THE PENITENT

A sequel to "Wagon Train - The Estaban Zamora Story" (1959)

High on a rocky ridge a little lamb called for help to its ewe, but the ewe, because of the rocky, scree-like terrain, was unable to climb to where her nimble-footed, adventurous lamb had reached, so she stood, bleating her anxiety to anyone who might hear.

Shepherd Manuel Zamora heard his sheep calling as he tended the flock. He squinted up the ridge to see where the youngster was. "Well, well, little one! You've got yourself into a difficult place today!" and he started climbing towards his charge.

Two men lay, secreted behind a large boulder, waiting their chance.

"That's him, Jake!"

"No, it ain't. It's his son, dammit!" Jake thought for a moment. "Father, son, what does it matter? Damned furrin' sheepmen!" he spoke the last word with loathing then spat to the ground.

Manuel was still climbing, nearer and nearer the lamb and the two watchers.

"I don't want no sheepmen round here." Jake continued, whispering now. "Ah'm gonna git him! Make it look like a' accident!" and he unslung the whip he carried over his shoulder. "C'mon, furriner, jest a few more feet an' ..."

Manuel had passed the boulder and was reaching out for his lamb when the whip cracked, the thong curled round his ankle and Jake pulled sharply. With a cry Manuel lost his footing, slipping and scrabbling to gain a handhold as he slid rapidly down the slope. His head hit a rock with a sickening crack and, when he reached the foot of the slope, he lay unmoving.

His attackers made their hasty escape.

---oo0oo---

Brother Bernabe Zamora knelt with the other brothers at prayer at the altar of the monastery in which he had served for almost a year.

A strong, stockily-built man in his late 50s entered silently and sat at the back of the chapel, cap in hand, tears in his eyes, waiting respectfully until the brothers had finished their devotions. When they filed out, Estaban Zamora stood up and touched the arm of one of the brothers. "Bernabe!"

Bernabe raised his head at the sound of the familiar voice. "Father!" He moved out of line to speak. "You have come to see me take my final vows tomorrow!"

"No, Bernabe, it's not that." His voice had a tremor of emotion and as he spoke the tears welled up in his eyes again. "Sit down, my son. I have terrible news for you - Manuel... is - dead!" Estaban wept openly.

For a moment, Bernabe was stunned into silence. "Dead? But - how?"

When he had controlled his emotions, Estaban spoke. "When he did not come back to pen the sheep last night, I knew something was wrong. I went out to his ground. I searched in the darkness for hours, Bernabe. And then, I found him. He had fallen while rescuing a lamb. The side of his head ..." he could not continue, and father and son cried together.

Pulling himself together, Bernabe asked "How is Zarita?"

"Zarita is in a state of shock. She is with child ..." Bernabe's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, no!"

"I have left her with Señor Daniels' daughter, Maria." Bernabe nodded his understanding.

The Padre, who had heard the sounds of grief from within the chapel, approached the grieving men to see what he could do.

Bernabe raised his tear-stained face when he felt the Padre's hand on his shoulder. "Oh, Padre, it is my other brother - he has been killed!"

"May the Lord have mercy on his soul!" said the Padre, making the sign of the cross across his chest. "Where is the body?" he enquired.

I brought him here, in my caretta." said Estaban.

"That is good. We must prepare him to meet his Maker." said the Padre. "Come, let us carry him into the chapel."

They went out to the caravan and Estaban climbed in, followed by Bernabe, who wept anew at the sight of the makeshift coffin. Carefully, tenderly, father and son lifted the coffin and bore the body into the chapel.

"I have dressed him in his best clothes. He will have a true Basque funeral, here in this hostile land." commented Estaban. "To think that I have travelled so many miles in that caravan to meet my sons, and now, two of them are dead and you, Bernabe, are as good as dead to me, after you take your vows tomorrow."

Bernabe did not reply. Instead, he gave his father a long, searching look before he turned towards his brother's coffin. Slowly, apprehensively, he raised the coffin lid and beheld his dead brother, dressed in formal Basque costume. "May God be with you." he murmured, a catch in his deep voice. Then Bernabe noticed something odd. "Father - were these the boots Manuel died in?"

"Yes." replied Estaban flatly. "They are the only boots he owned."

"What is that around the ankle?" Bernabe pointed to a thin strip of rawhide encircling the boot. His father and the Padre looked, then Estaban unwound the thong. The break at one end was fresh.

"Then - it was not an accident?!" Estaban's voice was a mixture of disbelief and shock. "Who would do this?"

"Father, you killed two men when you went up to the high hills to face the sheep rustlers, did you not?"

"Yes. The gang leader, Luke Stone, and his campadre."

"But, surely there were many men in the gang of rustlers that were stealing the sheep." said the Padre.

"Yes, Stone had ten men or more, including Raoul ..." Bernabe hesitated at the still-painful memory of the brother he had unintentionally killed a year before.

"Ten men? Well, maybe they have re-formed the gang. You must inform Sheriff Nixon right away about this, Mr Zamora."

"Yes. Yes, of course you are right, Padre." replied Estaban, his thoughts elsewhere.

"Father." Bernabe's voice was deep, penetrating Estaban's reverie. "You said just now that I, your last living son, will be lost to you from tomorrow when I take my vows to become a Brother." Bernabe turned to address the Padre. "Padre, I have lived here, in penitence of my crime, for one year. I know now that nothing will ever turn back time and I will always have to live with the memory of what I have done. Padre, I ask your permission to be released from the monastery. My brother has been murdered and there is no-one else within the area who can help my father tend the flock for Mr Daniels. When my brother's killer has been found, I will return. But for now, my father needs me more than I need the sanctuary of the monastery. Padre, will you please release me?"

"My son, I understand your reasoning and agree with it. Yes, I release you. The Church and your father have forgiven you. I think it is now time that you forgive yourself. Go in peace, Bernabe."

