Welcome To The Bullpen
Green Chili
Dave Cox
Chapter 1
Little Ben
“Chili Verde!, Aqui!, Ahora!” These were the sounds of the vendor as he pushed his cart around the plaza. Praying that he could make enough from the turistas to keep from having to go to the Forest Service and getting on the fire fighter list another year.
He wasn’t a lazy man but he liked to work for himself: go in when he wanted to; not because he had to; the same with leaving, hours he put in, days off and everything else a working man had to put up with.
It didn’t take that much living in the pueblo. He didn’t have to pay a landlord or a mortgage. He had a garden with an endless supply of water from the sacred lake. He usually got an elk every year and some years he would even add a buck to the cold room where he hung his meat for the winter.
He had noticed that before the Forest Service started the elk management program that the elk were getting harder and harder to find as the locals were just taking too many before the hunters came every year. This was one time he was actually grateful for the chinga Forest Service. They actually had a plan to manage the elk and bring them back and it was working and now there was elk everywhere, even in places where they had not been seen in one or maybe two lifetimes. The plan was also to include turkeys and they were now on the rise also. The hefes said that they could not manage the elk and deer at the same time but when the elk herds were established they would concentrate on the deer population.
They had reintroduced a few moose but it was said a rich hunter had already killed one and was bragging that he would pay any fine just to get one. They had brought back a few wolves and two grizzly bears. The locals weren’t crazy about this part of it. If he had to guess there would be some wolf pelts and a couple of grizzly skins decorating someone’s house by next spring.
The people from here were hunters from the time their dads could first take them in the woods. They knew all the trails and the water holes. They knew the times the animals migrated from the deep snow in the high country down to the woods and valleys below and back.
He knew in his heart that all he needed was a good garden and meat to last the winter and all was good with the world. He felt that he had a duplex soul, one side in the modern world and the other in the old. All he needed he could get from the earth. He knew also that one had to be practical because iron skillets, steel axes, matches, kerosene, guns and store bought clothes were pretty nice things to have. He still thought that with hard work in the garden and his elk and deer hides plus a little luck here and there he could make it without working for the Anglos or rich Mexicans.
Everyone in town keeps saying you need this and that. What do they know about anything. A man needs little and his soul will dictate the rest. Most of the stuff the town people said they needed to him was useless, worthless crap.
He believed if he worked his land his family owned at the foot of the mountain he could grow enough chili verde and blue corn to provide for himself and even save a little. Maybe someday in the future he could afford to have a wife and raise a family.
He wasn’t totally ungrateful for the fire fighting. It had helped him buy a new gun and some tools. He did not want a car but in moments of weakness he had thought about a truck. Instead he traded for an old wagon and some tack and a couple of broke horses and this is what he used. People would stare but he didn’t care. They would go for pinon and pine firewood in their trucks and be back in a half a day. When he went for wood it was usually a three day ordeal and he really enjoyed the camping and being in nature. Slow down and the earth moves at the same speed, you just have time to enjoy the show.
The horses were a special treat for him as they had been born and bred on pueblo land. They were Indian broke, not cowboyed or gentle broke like a dog. An Indian broke horse was the best. The Comanche taught the pueblo Indians hundreds of years ago how to break a horse. It was part cowboy and part gentle but the difference was when the Comanche was done the horse thought the human was the source of all pleasure and pain. He became totally dependent on the human for his needs. His human partner became his source of life and his will became the horses will.
His name was Abraham Benjamin Carlos Santos. He hated it. He asked his mother one time why they picked this name for him and she told him that she loved the sound of names she heard in the bible and she thought Spanish sounded like birds singing. His mothers’ name had been Mary White Feather and his father was Tellus Goodnight. He had been known as Little Ben his entire life because of his size. He had always been small in stature even for an Indian. He made up for it in his humanity and his power. He was truly a human being that understood what it really meant to be a human being on this earth. He had been blessed that his father and his mother had taught him many things. They had somehow managed to take the best of the Indian world, the Spanish and the Anglo and instill it in their son. He wasn’t confused by it all, he embraced it. He learned to take the best parts and leave out the bad. He in a sense was a real American, a product of earth and time and movement of cultures.
Foolish man! Stupid Indian! He always forgot that most problems came from men, not the earth, not God, just people being people and they just couldn’t help it. In his mind he was going to farm his land, use all the sacred water he needed, go to market and live happily in his place, in his time. Fool!
