9 comments/ 16476 views/ 2 favorites El Paso - Jake Rivers By: JakeRivers Several authors are coming out with stories based on three songs by Marty Robbins: El Paso, Faleena and El Paso City. The story titles will be: "El Paso - author's name" e.g. "El Paso – Jake Rivers" This is a follow on to our first "invitational" in the fall of 2006 with entries based on the Statler Brother's song, "This Bed of Rose's." If there is continuing support we might make this a regular semi-annual event. Regards, Jake Rivers * To make it clear, the present day story of John Sessions is always in the first person with his name on the title. The stories he writes about are always in third person. Thanks to techsan, Lady Cibelle and RoustWriter for their editing assistance (hey … sometimes we need lots of help). * * * * * OUTPOST HARRY - JOHN Faster than I would have believed possible, my life changed from being a student in the halls of academia in a backward eddy in the flow of the country to nine days of hell in a place incongruously named, "Outpost Harry." I finished my dissertation on "West Texas Gunfighters: Sheriff and Outlaw" and, after the faculty review, I was granted my Masters' degree from Texas Western College. I took off for a month of relaxation at the La Baca ranch outside of Tierra Amarilla, New Mexico, with my roommate of five years, Pablo De La Puente. After a truly great four weeks I returned to my dingy apartment near the university in El Paso that I'd rented after we had to move out of the dorms upon graduation. Amongst the clutter of mail was an official looking letter from the Selective Service that, of course, turned out to be a politely worded letter that changed my life in so many ways. The letter, from my local Selective Service Board, of course, stated: "You are hereby ordered for induction into the Armed Forces of the United States, and to report to …" which kicked off a series of events that led to a rapid maturation and elimination of any remaining boyishness in my body and personality. It began with five of us being put on a bus to the induction center in Dallas. Once there we were given a battery of mental and physical exams, then sworn in for our appropriate service … mine being the Army. I was given a twenty-dollar bill for the mandatory onsite haircut and for having nametags sewn onto the four sets of fatigues I was given. I quickly understood why the money was called "flying twenties" since there wasn't much left of it when we were finished. After a few whirlwind months at Fort Bliss learning important things like how to salute, shine boots, make beds and especially how to kill people (it felt like at that time I was trying to kill myself more than anyone else). Because of my degree and some other mysterious selection criteria I was selected for Officer Candidate School. For this, I was sent to Fort Benning to learn how to be what they disingenuously called, "An Officer and a Gentleman." After getting the gold bars of a second lieutenant – Lt. John Sessions had a nice ring to it - I was put on a train for San Francisco. The staging area was Camp Stoneman in Pittsburg and we had four days before the next troop ship left for Korea. As an officer I was given a pass each night. On the recommendation of a fellow shavetail from my class, I went to the Buena Vista in Fisherman's Wharf. They had what must be the world's best drink – something called Irish Coffee. It was supposed to be as good as they served at Shannon Airport in Ireland. They had started it a few months before in the fall of 1952. The BV, as my buddy called it, was supposed to be a hangout for TWA stewardesses and, after plying one with Irish Coffee for a couple of hours one night, I was able to get a date with her for all day on Sunday. After a fun day sightseeing in San Francisco, I did spend several hours with her in her apartment on Russian Hill. I still had a smile on my face when we shipped out from Fort Mason on the General W.M. Black two days later. The first few months in Korea were a blur – in retrospect it seemed like a series of vignettes about learning how to be a soldier and how to lead troops. So in early June I found myself in the position of a First Lieutenant replacing a dead Captain as company commander of King Company trying to hold Outpost Harry. This was a military hot spot about sixty miles north of Seoul in what was called the Iron Triangle. We were a bit over three hundred yards south of a hill occupied by the Chinese People's Volunteers, called Star Hill. Outpost Harry was also about a quarter mile northeast of the UN position. We were on the mainline of advance by the CPV and they desperately wanted to knock us off the hill we were on. Our post consisted of a communication trench, which ran from the supply point forward about a quarter mile to the summit of the hill. At that point, the trench line joined another trench that made a complete circle around Outpost Harry. There was an additional projection that ran along the eastern part of the ridge for around a hundred yards. The trench was deep enough to walk around the perimeter unseen by the enemy. It was fortified with reinforced bunkers, including space for a command post and for a forward observation position. It had enough space for a reinforced infantry company. Facing our company was a Chinese Communist Regiment from their 74th Division. Our instructions were to hold at all costs, which turned out to be high. Over the next week plus, we were continually harassed by almost ninety thousand rounds of Chinese artillery. After a very long eight days, often involving hand-to-hand combat with wave after wave of CPV forces we held out. Later they told us there were over thirteen thousand soldiers in the attacking forces. On the third day I was there, several of the enemy got into our area. One of them was coming at me with his bayonet. My .45 was in my hand but several of my men were behind him and I couldn't take the chance of shooting him then. I was able to sidestep his thrust and push him to the ground. I put a round in the middle of his face as he twisted around, trying to turn his rifle towards me. He was the only enemy I knew that I had specifically killed but it never bothered me in any way. I was doing what I had been trained for … and I did it well enough that I lived. An interesting footnote to my time at the outpost was that lines of fifty-five gallon barrels containing napalm were situated in front of our last line of defense. We hadn't needed to use them until on June 11, 1953, when we faced the largest wave of attacking Chinese soldiers. They were crawling up the hill like ants. The scene was clear and forever burned in my memory from the constant flares being fired. When the attackers started crawling up the side of Outpost Harry the barrels were set off flowing down the hill engulfing the Chinese in an inferno of flame. I saw the enemy soldiers burning like paper and the smell of smoke and burning flesh was overpowering. We broke one more human wave of ChiComs and lived to fight another day. I've tried to sort out the images in my mind but it came down to a 4th of July celebration gone crazy. On a more personal note, a Master Sergeant in our outfit got the Medal and I got a ticket home and back to my research and writing. On the last day I caught some flak that caught the back edge of my left hamstring and took out a chunk of my thigh that remains missing to this day. They fixed it as best they could but I would always walk with a noticeable limp and have a healthy furrow scarring the back of my leg. On the troop ship coming home, I had a lot of time to think. All I had to do was the twice a day therapy, which left me with a lot of free time. More and more I looked back to the time I spent at my roommate's ranch. The picture of the lovely girl with her arm around me was sometimes the only thing that kept me sane on the hot nights at Outpost Harry when the mortars would pound, hour after hour, with their relentless cacophony of noise that was felt as much as heard. She was Pablo's little sister with little being the operative word. Her name was María Elena De La Puente, and if ever there was a woman with the face of an angel, it was she. María was short, barely over five feet, with black curly hair that tumbled down over and beyond her shoulders. Her eyes were dark and large and always seemed to reflect her current emotional state. From minute to minute they could show a caring innocent demureness, or all too quickly change to a fiery anger or an icy politeness. She was an eclectic mix of Madonna and tomboy. She was sweet, shy and decorous to a fault. But put her in Levi's and on her beloved Palomino mare, and she was as good as any cowboy on the ranch. María shy was to fall hopelessly in love. María angry was to look for a hiding place. She had this … I guess this sense of innocence but at the same time, she would jump right in when it came time for branding and castrating calves. This juxtaposition of shy loveliness and earthy rancher totally enchanted me. I was afraid I was more in love than not … and more afraid of her than not! Once on a hot July evening we were out on the patio having a somewhat aimless, even lazy, conversation about some of my research projects. We were all tired from a long day riding in the hills behind the ranch headquarters. I'd talked for a bit about one I was particularly passionate about and it seemed to trigger something in María's memory. She looked excited and started talking. "Oh, Johnnie! You should write about my Aunt Faleena. Well, she is really my great-great-grandmother's older sister. She led an exciting life. I have been doing research and traced her to Santa Fe from where she was born south of Chama, a little north of here in the Tierra Amarilla Valley. She went to Santa Fe when she was seventeen and, as near as I can figure, stayed there about a year. "There are some hints that she took a stage from Santa Fe to El Paso. There is a story, a legend really, that she died in a shootout with some famous marshal. The story was about her love for a wild young cowboy." I was fascinated by what she said because the time frame tied in with when Dallas Stoudenmire was marshal in El Paso. I'd been researching an incident where four men were killed in a few seconds and planned on writing a story about it. What I wanted to do was write a series of fictionalized accounts of real stories and submit them to magazines and later I wanted to put them in a book. While I had been in training at the several army posts I'd been stationed at, I had a fairly frequent correspondence with María. Neither of us had used the love word but it was clear we were getting closer as the months passed by. I was able to get a week's delay in route to California and visited my folks for a couple days and then had three wonderful days at the La Baca ranch. There was a lot of handholding and on a quiet moonlight night our first kiss … one that I would never forget. The next day as I was catching the train to El Paso to continue my journey, she gave me another kiss that promised … something. A hint of love, a promise of passion – maybe a future together. The letters each way tapered off after I got to Korea but in my mind that closeness kept growing, and now on the troop ship I was thinking love was the right word. A month before the slaughter at Outpost Harry I'd received María's high school graduation photo. There was a brief note on the back and that was the last letter I received from her. I realized with a start that she had turned eighteen two days earlier while I was on the troop ship. When I got back to San Francisco I called Pablo. He was working at the ranch full time and had taken over a lot of responsibility from his dad. I asked after María and he answered in a cheery voice. "She's fine. Mom and dad want her to go to college but she doesn't seem to want to. Hey, there's a big party here the last week of the month. We are having a barbeque; there will be a live band, and we will have tons of people. There is a room over the garage you can stay in. It's kind of bare but does have it's own bathroom. Come out and stay for a couple of weeks and we can do some hunting." "Sounds good, amigo. I'll call my dad and have him get my truck checked out. See ya, buddy." I'd found a pearl necklace at a great price in the booming black market in Korea. These were high quality pearls made into a long, looping necklace. The pearls were perfectly matched in size and color and all in all it was a beautiful piece of jewelry. I had it wrapped in a lovely box in San Francisco and planned on giving it to María Elena as soon as I saw her. Damn! I was ready to propose to her and neither of us had said anything about love and we had kissed just the two times. I was lucky and the Army flew me home. I took a bus to Pecos and spent a week with my family at the ranch outside of town. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed them. My kid sister, Anne, sure looked like a woman now. Dad had tuned up my truck, a '47 Ford pickup, and put new tires on it. I drove straight from Pecos to Pablo's ranch. I timed it so I got there a day before the party was to start. I wanted to spend some time with María … and Pablo, of course. I stopped overnight in Taos and pulled into the ranch around ten on a hot, sunny Friday morning in mid-September. I knocked on the door and María unexpectedly opened it. She looked stunned and I just … acted. I threw my arms around her and kissed her with a deep kiss as I pulled her tight. I had been worrying about how to tell her of my love and this just seemed the right way. At first I think she was too surprised to do anything. She suddenly seemed cognizant of what we were doing and she started pushing at my chest, like she wanted to say something. I realized with a thrill that she wanted to tell me of her love. I kissed her with even more passion and she kept pressing on my chest and tried to turn her head. Exceeding my wildest hopes and dreams she relaxed, almost went limp and started returning my kiss with the same passion I was feeling. Of a sudden she jerked back and stared at me, her face a blazing red. "Johnnie, oh, Johnnie! We can't … we just can't do this. It's… oh, it's just all wrong!" I felt like a fool all at once. I was making mad love to her just inside the front door and anyone could walk in at any minute. I knew how shy she was and she would be mortified from embarrassment. I laughed, and gave her a big smile, "I'm sorry, María, I just had to show you how much I love you." At that the flush left her face, and she turned white in apparent shock. She turned and ran for the stairs, stopping and turning just as she reached them. Whispering, almost, she pled, "Didn't you know? Didn't Pablo tell you? The party this weekend is for my engagement!" With that she ran up the stairs, taking my heart with her. I stood there, a feeling of coldness came over me. My heart was thudding and my skin felt clammy. I felt like I was falling and I leaned against the door. I was able to get the door open and I stumbled out to my truck. I sat there for a while, maybe fifteen minutes or so until the shaking stopped. I found my notebook and wrote a letter for María and folded it neatly and put it inside the jewelry box. I wrote her name on the outside of the box and drove down the road to the highway where their mailbox was. I put the box and my shattered dreams in the mailbox and started to drive off. Pablo was just turning off the highway and coasted to a stop next to me. I stared at him for a bit, shook my head and pointed to the mailbox and drove off to get on with my life. A deep sadness overcame me and was a jarring counterpoint to the intense happiness I'd began the day feeling. El Paso - Jake Rivers Ch. 02 ** This story was posted and inadvertently deleted due to a ** miscommunication between the site operators and myself. ** I apologize to the readers for any confusion. Note: This is a sequel to my story "El Paso." Please read that story first! It is the back-story that provides the setting for what takes place in this story. "From thirty thousand feet above the desert floor I see it there below. A city with a legend, the West Texas city of El Paso. Where long ago I heard a song about a Texas cowboy and a girl. And a little place called Rosa's where he used to go and watch this beauty whirl." El Paso City, Marty Robbins Thanks to Lady Cibelle and techsan for their editing help. EL PASO AT TWENTY THOUSAND FEET - JACK "It looks kind of dry, doesn't it? I had no idea El Paso was so big." "Well, don't forget that all of what you see south of the river is Ciudad Juárez. And, yeah, it's very dry." We were completing our fourth – or was it the fifth? – circuit in the holding pattern above El Paso. There was a problem on the ground and we were getting bored making the long loops above the airport. I looked over at the girl sitting to my right. I had noticed her when she boarded and took the aisle seat next to me in first class. We had a somewhat desultory conversation when she sat down and shared a chuckle when we both agreed we were in first class only because of frequent flyer miles. She quickly went to sleep on the flight from Las Vegas. She was flying from San Francisco and I'd been in Las Vegas for a conference on Western History. I was a professor in the new Doctoral Program in Borderlands History at UTEP. As I had given her my answer about the size of the city below, politely turning to look at her, I looked deep into the eyes of this girl sitting next to me. I'd noticed the reddish blond hair earlier but somehow had missed the sparkling emerald green eyes beneath the full, natural brows. As I caught the full impact of her eyes, I felt something lurch in my stomach – thinking at first it was the plane. I hadn't had much time for girls working on my own doctorate at Yale and then settling down in El Paso helping to start the new doctoral program at the University of Texas at El Paso. Her quick grin clued me in that I was staring and quickly turned and looked back out the window as a the flush ran up from my neck to my cheeks. The pilot came on the speaker to let us know that the problem on the ground was taken care of. We found out later that a plane had some hydraulic problems and they wanted to keep the runways clear until it safely landed. The 737 banked abruptly as it started the descent into the landing approach. I had been browsing through my dad's book on Dallas Stoudenmire and was thinking of what he had said in the book about how Felina had changed her name to Faleena. I'd noticed in my studies that this was actually a fairly common practice in the West at that time: changing names either purposefully or accidentally. I had a habit of doodling when I was thinking and was writing on my notepad the different spellings of Felina I'd run across: Felina, Faleena, Falena, Feleena and Falina. A pointing finger snaked down to my pad to the first name. I felt a firm pressure on my arm and looked over to see her breast pressed against it. When she saw where I was looking, it was her turn for her face to change to a bright red hue. She moved back a bit ... not that I was complaining. It had felt quite pleasant. I noticed a ring on her finger – it had a row of small rubies across the setting above and below a row of diamonds. There were five diamonds, a larger one – maybe a half carat – with a smaller one on each side and smaller ones yet on the outside. It looked kind of old fashioned and expensive – though I'm certainly not an expert. It was the kind of ring that could have been just a piece of jewelry or possibly an engagement ring. Her finger on the first name in the list, she blurted, "That's my name! Confused, I looked down at my notepad where she was pointing. "Felina? That's really your name?" "Yes, that's why I'm here. I, uh, I have some time on my hands and I wanted to try to find out if the story of Felina was true. My dad told me this story over and over when I was a girl: about a beautiful Spanish girl and a wild young cowboy she fell in love with. Why are you writing Felina with all of those spellings?" I showed her dad's book, and told her, "The story is all in this book my father wrote, with my mom's help. The story is about a young woman named Felina. Her name had changed to Faleena when she moved from Santa Fe to El Paso. There she met and fell in love with a cowboy named Texas Red. They both died in a shootout in an alley in El Paso." Looking a bit nervous, she asked, hesitantly, "What was the name of this cowboy?" "Well, they called him Texas Red but his name was Matt Donahue. Why do you ask? Have you read this book?" "No, no I haven't. I didn't even know it existed. My name is ... well, it was ... Felina Donahue. I stared at her as the plane made a heavy landing, bounced once, and started slowing as the reverse thrusters kicked in. What she said ... it couldn't be. Texas Red and Felina had died in the dusty alley in El Paso. Or had they? DINNER ... AND A KISS - JACK I was close to being stunned as we gathered our bags and made our way off the plane ahead of the crowd in the main cabin. As we walked towards the baggage claim area all I could think about was the sheer impossibility of what she had implied. Both Texas Red and Faleena had died behind Rosa's Cantina. The deadly guns of Dallas Stoudenmire killed the cowboy and the lovely Faleena took her own life using her lover's gun. I shook my head and looked over at the girl from the plane ... Felina Donahue, that name ... it couldn't be possible. We hadn't said anything to one another since her startling revelation, and now I saw her staring at me, a question in her eyes. "You looked shocked when I told you my name! And why were you writing down those different spellings of Felina?" "Look, it's complicated," I said, "Do you have a hotel?" "Yes, of course. I'm staying at the Camino Real downtown. I have a reservation for a week." I handed her the copy of my dad's book. "Look, if I'm too forward, let me know. Why don't you read this first – it should answer a lot of your questions ... and maybe raise some new ones. I have a couple of meetings I can't change in the morning but maybe we can get together for dinner. You don't really know me so how about I meet you at the Mexican Restaurant there. It's called Azulejos and the guy that manages it is the uncle of a student in one of the classes I teach at the university here." Remembering the ring, and what she had said about her name used to be Donahue; I wasn't too sure whether the invitation for dinner was appropriate. "By the way, my name is Jack Sessions." It was really Juan Pablo Sessions but most people had called me Jack since I started school. My grandparents on my mom's side called me Juanito, my dad's mom called me John, and my parents called me Juan. It did get confusing at times living in a multicultural family. She looked at me for a moment, pensive, and replied, "Okay, that should work out. What time shall we meet? Oh, what's the best way to get to the hotel?" "I'll call and make a reservation for seven," I said with a question in my voice. She nodded as I raised my eyebrows. "I can give you a ride to the hotel. I need to go by my office at the University and the hotel is right on my way." "That sounds good. By the way, my friends call me Lina." We took the shuttle and I threw the bags in the back of my truck and opened the door for her. It was a high step up and as I handed her in I was treated to a view of an expansive stretch of lovely thigh as she raised her leg getting in. She paused so I looked up at her. I thought she would be embarrassed but she just made a small smirk that turned into a Mona Lisa smile as she pulled her leg into the cab and pulled her skirt down to her knees. Hell, it was my turn to blush again. I let her off at the hotel entrance, letting the bellhop get the flash of thigh as he opened the door for her. "I'll see you for dinner tomorrow night, then." I went on to my office at the university and made some notes on the conference while it was still fresh in my mind. Later, when I got home, I called my mom and dad at their ranch in the Tierra Amarilla Valley. I told them what the girl had to say and they were as mystified as I was. My mom said, "Why don't you invite her to come up for the weekend. I'd love to hear her story and we can go over what we know." I