---oo0oo---

Estaban and Bernabe, after laying Manuel to rest beside his younger brother in a simple ceremony with the blessings of the Padre, rode in the caretta into Black Rock with the damning evidence in Estaban's pocket. Heads turned to behold the quaintly attired men as the caravan creaked up the dusty street and stopped at the Sheriff's Office.

Sheriff John Nixon, a middle-aged, experienced and much respected lawman, sat at his desk, while his deputy, legs up on his desk, was whittling idly on a piece of wood. The Sheriff's eyes widened a little as he recognised his foreign visitors, but he stood to greet them, saying affably "Estaban - and young Bernabe! What can I do for you gents?"

Estaban drew the piece of leather out of his pocket and dangled it in front of the Sheriff's eyes. "Sheriff, this is the evidence that my elder son was murdered."

"Oh? And where's the body?" drawled Nixon.

"We have buried him, sir. He fell from a rock face while trying to rescue one of our sheep .."

"Wondered what the smell was!" commented the deputy snidely, and sniggered.

The sheriff turned angrily to his deputy. "That's enough, Tom. You were sayin', Zamora?"

Estaban continued. "He fell and smashed his head against a rock. But we found this ..." he indicated the thong of leather - "round the ankle of his boot. Do you know, Sheriff, of anyone around here who has a whip?"

"Oh, plenty of men. There's cattle drovers, stagecoach drivers, all sorts. Gonna make it well-nigh impossible to find, I'd say."

"Do you mean you will not help us to find my son's killer?" Estaban was outraged.

"Now hold on there. I didn't say that. I'll check out everyone I see or know of with a whip. That do?"

Slightly mollified, Estaban reluctantly agreed.

"Now don't you go takin' the law into your own hands, y'hear?" the deputy added, pointing the whittled piece of wood at Bernabe. "Come, father. We must return to our flock."

As they closed the Sheriff's office door behind them, they heard the sound "Meeeehhhh!" like the call of a bleating sheep, then raucous laughter from the originator of the insult.

---oo0oo---

The deputy waited for an opportune moment while doing his daily rounds, then sidetracked into the hotel and headed towards a private room where a number of men were sitting round a table, speaking in conspiratorially hushed tones.

"It's jest a matter of time before Daniels has to sell out. The only shepherd he has left now is th' old man ..."

"Wrong, boss." interjected the deputy as he noisily pulled up a chair and sat.

"Huh? Whaddaya mean, Tom?"

"His other son - ya know, the monk? He's walkin' about the street right now, beside his father - an' he sure ain't dressed as a monk no more!"

"Damn! I forgot about the third son - the one that killed Raoul!"

"They jest came in to see the sheriff, the father sayin' someone murdered his son and showin' a whip's thong found round his boot ..."

Jake paled slightly and his eyes slitted in thought. "Looks like we're gonna haveta speed up the process, right, boys?" His cohorts nodded assention. "Let's go!"

---oo0oo---

Before returning to the sheepfarm, Estaban took Bernabe to where he had found Manuel. They went over the ground but, in the rocky scree, could find no evidence of anyone else ever having been there.

"What can we do, father? My brother's death must be avenged!"

"Remember what Major Adams told us, Bernabe. This is a new land with new laws and we must abide by these laws. The Sheriff may well find my son's killer. We must be patient, wait for the truth to be revealed. Time will tell."

---oo0oo---

When Estaban and Bernabe returned to the Daniels' sheepfarm they were met some distance out by Cesar, Estaban's sheepdog, barking loudly as he bounded up in obvious joy at the return of his master. When Estaban had calmed the dog, he saw that his boss, Roy Daniels and his daughter, Maria, were waiting solemnly at the door of the house. Zarita, Manuel's widow, had been too distraught to accompany them to her husband's funeral and had stayed with the Daniels while her father-in-law and brother-in-law had said their final farewells.

Roy Daniels was in his late 50s, tall, slim and elegant with a shock of grey hair that made him look distinguished. He had been born and educated in England but had emigrated to America when the country was new, a gentleman farmer importing a few sheep with which to scrape a living on the verdant pastures of summer. He had done well for himself. His flock had multiplied rapidly and prosperity followed. However, tragedy struck when his wife died in childbirth while bearing Maria 18 years ago and he had never remarried. His son had been killed in the Civil War and Maria was still living under his care.

The Zamoras' grief had brought back the pain of his own loss, and Daniels had not yet expressed his condolences. Wordlessly, he ushered the two men into his study, and closed the door behind him. "Estaban -and Bernabe! What can I say - a tragedy, a tragedy! Maria has been attending to your daughter-in-law, Estaban. I am afraid all is not well with her, and I have called for a doctor."

"A doctor? The baby?" asked Estaban, shock and concern in his large brown eyes.

Daniels nodded, and led Estaban and Bernabe to see Zarita. She was lying in bed, her face white and beaded with sweat. Maria was nursing her, placing a cool, damp cloth on her forehead. Zarita gave a low moan. Exchanging glances of deep concern at Zarita's obvious distress, the men did not stay and, leaving Maria to her nursing task, returned with Daniels to his study.

Estaban's eyes again filled with tears. "Señor Daniels, Manuel's death - it was not an accident. See - I have proof that I have shown to the Padre and to the Sheriff." He produced the thong from his pocket. "This was wrapped around my son's ankle. He was murdered, señor!"

"Oh, dear, dear, dear! Oh, dear! Oh, my dear fellows, what can I say? Who would do this?"

"Perhaps" said Bernabe, "it was someone who wished to revenge another's death. My father killed two men up in the high pasture, Señor Daniels."

"These sheep rustlers! Yes, that is possible. But my dear fellow - two of your sons have died because of my sheep! There has been enough killing!"

"Why do these men do this to us?" asked Bernabe.

