Walls

Standing atop her horse, Carly used the binoculars scanning ahead for a spot to stop for the night. In their estimation there was about an hour left of daylight, so they began their search for some sort of dwelling.

“There seems to be something up ahead, Billie.”

“Good. Get down, and let’s get going. What you see could be an hour away from here and it could be dark by the time we reach it.”

Billie watched her rodeo companion and best friend scan down the road they just traveled.

“They won’t be looking for us, Carly.”

“Your dad may not come looking for you, but mine surely will. It doesn’t hurt to keep an eye out. We’ve been gone for two days. He’s going to start worrying.”

“Are you scared he will force you back home?” asked Billie Jo.

“He can try. I’m 18. I no longer have to listen to that old codger.”

Thirty minutes later they were close enough to the dwelling to stop and take an intense look around their surroundings. Walking their horses, the girls crept around the Mesquite trees, prickly pear and brush that could scrape skin off your arms if you weren’t careful. Upon approaching the building, there was no sign of anyone being there, nor any sign that anyone had been there in a while.

Studying the old stucco structure, it seemed it might have been a church at one time. Glancing around the girls noticed remnants of other out-lying buildings. They concluded that this area may have been a community at one time. Leading their horses, they peeked in the buildings.

Billie Jo began speaking and Carly quickly said, “Shh. There could be someone or something in one of these buildings. Just be quiet for a minute. OK?” The two rancher’s daughters crept forward slowly and quietly.

Old, ragged curtains hung on windows, upturned remnants of tables were strewn about in the dilapidated buildings. There were holes in the floors, if the building had floors, and broken glass was scattered all about.

Outside, the wind began to pick up, and dirt began blowing in the girls’ eyes. Rubbing them, they stumbled inside the church. The floor was in pieces, broken windows glared back at them. The old pews that once held its congregation were covered in dirt and were thrown about. Lifting her weary eyes upward, Carly whispered a silent prayer only to notice sun shining through the holes.

“Talk about “holy”,” Carly said and laughed.

Walking with a branding iron in her hand, Billie observed the inside of the old, abandoned church. Her eyes quickly darted around inspecting each crook and cranny of the sanctuary. She was ready for anything that might jump out at her or Carly.

“I think I will go take a better look around outside, Billie. We may not want to call this home for the night. Who knows, maybe I’ll find a swimming pool and restaurant in the back,” she laughed and stepped outside.

With pistol in hand Carly looked around each corner of the shack dwellings that lined the dirt road. She began having second thoughts about their trek to Twin Hills on horseback. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea.

“No,” she told herself. “It is a good idea. I was told to leave my home and Billie Jo was being abused. It wasn’t hard to make this decision. We will make it. Never said it would be easy.”

She walked to what she thought was a dried up water well. Looking down the cistern, she saw movement of crawly snakes. She jumped back and then slowly walked back up to it and looked down again. Her fear of snakes caused her heart to beat out of her chest. Backing away from the well, she continued searching around the back of a building. Her eyes fell on an old broken-down wagon with a broken water barrel hanging off the side. Not seeing anything of any use, stepping over rocks and brush, she headed back to the church. Since cemeteries spooked her, she feared she would come upon one. She began walking faster. She came to a dead stop when she noticed the huge tree that was sticking out from behind the next building.

Returning back to the church where Billie was, Carly walked in carrying some oranges.

“Look what I found. Supper,” smiled Carly. Glancing around the church, she jokingly said, “My, what have you done to the place?”

Billie had managed to get a table set up and made some sort of bed frame from the broken boards. She thrust a hatchet in Carly’s face and said, “I found this under all that dirt and crap against that far wall. I uncovered it when I was sweeping out the old place using this tree branch. I learned how to build furniture at home. My mother would buy antiques and I had to help put them together.”

“I am impressed of your ability. That hatchet is a great tool to have around.”

“It can’t cut butter, but I managed. Not sure how sturdy the bed frame is either. I did the best I could. Hey, where did you get the oranges?”

“You would never believe it, but there’s an orange tree growing behind one of the old houses.”

“Did you find anything else we could use?”

