Vera DeSoto runs a cafe in Marfa, Texas in 1968. The cowboys and truckers who come in fantasize and hope for a chance with her, but she enjoys her solitary life and isn’t ready to settle down with anyone.
Vera seems to collect strays—lost and wayward people looking for second chances. A 14-year-old girl, two hippie boys, and a scared young artist manage to find their way into her life and suddenly, Vera is joining them in a search for buried treasure in the badlands of the rugged desert of Southwest Texas at the tail end of the sixties. Each one will discover what finding treasure really means.
Egenes gives us a mismatched group of characters that helps explore themes of found family, redemption, and the varying interpretations of "treasure"—is it gold, or human connection? The dusty, mystical backdrop of 1968 West Texas—with its iconic Marfa Lights—adds a magical, almost surreal quality to the narrative. Offbeat and character-driven, the author takes us from hippie culture and desert adventure to giant cloned cows and a psychic raven, as the novel balances whimsy with real emotional stakes.
From the author of the award-winning “Man & Horse: The
Long Ride Across America.”
The salty water that Fermin Macias scooped from the river earlier that day was now taking its toll as he lay in his blanket on the edge of the camp in the rugged Texas badlands. The light of the waning moon cast long shadows on the desert floor, the nearest ones erased by the glare of the cook fire at the camp's center. He rose from his bedroll to the sounds of men singing and playing guitarras, the merrymaking fortified by the mezcal they drank.
Fermin struggled along in the red dirt until he found a place to relieve himself, a large boulder in the surrounds of a hollow that was nestled back into the rock outcropping in the nearby brush. His head was pounding, his stomach churned, and he could think of nothing beyond the pain behind his eyes and the tightening nausea that finally manifested as an uncontrolled stream of vomit and spit.
Why had he ever volunteered for this pendejo’s journey? When word had come that the soldiers of Benito Juárez were on their way to overthrow the government, Emperor Maximilian was forced to send his valuables north for shipment back to his home in Austria. Belongings were packed hurriedly and the wagon train left the castle at Chapultepec, headed north to Texas. At the time, Fermin was honored to be chosen as one of the guards. Now, he wasn't so sure.
Forty-five barrels of flour were loaded onto fifteen wagons, each pulled by a yoked team of oxen. Hidden inside the flour was a treasure worth over $10 million in gold, silver and jewels. The contents were known only to the four generales and the nineteen soldados that made up the escort party, each one hand picked by El Emperador himself. To a man they were loyal Maximilianos.
They had chosen a circuitous route to Texas, zig-zagging their way north in a seemingly random manner in order to thwart any plans to attack them. Their intention was to move north into Texas, then turn east toward the Gulf of Mexico. The journey would end at Galveston, where they would load the bounty onto a ship bound for the French coast.
The going was rough and the oxen strained against the loads as the men pulled their bandanas up over their mouths in vain attempts to battle the dust. Outriders rode at the front and to the rear of the wagon train, with others traveling alongside. The days passed slowly and the men fought to stay alert, and by the time they finally crossed the river into Texas they felt a sense of relief, knowing that they were at last free from the soldados of Benito Juárez.
They made their way to Ojinaga on the bank of El Río Bravo, the river the Americanos called the Rio Grande. They forded the river into Texas and made camp at El Presidio del Norte. There they encountered six gringos—Americanos—who told them they came from a place called Missouri. They said they were soldiers in the Confederate army but now that the war was over they refused to live under Yankee rule. They were headed south to live free, in Mexico.
The Americanos were well armed, with many repeating rifles, needle guns, and pistols. They were a well disciplined group of soldiers, and their leader was a powerful man by the name of Murdock. Impressed with the organization and discipline of the Confederates, and faced with negotiating the unfamiliar territory of the Texas plains, the Mexican generals convinced the Americans to hire on as guardias to help protect the party. It felt good to have them along, with their Henry forty-fours and Winchester saddle carbines. These were men experienced in fighting and tempered on the battlefield. They were not told what was in the barrels—only that it was special flour, and that they were taking the wagons across Texas to the port of Galveston. From El Presidio the group traveled to the northeast, into the Texas badlands filled with mesquite, sage, and cholla. They were camped in the rugged foothills of the mountains, in a place the ancients called Toyah.
Unable to summon the strength to return to camp, Fermin eased himself into the cradle between two large boulders. The cool rock felt good against his skin and eased the throbbing pain in his head. Within minutes he was asleep.
He awoke with a start. He had no idea how much time had passed, but it was darker. The moon had moved far over into the western sky. Fermin could hear rushed sounds of violence coming from the camp, and he forced himself to his feet to peer over the rocks. At first the scene he witnessed made no sense. Men slipped quietly through the camp, stabbing those who were asleep in their bedrolls. He watched in horror as his Mexican compadres were dragged from wagons and killed, their bodies dropped casually in the dirt as the American soldiers slipped from one victim to the next with merciless precision. Fermin first thought they were Indians, but these killers worked silently, and they didn't look like any Indians he had ever seen.
He suddenly realized it was the Americanos doing the killing. It was over in a few minutes as he watched, frozen in place and shocked at the carnage. The Americans checked the bodies, systematically stabbing them again to make sure they were dead. Fermin knew that they would come looking for him once they figured out the body count was one man short. He looked around for an escape route but he was trapped in the small boxed swale and surrounded by high rocks on three sides. If he tried to run they would hear, and death would be certain. He hunkered back down between the two boulders and waited, unable to think, afraid to breathe.
When the predawn light broke it exposed a grisly scene. Fermin sneaked a look over the rock and was suddenly sick. He turned and threw up again, praying that they wouldn't hear. The six gringos were sitting around the fire, making coffee and cooking bacon, laughing and joking as if nothing had happened. He didn’t understand their English but he knew what they were talking about.
They had found out about the treasure, that much was clear. And they would come looking for him, he was sure of that. He had to get away, but he would have to wait. He needed to gather his wits about him. And besides, they didn't seem to be in a hurry to find him right now. Maybe they didn’t realize he was missing. He would wait.
When they finished their breakfast a couple of them saddled horses and rode off to the west, away from his hiding place. It was mid morning when they returned. Fermin watched as the six of them sat down and began to talk. Their voices gradually grew louder until finally, the leader shouted for them to be silent. They kept still as he spoke softly to them. Fermin could not hear what was said, but he knew that their leader was giving orders. When he finished speaking the men all stood and moved toward the horses and oxen that were tied and staked out at the camp’s perimeter. Fermin watched as they harnessed six teams of oxen to wagons. Each of the men climbed up into the driver’s seat of a wagon and drove it slowly out of camp.
He crept silently from his hiding spot, afraid they might have left a man behind to search for him. When he was satisfied that no one was there, he made a tentative approach to the campsite. He checked all twenty-two of his compañeros and found none alive. Each man had been stabbed through the heart, his throat cut. Fermin would be of no help to them now.
He rummaged through the camp gear and collected some hardtack, dried fruit, and cheese, along with two canteens of water and a large knife. He grabbed a long sabre and slid it into its sheath, then slipped a .50-70 caliber Sharps carbine into a rifle scabbard. He picked up two boxes of cartridges and two pairs of saddlebags, then stuffed the food and the ammunition into the saddlebags, along with some spare clothes.
Fermin found his own .44 caliber Walker Colt pistol and strapped it around his waist. Then he picked up his bedroll and found his saddle and bridle that were neatly laid out, military style, near the picketed horse herd. He chose a sorrel mare from the string and saddled her.
After buckling on his gear and bedroll and stepping up into the saddle, he paused to take a last look at the devastation. Then Fermin Macias turned the mare south, toward Mexico.