"They want the ground for cattle, Bernabe. I have purchased this land legally, so the only way they can take it over is by scaring me off - but I will not give in! There is a good living to be made in sheep. There is enough room in this great country for sheep farming and cattle ranching!"

"We will help you to keep the land and the sheep, señor! Will we not, Bernabe?"

"Yes, father. You took us in, gave us good work and good money. It is the least we can do for you, Señor Daniels."

---oo0oo---

When they returned to their cabin for the night, accompanied by Cesar, Estaban went over to a tin and lifted something out, then turned to Bernabe. "Bernabe, tomorrow you will take the caretta into town for provisions. I must stay here to tend the flock. You should not go unarmed. These people will stop at nothing to ruin Señor Daniels. Here - take the knife!"

Estaban held out a knife with the letters 'BZ' carved on the handle. For a moment Bernabe held it, then suddenly dropped it as though it were red-hot.

"No! I can never hold that knife again, father! I killed Raoul with that knife!" Bernabe turned away to hide his strong emotions from his father.

Estaban stood behind his son, held his shoulders as if to steady him from falling - falling back into the abyss of despair he had only just climbed out of. "I understand, my son. I will make you another, better one!"

"No! I do not want another one! I will not kill again!" Bernabe said with fervour.

"But you have to protect yourself! Come, see sense! These men are violent!"

Bernabe turned to face his father, fighting to control his emotions. "Yes, they are violent. But must we match violence with violence? I will take Cesar - he will protect me." He patted the dog's head affectionately.

"I know you are about to become a man of the Cloth, and their teaching is of peace and understanding. But this is a violent land, with danger, bigotry and hatred around every corner. We must be prepared for that, Bernabe!"

For a few moments Bernabe wavered as he searched within himself for a solution to the conflict within him. Then, his decision made, he squared his shoulders, turned and said "Very well, father. I will carry your new-made knife. But, please - bury that one by Raoul's grave!"

---oo0oo---

The night was still and quiet, with only the sound of the cicadas to lull Bernabe to sleep. But suddenly, out of the darkness, came the pounding hoof beats of many horses, their riders spurring them to a gallop as they approached the Daniels farmstead. Cesar's warning barks awoke Estaban and Bernabe as the whooping riders thundered their mounts around the house. In their hands were flaming torches which they threw towards the windows, splintering the glass into silver shards. Then the gang of masked riders started shooting their pistols into the air and Bernabe could hear screams of fear from Zarita and Maria in the house. Suddenly a firebrand was thrown through their cabin's open window and landed on their simple wooden table, immediately setting it alight. The acrid fumes of the burning pitch made them flee the cabin but, as they ran out, they were brought up short by two riders levelling their pistols at them.

"Now, jest stay where you are and you won't get hurt, furriners!" the masked rider exclaimed. Estaban thought he recognised the voice, but both he and Bernabe were forced to stand where they were, hands in the air in surrender. Cesar, however, had other ideas. He barked and snapped at the tormented horses' heels, making them buck. Gunfire started up again, and one angry rider aimed his pistol at the dog. Cesar yelped once and then fell. He kept trying to stand back up, but could not. More firing was coming from Daniels' house, which was now alight. The flames leaped higher in the night sky and it was apparent that the whole building was in danger of burning down. The two riders holding up Estaban and Bernabe were distracted by the sudden appearance out of the conflagration of Daniels, carrying Zarita, with Maria beside them and, seeing his opportunity, Bernabe turned and ran into the burning cabin, picked his knife from where it still lay on the floor when he had dropped it and leaped agilely out of a side window. His clothes were slightly singed but he was otherwise unharmed. He disappeared into the darkness, circling round in the undergrowth to get nearer the house and its evicted occupants.

"Hey, Boss! This ones s real purty!" shouted one rider, laughing raucously as he leaned down and scooped Maria up off the ground and onto the front of his saddle. Bernabe was near enough, and angry enough, to throw his knife at the cowboy. As the knife embedded itself in his back at the shoulder, the cowboy screamed in pain, losing his grip round Maria's waist. However, he still held a gun and, seeing his assailant, he turned and fired.

Bernabe saw the knife hitting its mark, saw Maria fall from the horse, saw the flash of the gun, felt a hammer-like blow to the side of his head; then there was nothing.

---oo0oo---

Estaban saw Bernabe fall and lie face down in the dust. He ran forward towards his fallen son, but guns pointed in his direction, and he froze.

The leader of the gang, seeing Maria lying in a bundle on the ground and Bernabe fallen nearby, shouted to his men "We've done enough damage, boys. Let's get outta here!"

Daniels fired a couple more shots into the retreating gang, then ran to his daughter's side while Estaban ran to Bernabe.

Maria was sobbing, terrified, but otherwise unhurt. Estaban gently turned his unconscious son over. His head bled to the side, revealing a deep head wound running from his left temple to the back of his head. Estaban placed his hand inside his son's shirt and felt for a heartbeat. Feeling a faint pulse, he ran over to the water trough which was leaking from half a dozen bullet holes, and soaked his bandana in the water, then returned to bathe the wound. As Estaban cleaned the wound Bernabe moaned, his eyes flickered open for a moment, then he lost consciousness once more.

Daniels, who had laid Zarita on safe ground away from the fire, was comforting Maria when suddenly Zarita gasped in pain and clutched her stomach. Maria saw Zarita and, realising immediately what was happening, rushed to assist her.

The house and cabin were ablaze and the glow in the night sky could be seen a mile away from Black Rock. Soon there was a thunder of more approaching horses, but this time help was at hand. The Sheriff and a few of the townsmen, including the doctor, rode up and saw the havoc caused by the riders of the night. While some of the men tried to quench the flames, the doctor immediately set to attending the casualties. "Over here, doctor, quickly!" called Maria, alarmed at Zarita's critical condition. He did what he could to make her comfortable, then went to Bernabe.