No one said a word while he was plowing and planting but as soon as he started to irrigate here they came. At first it was the mayor domo of the ditch and by the time it was over he had to talk to all of the village elders, the local priest; even the war chief. He had already taken a prayerful sweat and had two peyote meetings and been to the Kiva over this problem and they were still nagging him like a bunch of old hens.
He wasn’t stupid he had watched enough water pass thru the pueblo and wind up in the rio to water a 1000 fields every spring. He didn’t know if they were just hard headed or trying to follow some ancient path laid down long ago or they were just that stupid. It reminded him of dealing with a government bureaucrat. If it wasn’t in a rule book they became almost catatonic or at the least defensive to just plain rudeness. He wondered if they took classes in order to behave this way. You might as well talk to a wall and now his own people were acting just like them.
His thoughts always went back to the simplicity of life. You dig the ground, you plant the seed, you water, you harvest and then you eat, sell or trade what you grew. Who needed an army of idiots to control almost every move? All of this trouble over a little chili and corn. He almost dreaded getting his elk this year.
Since the Forest Service had managed the elk it became harder and harder to get a license even for locals like himself. Some years he couldn’t even get drawn for a permit. He went hunting anyway and always got a nice bull because these elk from these mountains were his life. If he could not hunt these mountains he would just as soon be dead. He knew without the hunt he would be dead, dead inside his spirit.
His life was now a pattern of events: work his crops, meet with village idiots about water, go to the mountains for wood, pray at the summer meetings and take a sweat. He had applied again for a fall permit for elk both gun and bow but he knew it was just a formality. He would go hunt his winter meat as sure as the summer rains and the winter snows.
He knew his father had been a Marine in WWII but he never talked about it. His father had taken the warrior path. Little Ben had tried to enlist during Vietnam but they said he was just too small and couldn’t stand up to the harsh conditions of the jungle. Ha! He at times wished that one of the recruiters would challenge him to a survival contest. He would show them what a man could do alone with nature. You did not fight nature you made it your friend. He knew he could out shoot, out track, out hunt, out last any man he had ever met. Ben was of one mind in the mountain forest and lower canyons of his homeland. His mind became one with whatever he was hunting. In his movements he could predict and imitate the trails an elk or deer would take. His eyes would grow wide and his heart begin to race; his breathing would become shallow and rapid. He likened himself to a hunting dog on a blood scent. Something, he was not sure of, overtook him as he trailed his quarry deep into the woods or desert canyons of the arroyas.
Chapter 2
Resolution
As the summer progresses toward fall and the eventual harvest and hunt Ben began to grow restless. He had had enough meetings for five lifetimes over the irrigation water rights and he had still not heard from the Forest Service about his elk permit. A notice had come out that they had decided in Albuquerque and Santa Fe to start the deer management program now instead of later and for this year there would be no deer permits issued in the Carson National Forest and the Valle Vidal areas.
Again Ben would obey until the point where a buck was standing in front of him and his meat locker was still empty or only had an elk. He knew some of the boys snuck over to the lease areas and bagged a slow elk or two but you had to be careful or the pinche Forest Service would have a search warrant at your door. The brand inspector Billy Anderson had been raised around here and he was very good at his job. He could track as well as an Indian and knew the community. It was not a good idea to have slow elk hanging in your cold room with a brand still on it. This was still the West and rustling was still a big time crime, not as bad as the old days where they just hung you from the nearest tree but you could still do time in the New Mexico State Pen.
He knew that his permits or letter of rejection would come by August but his immediate problem was the water. He was watering and working his field and they did not try and cut off the water even though they had threatened to on more than one occasion. He did have to volunteer to show up whenever the ditch needed to be cleaned or a break was spotted. It was the endless meetings and talk that drove him nuts. Be here, be there; we are coming to your house in ones, twos, and threes. Did you see the priest? Did you go to the Kiva? Have you seen the medicine man? Did you have meetings to pray? Did you sweat at your lodge?
What was so hard about just saying what you really wanted? He was a simple man who liked simple problems and this one was just plain weird. What did they want?
It took Ben a lot of prayer, peyote and a bucket of sweat but he finally figured it out. This problem consumed him 24/7. If he was cutting wood he was thinking about it. If he was at home alone he was thinking about it. If he was working the farm he was thinking about it. He had just picked his first crop and was loading it on the wagon it hit him like a splash of cold water in the face of a cold morning.
They wanted their cut. He eyeballed more or less about 10% and took it by the Church. He took about another 20% and divided it among the elders, medicine men, war chief and others of leadership in the tribe. Like a miracle the meetings turned into greetings and smiles. Taxes! White people thought they had the market cornered on taxes! HA!