opened a longneck and went out to watch the sun set on the warm summer evening. On hot evenings like this I would sometimes leave the sliding door open about a foot and put my chair in front ... making it quite pleasant. I felt somewhat guilty about using the air conditioner that way because utilities were included in my lease package – but not too guilty. As the sun sank from view the sky turned a lovely burnt orange hue with the higher clouds more of a rosy pink. The kaleidoscope of the sky became a canvas as the images of that bloody day flashed before my eyes. The wild Texas Red came recklessly riding his horse into town as the town marshal, Dallas Stoudenmire, and his men waited calmly. They knew that the love struck cowboy would return to his love, the young girl Faleena. Texas Red never drew his pistol from the tied down holster as the bullets started flying towards him. As he saw his love, a rifle bullet from one of the deputies hit him in his side and he fell from his saddle into the sandy alley. When he stood and reached for his Faleena, the marshal shot him in the chest from yards away and the cowboy, wild no longer, fell heavily into the hot dust behind Rosa's Cantina. Faleena fell to her knees, throwing herself across her dying love to protect him as best she could. When she felt the warm blood that flowed from the wounds in his side and his chest, he raised his head to kiss her and she heard him whisper, "Never forget me, Faleena. It's over. Goodbye." The guilt crushed her – she knew her flirting had killed the one man she really cared for. In anger at herself and at the marshal standing close and staring down at her, she grabbed the pistol from the holster of Texas Red and, with the pistol to her breast, she ended it forever. The crash of my beer bottle hitting the floor of the balcony woke me with a start. The images had turned into a dream – was it real? Was that the way it had happened? But how could Lina's story also be true. With a heavy sigh I left the glass to clean up in the morning and went to bed to sleep a heavy sleep, wrought with dreams of cowboys and guns and girls and flirting. I woke with the memory of Lina's breast on my arm and wondered why that had strangely moved me. The next day was filled with the morning meetings at UTEP and then some errands and cleaning up my apartment. I got to Azulejos early and saw Tony working behind the bar. His extended family jointly owned the place with his uncle as the manager. Tony already had his master's degree and was working on his doctorate in the new program I'd been helping to get started. Tony was a great kid and really smart but I think his uncle figured he needed some help with his grades, because he would never let me pay. I'd protested at first but got back at him by always leaving big tips. The waiters loved me and always made my dinner a great experience. I had a Dos Equis – the full-bodied amber beer, icy cold the way I liked it, went down well. I was debating with Tony whether to have another one or to switch to one of their quite nice Margaritas. I liked them on the rocks with an extra twist of lime. Before we could come to an agreement, I saw Lina at the door. She was dressed in a simple white peasant blouse with a long, multicolored skirt of some filmy material. She had been pretty on the plane but now she somehow seemed way beyond that. I was so busy admiring her that I forgot to get up. The girl at the front desk smiled at her and pointed back towards the bar. When she came up I took her hands and kissed her on the cheek. Well, at least that was my intention. In our family we always kissed both cheeks, so I always did it that way automatically. She accepted the first cheek but was caught unaware as I moved to kiss her other cheek. Somehow our lips got stuck in the middle – just for an instant – and there was a spark like static between us. We stepped back, equally confused, both of us trying to figure out whether to apologize or not. Something had happened and it made us nervous. We let ourselves be led to a table and I pulled the chair out for her. "If you want something to drink, and since you aren't driving, I'd suggest one of their Margaritas." She nodded and made herself busy with the menus. Tony's uncle, Julio, came up and made some suggestions for her, giving us both a chance to relax. Really, we didn't know each other at all – but there did seem to be some, or several, connections between us. "How was your day, Lina? Did you get a chance to look at the book?" Becoming animated, she said, "Jack, it was fascinating. I read half of it last night then finished it this morning. After swimming for a while I went back and read parts again. It was so sad the way they both died. But I don't understand; if she died, then how could what my dad told me be true?" When she was excited, she had a sparkle in those green eyes that seemed to have a depth that I couldn't help but be fascinated with. "I don't know, Lina. I'm free for the next week or so. I don't really start getting ready for the fall semester until mid-August. Usually I spend my summers doing research ... and that's what this really is, isn't it?" "Yes, Jack, I guess it is. But I don't know where to start. I was going to visit the museums, but I don't know much about how to find out these things." "Lina, I know you don't know me very well, but I have a couple of ideas of how to approach this. I talked to my mom and dad and they would like to meet you. Part of the ranch they own contains the land that Faleena's dad owned. Both of them know a lot about the story. I guess if what you say is true then you are in some way related to my mom – like fifth cousins or something. "Anyway, mom asked me to invite you up for the weekend. It's a long drive, about seven hours, so we need to get started early. On the way back, a guy in Santa Fe, Andy Sheedy, who is a good friend of dad's and an expert on Dallas Stoudenmire ... he can also help us out. I suspect he has his finger on the pulse of this." She frowned for a minute, and then smiled, "Sure. I don't know why I'm thinking about it. I came here to find out if dad's stories were real and this seems like the best ... maybe the only chance. I appreciate your mom inviting me. How should I dress?" "Jeans are great. I'll meet you for breakfast at the hotel at six thirty. We should get to the ranch in time for a late lunch." Lina seemed to enjoy the meal as much as I did and was a bit tipsy with her two Margaritas. I settled for one more of the Dos Equis beers, knowing I'd be driving the next morning. I walked her to her room and tried kissing her on the cheek again – with about the same results. This time it lasted slightly longer and when we parted, Lina's eyes were wide ... and it seemed there was a question in them. I had no idea what the question might be – and even less what kind of answer I could make. REFLECTIONS – LINA I guess I shouldn't have had the second drink – they were stronger than I expected. When Jack tried to kiss my cheek that second time in front of my room and our lips seemed to get stuck ... well, it was kind of dreamy and it seemed like a real kiss. I felt my lips getting soft; I felt like I was floating. I felt comfortable with Jack. That is, I had no qualms about driving to his parents' ranch with him. The people at the restaurant seemed to know him quite well and to like him. And I had his dad's book, whatever that meant. Anyway, I liked him. He was cute and seemed awkward around women. I found that kind of enchanting. I was looking forward to meeting his parents and to seeing the ranch where my namesake was born. I was becoming more and more curious about the mystery. Really the mystery was the difference in the two stories. It would be exciting to find out the truth. I couldn't even speculate on what had really happened. Later I lay in bed in a pleasantly drowsy mood and thought about Jack and that kiss. It wasn't really a kiss but it had been more than anything else in the two years since Billy had died. We had a whirlwind courtship, meeting at the beach on the small island of Coronado in San Diego, right after he finished jump school at Fort Bragg. Three months later we married in Fayetteville, and a month after that while I was still getting settled into our dependent housing, Billy Mayfield was off to war in Iraq. A short half-year after our wedding I got the traditional notification and then a full military funeral: a sad, lonely sounding taps, three volleys of perfect rifle salutes, and a folded flag that represented Billy's honor ... but was not the fun loving paratrooper I had known for such a short time. What meant more to me was the letter I got from Joey Fitzpatrick, Billy's best friend. Joey said he was a hero – for me he was just ... gone. I've read the letter so many times I almost have it memorized: Dear Lina, Billy and I had an agreement that if anything happened the other would write a letter about what had happened. We both knew the military had a way of obfuscating the facts sometimes and we wanted our wives to know the truth. We were hiding in a concealed position in a small village near Fallujah. We were in a tight group, which made us an easy target if we were discovered. We knew we would have to move out at some point but then we would be exposed in the flat, open area. It was really a devil's choice. But we knew it wasn't really much of a choice. If we ran for it we might have a chance. If we stayed where we were, at some point there would be no chance. Finally we got ready for the move. We drank as much from our canteens as we could and stripped off all the equipment that we could leave behind. We were on the radio with a rescue chopper, an HH-60, but there was too much enemy activity to get in where we were. If we could get to an abandoned farmhouse about a quarter mile from the village we were in, they could call in some suppressing fire to clear the area between the farmhouse and the town. We started our move – it was a small village and we had to get around two houses to have a clear run to our pickup point. We tried to keep some kind of order but at best it was controlled chaos. We made it around the first house and stopped briefly to talk it over. Billy and I were to stay behind and give cover from the second house while the rest of the team ran for the farmhouse. When they got there we were to sprint for it while they gave us cover. As soon as we reached the farmhouse two Apache attack choppers were to lay down heavy suppressing fire to give the rescue chopper a chance to pick us up. It almost worked perfectly. We were already getting heavy small arms fire. Billy took one corner of the small house and I took the other. We both had M16s and on the signal lay down as heavy a fire as we could. When we saw that they were ready for us, we ran around the back of the house we had been shooting from and ran like crazy, not easy with the heavy body armor and what equipment we had left. About fifty yards from the building I took a round in my thigh. Billy didn't notice at first then he came back and grabbed my arm and half dragged me to cover. The Apaches showed up and made the area at the edge of the village a living hell. Behind the farmhouse the HH-60 put down and we started loading. I needed help and Billy was right there, helping to lift me up. He began to pull himself in and took a round in the back. We grabbed him as the chopper took off and were able to pull him in. El Paso - Jake Rivers Ch. 02 The shot had caught him right at the back of his neck, below the helmet and above the top of the body armor. He died instantly, Lina. He never knew what happened. He was a man you can be proud of. He gave his life to save mine. His comrades in the 82nd Airborne will remember him with respect. Love, Joey Billy, the fun loving paratrooper was gone and I was shocked at how quickly his face faded. Less than a year after I met him, he died in that war, the reason for which I could never begin to understand. It didn't make any sense to stay on base – I probably didn't have any choice anyway – so I moved to Palo Alto and took a job with Stanford doing research on early childhood education. That was the area I studied for