"How bad is he, Doc?" asked Daniels anxiously as the doctor knelt at Bernabe's side.

"Cain't rightly say fer now. Bullet's creased his skull. He's deeply unconscious. I'll have to get him, and the little lady, back to my surgery, real fast."

Estaban brought round the caretta and willing hands helped to lay Bernabe and Zarita inside.

When his son was comfortable Estaban went to see Cesar. The dog had been shot in the rear right thigh and was whining piteously. With tears in his eyes, Estaban put his dog out of its pain.

---oo0oo---

Sheriff Nixon returned with Daniels to the doctor's surgery and looked at Bernabe's ashen face as he lay on the bed, his head swathed in bandages. "Damn! I never thought it would go as far as that!"

Estaban knelt by his son's bed and held his hand. The contact reached through Bernabe's unconsciousness and he moaned faintly. The doctor came immediately to his side as Bernabe's eyes flickered and opened slightly. "Fa-father?"

"Hush, my son. Do not speak. I am here."

"My head - hurts, father. What - happened?"

"You have been shot, my son, but soon you will be better."

Bernabe stayed quiet for a few moments. Then, looking directly at Estaban, said in a soft whisper "Why is it so dark? My eyes are open but I cannot see you, father. Why is it so dark?"

Estaban felt a pang of shock and dread and looked up with an alarmed expression at the doctor, who shook his head and indicated silence with a gesture. Estaban understood and said "It is night, my son. You sleep now, soon you will be well again. I will stay here beside you. Rest now."

The doctor gave Bernabe a sleeping draught and Estaban stayed until regular breathing indicated that he was asleep, then disengaged his hand from his son's grasp and moved out of the room.

The doctor was awaiting him.

"Por Dios! He's blind, isn't he, doctor? My son is blind!"

"I'm afraid so, Mr Zamora. The blow to his head has damaged his optic nerves. It may well be permanent, judging from the depth of the wound. There were fragments of his skull embedded in his brain and the trauma may never improve."

"Oh, no, nooooo!" wept Estaban, sitting down heavily, his hands over his eyes. All my sons! What have I done to deserve this?" The doctor held Estaban's shoulder in an effort to comfort him. "What can I do now? I cannot continue shepherding without help!"

---oo0oo---

Meanwhile, Sheriff Nixon was interrogating his deputy, with Daniels in attendance as a witness.

"You know something about this, don't you, you son-of-a-bitch?" the Sheriff turned in a rage on his deputy, grabbing his shirt and pushing him roughly against the door to the cells.

"Nnnno! I swear, Sheriff, I-I done nuthin'!"

"Maybe not, but you damnsure know who did! Tell me, or I'll break your worthless neck right here an' now!" and he applied pressure, bending the deputy's neck back at a severe angle. The deputy gasped and choked, in mortal fear of his life.

"Yes! Yes!" he hissed in submission. The Sheriff let him go enough for him to make his confession.

"Jake Stone - wants Daniels' land for cattle - he's prepared - to get it any way he can!"

"Jake Stone, head of the Cattlemen's Association, I'll be damned! I knew it! And how about Zamora's other son - did Stone kill him, too?"

"I dunno, boss, I swear!"

"You - "shouted the Sheriff, "are out of a job!" and he tore the star from the deputy's shirt and threw him in jail. "And there you'll stay until after the trial!"

The Sheriff turned to Daniels. "Stone's ranch is ten miles out south. Come sunup, I'm gonna need a posse!" he hissed, still enraged at his crooked deputy.

Estaban stood at the door of the office and heard what had been said. "I wish to be included, Señor Sheriff!"

"You are too old, Zamora! Go back to your son - he's gonna need a heap o' nussin'!"

"Sheriff, I have to avenge the death of Manuel!"

"There'll be no avengin' done today, Zamora, jest a straight arrest, if possible!"

"Then I wish to be there to witness the arrest, Sheriff - please!"

"Dagnab it! Okay."

"I, too, wish to be included in the posse, Sheriff." volunteered Daniels. "They have taken everything of value from me and I wish to see justice done."

The Sheriff nodded agreement. "Get ready to ride!"

---oo0oo---

A hurriedly-assembled posse of twelve riders rode out of town in the early dawn, with Estaban riding beside the Sheriff. As he rode past the doctor's surgery he looked up at the window behind which his son lay and made an unspoken promise of vengeance.

Sometime later, the posse thundered into the courtyard of Stone's ranch. Estaban noticed that the white, two-storey building was opulent, with Southern architecture, verandahs and well-watered grassland surrounding the house.

All appeared to be peaceful as the posse reined up. A lean, dark man dressed in a black frockcoat and black Stetson emerged from the front door to welcome his unwelcome visitors. "Well, Nixon, gentlemen!" the man drawled. "To what do I owe the pleasure this fine mornin'?"

"Stone, you're under arrest for the murder of Manuel Zamora and the attempted murder of Bernabe Zamora!" stated Nixon bluntly.

Estaban saw Stone's face turn red, then white. "No! I do not know what you're talking about! I know nothing of these men! Who are they?"

"My sons, Señor Stone!" shouted Estaban, unable to restrain himself.

"But why would I want to kill your sons?"

The Sheriff answered that question. "Because you cattlemen want the sheep off Daniels' land, Stone. And you want to avenge your brother's death! I will not have a range war here! Now, will you come quietly?"

"NOW, BOYS!" Stone shouted his order and all around the courtyard men with guns and rifles appeared. A fusillade of shots rang out as the posse was caught in the crossfire, with horses and men falling and scrambling for cover. Seeing Stone run for cover, Estaban leaped from his horse and ran after him, dodging ricocheting bullets as they hit the ground around him. Stone drew out his pistol and turned to face Estaban. Estaban, running hard towards him, knocked him over with the impetus of his attack. The gun fell from Stone's hand and skittered away on the verandah. The two men engaged in a hand fight, but Estaban was stronger and he threw Stone to the ground and straddled him, his knife at Stone's throat.