The letter of rejection came on a Saturday. Basically the letter read, “…..due to the fact the elk herds are not at the levels we want to maintain we are limiting the number of elk permits to the drawing we held on………..the turkey permits have also been issued with the chance of a spring drawing….due to the current levels of the mature male deer population for now and the immediate future there will be no deer permits issued……….”.
Oh, well just have to be extra careful this year. Kind of like hide and go seek. His crops were in, the morning had a new crispness in the air and now it was time to start thinking and praying about the hunt. He would know when to go. The air or the temperature or the snow or a dream would tell him when to pick up his gun. For now he would always take extra time getting wood to have a look around for sign so he could figure out for himself what was going on and where they would be and at what time.
The aspens were as gold as a field of sunflowers blowing in the Nebraska wind. The oak had turned bright red. He hoped it didn’t rain or get an early heavy snow before he went into the woods. He loved to sit under the white spotted bark of the aspens and look up at the golden leaves. He would even do it at night when the moon was full and there was magic in the air. If the temperature and moisture were just right he got a feeling that was almost impossible to describe. His lungs would be cool on the inside but not cold. He felt them expand and he good get huge deep breathes that seem to give him some kind of rush thru his veins. It was almost like the blood veins in his body got bigger and he was getting more blood to his heart. His legs would grow strong and he could run thru the forest like a graceful deer bounding on all fours.
This year for his elk was truly a magic year. This had only happened twice before. He awoke sometime in the dark. He did not know the exact time because in a dream hunt time does not exist. He did not have a vision in the classical sense like some type of hallucination. He was an animal staring at his bull somewhere inside in some deep mystical hunter part of him that had been awakened.
He didn’t light a fire but just got dressed, grabbed his rifle and saddled his pony and rode to the spot he knew the bull would be standing waiting on him to take his life, to feed him. He heard him before he saw him. He was bugling, a sound of natures flute. The Indian knew in his soul that his elk was calling cows but he pretended he was telling him that he was in our sacred spot and was waiting for him.
He left the pony behind the ridge and walked up thru the aspen and blue spruce and when he got to the top he didn’t even look across the meadow. He went right to a certain spot, picked up and aimed his rifle at his brother who with his left eye was staring at him in anticipation. He took a deep breath, blew out and pulled the trigger and the huge animal stumbled and fell over, his ghost already at the next level of existence.
He sat there for a few minutes until he was sure the bull was moving no more. He had a smoke and a prayer. He was in no hurry; now the fun part started: the bleeding, gutting, chopping and horse packing the meat out and all like a guerilla fighter in some foreign land or some old Indian war.
He smiled all the way back down the mountain. This was indeed a special year and if his brother buck called him he would come. The crops had been good. He was giving the corn away except what he saved for himself to replant and eat. He had given away some chile but the chile was how he raised cash. He would soon return to the plaza and markets to sell to tourist or locals, anyone with cash.
Chapter 3
Love
“Chili Verde! Aqui! Ahora!” The only difference now was on most days he could see his breath as he walked his cart around. He still did a fair business between the locals and the skiers. That’s when he first saw his beauty, his Spanish beauty with the long black hair that she wore in long braids. He tried to imagine what it would look like flowing together as she ran thru the flowers in the valley or better yet what it would look like against the brownness of her golden back. Her eyes were deep black pools that had no depth, no bottom. Her cheeks so red in the cold like the apples from the trees in Velarde. Every time he heard her voice he was reminded of the sound the river makes as it gently makes its way down the mountain. He thought of her breath as a deep pool longing to be free on its journey. Her long coat and skirts kept her body a secret. He could tell she was not a big person underneath all that. He wanted to know for himself the beauty that was hiding in the cold.
It took him weeks to get the courage to speak to her but when he did she just smiled. He didn’t know it at the time but she had been planning these little meetings since she first saw him in the summer. She was the one planting the seed, he was simply the sower. She could tell from the way he carried himself and the way he talked and especially the way he looked at her, as if he was looking thru her clothes and even her body to her very soul.
He continued to go to meetings and people could tell there was something different about him. A new excitement to his voice; he seemed more excited, more sharpness to his demeanor. She confessed to the priest her feelings. It soon was known all over the pueblo and the plaza that nothing would be able to keep these like souls apart. The sooner, the better.