my master's at San Diego State. I met Billy when he was in San Diego visiting his older brother who was career Navy. I changed my name back from Mayfield to Donahue – I'd never gotten around to changing my California Driver's License and it just seemed easier. I got $250,000 insurance from the government for Billy's "service to the country." I gave half of it to his brother so he and his wife could buy a house in San Diego. I invested what I had left and forgot about it. I didn't really feel like I deserved it so I just ignored it. I get statements once a quarter but rarely did more than glance at them. I'd never slept with anyone before I met Billy and he was gone so damn fast. Now Jack had stirred up my passions, banked like a fire for the night, awakened with the dawn. How could that fleeting, gentle, quickly passing glance of a kiss wake up these hormones so long dormant? I didn't read too much into this – I was still the shy girl afraid of relationships and commitments. My daddy convinced me I was pretty but ... still, I don't think I really believed it. I was lonely. I was tired of being lonely. Daddy said I should get a Boxer to keep me company. Felina? Who was I really and what did I have to do with the girl in the book, Felina/Faleena? Was there a wild young cowboy in store for me? I cried then in the lonely dawn; I cried for Billy and his life wasted too early. I cried for Faleena and Texas Red ... so much love wasted so young with such violence. I cried for myself because ... I didn't know, I just cried. TIERRA AMARILLA VALLEY - JACK After a quick breakfast we took off in my truck up I-25 to Santa Fe and on up US 84 to Tierra Amarilla. Lina was fascinated with the yellow color of the land. I explained to her that's what Tierra Amarilla meant. When we got to the town of the same name we turned off for the ranch. I introduced Lina to my mom, María, and my dad, John. I could see my mom's eyes light up as she wondered if this was the one. Lina stayed in my old room and I slept over the garage. This was my mom's doing – surely she didn't think I had indecent thoughts? We had a light lunch and retired to our respective rooms for a short siesta. I dozed off for a while, then put on my old jeans and boots and went looking for a horse with some spirit. When I was in high school I was pretty active in the local rodeos. I was never really serious about it – it was just something for fun. I did wind up a pretty fair bronc rider though. Now whenever I came up to the ranch I liked to take on one of the three or four horses that liked to jump around a bit. Dad had told me of a new horse he'd bought. It was a stallion with the color called locally bayo coyote... a dun with a black stripe down the bony ridge of his back. He was dark-maned buckskin with zebra stripes around the knees and hocks. It felt good to ride an animal with such spirit – even to the point I was laughing the first two times he pitched me off. The third time I stayed in the saddle – I think more due to the horse deciding he was bored that to any great skill of mine. I put it though its paces and was really impressed with it. Dad had brought it for breeding and I thought it would work out well. When I dismounted and took the saddle off, I heard a gentle clapping and turned to see Lina applauding me. "Hey, you really are a cowboy! And here I thought you were just a stuffy old professor." I smiled and said, "Yeah, but you didn't see the first two tries." I turned and showed her the ground-in muck from the corral on the back of my jeans. Mom came out then and kidnapped Lina so I went up and took a shower and put on some clean clothes. After dinner, Dad and I retired to the screen room in the back of the house with cold beers. I'd finally gotten my dad to call me Jack instead of Juan. "Jack, you know that mom had a long talk with Lina." He laughed a bit and continued; "I think she regrets putting you in the garage. I'm afraid she sees granddaughter written all over this girl." "Jeez, Dad, I just met her two days ago. I don't even know what kind of toothpaste she uses." Dad laughed at that. I thought it was kind of funny too, like toothpaste was part of making a baby. She did look good in those tight fitting jeans, though. Mom and Lina came in. Mom asked, "What are you two good for nothings up to?" Dad smirked and said, "Oh, we were just talking about toothpaste." Mom smiled at him and said, "Okay, no more beer for you guys." We talked for a while about dad's book. He answered a bunch of questions from Lina. He was fascinated with her name being Felina Donahue. We brainstormed but couldn't come up with any coherent theory that would tie together the two traditions. The phone rang and dad talked for a while. "That was Andy Sheedy. He's been so helpful in the past so I gave him a call on this little conundrum we have. He's really excited; he thinks he has found something ... maybe just what we are looking for. I invited him for dinner tomorrow night." We talked some more about what Andy might have to say, but we were just guessing. Mom and dad went on to bed and I took Lina out for a walk in the warm summer evening. It was not as hot as in El Paso since the altitude here was much higher. I somewhat naturally took her hand as we walked in the quiet night. "Hey, Jack? Don't you think it's a good thing they don't arrange marriages anymore?" I laughed, "I guess mom gave you the full treatment? What a nice guy I am, and all that?" I turned serious and apologized, "Sorry about that, Lina. She means well – it's just that, hell, Lina, she wants grandkids." "That's okay, Jack. She's really sweet." Mimicking my accent, she continued, "Hell, Jack! I want grandkids too." She caught me on that. Without thinking I swatted her behind, over the tightly stretched jeans. She didn't say anything, but I'm sure I turned at least three shades of red in the half-moon glow. Thinking about what I briefly felt (actually it stung my fingers), I considered that there was a hell of a lot of woman under those Levi's. The next day passed slowly as we awaited the purportedly exciting news from Andy Sheedy. I took Lina for a horse ride to some springs up in the hills, which watered a large grove of trees. She had never ridden before so I made sure she had a gentle horse. Truth be told I picked a gentle horse too – I seemed to have some nasty bruises in embarrassing places, gratis of the spirited dun. It was a nice place and mom had packed a good lunch. Afterwards we were lying back against the saddles, watching the clouds go by. I noticed that Lina kept turning the lovely ruby/diamond ring around. I wasn't sure whether it was just a nervous habit or whether it was a memory of a loved one. I was almost afraid to ask but then Lina saw me watching her twist the ring. She took it off and handed it to me. It really was quite beautiful. "It's been in the family for ... gosh, forever it seems. When I got married my grandmother gave it to me and said to never let it out of the family. Billy, the guy I married was in the army and didn't have much money but he was happy." I was a good listener so Lina went on to tell me the story of Billy ... of the short time she knew him and of the way he died. "It almost all seems like a dream now. It's been a little over two years since the funeral. I try to remember his face but it seems blurry until I look at his picture." We lay there, side by side, and dozed off to the quiet burble of the spring. I awoke to see Lina's face quite close to mine. Her eyes seemed a darker green with a smoky look in them. Her face looked mottled like she had been crying. We lay there like that for a long moment. "Jack ... kiss me, Jack." I didn't know what was going on but I sure wasn't going to argue. Our kiss was somewhat tentative at first – she pulled back and stared at me after a moment. She leaned her head back down and Lina kissed me with a passion I'd never experienced before. I put my arms around her and, as the kiss grew in intensity, slid my hands down to the back of those tight jeans and pulled her close. She ended the kiss and she put her head in my neck and we lay like that for a long time. She was gently sobbing and I felt her warm tears sliding down my neck. She hadn't complained about the location of my hands so I left them there ... enjoying the feel of her ripe, firm body. She finally sat up and took my face in her hands, holding my head and looking into my eyes. She kissed me again, short but with a lot of intensity. She suddenly seemed at odds with herself and jumped up and walked over to where the horses were. I saddled her horse and helped her up, and then saddled mine. We walked the horses slowly down the hill to the ranch house and the answer to the mystery she had brought into our lives. I tried to talk to her a couple of times – I guess I wanted to understand what had happened. It meant a lot to me but she had this enigmatic expression on her face and didn't say anything. I wasn't sure if I'd never got married because I didn't understand women or if it was the other way around: because I'd never been married I couldn't understand what had happened at the springs. The thought occurred to me that women were a lot like the weather: changeable, temperamental, placid to passionate and back in a moment's time ... and definitely not predictable. BELLE'S STORY - LINA Riding back down to the ranch I wasn't sure whether I was excited or mortified by what I had done, by what had happened. It was obvious that Jack was confused and wanted to talk about it but I had no idea what to say to him. I don't know who kissed him at that lovely glade by the murmuring springs ... but it sure wasn't me. It frightened me somewhat that I could do something so ... so blatantly forward. I was hugely embarrassed but at the same time I felt an excitement that I'd never felt with Billy. Sex with Billy had always seemed good but I'd always had this strange feeling that I was watching myself – that it was someone else in bed with him and I was on the sidelines. But when I kissed Jack – I had no idea about what made me do that – I felt a passion, a connection I'd never felt in my life. Trying not to look at Jack ... but still looking at him with a sidewise glance now and then, I tried to figure it out. Sure, he was attractive in a brownish sort of way: brown hair and darker brown, almost black, eyes. A great tan that showed a lot of outdoors life and he was obviously smart. He was tall with even features. He was clearly as inexperienced with women as I was with men – I found that endearing. He acted somewhat diffident but when I saw him ride that awful horse I saw a wellspring of passion in him that was totally unexpected. Why did I kiss him? Because I could? Because I wanted to? Maybe ... just maybe because I had to. I felt there was this woman inside of me that wasn't so shy, that wanted to engage a man on equal terms. I wanted to – and this embarrassed me to even think it – well, to participate in sex and not be an observer. I felt like woman as eternal girl; I felt like woman as courtesan. I felt confused. We went back to our rooms to clean up for dinner. After I took my shower, I stood in front of the mirror to really look at myself – as a woman, not just a body. With a critical eye I stared at my body as I twisted and turned, trying to imagine what Jack would see if he were here looking at me. I decided I looked pretty damned good, that I had that elusive thing called sex appeal and that if Jack could see me now he would be a little weak in the knees. For the first time in my life I felt proud of my body; I could see I really was as pretty as my dad had always told me. I looked at this woman in the mirror, this woman with no secrets; I stared at her and asked her if it were possible for her to fall in love with Jack in just a couple of days. I smiled an enigmatic little private smile ... and answered with a wink at myself as I put my hands on the full roundness of my buttocks where Jack's hands had so recently been. Jack didn't know it but he was going to be my life's companion. I remembered one of the stanza's of that old classic, "Be My Life's Companion," and was touched because Jack actually was thirty-three: "I know a man who's lonely, and he's old at 33. No one wants to be old at 33. Your disposition sours like a lemon on a tree. Don't let it happen to you, and don't let it happen to me." Yes, I thought – with a woman's wisdom – Jack was the one and at my twenty-eight we were just the right age for each other. I was a bit daring in my dress, a low cut sleeveless white blouse that showed a fair amount of décolletage, and a fairly conservative jean skirt that reached to just above the knees. I used one of my more alluring scents – I had been scandalized after I had spent so much money on it. But now maybe it would turn out to be money wisely invested. I went down to dinner – I ran into Jack coming in the front door just as I reached the bottom of the stairs. I gave him a big smile and kissed his check demurely. Taking his hand I walked him back to the kitchen where his mom, María, was putting the finishing touches to the dinner she was preparing. She looked at me and saw ... something, for she gave me a big hug and had a smile on her face that stayed there the rest of the evening. I don't know if she really liked me or if she just saw a baby machine that would give her grandchildren. Jack's dad brought Andy Sheedy in and we sat down to dinner. It was clear that Mr. Sheedy was excited – he moved around like he was going to pee his pants. After dinner we moved into the large family room for the dénouement of the mystery about Faleena. Andy finally began. "You can look at the actual letters later; I made you two copies of everything I could find. For now, I'll just summarize for you. "What we mostly have is a series of letters from Belle, Dallas Stoudenmire's wife. These letters are ones she sent to her sister in Ohio. A friend of mine is writing a biographical history of Dallas and found them after much research. He scanned the letters and emailed them to me. If you want, I can also send you the digital images. "I'm summarizing here, and also doing some reading between the lines to give some clarity. The bottom line is that Faleena did not die in the alley behind Rosa's Cantina. She knew nothing of guns and when she shot herself she had the gun at an angle, and while it did a lot of damage to her body – I guess her left breast was forever disfigured - it didn't kill her. "Dallas was standing over the two star-crossed lovers, finally feeling bad at his role in the tragedy. He saw a faint pulse beating in her neck and chased the crowd away. He had a couple of his deputies take Faleena to his house to 'prepare the body for burial.' Dallas had a pine box made and had a fine burial done for the two 'dead' lovers. One coffin was for the dead Texas Red and one was filled with rocks for Faleena. "Faleena did almost die from loss of blood, but Dallas' wife, Belle, nursed her back to health. She came to love Faleena like a sister and wanted her to have a good life. Dallas had the reverend at the Lutheran church in town prepare a marriage license and Belle gave the young girl a ring that had been in her family since they had migrated from Europe. Not much is known of the ring but it is purported to be made of diamonds and rubies and is supposed to be incredibly valuable – more as an heirloom than its intrinsic value. "Dallas went around to town to the 'admirers' of Faleena and asked them for money to get her started. After she recuperated they snuck her on the train for the growing city of Los Angeles. No one heard anything else about her after she left; nothing is known of her life after she reached California. "There was one additional letter from a member of the town council to his brother complaining of the 'high handed' way that Dallas made him contribute a hundred dollars. That's about it. What do you think?" We were all stunned for a minute, thinking about the implications. I looked at my hand and twisted the ring off. I handed it to Mr. Sheedy and he stared at it for a long time, and then looked at me with tears in his eyes. He passed the ring and everyone looked and marveled over it. It seemed conclusive proof that Faleena had lived and that the stories my dad had told me were true. We all talked excitedly late into the night. When we were left alone, Jack took me outside for a short walk. "Whew!" he exclaimed, "that was really something. I'm happy for you that we found the connection. Dad was excited and is going to do an update to his book and re-release it." We walked more and sat down on a bench underneath a huge cottonwood tree. Jack turned to me and looked deep in my eyes. "Lina," he started but then choked up and put his arms around me, holding me tight. I knew this man was not one to trifle with ... that this was not the time for playing the coquette. I held his head lovingly and kissed him with a clear signal of how I felt. We sat there for a long time, holding hands, kissing, talking in low tones – both of us amazed at the intensity of our feelings. The next day we drove back to El Paso. TO HAVE AND TO HOLD – JACK If I was bewildered by the rapid sequence of events, I was even happier at the outcome. Without knowing it I had been searching for Lina in my life for many years. It was rapid, this developing love of ours. Maybe I should have looked askance at how quickly Lina became part of my life. She hadn't said the magic, "I Love You" as yet but I felt it. She was a warm, loving woman and as dad had told me when we left the ranch, "She's a keeper, son." There was no questioning my mom's feelings on Lina. We spent the next few days sightseeing. I wanted to show Lina my country. She called in and asked for another week off which she got with no problem. We talked a lot about what Andy had discovered. I talked my dad out of revising his book – I wanted to write this story myself! The night before Lina was to return to the bay area we went to dinner at Azulejos again. This time we both had several of their incredible Margaritas. We had a lot of fun and laughed a lot. Afterwards I walked Lina back to her room. I was going to kiss her goodbye at the door but she asked me in. She walked into the bedroom to "refresh herself" and came back wearing a quite revealing diaphanous pale blue baby doll gown. I stared at her, the question in my eyes. She smiled, a slight sensuous smile, and nodded her head with a brief movement. She walked slowly towards me, the womanly sway of her hips drawing me in. She wrapped her arms around me and whispered in my ear, "I love you Jack. I've loved you for years ... I just hadn't met you yet." She shuddered slightly and with a wan smile led me through the door of the mini-suite into her bedroom. The lights were off and the open curtains of the top floor room allowed a subdued stream of yellow light to flow across the turned down bed. El Paso - Jake Rivers Ch. 02 Lina stood there in the glow of Luna's light, stood there both proud and humble. She slowly pulled the baby doll over her head, teasing me in the pale light of the moon. With pride of her body she stood there a moment – a thousand years - and slowly, graciously lowered herself on the bed. She was every woman, she was my woman. She was everything and more than I could have dreamed about. She was lovely, she was sensuous. I lay there on the bed with her. Our touches were at first hesitant, then urgent. Our kisses at first gentle then filled with a mutual passion of pent up longing that overwhelmed us. The early morning light found us intertwined with each other and the sheets. It felt so right to wake up with Lina. She came to me with a smile and a kiss. There was no hesitancy between us that I might have expected to be there. I took her to the airport later that morning and we both knew our goodbyes were just temporary. LIFE IS ... AS IT IS – LINA Blessing the first class upgrade from mileage gained attending many conferences for Stanford, I mused over all that had happened ... all so suddenly. How quickly my love had grown for Jack! It was so unexpected, yet such a blessing. I remembered something I had read by Edwin Arnold while I was still in college: Somewhere there waiteth in this world of ours For one lone soul another lonely soul, Each choosing each through all the weary hours, And meeting strangely at one sudden goal, Then blend they, like green leaves with golden flowers, Into one beautiful perfect whole. And life's long night is ended, and the way Lies open onward to eternal day. I think too many people feel that love is taking two disparate parts and making one new whole. That image of green leaves blending with flowers comforted me. I was still myself and Jack would remain Jack ... but our love would intertwine us in many ways, some obvious, others to be discovered as our love and life together unfolded together. We hadn't talked of marriage in specific words but we knew it was there. We were wise enough to know we needed to take the time to get to know each other better than we did, while at the same time we knew our love was real and eternal. We made plans for Jack to come to Palo Alto just before school started in the fall. I was planning to go to the ranch in Tierra Amarilla for Thanksgiving. Jack thought there might be an opening for a teaching position in UTEP's Department of Teacher Education coming up in mid-term. That was something I knew I would enjoy and I would be able to continue on with my research in early childhood education. I wasn't really worried about it; I felt a sense of calmness that everything would work out okay. I was excited about what we had found out about Faleena – I knew her name was really spelled the same as mine but somehow it seemed right to use the Faleena spelling. The courage she must have had! She took on Texas Red's name, Matt Donahue, and as Felina Donahue moved to California on her own. The rest of the story I knew from family history. The girl that moved to California with the baby boy growing unknown inside her changed her life. She was no longer the flirt, the tease. After the baby, Matthew Donahue, was born, she met a young rancher at the mission church in Los Angeles, Nuestra Señora Reina de los Angeles. They fell in love and made a good life together. Felina insisted that the baby keep his father's name in memory of the fiery Texas Red. I looked anew at the ruby/diamond ring on my finger and wondered at all that it had seen. Andy Sheedy said it was much more valuable now that there was a clear link to Dallas Stoudenmire. I didn't care about its material value – this ring that would be both my wedding and engagement ring had a value to me that couldn't be defined by dollars. As the plane droned across the desert, I fell into a deep sleep. I dreamed of the girl and her lover lying in the Texas dust in that alley behind Rosa's Cantina, and the miracle of the life granted to her by God. El Paso - Jake Rivers FOUR DEAD IN FIVE SECOND GUNFIGHT On April 11, 1881, Dallas Stoudenmire became the sixth man in eight months to hold the office of El Paso marshal. The thirty-six-year-old had spent the previous years using his considerable gun fighting talents on both sides of the justice system. His time as the law in El Paso would prove to be equally checkered. A gunfighter and lawman hailing from Alabama and six foot tall at age fifteen, Dallas Stoudenmire joined the Confederate Army. His age was discovered and he was twice kicked out before finally being allowed to stay in the army with the 45th Alabama Infantry, was wounded several times and carried two bullets with him for the rest of his life. When the war was over he moved to Columbus, Texas around 1867, where he reputedly killed several men. Though known as a dangerous man, the 6'4" Dallas was known to have been quite a gentleman around the ladies, who found his handsome face and sharp dress quite attractive. He had an extremely bad temper, especially when drunk. Continuing to sharpen his shooting skills, he became equally accurate with both hands and always wore two guns. During the years immediately after the war, Dallas worked as a sheep farmer, wheelwright, proprietor, merchandiser and carpenter. He eventually became a Texas Ranger and stayed with them for three years. He had a good reputation with them that he would maintain through the years. For a while