"Call off your men, señor!"

"No!" With a mighty heave, Stone threw Estaban off him and grabbed a whip that was hanging on the wall of the house. He cracked it towards Estaban. It curled round his ankles and Stone pulled hard. Estaban fell heavily with a grunt.

"Is that how you killed Manuel, Señor Stone?" asked Estaban accusingly.

Stone made a lunge for the gun lying nearby on the verandah. "Die, sheepman!" he said triumphantly as he turned towards Estaban, the gun in his hand. Estaban had no time to think, just to act. He still held his knife and, with a lightning-quick movement, he threw it at Stone. The knife embedded itself deep in Stone's chest a fraction of a second before he pulled the trigger, spoiling his aim. The bullet smacked harmlessly into a railing of the verandah as Estaban ducked the shot. Stone dropped the gun from numb fingers and looked down at the knife, an expression of surprise on his face. He grasped the handle and tried to pull the knife out, but before he could do so he sank to his knees, then toppled to the ground, dead before he hit it.

When his men witnessed their boss's death they threw down their guns and surrendered.

The Sheriff, clutching a bullet wound in his thigh, limped over to where Stone lay, bent down and pulled the body round, face up. Sightless eyes gazed up at him. "Did ya haveta kill him, Zamora?"

"I - I had no choice, Señor Sheriff - it was him or me!" replied Estaban defensively. Nixon grunted, then indicated with his gun for the remainder of Stone's gang to gather in the courtyard.

Estaban looked for Daniels. He saw him sitting slumped over his horse's neck and watched in horror as Daniels slowly slid from the saddle and fell heavily. Estaban ran over to his boss, who was lying face down in the dust. He gently turned him round.

"Señor Daniels!" Estaban could see that the wound pumping blood in his chest was mortal, but Daniels was still alive.

"Zamora! Get - Sheriff!" Daniels gasped in pain.

"Sheriff! Come quickly!" called Estaban and the Sheriff limped to Daniels' side.

"I'm - done for! Zamora - my daughter - inherits - what's left of - my property. You..." and he clutched at Estaban's shirt, "take care of her help her - run the - farm! Sheriff - witness!" and Daniels' hand fell lifeless to his side.

Estaban looked at the newly-dead man, then at the Sheriff, with tears of grief and disbelief in his eyes.

There was nothing more to be done, so the Sheriff asked the unwounded survivors of the posse to attend to the dead and injured, then rounded up the rest of the criminals for the slow ride back to town.

---oo0oo---

Estaban rode back to the farm alone, his emotions wavering between grief and anger. When he turned the caretta round the last bend, he saw that the smouldering house was badly damaged, but not completely gutted, and the men of Black Rock were still working at putting out the last pockets of fire which occasionally blazed up. The lower rooms were gutted but the building was still intact, and Bernabe found Maria upstairs in her smoke-damaged bedroom. She was sitting on a chair, her hands to her head in despair. With an overpowering feeling of dread, he realised what he had to do.

"Señorita!" he said softly.

"Oh, Estaban! You're back! But - where's father? Did he stay in town to get more help?"

"Señorita - I have bad news - terrible news!"

"Oh, no!" Maria breathed. "What - what happened?"

"Señorita - I ..." Estaban was overcome with emotion and he covered his eyes to hide the tears. "I have to tell you - your father is dead!"

"Dead!? But how?" asked Maria, the shock not hitting her immediately.

"Stone - he put up a fight. There was shooting, and your father ..." his voice again trailed away.

Maria felt the grief suddenly well up inside her and she collapsed in deep, wracking sobs that tore from her very soul. Maria and Estaban wept together.

---oo0oo---

A horse-drawn buggy drew up outside and the doctor knocked at the door. "I came to see if I could help. May I offer my condolences, Miss Daniels." he said simply. "But I'm afraid I have yet more bad news - I'm afraid your daughter-in-law has lost the baby, Mr Zamora - there was nothing I could do."

"Is she alive?" Estaban asked with trepidation.

"Yes, but she is very weak. It will be a while before she is well again."

"In the meantime, Mr Zamora, both your son and your daughter-in-law will need a lot of attention, and I'm afraid I don't have neither the time nor the facilities to do it."

"I will go to them." said Maria, drying her eyes. "It will help me keep my mind off ..." her voice trailed away as fresh tears sprang to her eyes.

"But what about the farm?" asked Estaban. "Your father's dying wish was that I look after it for you."

"I have never wanted to run the farm, but I will not sell it, as that way Stone would have won and it would become a cattle ranch. My father did not want that to happen." She stood pensively for a moment, then said to Estaban: "You say that my father asked you to run the farm for me?"

"Si, Señorita."

"Then it shall be as he requested. You will be my farm manager."

"Gracias, Señorita. I will gladly manage the farm for you! But I will need to enlist workers. My son ..."

I understand, Mr Zamora. You may employ men as you see fit. And, in return, perhaps I can help you. You have two invalids in your family. Perhaps, while you hire some more hands, I can attend to your daughter-in-law - but how is Bernabe?"

"Ah, it is terrible, Señorita! The bullet hit him in the head and has taken his sight!"

"He's blind!?" she said, shocked.

"Si, Señorita. The doctor, he say it may be for ever!"

"He was so brave - he saved me from that awful man!" She looked at the doctor. "Are he and Zarita well enough to be brought here, doctor?"

"I would think they would be well enough to travel tomorrow, provided they both lie down, but Bernabe's head will have to be kept very still during the journey."

"I will use the caretta." said Estaban.

"And I will come and hold his head still." volunteered Maria.

"Good. Then I will see you tomorrow, Mr Zamora." and the doctor took his leave.

