Carmen Boullosa - Texas - The Great Theft

Fausto and Nepomuceno exchange looks and make a few signs; Fausto understands and shouts the orders at the top of his lungs, “To Matasánchez, to the Old Dock, the herd disembarks with us. Let’s move it!”

Pablo heads to the tugboat’s cabin, working his way along the side of the barge, outside the railings; with swift agility he places his bare feet on the ropes and chains that moor it to the barge. He’s already aboard the tug when he feels a jerk: Pedro has just released the first mooring, and the motor is pushing the vessel, though it hasn’t started forward yet.

“Let’s go, Don Arnoldo!” he shouts in the old man’s ear. “To the Old Dock in Matasánchez!”

“The Old Dock? But no one uses it any more! Did you say the Old Dock? And what the hell was all that rocking? What was going on back there?”

“I’m telling you, Don Arnoldo, the old one! The Old Dock! Old like you are! Let’s go!” Pablo tells him.

“Off we go to the Old Dock,” the old man says, as merrily as he can, “old like me!”

“And make it snappy!”

“I can step it up … if you want us to capsize, you wacky kid! I can waltz but I can’t fly!”

He feels another jerk, stronger than the first: Pedro has just released the second and final mooring.

Moonbeam, the pretty Asinai Indian, has appeared on one of the Smiths’ balconies (not on account of the Lipans’ quarrel — which she didn’t see — or because of the sound of the shot — which she didn’t hear because she was in the patio fetching water — or because of Nat; it’s because of Nepomuceno’s horsemen galloping past, although she arrives too late to see who was in such a hurry); she saw the oranges rolling around, opened the balcony windows and jumped down into the street to pick them up. On another balcony, Caroline Smith — she knows whose fruit it is because she’s been standing at attention by the window — opens her windows too, but Moonbeam doesn’t hear, absorbed as she is in gathering the oranges into her skirt.

Mrs. Smith is wondering why her daughter is shouting. When she sees her hanging out the window into the street shouting nonsense, culminating in “I love you, Nepomuceno!” and sees Moonbeam, “that exasperating Indian girl, picking up oranges” off the cobblestones “with her legs fully exposed,” she faints, unable to bear either of these indignities.

Santiago watched Nepomuceno and his men board the barge. The other fishermen, who were mending their nets, had left to investigate the ruckus in the Market Square and hadn’t returned. Several of them got lost. Santiago, on the other hand, knows what has happened as if he has seen it with his own eyes, the same ones that witnessed Nepomuceno’s escape.

“Now that’s a real man!” he says aloud. “That’s what you call balls, big ones!”

As soon as they have finished tying up the last crab, Melón, Dolores, and Dimas get down off Hector’s cart; Mr. Wheel will only transport what’s for sale. Without talking it over, they all run to Mesnur, halfway between the center of Bruneville and the place where the fishermen mend their nets. Mesnur is where the children always gather at the end of the afternoon, and sometimes when their work is interrupted. Most of the kids work, and most of them are Mexicans or immigrants. They fly kites, sail toy boats they build themselves, catch dragonflies and tie them up on leashes, play ball (if there’s one around), jump rope, and share secrets. Sometimes they’re mean to each other, but mostly they share the goodies that might have come their way.

Melón, Dolores, and Dimas want to share the news about John Tanner, the White Indian, and about the sheriff and Don Nepomuceno.

Luis arrives at the same time holding his little sister’s hand and with empty pockets; he’s worried about that, it won’t go down well at home. Along comes Steven — hanging his head because he hasn’t made any money either — and Nat, with his hidden treasure.

But Melón, Dolores, and Dimas don’t talk about John Tanner and no one stops to discuss what happened with Shears and Nepomuceno, no one even thinks about swimming or playing freeze tag, because Nat removes the Lipan’s knife, the one he picked up on Charles Street, from his pants. They all agree they should hide it.

It takes the gringos a little while to mount their horses and begin pursuing the “ banditos .” Their horses are in the stables, on the city’s outskirts, and the minutes drag by as they wait for their servants to bring their horses (on the way they were distracted by the oranges Ludovico carelessly dropped — the Asinai had gathered what she could, but many remained — and after they gathered what was left of the oranges it took a while to hide them in Judge Gold’s stables).

Once mounted on their horses, the gringos lose more time stopping at each intersection and corner to ask everyone in the vicinity if they’ve seen the fugitives and where they went. “They headed inland.” “I think they went that-a-way.” Folks’ directions are no quicker than their explanations. There’s no one on the road to the river to tell them whether “the fugitives” went toward the river or inland; the kids who usually gather to play there are nowhere to be found (they’ve already gone to hide the knife). Just in case, Ranger Phil, Ranger Ralph, and Ranger Bob head down to the dock. The rest of them head inland, continuing to question folks along the way.

Beside Mrs. Big’s Hotel, Ranger Phil, Ranger Ralph, and Ranger Bob catch sight of the barge loaded with cattle, floating slowly down the river (no matter how much the boy hassles him, old Arnoldo wisely maintains a snail’s pace, he takes good care of his cargo), and they hear the herd lowing at a distance. The vessel rocks a wobbly dance. There’s no way it could be brought back to dock.

“So much rocking!”

“It looks like there’s a ruckus on board, there must be an angry bull.”

“Nah! He’s not angry, he’s in heat!” As usual, Ranger Ralph has a one-track mind (you can hardly call what his brain does “thinking”).

“A bull in heat, you say? Ain’t no bull, it’s a steer like you!” Ranger Bob says in bad Spanish, which Ranger Phil understands, but not Ranger Ralph.

All three laugh, two because they get the joke, the other because he’s so stupid.

Watching the barge float along like it’s fighting the waves is both humorous and soothing, like watching sheep being rounded up into one big flock with mastery and skill; they don’t know the real reason for the boat’s swaying.

The barge turns upriver toward the Old Dock.

“I thought from here they went down-river to Point Isabel and then to New Orleans to sell cattle, but look, it seems like they’re heading upriver,” says Ranger Bob.

“They’ll be picking up feed, no doubt, they don’t want to deliver ’em hungry,” says Ranger Phil.

“Or maybe they’re trying to catch the current,” says Ranger Bob.

“Don’t make no sense to me,” says Ranger Ralph.

They turn their backs and enter the swinging doors of Mrs. Big’s Hotel.

Inside, it’s business as usual: a few whores are waiting for customers, folks are drinking liquor, four musicians begin to torture their instruments, competing for attention, and at her table Mrs. Big presides over her never-ending card game. To one side of the swinging doors — which don’t cover his face or the lower half of his legs — Santiago the fisherman hangs back, barefoot, by the entrance.

Jim Smiley is the only one who gets up when the Rangers come in. But not to shake hands or show respect. Smiley bends over to pick up the cardboard box where he keeps his frog, and says clearly for all to hear, as if he’s rehearsed it, “I betcha two bucks my frog can jump farther than any other.”