“No, just some pieces of glass. Glass might come in handy.”

The girls proceeded to unsaddle the horses and bring their bags inside. It was getting dark out. They laughed when they realized they could see the stars from where they would be sleeping.

“I’m really impressed with what you did in here, Billie. I just want you to know that.”

“I had to put the furniture together just right or my mother would beat me. So, my work should be better than what it is here, but it’s the best I could do. You won’t tell mama, will you Carly, that it is not my best?” Please don’t.”

Looking at Billie with empathy, she replied, “No, of course not. I won’t say a word. You did great.” Carly paused and then said, “I won’t say a word as long as you don’t go to bed naked.”

Remembering the first night out after leaving home, Carly noticed that Billie chose to sleep in her birthday suit. Carly was repulsed and didn’t mind letting her friend know she disagreed with her choice.

After eating the oranges, the girls got ready for bed. Carly in her long johns and Billie in a gown.

“I have another pair of long johns in here if you want to wear them.”

Billie’s look was of “Oh my God”. OK, Carly. Toss them to me.”

After brushing their teeth with little water, Carly brushed her hair and put it in two long braids. Carly wiggled down inside the sleeping bag at one end of the bed, and Billie did the same at the other end.

“When do you think we will reach San Antonio?” Billie asked.

“It will be a few more days. Riding 200 miles will take a while. The rodeo is in two weeks. The winnings for barrel racing in that huge rodeo will be in the thousands.”

“Are you worried about losing?” she asked.

“We can’t worry about losing. We have to win to pad our bank account. We have a long way to go to reach our destination of Twin Hills, New Mexico. Maybe by then, my dad will give up looking for me. It is June 1975, we just graduated high school together and we are on our own! The world is ours to take. Isn’t that what Mr. Turner said at graduation?”

“Something like that. He said something about a stupid oyster,” Billie laughed. Jokingly, Billie said, “Would you get the light, please?”

They both laughed and went to sleep.

The next morning, he walked in from outside and found the girls sitting up with the sleeping bag pulled up to their necks with fear written all over their faces.

“Buenos dias ninas,” he said politely. Desayuno? Hambrienta?” and motioned food to the mouth.

Billie replied, “Si senior. Mucho. We are very hungry.”

“You speak much Spanish?” he asked.

“Poquito,” said Billie, looking at me and back to the older man. “Little bit.”

“O.K., I speak to you in my poquito English,” and grinned.

He handed us a taquito wrapped in foil. Reluctantly, we took it. Unwrapped it and ate the tortilla with bacon, eggs and beans. He handed a second taquito to us, and we took it too.

“Marcos Socorro,” he said and pointed at himself.

The girls chose to use fake names on their travels in case their family came looking for them. “I am Marelyn,” Billie said,” and this is Wilhelmina. We call her Willow.” Carly shot a swift curt look at Billie for choosing such a stupid name for herself.

“Do she speak, this Willow?” the man called Marcos said.

Giggling, Billie said, “Yes, she speaks. But very shy.” And laughed again.

“Why you here?”

“We are headed to a rodeo in Wilcox then onto the big rodeo in San Antonio. It’s a long story that we do not wish to get into.”

“Si. Comprender. Yes, I understand.”

“Are we bothering anyone? Is this your casa?” Billie quietly asked.

Raising his hand and waving it back and forth meaning, sort of.

“Dis is my family’s land. My forefathers settled this little community many, many years ago. If you like I can take you to the cemetery where they are buried,” he crossed himself.

The girls quickly said no to that request. He looked at them quizzically.

“I go tend to your caballos. I give them water and hay. You can get dressed, and then we can take a walk, if you like.”

Hopping off our make-shift bed Billie had put together, the boards clattered to the floor. We looked at it and shrugged our shoulders and said we were grateful it didn’t fall during the night. Billie gave me a look of fear, and I recognized it.

“I won’t tell your mother, Billie. I promise.”