---oo0oo---

"Bernabe - Bernabe!" Estaban entered the room and saw his son lying on the bed, his head swathed in bandages which also covered his eyes.

"Father?" Bernabe's voice was husky with pain.

Estaban went to his son's side and grasped his hand. "It is all over now, Bernabe. The man who did these terrible things to Manuel and you is dead. Sadly, Señor Daniels was killed in the gunfight."

"Oh, no!" responded Bernabe.

"But now we are safe." continued Estaban. "There will be no more bloodshed. I have come to take you home to the farm. The caretta is waiting outside."

"Father - I know it is daylight, for I can feel the warmth of the sun on my face, but through these bandages I can see only blackness. I cannot see, father, I cannot see!" Estaban heard the rising panic in Bernabe's voice and looked to the doctor for guidance.

The doctor stepped forward and, placing his band on Bernabe's shoulder, spoke bluntly. "Bernabe - your sight has been impaired by the gunshot wound but, God willing, it may not be permanent. For now, you can go home - there is nothing more I can do for you here."

Bernabe felt the panic well up inside him. Suddenly, he was a little boy again, afraid - so afraid - of the dark. "No! Father! Help me! I don't want to be blind!"

"Bernabe, be strong!" Estaban said commandingly, but Bernabe clung to him, trembling in fear and shock.

Seeing his emotional state, the doctor poured medicine into a glass and said "Here, drink this, Bernabe. It will help you during the journey home." and he placed the potion in Bernabe's hand. Obediently he drank the tranquilliser and soon became calmer and drowsy.

---oo0oo---

A small crowd gathered as Bernabe and Zarita were stretchered out to the caretta. Estaban could hear their murmurs. "Such a pity." "Such a terrible thing to happen!"

As the doctor and Estaban eased the stretchers into the caretta, Bernabe became aware of another presence by the aroma of her perfume. "Who's there?" he asked, his speech slurred from the medicine.

"Maria, Bernabe. I've come to hold your head during the journey. Now, lie still." Although still upset, Bernabe relaxed when he felt her cool hands on either side of his head. Zarita, who had been told of Bernabe's injuries, spoke words of encouragement during the short journey. Estaban drove the caretta as gently as he could and was relieved to see the entrance to the farm.

---oo0oo---

After the sad duty of Roy Daniels' funeral, the good people of Black Rock, shocked at the violence that had erupted in their midst, all pulled together in true frontier spirit to assist in the rebuilding and refurnishing of the Daniels' farmhouse. For a few days the house echoed to the sound of sawing and hammering as new beams and joists were made and fitted to replace the burned out area and new or used tables, chairs and fitments were freely given. Soon all the major damage was repaired and the farmhouse was habitable once more.

Estaban employed three men to help him run the farm and was busy every day overseeing their tasks and tending the sheep. During one visit into Black Rock he bought a puppy and started its basic sheepdog training. A black, long-haired mongrel, the young dog was intelligent and eager to please his master. Estaban called him Mano.

---oo0oo---

After two weeks Zarita had recovered enough to be able to do some light housework, as well as helping Maria to attend to Bernabe.

During this time the doctor had been paying twice-weekly visits to dress Bernabe's wound and monitor his progress, each time hoping in vain that his sight would return. On what was to be his final visit, the doctor, after privately examining Zarita, who he pronounced well, attended to his other patient. "Well, Bernabe. How are you today?" he enquired as he unwound the bandage to reveal the red scar which ran a long, deep furrow along the left side of Bernabe's head. "The wound has healed well but - can you see anything at all?"

"No, doctor, I can see nothing." Bernabe said resignedly.

"Try this - can you see this?" and the doctor held a lighted candle in front of Bernabe's eyes.

Bernabe felt its heat. Was he imagining it, or did he, just for a moment, see a dim glimmer of light? "Ah!" he gasped in disappointment when he realised was only imaginging, remembering what once he had taken for granted. "No, doctor. I am - quite blind."

The doctor shook his head. "I am afraid you must resign yourself, my friend. Too much time has passed and now any possibility of regaining your sight must be set aside. There is nothing more I can do for you, Bernabe."

Disappointedly, Bernabe said "I understand, doctor - and - thank you."

The doctor touched his shoulder in commiseration and left Bernabe to his future.

---oo0oo---

As Zarita helped with domestic chores, Maria spent more and more time with Bernabe, helping him to acclimatise himself to a world of darkness. She led him around the house, teaching him where everything was located in every room by touch and memory. It was a trying and frustrating time for him, but gradually he was able to move gingerly around without bumping into doors and barking his shins on furniture.

One day he said "Maria, take me out into the sunshine." As he, with Maria's assistance, stepped carefully down the front steps, Bernabe lifted his head, feeling the welcome warmth on his face. They walked a little distance before Bernabe stopped, his head suddenly throbbing with pain. He gasped and staggered, holding his palms to his temples.

Concerned, Maria asked "What's the matter?"

"Headache!" he gasped.

"Here, sit down here on the banking and I will massage your head." she offered. Bernabe obeyed and a small sound of pleasure escaped his throat as her gentle massaging relaxed him, easing his pain.

"You have been so kind to me, Maria. I cannot repay you."

"Soon you will be well enough to help Zarita and me about the house. That will be adequate repayment for me."

On a sudden impulse Bernabe reached up and covered his hand over hers as she massaged his temples.

She gasped in surprise and drew her hands away, flustered.

"I have angered you, Maria. My apologies - it will not happen again."

"I - I will take you back inside." she stammered and, as she guided him back to the house, she realised that their relationship had suddenly changed; his grip on her arm was now more reserved, more distant. They walked in silence and, when she looked up at his sombre face, she could see he was frowning once more. Yes, she decided, he was handsome, and very vulnerable. She could not, however, decide whether it was compassion she was feeling towards him, or the beginning of something else.

