Carmen Boullosa - Texas - The Great Theft

“And where am I gonna find a frog to bet you with? I don’t ride around with a frog in my pocket!” Ranger Phil says.

“What else you got in your pockets? What’s more important than a frog?” Smiley smiles.

Ranger Phil holds up his revolver. He smiles too, showing his gold teeth.

“You wanna take my bet or not?” Smiley dares him, still smiling.

“I’m askin’ you where am I gonna get a frog?”

Santiago the fisherman mutters, “Down by the riverbank, I’ll bring you one, Ranger. Wait here.”

Santiago is itching to get out of the saloon.

Ranger Phil turns and looks at him with admiration. If this backwater fisherman dares to speak to a gunslinger like him, there must be good reason. Santiago heads outside, the doors swing behind him.

A few seconds later, Ranger Phil follows Santiago, and the two other Rangers follow reluctantly — they wanted to grab a drink. Irritatingly, they can still hear the music, which makes them even thirstier. But when they see the fisherman looking so helpless, jumping around like a child, they turn around and head back into Mrs. Big’s.

Santiago continues leaping around on the muddy riverbank, without realizing the Ranger is nearby. He catches sight of a frog at the edge of the river. He follows it, leaps to the right, and then to the left. He squats to capture his prey.

Ranger Phil follows him stealthily, so as not to scare the frog — now he understands what Santiago is up to — until he arrives at the edge of the dock. He stops and watches the fisherman. Then he notices the hoof-prints in the mud.

Santiago captures the frog.

By this time the barge appears to be fading away and you can no longer hear the cattle lowing.

Pointing to the horseshoe prints in the mud, Ranger Phil asks Santiago,

“What’s this?”

Santiago, who has the frog in his hand, doesn’t say a word for a few long seconds.

You can still hear the music of the four fools in the saloon (each of them wandering around with own their instrument, gathering only to look for handouts), scratching strings, their music lacking all melody.

What happens next takes place in the blink of an eye. Santiago, who is a good man and doesn’t know how to lie, realizes what trouble he’s in and begins to cry in Spanish, “I don’t know anything, I saw them jump on the barge but didn’t understand what was going on.” He drops the frog he caught.

Unfortunately, Ranger Phil understands Spanish.

In Mrs. Big’s Hotel the musicians’ torturous song ends. Ranger Phil whistles to his men; they appear through Mrs. Big’s swinging doors.

The musicians start a new song. Ranger Phil grabs Santiago by the arm and drags him over to his partners, the fisherman bawling like an animal on the way to slaughter. Ranger Phil translates the fisherman’s confession for his partners, pointing to where he found the prints in the mud.

From the barge, Fulgencio (who has an eagle’s eye) observes the three gunmen approaching Mrs. Big’s Hotel. He whistles to Nepomuceno (softly, not to disturb the herd), who dismounts and hides behind his horse. His men copy him, using the horses as shields to keep them from sight of anyone on the riverbank, in case they have a spyglass, despite the fact this leaves them exposed to the herd.

The herd reacts to their movements. They nearly capsize with the commotion. Old Arnoldo curses the herd and steers the tug, yanking its tiller. Fulgencio cracks his whip. Just the sound of it is enough; the herd recognizes his authority — luckily all Nepomuceno’s men are vaqueros —and settles back down.

Nepomuceno wants to go to Matasánchez. He would have preferred to go to his own ranch, but he knows the gringos’ vengeful nature; it’s better to hide out somewhere that doesn’t endanger his own people. For the time being he knows he can’t go near the place, or any of his mother’s ranches either (where the food is much better than anywhere else, there’s no contest). He must cross the border and prepare to face the Rangers there. If not, they’ll crush him. Once again, it occurs to Nepomuceno, as it has on many occasions, We should have allied ourselves with the warrior tribes; it’s a shame it didn’t work out, but they’re like wasps’ nests, even among themselves. Together, Nepomuceno thinks, “ Indians and Mexicans would fry the gringos up with a little chipotle, some garlic, and a pinch of … You can tell he’s the son of Doña Estefanía, the best cook in the whole region. Her desserts are without compare, as are her marinades and her stews. You’re fortunate to dine at her table.

Chipotle, frying, garlic: this is no way to talk about gringos, who don’t even know how to hold a frying pan. Even the Karankawa were more civilized, may they rest in peace.

While all this is passing through his head, Nepomuceno has an idea. Traveling with the herd puts him in good spirits, there’s a lot of vaquero in him … Since they’re hiding behind their horses, they don’t see what’s happening on the dock in Bruneville.

Those awful musicians have begun yet another tune back at Mrs. Big’s. One of them squeezes an accordion. Santiago the fisherman is on his knees, crying silently like a child, clasping his hands and begging for mercy. Ranger Ralph takes out his pistol. He points it at Santiago. The shot hits him in the forehead.

(The bullet that has come to rest in Santiago’s head comes to life. It knows it wasn’t meant to end up there. The fisherman’s noble, sweet brains, washed with the sea air and the silence of high tide, soothe it. His brains pour out in luminous silence, the bullet has rendered them insensate. No fear, no fatigue, no longing, no children, no wife, no nets, no Nepomuceno; not even the river remains.)

The Rangers stick a fishhook into Santiago’s ass — one that might have belonged to him. Then they tie a rope around his neck and hang him from the icaco tree, “Mrs. Big’s stick.”

“Leave him there to teach ‘em a lesson.”

The three Rangers mount their horses. The animals seem oblivious to them. It’s not that they don’t obey them, it’s like they don’t recognize them.

Before yanking the reins, Ranger Bob notices a frog leaping in the mud. He dismounts and follows it; his boots get muddy; he traps the frog without chasing it, as if the frog has surrendered.

“I’ll catch up with you,” he says to his partners. “I’ll see you in the Market Square, or at the Town Hall, somewhere around there!”

Ranger Phil and Ranger Ralph pull their reins and gallop back to the center of Bruneville, straight to the Town Hall to share their discovery.

The mayor-pharmacist gives instructions: send a telegram to Austin asking for reinforcements. (On Stealman’s orders: “If they return without the outlaw, send a telegram to Austin for reinforcements, things could get ugly.”) Then Ranger Neals, the warden, arrives at the Town Hall; he whispers to the mayor to send some men down to Mrs. Big’s, someone needs to keep watch over the dock. What if Nepomuceno and his men return to attack tonight? They might even be returning on the next barge …

The order is given: there will be no vessels arriving or departing from the Bruneville dock, or any other dock for that matter.

“But the afternoon steamboat, the Elizabeth, is about to arrive, it’s running late.”

“Well it won’t stop in Bruneville.”

Wild, who has an unusual constitution (he hears stampedes approach without twitching, kills thousands of buffalo without blinking, smells the rivers of their blood as if they were magnolias), goes berserk when he hears that the steamboat won’t be stopping because it has been forbidden to dock. Goddamn it! The last thing on earth he wants is to be stuck in this shithole!