He told her his deepest feelings and that he wanted her to be his wife and move into his home. He did not want to be married in the Catholic Church but asked her to go to a meeting he would have. A meeting to bless their union together. She could eat the medicine if she chose but didn’t have to. If she did and got sick not to worry as the water woman would clean it up and give her a drink of cool water. She knew that her family would be disappointed but by then it would be too late and they would be living together. She knew he was a good man and they would eventually come around.
He told all of the people he knew that went to meetings and invited some Cherokee, Comanche and Navajos that were in his circle of believers. He also told some Spanish and Anglo friends. Little Ben believed that the medicine had little to do with race and a lot to do with God and Mother Earth. He was no longer invited to the radicals meetings but he didn’t care as the way was taught to others there were more and more believers.
He gathered his cottonwood and put up his teepee and built the sacred sand wall with the proper dimensions. As the people came they all brought food for the morning feast. The fireman took his seat and all the others came in to the right and sat down. She came in with Little Ben and they both sat in a place of honor next to the fireman. She was radiant, glowing from the inside but shining on the outside.
The meeting progressed with medicine, prayers, fans, drums, sacred herbs and songs……”Hey yah nay yah oh say nay yah…….Jesus, Jesus…hey wah nay say yah Jesus…..”. She chose not to take the medicine but could feel the spirit working in her especially when Little Ben spoke to everyone, “Brothers and Sisters I am so glad that you have joined me in this most important night. I have asked Rosa Flores to be my wife and join me in my home and to become one with me. She has agreed and made me the happiest man on earth. I am asking you all to pray for this union that we may have many rich and beautiful days together on this earth. To bless us with long life, children and grandchildren.”
From this minute until her last breath she would be his. The meeting ended with the dawn and after everyone had eaten and left or found a place to sleep they returned together to his home. They both went to his bed together and slept the sleep of two lovers who have much to explore and learn about each other.
Chapter 4
New Realities
He really enjoyed this new life. He loved everything about her. He loved her touch, her smell, her voice; just having her around was a pure pleasure. He was grateful to God for sending her to him. He couldn’t imagine sleeping alone ever again. He knew he would have to at times but now at least it would be temporary.
She brought new realities into his life, things he had never thought about before. The things a woman wants to do to a home and the talk of a future. A future with him and children. He had to admit this had been the best winter of his life. He never realized that he was alone before now and the thought of being truly alone on this earth again filled him with fear. She shared in the work on the farm as they prepared for the spring. He then realized he only had enough tools for one. He also realized he really liked the idea of turning his man’s domicile into a real home. She referred to it now as Fort Apache. He also realized that he needed more money. The sales of the chili was just not going to be enough to do all the things they wanted to do to the farm and the home. He already knew what to do. As soon as the Forest Service announced the signups for the next fire season he would fill out his application and take the physical and make some money on the fires this coming summer. He knew there was one thing that he would never do that some of the local boys did during hard times. He would never light a fire in the woods just for money. The mountains and valleys of Taos were sacred, it was truly holy ground. This good and beautiful earth mother so filled with the spirit of life.
They prepared the farm the best they could and he explained to her how to roast and sell the chili if he was on a fire. No, he did not want to go on fires but the reality was they needed the money. He also told her how much of what crops to give to who at harvest and showed her how to properly irrigate the fields form the ditch. In the meantime they would live their lives and share their love for each other until the day the fire boss came for a crew.
The spring arrived in all its slow awakening, first the tiny buds before the leaves came, the animals fur thinned; there was a hint of warmth in the afternoons and the evenings were just not as cold. They would still get the small snows for a while but they would turn into a gentle shower at least until the heavy monsoons came to the high country. They always had a fire at night and one in the morning. Spring finally arrived and made its turn into summer. He knew at some point he would have to leave his love for a fire but was in no hurry. For now he would not even go on wood runs without her. The trips to the mountains would now last four or five days as he taught her about his mountains and she taught him the true meaning of love in this life.
One day the knock finally came on the door as there was a fire near Los Alamos. Little Ben had fought fires before and he already had his kit packed and he had told her that he would have to leave without warning and could not give a date to return. He would write to her and if given a chance he would call her mothers’ house collect. The main thing he told her was to remember she was in his mind every waking minute. He told her he was scared he would not sleep the entire time he was gone for thinking of her. He was sure if he did sleep he would be dreaming of her gentle touch and the softness of her voice. She assured him that she could keep everything at home under control and would count the days he was gone. She did not look forward to being alone either as she had become so attached to him it was as if a part of her was leaving, as if somehow she had been taken apart at the very root of her soul. She did not tell him she was pregnant.