Meanwhile, Bernabe's mind was in a turmoil. He did not know why he had impulsively touched her hand, nor could he understand why he felt shunned by her apparent rejection of his innocent action.

For the rest of the day he sat alone in his room in a pensive silence until Zarita came in to see him. Speaking in their native Basque, she asked "How did you enjoy your walk with Maria? You seemed to be enjoying her company!"

"The sun felt warm against my skin, Zarita, and the land smelled earthy beneath my feet. It is all that I have, now. Touch and sensation. I was a shepherd. I returned from the monastery to help father tend the flock, but now I am useless, just a handicap to you all."

"I will look after you, Bernabe, just as I looked after Manuel. I am a lonely widow now ..." she reached out and gently placed the back of her hand against Bernabe's cheek.

He suddenly realised what she was inferring and stood abruptly. "No! That must not be!" He turned away from her.

"But why not, Bernabe? I loved your brother but he is dead. Life is for the living - and where else will you find another Basque woman?"

"Enough of this talk! I do not want a Basque woman!" he said, angry and embarrassed at her direct approach.

Estaban, returning from the fields after an arduous day, came in at that moment. He sensed an atmosphere between Zarita and Bernabe. "Is there anything the matter?" he asked, his dark eyes looking to each of them.

In reply, Bernabe drew a deep breath while seating himself, then said: "Father, Zarita, I have made a decision. If the Padre will have a blind man, I wish to return to the monastery. I will be of more use there."

Estaban and Zarita looked at each other in wide-eyed surprise. "But Bernabe, what will you do?" asked Estaban.

"You will recall that I was about to take my vows the day after you came to tell me of Manuel's death, father. Perhaps God will guide me in my darkness."

At that moment Maria entered the room. Bernabe heard the door open and close, smelled the distinctive aroma of her perfume. He turned in her direction. "Maria?" he asked. "Is that you?"

"Yes, Bernabe." She walked over to his chair, knelt down in front of him and held his hand. He did not withdraw from her touch. "I overheard what you just said about returning to the monastery. Please, Bernabe, do not go back. There, you will be alone."

"Alone? No, I will not be alone, Maria. There, the brothers will take care of me. Here, I am only a burden. I will not be a burden to anyone!" he stated emphatically.

"But you will be leaving behind those who love and care for you!" the words slipped out before she realised she had said them.

Bernabe chewed his lip pensively for a moment, then, choosing to ignore what he had just heard, said "I can no longer work as a shepherd. I cannot see to tend the flock, nor can I ever be much help around the house. There is nothing I can do to be of any use here!"

"You will be leaving the womenfolk alone in the house without protection whilst all the men are out in the fields, tending the flock!"

"What good would I be if more bad men came to harm you? I could not see them. I would be helpless to assist you - they would shoot me down! No. You must find an able-bodied man to guard you. My mind is made up. Tomorrow I will go back to the monastery."

---oo0oo---

Estaban knew that it was useless to argue with his son once he had made up his mind, so the next morning their breakfast was spent in silence, then Estaban simply embraced Bernabe and said a gruff "Go with God." before walking away towards the pastures.

After his father had departed, Bernabe suddenly experienced a feeling of loss - the loss of his father's strength, care and protection. He realised then what Maria had been trying to tell him. He felt a pang of doubt and regret gnawing at him - was he making the right decision? But, after considerable soul-searching, he decided that it would still be best for everyone concerned if he should return to the monastery.

---oo0oo---

The morning was bright and sunny and Maria, wanting to spend the last possible few hours with Bernabe, volunteered to drive him into town in the buckboard. Mano the dog appeared from nowhere just as they climbed up, barking furiously. Bernabe turned his head towards the noise. "Hey! What are you doing here, Mano? Go back to Estaban! Go on! Go!" But Mano jumped up on the buckboard, nuzzling and snuffling Bernabe's hand. He tried to gently push the young dog off the buckboard, but Mano refused to go and curled himself up under the driving seat. No matter how hard he tried to eject the dog, Mano stubbornly refused to move, even growling a warning when Bernabe tried too hard, so, in exasperation, Bernabe gave up and allowed the dog to stay.

"Is it safe with that dog there?" Maria asked, eyeing Mano anxiously.

"Yes, come on up. He only wants a ride." assured Bernabe, so Maria climbed up onto the buckboard and took the reins. They sat together in silence as she drove the carriage along the road to town.

As they drove eastwards towards town, the morning sun dazzled Maria and she did not see the deep pothole in the already rutted road. The buckboard jolted, the axle breaking with a crack. The impact threw them both off the buckboard. Maria cried out in pain as she fell badly and Bernabe, totally unprepared for the violent lurch, was thrown to the ground, landing heavily on the injured side of his head. He lay unmoving.

Maria was first to recover with Mano licking her face and whining concernedly. She was immediately aware of pain in her left wrist, which lay at an unnatural angle from her arm. Sitting up, she hurriedly tore a strip off her dress and made a sling for her injury, then went over to where Benabe lay. Mano had beaten her to it and was licking Bernabe's face, too, but he remained unconscious. Blood was oozing from a deep cut in the scar tissue of his head wound. Alarmed, Maria went over to the capsized buckboard and found the canteen of water. Gripping it between her knees, she opened it with her uninjured hand and poured some cool water over his head. Bernabe jerked, his eyes fluttering as he fought to regain consciousness. "Ahhhh!" he moaned. Mano barked delightedly. His master was alive! Bernabe turned over on his back, holding his head, then, opening his eyes, he looked directly at Maria.

He blinked twice, frowning. Suddenly a radiant smile illuminated his sombre face. Then he said, quite simply: "Oh! You are - beautiful!"

"What? Bernabe! You can see!" Her delight was obvious by the tone of her voice.