She smiled, and we began getting dressed. I dressed a little more conservatively than when it was just Billie and I. My hip huggers fit my 5’6”, size 12 body frame well. My white sleeveless blouse that was tied at the waist exposed my bare tanned skin. Billie dressed in Levis, long sleeve denim shirt, tied at her waist as well showing her white skin. Her Levis hugged her size 10 hips well too. Billie was just a tad shorter than me and had a great figure. Better than mine. I could easily pass for a boy, but she could not. After getting dressed and putting our hair in a pony tail, we were ready for the next adventure.

Stepping outside, the cool morning air was refreshing after spending a night in the rather warm, stuffy room with no breeze to speak of. The morning chorus of birds singing to one another was music to my ears. What an awesome sound to wake up to. Marcos was standing with the horses and speaking Spanish to them in a low tone and rubbing them down.

He saw us step outside. Looking at us both, he said, “Very nice horses. Do you ride in the rodeo, or do you go for fun?”

“We ride,” we both said simultaneously. “Barrels.”

“Muy buena. Come look down the hill. That is my home,” he said pointing at the stucco house at the bottom of the brushy valley.

“You are welcome to come with me to my casa and freshen up if you like.”

We nodded that we would like to do that.

“Come with me and let me show you from where I come.”

He explained that this area with the broken-down buildings was once a village of his people. Where we stayed last night was part of the church.

Sadly, he told us the sad story of the downfall of the village.

“The village was attacked by Indians in 1875.Everyone was killed. They say it is haunted with those who died, so nobody comes back here. Except me. Sometimes I see a vision, but I just nod at them, and they go away and so do I. I was here when you arrived last night, but I stayed out of sight making sure no animals bothered you. I was here when you woke. You are two very pretty girls. Not safe for girls alone, so I watch over you.”

Looking down at the ground, we both said gracias and offered our hands in thanks.

“Por nada,” he politely said.

Smiling, he asked, “Ready to go to my casa?”

“Sure,” the girls replied smiling back at Marcos.

Getting the horses ready, I picked up Wink’s hoof to check on it and Marcos said, “Her hoof is fine. Someone took good care of it.”

I offered Wink for him to ride and motioned I would double with Billie. He turned the offer down and said he would walk.

We approached a casita about a mile away. Lined with mesquites and purple sage bush and century plants, the home settled in the middle of an oasis of simplicity.

His wife and six children were introduced to us, and we found them all very polite. Thank goodness there wasn’t a test on memory to recite their names afterward. Marcos explained who we were in Spanish to his wife. She nodded her head and escorted us to the bathroom where we could bathe.

I waited outside the bathroom while Billie bathed. The oldest daughter, Margarita, brought towels and lotion. She spoke good English, and we talked about school, riding horses, traveling and family. She was a beauty, about 12 years old, and I found her a joy to speak with.

We thanked everyone there and stepped outside. Marcos had a pickup and horse trailer parked out front.

“I will take you to Wilcox. It is too much on your horses to ride them to your destination.”

What he really was saying was that it was too much on us, but he knew we were not changing our minds.

“We will pay you, Mr. Socorro.”

“Por nada,” he said.

“Then we will give money for Margarita. She was very sweet, and we owe you.”

We unsaddled the horses, loaded them in the trailer and headed to Wilcox. I was sort of relieved we didn’t have to ride. My legs pained me when I walked due to the long ride from our ranch. This morning they were better, but not well.

Marcos took us to the rodeo grounds. As we unloaded the horses, we turned at the sound of a speeding pickup truck. It skidded to a stop next to us. I recognized it immediately. My dad jumped out and stomped toward me.

“What in the hell do you think you are doing? Load that stupid horse in the trailer and get in the truck!” he shouted.

Billie Jo slunk up and stood beside me. I looked at her, took a deep breath and said to my dad. “No. You get back in your truck and get the hell out of way and out of my life!”

Several cowboys from the grounds, including Marcos, surrounded my dad. Marcos quietly said, “Do as she says. Get in the truck and leave.”

My dad had a few choice words to say to me but did as he was told. Throwing dirt and manure over us all, he sped out of the arena and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I was shaking all over. One of the tall cowboys, with a slight beard, white cowboy hat, dressed in chaps and cowboy attire approached me.

I looked over at Billie and her smile was as big as mine. She nodded at me, I nodded back.