in January 1874 he was a second sergeant in J. R. Waller's Company A of the Texas Rangers. After his time in the Rangers, he lived briefly in the Texas Panhandle, during the days of Maximillan, and served a short stint as a marshal in Socorro, New Mexico. While he was in Socorro, his brother, "Doc" Cummings, who lived in El Paso, Texas, convinced him that he should come there and take up the marshal's position. In 1881, four major railroads met in El Paso, bringing with them gamblers, gunslingers and prostitutes. El Paso became a safe haven for all kinds of criminals. Refugees from both Mexico and the United States hid there since the closest sheriff's office was over fifteen miles away, and the Texas Rangers were rarely around. The city hoped to bring in someone from the "outside" that had a reputation as "tough" as the town. Dallas Stoudenmire fit the bill. In early April 1881, he traveled to El Paso and was hired almost immediately, starting his new position on April 11th. His first task was to get the city jail keys from a deputy marshal who also just happened to be the town drunk. When Stoudenmire approached the drunken deputy, Bill Johnson, to get the keys, Johnson mumbled that he would go home and figure out which ones they were. Stoudenmire became impatient and demanded the keys immediately. When Johnson continued to delay, Dallas physically turned the man upside down, took the keys, and threw him to the ground. Stoudenmire wasted no time living up to his tough reputation, as he humiliated Bill Johnson. Three days later he played a key role in the incredible "Four Dead in Five Seconds" gunfight in downtown El Paso. Sometimes referred to as the "Battle of Keating's Saloon," this gunfight occurred on April 14. Four men were killed during an historically short window of violence. Witnesses were in general agreement that the incident lasted no more than five seconds. The five seconds began when a single gunshot was fired. After a few seconds, Marshal Dallas Stoudenmire ran on to the street and commenced firing without uttering a word. He fired rapidly with his twin .44 Colt revolvers, killing three men in about four seconds. The whole affair began when the Manning Brothers had stolen a herd of about thirty head of cattle in Mexico and drove them into Texas to sell. When Texas Ranger Ed Fitch and two Mexican farmhands by the names of Sanchez and Juarique investigated, the two Mexican men where killed. This led to a Mexican posse of more than seventy-five men to cross into Texas seeking an investigation. Ben Schucter, mayor of El Paso, made an exception for the Mexicans, and allowed them to enter the city limits with their firearms. Gus Krempkau, an El Paso County Constable, accompanied the posse to the ranch of Johnny Hale, a local ranch owner and suspected cattle rustler. Hale lived some thirteen miles northwest of El Paso in the Upper Valley. The corpses of the two missing men were located near Hale's ranch and were carried back to El Paso. A court in El Paso held an inquest into the deaths, with Constable Krempkau, who was fluent in Spanish, acting as an interpreter. The verdict was that Sanchez and Juarique had been in the vicinity of Hale's ranch attempting to locate the thirty stolen cattle. The court determined that the American cattle rustlers, among them Hale, had feared that the men would discover the cattle and return with a larger force, and that two American rustlers had ambushed Sanchez and Juarique either during the night of April 13 or in the early morning of the 14th. Meanwhile, a large crowd had gathered in El Paso, including John Hale and his friend, former town Marshal George Campbell. There was tension between some of the Americans, concerned about the Mexicans being heavily armed within the city, and the Mexicans, who wanted justice for their two murdered comrades. After the inquest, the court was adjourned and the crowd dispersed. The Mexicans rode quietly back to Mexico with the bodies. The new marshal, Dallas Stoudenmire, a noted gunman had been present in the courtroom. After the court adjourned, he walked across the street for dinner. Constable Krempkau went next door to Keating's Saloon, one of the worst pestholes in El Paso, Texas. There, a confrontation erupted between Krempkau and ex-City Marshal, George Campbell, who was a friend of John Hale's. Also in the saloon was Hale himself, who was unarmed, heavily intoxicated, and quite upset with Krempkau due to his role in the investigation. Suddenly, the drunken Hale pulled one of Campbell's two pistols, shouting, "George, I've got you covered!" Hale then shot Krempkau, who fell wounded against the saloon door. Realizing what he had done, the quickly sobering John Hale ran behind a post in front of the saloon just as Marshal Dallas Stoudenmire appeared with his pistols raised. While running, Stoudenmire fired once, wildly, killing Ochoa, an innocent college-educated Mexican bystander, who had not fired the shot but was running for cover. When Hale peeked out from behind the post, Stoudenmire fired again, hitting Hale between his eyes and killing him instantly. In the meantime, when Campbell saw Hale go down, he exited the saloon, waving his gun and yelling, "Gentlemen, this is not my fight!" However, the wounded Krempkau disagreed with him, and though down, fired at Campbell, striking him in the wrist and in the toe. At the same time, Stoudenmire whirled and also fired on Campbell, pumping three bullets into his stomach. As Campbell crashed to the dusty street, he shouted, "You son of a bitch, you have murdered me!" When the dust cleared, both George Campbell and Constable Krempkau lay dead. After just a few seconds of gunfire, four men lay dead or dying. Hale had mortally wounded Krempkau. Stoudenmire had killed Ochoa, while aiming at Hale, and then killed Hale with a shot to the head and mortally wounded Campbell. Three Texas Rangers were standing nearby, but did not take part, saying later that they felt Stoudenmire had the situation well in hand. In less than five seconds in a near comic opera gun battle, four men lay dead. The killers of the two Mexican farmhands were never caught. This gunfight was well publicized in newspapers in cities as far away as San Francisco and New York City and made Dallas Stoudenmire a legend. LOOKING FOR FALEENA - JOHN I finally made the time to start working on Faleena's story. I went through the material María had sent me and made notes on the parts I wanted to corroborate. I wrote a friend in Santa Fe and eventually drove up to talk with him and look through some archived letters. This was during the Thanksgiving break. I figured I'd spend two or three days in Santa Fe and then drive down to Pecos to be with my family. The guy I was meeting with was a retired history professor from the New Mexico College of Agriculture and Mechanical Arts in Las Cruces. His name was Andy Sheedy and loved Santa Fe and made it his home upon his retirement. "I have found several things for you. At that time there was no church close by so priests from Santa Fe would go out several times a year to the small villages and isolated settlements to perform weddings and baptisms along with other pastoral work. I did find Faleena's baptism record in the archives at the Mission here. "She was baptized as Felina Esmeralda Acosto in 1860. That same year a land grant was given to Francisco Martinez for land in the Tierra Amarilla Valley. I do find records that show her father was on the land of the grant and that he, over the years, purchased the land he had been on from Martinez. This appears to be the basis for what is now the De La Puente ranch, La Baca." "Andy, you've earned the nicest dinner I can afford. Did you find anything about her time in Santa Fe?" "Yeah, I found several references … nothing in too much detail. I'll show you what I have." The next day I spent several hours in the basement of the Santa Fe New Mexican. I found several additional references to her including a brief article about her taking a stage to El Paso in July of 1880. Her name was listed in the article as "Faleena," so at some point the spelling of her name was changed. I'd guess the writer of the article was an English speaker and spelled her name as it sounded to her. When I got back to El Paso I started pulling my data together and began a draft on what I had so far. I was going ahead even though I didn't have confirmation of her time spent in El Paso. I had a draft completed by Christmas and showed it to my dad. He made a couple of suggestions – which I liked – and was very positive in his comments. The semester was suddenly over and I started preparing for the spring courses. I got the class list and was stunned to see María's name, still with her maiden name of De La Puente. I thought about calling Pablo to see what was going on but decided to wait until the classes started and just see what happened. The first day of class she came in at the last minute, blushing furiously, and went to the back of the room. She avoided eye contact with me and rushed out after the class before I got a chance to talk to her. That went on for several days before I ran into her in the cafeteria. I saw her sitting there – alone by the window – and sat down without an invitation. "Hello, María. It's nice to see you." I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice as I said this. We certainly never had any kind of agreement but I still felt rather empty about it. She blushed again, looked away, and then looked me straight in the eye. With a quiet, but firm voice, she told me what had happened. "When you first came to the ranch, I … well, I liked you a lot. Then you were gone and didn't come back except for that short visit when we … well, when we kissed. I had no idea how long you were going to be in Korea. When I started going with Alberto, I'd never really even dated anyone. His family has the ranch next to ours and I'd known him all my life." "I was … really young and didn't know anything about life and love. He had kissed me a couple of times. It was sweet but it seemed the same as holding hands. Then when you kissed me that weekend," her face turned scarlet as she said this, "I understood what passion was. You made me feel something that I'd never felt before. I felt your love. I saw your … your need too. I realized … I knew my love for you and it scared me." She took my hand in hers and continued, "That afternoon, after you left I was sitting on the bench under that big cottonwood in front of the ranch house and dad came out and caught me crying. He put his arms around me and it all came out. He told me he would take care of canceling the weekend. He told me, "Honey, I always thought you were too young to make such a big decision. Your mom likes Alberto 'cause he's Catholic and John isn't, but hell, girl, I don't care. I just want you to be happy. I suggest you go to school and go slowly with both of them. Just take your time and find out what your heart tells you to do." "But, Johnnie, I know what my heart says. After what happened when you came up, I was afraid to say anything to you. I … I didn't know how you felt anymore. Johnnie, please don't hate me, please?" What could I say? The range of emotions I was feeling overwhelmed me. For now I took her hand and kissed it gently and gave her a big smile. I asked her to change to another writing section – I couldn't date someone I was teaching and I sure wanted to date her. I invited her to dinner at a small Mexican place that an old friend of mine owned. At dinner that night we agreed to take it slow and get to know each other better. I gave her the latest draft of "Faleena" and, after I included her thoughts, I sent it to my agent. My life suddenly looked like it would be just as happy as Faleena's had been sad. FALEENA – PART I The rain fell with a fury on the small ranch perched precariously on the side of a hill. Above, a normally bone-dry barranca rapidly filled with the mad power unleashed by the heavy downpour. The rushing water, dirty with debris and rocks that slammed into each other, added to the violent sounds of an angry land. The semi-arid country was illuminated with flashes of hell as the storm moved slowly across