The Knight´s Legacy

Cushamen Indian Reservation

RANQUIL HUAO COMMUNITY

CUSHAMEN MAPUCHE RESERVATION

NATIONAL TERRITORY OF CHUBUT

JUNE 1945

Toribio Llanquinao was herding his sheep flock back to their corral made of stones, placed close to his ruca or home, really little more than a hut, after having taken them to chew the few strands of grass that emerged between the early snows. A cold wind blew in the vast steppe so Toribio wished to reach home promptly, where a fire of lenga and ñire splinters and his wife with some mates and hot cakes were waiting for him. Millañir, the dog of an indefinite race who had accompanied him for years jogged bucolically pushing the delayed lambs back to the flock. The man, as it was customary, was engaged in his thoughts habit that helped him to withstand the cosmic boredom of wandering through the desert. At some point he noted that the dog stretched the snout and tail, lifting a foreleg; his attitude clearly pointed toward a group of hard bushes on the right side of the trail, really a simple footprint drawn by Toribio, his family and their animals moving back and forth. He thought that behind the bushes there would be an animal, maybe a predator, a fox or puma, and that the dog had detected it earlier than the sheep. Millañir (whose name in Mapuche means Silver Fox) ran into the bushes before his owner could stop hit, barking and stopping as it reached them. Partially relaxed to see that nothing happened to the dog, the man approached wielding his stick like a cudgel. Among the lower branches he could distinguish a stationary shadow on the ground. After a few moments of indecision Toribio decided to approach the shadow. He did so with caution and noted that it was the body of a man. At first sight the man looked dead, but he soon noticed a slow and weak breathing. Toribio concluded that he was completely asleep or fainted since the Millañir´s bark had not aroused him. His clothes were covered with snow, dust and dirt, and Toribio thought that he would be a drunkard, perhaps a criminal. He placed his nose close to the mouth of the fallen and perceived no alcoholic breath. Toribio then searched in his jacket and pants; torn by the mountain shrubs and verified he was not armed. However, the old man questioned himself “What could be doing this white man in this completely secluded spot?” Overcoming certain disgust Toribio turned the man´s face up and observed his traits. Something in his countenance persuaded him that it was not a tramp. Although he did not want to take risks, he perceived certain nobility in the features in spite of the beard of many days and the accumulated dirt. The traditional Mapuche hospitality, product of the loneliness of man in a vast landscape, forced him to assist that obviously helpless being. As the fallen was a man of great size, carrying him on his shoulder was completely out of the question, so he decided to go to his house and return with his donkey to carry it.

Horstmann woke up in the middle of a pleasant sensation of warmth, not experienced in a long time that reminded him his youth. He was also comfortable lying in what he soon perceived as a bed, actually a simple wooden bunk covered with a thick sheep skin. A smell of stew coming from a few pots placed in an old kitchen made of cast iron with wood as fuel, and that at the same time served as the cabin heating. This was actually a hut of varied materials from adobe to bricks, roof sheets and wood rods, which did not respect the canons of any building style, but which was effective to insulate the interior from the outsider climatic conditions. As Horstmann would find later the house consisted of several rooms, which had been added at various times se the family that occupied it increased. The German saw in the kitchen -which it was actually an extension of the room where his bed was- a typically indigenous midwife, of short stature and with a long braid that reached the bottom of her back who toiled with her pots. She soon realized that the man had awakened, and spoke loudly in a language Horstmann perceived as different from Castilian. After a while, a man appeared and opened the door. He spoke to him softly, now in Spanish and with words and gestures managed to explain to him that he had found Horstmann in the steppe, partially covered by snow and half-frozen. Horstmann understood that the man had saved his life, and expressed its appreciation with the few words he knew in Spanish, falling back afterwards into a deep sleep.

Several months had passed since the arrival of Horstmann in the Mapuche humble cabin. His health had

restored with the care, feeding, and the arrival of spring, station that had brought with it a warmer air.

Horstmann had introduced himself as Pedro Martiniuk, a Ukrainian immigrant, and this identity was accepted without question by the family members for whom that nationality was completely unknown. The family consisted of Toribio, his wife Llanquiray -whose name means fallen flower in Mapuche - and his daughters Ayiqueo (mild language) and Sayen (friendly) .In fact both girls had been baptized as Rosa and Azucena, but in the Mapuche community residing in a loose circle around the house of the lonko or chieftain Salustiano Catripan they were called by their indigenous names.

Pedro- Horstmann had laid eyes on Sayen, true Indian beauty, taller than the rest of the clan, perhaps due to some ancestor belonging to the tehuelche ethnicity, originally from Argentina Patagonia, which had then undergone a process of acculturation and miscegenation with prevailing Mapuches from the Chilean side of the Andes.

Toribio and his wife were aware of these preferences. They felt somewhat uneasy due to the troubled history of Toribio's sister, Mary, who a generation before had had an affair with a Basque pawn that made her pregnant and then had vanished following the sheepshearers teams in the vastness of the plains. Their nephew José Llanquinao was born from that relationship, which Toribio considered like a son. Despite being the son of an unknown white who had abandoned his mother and him José had made friends with the stranger Pedro.

One afternoon Toribio heard noises coming from the edge of the nearby ñires forests he assumed Pedro and José were returning from their daily excursion to control the sheep and hunt some eventual nutria or hare. He looked out the hut door, squinted and disquieted saw a very old truck coming down the path, shaken by the rocks that stood in the way. The vehicle parked about forty meters away from the house, and two men descended from it. Toribio vaguely knew both of them.…

“Good day, Don Llanquinao.” Greeted the newly arrived.  “I am Juan Williams, from Trevelin, and this is my friend Antonio Nahualkir.”

“You´re far from home.” Said Toribio carefully measuring his words, according to his custom. After a short silence and overcoming his reservations he decided to cut to the chase. “So, tell me, what brings you here?”

“We are looking for a foreigner, a German military called Horstmann, we were informed that that he has been seen near El Maitén. Have you seen some outsider in Ranquil Huao?”

“Haven't seen any  foreigner in months.” Cautiously lied Toribio. “ and... could you tell me why are you seeking him? Sometimes they have been looking for some runaway gaucho, but not a foreigner.”

“Sorry, but I cannot inform you because I really  don't know.”Toribio had the impression that the response showed the same cautious lie that he had exhibited before. Williams was an important man and would not be mobilized without strong reasons, and much less reasons that he would ignore. Regarding the other man, Toribio knew that he was a local partner of the Welsh, of tehuelche rather than Mapuche origin judging by his last name and his stature who hardly uttered a word. The conversation was among men who were not showing all their cards and everyone was aware of this.

After a brief idle talk on climate changes and the declining price of wool, the visitors left, leaving Toribio with a bitter taste in his mouth. What if the unknown who they had sheltered was a criminal? Indeed, Pedro´s behavior was far away from that of the bums he had seen wandering across the plateau and approaching the reservation for food and shelter. The old man trusted  his instinct to judge people and decided to maintain his confidence in Pedro, but face him when he returned.