"Yes, I can see. I can see!" he shouted, laughing, then immediately regretted his impulsiveness. "Ohhh! My head!" he groaned, closing his eyes again and, grimacing, held his head against the throbbing pain. He was afraid to re-open them in case the return of his sight was only fleeting, but, when he did, he could still see. Carefully, he got to his feet, staggered and dropped back to his knees. "Dizzy!" he said. He waited till his head stopped spinning, then shakily stood, looking all around him, taking in the wonder of the return of his sight. "Thank the Lord! I can see!" He fell to his knees again, but this time to pray. What was for him a miracle amounted to a religious experience and he thanked God for restoring his sight.

Maria, fighting back the tears of pain from her broken wrist, did not interrupt him, but as he rose gingerly to his feet again she said: "Bernabe, I must go to the doctor - my wrist is broken!"

"Oh! I am sorry! I will make a splint from twigs." Annoyed at himself for not having been aware of her injury, he hurriedly searched for, and found, suitable pieces of wood and, with a light rope retrieved from the buckboard, gently bandaged her arm to make her more comfortable. "Now, we will have to ride into town." He quickly unharnessed the pony still attached to the buckboard, then effortlessly leaped on its back and offered his hand for Maria to climb up in front of him. "We will have to ride bareback, Maria. Hold onto the pony's mane and I'll hold on to you! Don't worry, I won't let you fall." he said, slipping one arm around her slim waist while holding the reins with the other.

Bernabe spent the ride into town deep in thought. He had not realised how beautiful Maria was, as he had only seen her from afar before he had been shot and she had taken scant notice of him then, merely treating him for what he was - a hired hand. But, after he was shot, she had taken care of him and spent much time with him, helping him to come to terms with his blindness. Was it through pity and compassion, or was there something more? He recalled her words "You will be leaving behind those who love you!" Did she mean just his father and sister-in-law, or had she included herself in the statement? But he was resolved to promise himself to the Church and the vows he soon intended to take precluded forever any female company. But now, this beautiful, caring young woman was riding in front of him on the pony, her body warm against his, his protective hand tight around her slim waist. He felt a sudden surge of warmth flood through his own body, causing in him a powerful desire for her he had never experienced before. He wanted her there and then - but, he thought, she was injured and in pain - it was not the time, or the place. A soft groan that escaped his throat was not entirely due to his headache. He spent the rest of the ride into town in physical and emotional turmoil.

Because he was holding her so closely, Maria became aware of Bernabe's reaction. Was the message coming from his body simply that he wanted her, or had he finally fallen in love with her? She hoped, with the soaring elation of joy, that it was the latter. She was suddenly afraid that he would be unable to control himself, but, to her relief, throughout the short ride into town he remained a perfect gentleman, although he continued to press himself hard against her. She made no comment.

Neither did he.

---oo0oo---

On their arrival outside the doctor's house, Bernabe dismounted. Maria noticed his excitement abating as he helped her down and, again putting his arm around her waist, he steadied her as they waited for the doctor to answer the door. For a second, however, Bernabe seemed to sway, and Maria had to support him as much as he was supporting her. Mano barked around them and Bernabe recovered enough to bid the dog be quiet and sit. The young dog obeyed.

When he opened the door, the doctor greeted them with a mixture of incredulous delight at the return of Bernabe's sight and concern with Maria's injury. He quickly ushered his patients into his consulting room and attended to both of their injuries. Firstly, after giving her painkilling herbs, he reset Maria's wrist, then placed splints up her arm and bound the injury firmly in a sling. Turning to Bernabe, he examined the wound, cleaned and bandaged it before checking that his sight had been fully restored.

"Well, young man, you have been extremely fortunate. I can see no loss of vision at all, and the only reason I can find for your recovery is that the knock on the head jolted the nerves and muscles back into action. Now, you must drive Miss Daniels back to the farm without delay. I warn you, Miss Daniels, you will be in some considerable discomfort for a while. I will come calling to change the bandages."

Bernabe was in a dilemma. He had come to town to return to the monastery, but what had happened on the ride into town both thrilled and tormented him. Because of her injury, he had to take Maria home immediately. His decision made, after they left the doctor's he went to the livery stable and hired another buckboard to make the return journey.

By chance the Padre was walking nearby as Bernabe first ordered the dog onto the buckboard, then helped Maria up onto the driving seat. Spotting him, Bernabe said to Maria "Do you mind if I speak to the Padre for a moment?"

"No, of course not. I'll be fine." Maria's heart sank. He was going to ask to be taken back to the monastery, after all.

Bernabe drove the buckboard after the Padre, calling him.

The Padre turned and stood in amazement when he saw who it was. "What's this, Bernabe? Have you regained your sight?"

"I have, Padre."

"A miracle! Praise be to God! And Miss Daniels! What have you been doing with yourself?"

"We had an accident, Padre. That's how Bernabe got his sight back!" She looked warmly at Bernabe, but he was frowning again, his thoughts troubled.

"Padre, I - " began Bernabe, then faltered and tried again. "I wanted to talk to you - about taking my final vows." Again he stopped, and looked at Maria. She was looking at him with such an intense look of love in her eyes that, with a powerful surge of emotion, he realised that he could never devote himself to a life of celibacy. Then, he smiled at her, his eyes warmed by love. While still gazing into her eyes, Bernabe said: "Padre. I have just decided that I will not be returning to the monastery to become a brother. I hope, if Maria will have this poor man, that soon I will become a father! Maria, will you marry me?"

"Yes! Oh, yes, Bernabe!" she replied, and they kissed passionately. The passers-by who were within earshot all stopped and applauded the newly-engaged couple.

Sharing in the emotional moment, the Padre said "I rejoice that you have found love and happiness, Bernabe. You have suffered much pain and sorrow over the past year. At last, your penitence is truly over. May God bless you both."

"Thank you, Padre." responded Bernabe, urging the horse onward and, as they rode back to the farm in the warmth of the sun, they only had eyes for each other.

---oo0oo---

CONTENTS