the ranch. The overwhelming din of the thunder drowned out the thin keening of the tiny girl as she entered the world with the same anger and violence of the storm. José gently handed the squalling baby to his wife as he wiped his forehead off with the stained sleeve of his shirt. He stared at the blood on his hands and had a vision of this same child years later with blood staining the white radiance of her blouse now lewdly covering the shattered breast unclothed by the violent path of the bullet. José gave a deep sigh and took the now murky water in the basin and emptied it out the door. Filling it from the pump under the porch overhang he took it in and cleaned his temporarily unlovely wife as best he could. Eighteen months later Felina's sister, Esmeralda was born. When Felina's lips touched her mother's breast for the first time the storm ended as quickly as it began. The glow of the full moon again lighted the world and the stars shone with a special brightness – trying, it seemed, to match the beauty of the small girl-child that heaven had sent this deserving couple to bless their days and nights. José and his wife, Marta, raised the girls as best they could; one turned out to be a child graced by God, the other … wasn't. Esmeralda communed with God; Felina had crazy dreams. Felina was always restless, always wandering off. Even at a young age she had a rare beauty with raven black hair and lustrous brown eyes. Her figure ripened at a young age and one morning when José came in from his chores his quiet Esmeralda told him that Felina had taken off for Santa Fe during the night. "She ran away in the early morning hours in the moon's golden gleam. She said she was tired of the desert nights, the endless fight with poverty, the grief and strife of living as we do … and living in this shack that God gave us. She said she wanted to roam; she didn't know where she would go but she would get there. She told me she would find happiness if only she could follow her dream. She didn't say she was going to Santa Fe, but ever since that trader came by several months ago she has talked everyday about what it must be like there." Jose and his wife looked at each other in wonder, the question in their eyes. What had made her run away; what had made her leave her home where she was loved? It was a sad time for Jose, Marta and their remaining daughter because Felina had a vivacity that lit up their poor adobe hovel that pretended to be a ranch house, and at times made it seem a magical place. After she ran away, she went to Santa Fe and found the bright lights of the saloons and dance halls of the city a mecca for her restless yearning and need for attention. Everyone wanted a dance with her – her eyes would sparkle when the inevitable fight caused by her flirting with one and all took place. Felina would always reward the winner with an extra dance. In the year she stayed in Santa Fe she learned about life and men. She found that a smile would buy her pretty clothes or that she could be any man's wife. The two times Felina came home from Santa Fe were both times of joy and unabated sadness. The joy sprang from her family's love for Felina … her ever-gaudier clothes foretold a time of hurt for this restless young woman. Rich men romanced her, they dined and they danced with Felina. She understood men and she treated them all just the same. Felina was beautiful to look at with a figure that was lovely to behold and long, dark glossy hair As the months went by she found that Santa Fe was not enough for her and she came to be more and more restless. She knew she had to get away to town … any town where the lights had a much brighter glow. One cowboy mentioned the town of El Paso. He told her that they never stopped dancing in the cantinas and money flowed like whiskey. She bought a one-way, a ticket away from Santa Fe. One of her admirers worked for the Santa Fe paper and wrote an article about the bright gleam of life that was leaving Santa Fe. He was a gringo and Felina laughed when she saw her name spelled, Faleena. Yes, she decided, yes, in El Paso I shall be Faleena! María Elena – and john I don't know why I was surprised but María turned out to have an excellent grasp of writing and grammar and over time became a great editor. She started by reviewing my writing and notes on Faleena and then gradually started editing everything I wrote. My agent in San Antonio called me to say how much easier my stuff was to sell when it was clean. María also turned out to be a keen and aggressive researcher. I started showing her the various sources for obtaining different types of data and she took to it right away. We both wanted to go very slow with our love – even though both of us knew it was real. I guess we figured if it was forever, then there was no need to rush. We had seen how much pain could be so easily given … how easy false assumptions and lack of communication could hurt someone. Neither of us wanted to feel that kind of anguish again. We worked hard at our relationship – becoming quite intimate emotionally and intellectually while remaining relatively chaste physically. We weren't specifically waiting for marriage, though if it happened that way we were okay with it. It was more that we felt we would know when the time was right. It was several months before we kissed again with the intensity of that first kiss at her parents' ranch. About once a month we would drive to my parents for the weekend or take the train to the ranch in the Tierra Amarilla Valley. It turned out that taking the train was easier and faster to get to her parents' place than driving. I kept up my friendship with Pablo and he had already asked if he could be the best man. After a few months it started getting strange since both sets of parents kept asking when we were going to set the date. I think they just wanted a party. El Paso - Jake Rivers María was becoming more and more fascinated with the further adventures of Faleena and together we worked hard on the research and spent hours talking about why Faleena did the things that she did; what kind of a woman she was. FALEENA – PART II Three long days and nights on a stage with a rest now and then was tiring for most people but Faleena loved it. She was focused on the end of the trip and the new life that awaited her. She knew she would find that here it would be more exciting than where she had been in Santa Fe. The stage made its last stop, high on a mountaintop above El Paso. It was coming on to darkness and she could see all of the lights at the foot of the long grade. Her world was already brighter and deep down inside her began an uncontrolled beating; her young heart just wouldn't be still. After the stage stopped and the grizzled old driver asked if he could carry her luggage, Faleena took a hotel, a small room at the Lily Belle. Not able to wait a minute longer she quickly changed to a form-fitting black satin dress and went down to the dance hall. Every man stopped to stare, to admire this form so fine and so rare and so lovely. Even the women remarked of the charm she possessed. Truly, El Paso knew that something special had happened that made even that wild town sit up and take notice. Dancing and laughter, that was what Faleena was after, and Rosa's Cantina was bright with gaiety in the gleaming lights. That was what she had wanted; that was what she had hunted. Rosa's was one place a nice girl would never be seen but for Faleena it was a showplace for her beauty and her seductive flirting. It was the same as it had been back in Santa Fe: men would make fools of themselves at the thought of romance with Faleena. Rosa took heed of the attention paid to this lovely young girl. She knew her place was in need of this kind of excitement, so she paid Faleena to dance. Everyone that danced with Faleena came to love her … and she them. She was a master at the age of eighteen of every trick known to woman in the fine art of flirting. With a quick smile and a toss of her long black hair a fight would erupt and Faleena would stand back laughing. She would often go off dancing with someone else before the fight even ended. She was a Jezebel without even knowing the word. A year passed, and maybe a little more, and then through the swinging doors came a young cowboy. He was so tall and so handsomely dressed that he immediately grabbed her attention. This cowboy was new in town; he hadn't been seen around at all. He was so different with his easy manner, ready laugh and his unruly mop of bright red hair … he wasn't like all of the rest of the men that Faleena had known. She danced close to him, feeling a tugging at her heart that was new to her. She then threw a rose to him and he quickly walked to her table and there he sat down with her – making her laugh with his cowboy love. In a day or so, wherever folks would go they would see this young cowboy showing Faleena the town. It was clearly a beautiful young love such as the hard town had never seen before. For six weeks he went with her, spent each minute of the day with her as they fell deeper in love. But Texas Red was insanely jealous of the flirtatious glances she'd give to other men. She truly loved her wild young cowboy but the only way she knew to interact with the attentive men of the town was the casual smile that promised so much and delivered so little. She never realized that her meaningless actions hurt Texas Red so much. Inside he was in pain from all of her flirting. That was her nature and that was the way that she lived. She flirted one night with a man on the town council but this time it wasn't just fisticuffs that resulted. After one dance the older man wanted more and grabbed her. Her cowboy shoved the man to the floor where he grabbed for a hidden derringer. Faster than the eye could see Texas Red pulled a gun from the back of his belt, snuggled carefully under the cowhide vest. Both the shop owner from town and the young cowboy felt the ordinance forbidding the wearing of guns was not for them. In less than a heartbeat guns flashed and after the smoke cleared away, on the floor lay a man, dying rapidly as his blood leaked out on the dance floor. Faleena's young lover had shot down another – a member of the town elite. She told him to hurry and to leave through the back door. The wild young cowboy ran, his heart in pain thinking of his love left behind. Dallas Stoudenmire heard the news and gathered a posse to avenge the death of the man who had been one of his sponsors and supporters. TWO HEARTS, ONE LOVE – JOHN María had tears in her eyes as she finished reading about the death of Faleena's fiery cowboy. "How sad it is when two people mess up their love!" She threw her arms around me, holding me tight, and whispered in my ear, "Let's be smarter than that. We know that we are going to get married but I want to become your wife now!" With tears of love in her eyes – some sadness still for Faleena but a smile on her lips, she took my hand and led me into the bedroom. "Love me, Johnnie. Make me your wife." I was slow and gentle with María Elena. We were in no hurry; we had a lifetime left to love. We caressed and petted, explored and touched. It was everything we wanted and needed and certainly put our love on a new, deeper plane. In the night we came together again … with more urgency than the first time. She gave herself completely to me – as I gave myself to her. The next morning she wasn't bashful at all. She walked to the shower with me showing her proud young body as we searched for new ways to express our love. I found some old articles in the El Paso Times and a few things from the El Paso Police archives. When the Police Department was formed, they took over the functions and files of the Marshal's office. I finally had all the info on Faleena's "wild young cowboy" and was able to finish his part of the story. TEXAS RED Matt Donahue was from Abilene, born on a small ranch outside of town about one hundred and fifty miles west of Fort Worth. He was a handful as a baby, hell on wheels as he was growing up and just plain wild as he grew into a tall, willowy, somewhat gawky young cowboy. His defining characteristic was a mop of unruly red hair that