The Los Alamos fire was the biggest one in modern history in the state of New Mexico. The fire itself was huge but that was only half the problem as the laboratory was in danger. They had already knocked one of the gates down and made a quick fire line to keep the fire contained if it jumped the paved road which it had been doing back and forth for weeks. Ben had seen some strange things on this fire: huge cables in the middle of nowhere burned in two, caves with old pottery and even in one cave a jar of ancient beans. He had never seen a fire move as fast as this one. He had watched it one evening go from the bottom of a canyon and travel around 3000’ in less than half a minute. This was one big dangerous fire. They had already worked 24 and 36 hour shifts more than once. He never complained as he knew that every hour was another dollar in his pocket for her, for them. On one 36 hour shift they had hauled water hoses on their backs like mules up the mountain. He was so tired after that one he could not sleep but he didn’t care he just daydreamed of her, his little Rose. He thought he would go mad sometimes from not being able to touch her or hear her voice.
Most days were the same as they helped cut new line or mopped up burn areas after the fire had been thru an area. This one day would be different as they had been assigned to move brush for one of the hot shot crews that were on the fire.
The hot shot crews were different as during fire season they were regular employees of the Forest Service and they always went to the most dangerous parts of the fire and tried to cut fire line right ahead of the moving fire. They even had a hot shot crew that jumped out of airplanes when fires were too remote to get to. When Ben was young he and a friend had seriously considered trying to sign up for this but the other guy changed his mind and Ben did not want to go alone on such a great quest. This was the last day of Little Ben’s life.
The day was hot and the work hard and tedious but he had learned that the one thing you could not do on a fire was become complacent and forget the danger that could come at you suddenly with no warning. The first thing Ben felt was the shift in wind blowing up the canyon, the second thing he felt was the heat. He heard the shouts above and below and saw people dropping their tools and running. He looked up in time to see the flames racing at him in the tops of the trees. He knew there was no time to run and he reached behind him to try and get his fire blanket out of his pack before it was too late. It was already too late. He felt heat above his head and a burn in his lungs, he dived for the ground but the fire had stolen his breath. He tried to breathe shallow but no air came and finally he tried to suck in air as hard as he could but nothing was there. He thought his very chest would explode and as the darkness overcame him he pictured his sweet Rosa and tried to call her name. His last act on this earth was to reach for her and that is the way he was found with one arm out stretched.
Chapter 5
The Cycle of Life
“Chili Verde! Aqui! Ahora!” These were the words the his Rose was saying when her mother found her in the plaza to tell her the news about Little Ben. She walked back to the home they had shared; at first it was shock and no tears would come. When the tears came they came from her depths. She would not eat or talk to anyone for at least a week. She would take turns: crying, screaming and praying. She thought she would go insane. Many people tried to see her but she would see no one. Finally her mother came and told her that the body was here and arrangements had to be made. She finally settled down and began to realize that this was her new reality and yes she did need some help. Her first inclination was to tell her mom to see the priest and have Ben buried in the cemetery behind the Catholic Church but as she talked to more and more of his friends she had a vision of what would make sense for the gentle giant that had been Little Ben.
She told her mom to have Ben cremated and to give her the ashes. She was going to saddle one of the ponies and take him to Wheeler Peak and cast his ashes in to the wind over the edge of the cliffs. She would walk around and around the summit until all the ashes were gone and had completely encircled the mountain. Now, her Ben would be part of the mountain for as long as there was an earth. Some of him would seep down into the rocks and become part of the water under the mountain; some of him would wash down the sides and fertilize the grasses while some of him would wash down into the rivers and lakes. If he got lucky maybe a speck of ash or two would be eaten by an insect or even a trout. What a wonderful ending to a beautiful life? Besides the horror of not spending the rest of their lives together she regretted not telling him about the baby. He went to his grave not knowing about his child. At night when she prayed she told him about the son he was going to have. She knew it was a boy by the way he kicked and moved within her.
The seasons progressed and she carried on the best she could. She still lived in the house and farmed the land. She had taken the Forest Service money and did some of the things they had talked about and saved some for the baby. The baby was born in the winter. He was a healthy boy and looked like Ben and was of normal size so time would tell if he would be small like his dad.
“Chili Verde! Aqui! Ahora!” This was the sound she made as she pushed the cart around the plaza with the baby wrapped in a blanket around her back. She was excited about next year when she would start to tell him about his dad and begin to teach him to say, “Chili Verde! Aqui!, Ahora!”
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