Free Novel 1974 - The Californios (v5.0) by Louis L’Amour

rest.”
    “The road I travel is one of memories. It is good for me to go.”
    “My husband had much respect for you,” Eileen Mulkerin said.
    “He was a good man, Señora. He had respect for the old ways and when the old gods spoke to him, he listened.”
    “The old gods?”
    “They are here, in all the quiet places. If you are silent in the wilderness they will, in time, come close to you. If you respect their world they will come to love you.
    “Those who follow us, they know not what they do.” Juan glanced at her. “You are known to the Old Ones. They know you belonged to him, and you are a quiet woman—”
    She laughed. “You do not know me, Juan, or you would not say that. I am a hard, bold, demanding woman.”
    He shrugged. “You know to be silent in the wilderness. It is that which matters, to learn to live with silence.”
    He walked to his horse. “It is time now. We must go.”
     
----
     
    A NDRES MACHADO WAS in the lead when they reached the place of the fire. He rode quickly around, then back. Russell followed him. “This was the smoke we saw. What do you suppose it was for?”
    Machado shrugged. “Coffee.” He swung down from the saddle, a lithe man, easy in his movements. “We will have some ourselves.” He turned. “Silva! We will have food now.”
    “It was a signal,” Silva muttered.
    They all looked at him. “A signal? To whom?”
    He shrugged. “They cooked. There is spattered grease and a few coffee grounds from an emptied cup. But it was a signal, too.”
    “Who could he signal to?” Alexander asked, impatiently. “There is nobody out here, Silva. Not even Indians live in this wilderness.”
    “It was a signal,” Silva insisted.
    “What about that old Indian?” Wooston asked. “I only saw him once, but he had some tie-up with Mulkerin.”
    “I do not know him,” Tomas said, looking away.
    “I saw him once,” Fernandez spoke reluctantly. “He was strange…he was an Old One.”
    “Strange? How?”
    “Well, just strange. Kept to himself. Never came into town. The other Indians fought shy of him, never seemed easy around him, almost like they were scared.”
    “What’s to be scared of?” Russell asked, contemptuously. “I seen him once. Just an old man…looked to be a hundred years old. Good puff of smoke could blow him away.”
    Tomas lifted his black eyes to Russell. He did not like him very much. “But none has,” he said. “In a hundred years a man sees much smoke.”
    Silva was slicing bacon into a pan. “They say he can call up the spirits…that he can will things to happen.”
    Russell laughed. “Nonsense! That’s pure nonsense!”
    They sat together, dozing and talking. Wooston, Russell, Alexander, Fernandez, and Andres Machado. Their party had grown in size, and among the additions were a dozen Californios, of whom Silva was one.
    Silva was a short, square-shouldered man, three-quarters Indian, one-quarter Spanish. He was a good cook, an excellent vaquero, and a tracker. Few of the Californios had any use for wild country, but Silva was an exception, as Pedro Fages and Father Garces had been.
    “What you figure on doin’ when we catch ’em?” Russell asked, glancing at Machado.
    “It is a wild country,” Wooston said, “it’s easy to get lost out here. Be surprisin’ if they ever found their way back.”
    Russell took a cigar from his vest pocket. “Be a real surprise to me,” he said. “Any number of accidents can happen.”
    Machado looked at them with distaste. “Your business is your business,” he said shortly. “I want that girl and a whip. That is all.”
    “And Sean Mulkerin? Who stole your woman?”
    “I do not know that he stole her. She fled…it was some silly girl’s whim…and it was his boat. However,” he added, “I shall fight him and kill him.”
    “Better just kill him,” Russell advised.
    “
Him?
” Machado sneered. “I never liked him, anyway. No, I shall fight him and kill him. It would give me great