earned him the epithet, Texas Red. His dad, after a few glasses of rye at the Sundance Pool Hall in Abilene one windy winter evening, was heard to say, "He ain't nuthin' but spit and rawhide - fast with his mouth and faster with his gun." Not one of the other gents had cause to disagree with him, and eventually the town marshal had to set him down and tell him the way it was going to be. "Son, you're sure enough a first rate cowboy. You know your dad's ranch won't support more'n your folks and your younger brother. I'm not gonna pull you out of no more scrapes. I hear the Double Deuce south of Sweetwater needs a good wrangler, and you're sure as good with horseflesh as anyone I ever saw." So Matt rode down to the ranch owned by the widow Meeker. He took care of the remuda on the roundup and broke horses for her for six months before he decided that no self-respecting cowboy would work for a woman … though he did share her bed for several nights before he took off. He loafed around for a few months … and did a fair amount of running. He got into a shooting scrape in San Angelo over a dance hall girl and in another in Uvalde over whether the dealer had dealt his ace from the top or the bottom of the deck. Wherever he went his moniker chased after him until he even thought of himself as Texas Red. Winding up in El Paso with a pocketful of money from a lucky streak at the cards, Texas Red was ready for some fun … and maybe the cribs if nothing else showed up. The second day he was there he made his way to Rosa's Cantina. A bartender had told him of the young beauty dancing there. When he entered Rosa's he saw a lovely apparition dancing with an older man. She saw him as he pushed through the crowds and threw him a smile as her face lit up. When she danced closer she threw him a rose. His heart captured, he took her arm and walked her back to her table. From then on they were inseparable. He danced every dance with her at night and spent the days showing her the sights of the town. Their love affair captured the hearts of the jaded El Paso citizens. There were a few of the cynical older men that felt that the love of Faleena was their right. And Faleena with her innocent flirting kept their attention. One night at Rosa's – this was about six weeks into their love – Faleena threw a smile and tossed her glossy black hair to the owner of the largest mercantile in town – and a member of the town council. He tried to cut in on Texas Red and was thrown to the floor in anger. Grabbing a hidden derringer he was shocked to see Texas Red's hidden pistol flashing at him … as the stunning impact of the bullet smashed his heart … he drew his last breath. Faleena grabbed the stunned Texas Red – he had acted with the instinct that had kept him alive in a tough and wild country – and shouted at him through the sudden din in Rosa's. "He was important in this town! You have to run. Go to New Mexico and stay away. I love you and I'm sorry for this. Go now and I'll find you." Just for a moment the young cowboy stood there in silence, shocked by the evil deed he had done. Many thoughts raced through his mind as he stood there; it was clear that he had but one chance and that was to run – to run as fast and as far as he could. Out through the back door of Rosa's he leaped, out to where the horses were tied. He caught a good one – a tall rangy buckskin gelding - that looked like it had a lot of staying power and would be able to run forever. He jumped up on its back and away he rode, just as fast as he could from the West Texas town of El Paso. He rode far until he reached the bad lands of New Mexico where he waited for his fair Faleena to join him. What Faleena didn't figure on was the town marshal, Dallas Stoudenmire. Frustrated in his posse's inability to chase down the killer, Texas Red, Stoudenmire decided to keep his eye on Faleena. Every time she rented a horse from the stable he patiently rode a couple of hundred yards behind. He knew that at some time she would go to Texas Red or he would come to her. The man that died was a friend of his … and the marshal would be waiting with some of his friends to kill the cowboy from Abilene. She finally gave up on trying to find her cowboy lover. Faleena hoped that he would keep going and leave their love behind – even though she knew that would break her heart. Texas Red knew that back in El Paso his life would be worthless. Everything he wanted was gone in life; nothing was left. He waited and waited for his Faleena … it had been so long since he had seen the young maiden he loved so deeply. He knew not what had kept her from coming; only that his love was stronger than his fear of death. One evening he saddled up and rode away - riding alone in the dark. He knew that the coming day might bring a bullet which might find him but for that night nothing was worse than the burning pain in his heart. He had to see his lovely Faleena – no matter what the cost might be. The next morning he was standing on a hill overlooking El Paso. He could see Rosa's Cantina far below in the dust of the desert town. His love was strong and it pushed him onward … down off the hill to Faleena he rode. Off to his right he saw five mounted cowboys; to his left rode a dozen or more. Shouting and shooting he couldn't let them catch him. He had to make it to Rosa's back door. Standing there by the door was the town marshal, Dallas Stoudenmire, with both guns to hand, both guns throwing hot stabs of lead flying at the young cowboy. Something was dreadfully wrong with him for he could feel a deep burning pain in his side. He was trying to stay in the saddle but Texas Red was feeling heavy, unable to ride. But his love for Faleena was strong and he rose from where he had fallen. Though he was tired he couldn't stop to rest. He saw a final white puff of smoke from the pistol of the marshal and felt the bullet go deep in his chest. From out of nowhere Faleena found him, kissing his cheek as she knelt by his side. Cradled by two loving arms that he would die for, just one little kiss and Faleena … goodbye. A LOVE LIVED – JOHN María and I had been sure of our love and now were making sure we knew each other. I asked her to move in with me but she felt that "wouldn't look right." I never pushed it; I knew we would be together soon enough. We did the things young lovers do: the walks in the park, holding hands in movies, talking about our future together. We had one additional thing that brought us closer: our passion for knowing what had happened with Faleena and her Texas Red. It was a sad story, and she cried at what I had written but we both realized that sadness is as much a part of life as happiness is. What we found to be important was to make our joy of love for one another the lynchpin of our lives together. That would give us the strength to deal with any adversities that life might bring. So we were able to look upon the sorrow of Faleena and Texas Red's tragic tale but it would not be our sorrow. María thought there was much to be learned about life from this story and I had to agree with her. My writing was working well enough that I would be able to stop teaching when summer came. I started working on a novel based on Dallas Stoudenmire's life – it seems no one had done it before. I thought he was a wonderfully complex man that had lived his life to the fullest. Maria started writing some on her own. She wrote a short story of a girl that helped her father during the roundup … and fell in love with the son of a neighboring rancher. She submitted it to "Ranch Romances," and it paid more than I would have expected. She used Felina Esmeralda as her pen name. I started thinking that maybe I should try a romance story or two. We did an engagement party at the ranch in Tierra Amarilla. This time I smiled a lot and did formally ask for María Elena's hand in marriage from her father. We planned the wedding for the summer after her sophomore year of college. Three years after our marriage my dad died and we moved to the ranch to run it. My sister, Anne, married a lawyer from Palo Alto out in California. We would see her once a year, sometimes two. They did come out for summer vacations with their kids. Life at the ranch went well for two years and we started our family while there. About a year after we took over the ranch, God blessed us with twin girls: we named them Felina Maria and Maria Esmeralda. The following year sadness came again. Maria's brother and my best friend, Pablo, died in a freak accident. He was riding his favorite mare in the mountains looking for a cougar and the narrow mountain path he was on collapsed throwing horse and rider down into the canyon. We decided to sell the ranch in Pecos and I would take over running La Baca at Tierra Amarilla. It was a much larger ranch and made good money year after year. The ranch house was large enough for my mom and for María's parents. Close to a year and a half after we moved to the larger ranch Juan Pablo was born. I didn't mind at all using the Spanish version of my name, and Pablo held a special place in both our hearts. Both María and I kept writing. Over time I evolved more and more to non-fiction. I was working on a full-length book focusing on some of the lesser-known gunfighters of the old west. I had also finally started writing a novel about Dallas Stoudenmire. He was surely a fascinating character. María kept with her romance writing but moved on to full-length novels. She became well known for her accurately researched historical work – and I was proud to assist her. Life was good for us and whenever María would wear the pearl necklace I'd purchased for her those many years ago in Korea my eyes would get misty. She would notice when that happened and knowing me so well would give me a quiet smile and kiss my cheek or squeeze my hand. She had been a beautiful girl but was such a lovely woman that sometimes it would take my breath away. I thought Faleena must have been like that. FALEENA – PART III The next day at five o'clock, Faleena heard a rifle shot and quickly ran to the back door of Rosa's, which faced the pass over the mountain. She saw her cowboy, her wild-riding cowboy, low in the saddle. Her Texas Red was riding in fast. She ran to meet him, to kiss … to greet him. He saw her and motioned her back, with a wave of his hand. Bullets were flying, and Faleena was crying with anguish as she saw him fall from the saddle and into the sand. He stood and tried to reach for her when a bullet from the marshal's gun slammed into his chest. Feleena knelt near him, to hold and to hear him. When she felt the warm blood that flowed from the wounds in his side and his chest he raised his head to kiss her and she heard him whisper, "Never forget me Faleena, it's over. Goodbye." Quickly she grabbed for the six-gun that he wore. Screaming in anger and placing the gun to her breast, she cried, "Bury us both deep and maybe we'll find peace!" She pulled the trigger and fell across the dead cowboy's chest. Fulfilling her father's vision those many years ago her breast was torn by the bullet that ripped her white blouse and stained it with the bright crimson of death. Their blood mingled together in the hot dust of the alley behind Rosa's Cantina. Faleena had found the love she had always searched for … and paid a too high price for her love. Faleena would flirt no more. Dallas Stoudenmire stood over the two bodies; smoke still floating in wisps out of the barrels of his pistols, and Dallas was finally seen with tears in his eyes. He picked up the slack body that had been Faleena and took her away from the hungry prurient eyes of the gathered crowd – away to the house of the young doctor to ready her for her pine coffin. Faleena would be remembered … and forgotten as the years slowly passed. Out in El Paso, whenever the wind blows If you listen closely at night, you'll hear in the wind A woman is cryin', it's not the wind sighin' Old timer's tell you, Faleena is callin' for him; You'll hear them talkin' and you'll hear them walkin' You'll hear them laugh and you'll look, but there's no one around Don't be alarmed - there is really no harm there It's only the young cowboy, showin' Feleena the town.