus. Someday she will be a woman, a beautiful woman, and the ranch, the cattle, and La Dura will be hers."

Rising, they threw the remains of their coffee on the coals and Jesus kicked dirt on the fire, then put the map in his saddlebag. Ropero went to his horse and put the empty coffee pot, sack of biscuits, and the cups into his bedroll and cinched it tight behind his saddle.

"This is why it is so important that you make the border should we have trouble. If I don't make it, you will be there to guide her in the years when she needs help. As you know, her mother died giving her life, so she has only you and I to lean on … and at least one of us must be there."

A reflective mood came over him and for a few seconds, he rubbed his horse's ear. "This evening we'll cross the desert and be home."

He vaulted into the saddle and a few seconds later Jesus mounted his horse and they headed north toward the border.