Despite this, César lays a comforting hand on Guillermo’s shoulder.
“Well, boy.” He pauses to cough. “Let’s make sure the mountain doesn’t eat you just yet, hmm?”
Guillermo stares at him, eyes wide and glassy.
“We’re going to work on moving the rocks off of your legs,” César goes on, between gasps, “and then we’re going to get you out of here. It might not be pleasant, but we’ll get you out, whatever it takes.”
Guillermo seems past speech, but he nods. César heaves himself to his feet, then braces himself against the tunnel wall for support while he gives directions to his men.
“Ebelardo, go get some boards to put around his head so that no rocks fall on his face. Get him a helmet too, if there’s an extra in the shed. Oh, and someone go find his father.”
“He may be hard to find,” I say.
César shoots me a look.
“He was here too. Earlier. He left when this happened.”
“We’ll deal with that later, then.” César looks angry, but the roughness in his voice might just be from the coughing. “Hugo, let’s divert the weight of the pile to the right. Once the pressure is off and that angle isn’t so steep, we can start pulling these lower rocks off of him.”
The miners get to work. César is too weak to help them, but he sits off to the side, giving advice when they need it.
“Can I do anything?” I ask.
César shakes his head. “Climb out if you like.”
The looks the other men give me are so cold it’s as if they’ve spoken aloud: You’ve done enough. They may have believed before that women in the mine were unlucky. I’ve just proved it to them.
I hate being in here with their judgment clouding the already-foul air. I hate seeing César brace his forehead on his crossed arms and spasm with painful coughs. I’m sore and dirty and tired. I want nothing more than to climb up the now-broad exit tunnel and leave this night behind me.
But I remember my promise to Guillermo and settle beside him to wait until the men are done.
No matter the glares, I vow that I will not leave until after he does.
23
Slowly, painstakingly, the men liberate Guillermo from the mountain trying to eat him. When they get to his lower legs and lift the rocks off, he screams, and I can see dark blood staining his jeans. Two of the men leave and come back with a sheet of corrugated tin roofing to serve as a makeshift stretcher. They splint his legs the best they can and lift him onto the metal. Guillermo is moaning in pain, but there’s nothing for it but to keep moving him. César fights through his coughing spells to tell them to carry Guillermo down to the health center at the foot of the mountain and stay with him until it opens in an hour’s time.
Eventually, the miners are able to wrestle the heavy stretcher through the tunnel. True to my word, I follow the stretcher, not leaving the mine until after Guillermo. I’m sure that at this point he’s way past caring where I am, but it matters to me not to break this promise.
When I crawl out, the fact that it’s morning surprises me, though the brightness coming through the shaft would have told me that, had I been paying attention. I look around the entrance to the mine, transformed now by the presence of so many people, and stripped of its shadows by the sun. I check for Victor, but I don’t see him.
I feel out of place, floating. The men shuffle off, the stretcher tipping between them. I need to go home and check on Belén and make sure she’s okay. And César . . . César is leaning against the cliff, rubbing a tired hand over his lined face. Though he’s bent near double with the effort of breathing and talking, he’s coordinating with the miners, keeping everyone from bothering me. Wrapping up his conversation, César walks heavily toward me.
“It’s been quite a night,” he says softly. “Let’s go home.”
* * *
Even though it should only take fifteen minutes, the walk from the mine to César’s house takes double that. We creep along, César slumping against the mountain to catch his breath every dozen steps. Finally, not able to bear seeing him struggle on his own, I pull his arm across my shoulders. He’s so stooped over it means I can take some of his weight.
“Thank you, Ana.”
I turn my head away from him so that he can’t see my tears. I let Belén stay with me when I knew it was wrong. I didn’t manage to protect her. I didn’t prevent a mine robbery. I destroyed the entrance to the mine that will take many man-hours to clean up. I injured Guillermo. I made César leave his sickbed when his body clearly can’t handle it. I expected César, in the privacy of the walk home, to finally lay into me for my stupidity, to make clear to me the price tag of all my bad choices, like Papi would have done. I expected anger—or disappointment at least. Somehow, his quiet thanks make me feel even worse. It’s hard to be the only one hating yourself when you know you deserve to be hated.
César’s wet, racking cough precedes him up the rocky path, and Mami rushes out when we’re still meters from the door and helps me get him inside and into bed again. As she works to settle him, my eyes wander over to the little alcove where Belén and I sleep. Belén is lying there, pale and still. Abuelita is sponging her face with a damp cloth. I walk over and lean against the wall, staring down at them. I don’t reach for Belén, afraid I’ll do even more damage.
“How is she?” I whisper.
“She’s alive,” says Abuelita. “And so are you. And so is César. What more could we ask from God?”
I could think of a few things. I close my eyes.
A couple of minutes later, I feel Mami standing at my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I feel like I’ve said that a lot recently. I know it will never be enough.
“What happened, Ana?” Mami’s soft voice is my undoing. Tears splash the floor in front of me. I wipe my face with my hands and try to keep my voice steady.
“She snuck out to join me. I let her stay. I didn’t think it would be a big deal. But robbers came. They hurt her. I threw dynamite to scare them off, but I collapsed the entrance on Guillermo. He’s at the health center now.” I choke on the words, and soon the whole story is tumbling out of me, the horror of the night washing over me anew. I find I can’t stand any longer. I slide down the wall and curl up on the floor and cry, as if someone had shot me in the belly.
“Hush now, mi hija,” Mami says, sitting beside me on the floor and stroking my face. “You did what you had to do. We are all still alive. Where there’s life, there’s hope.”
I twist until I can lean my forehead in her lap and let her comfort me for a minute more. Then I get to my feet.
When I go outside to wash, I have to crack through a thin film of ice on the top of the bucket, but I scrub myself anyway, accepting the cold water’s punishment. When I’m clean, I head inside to change clothes. Fresh sweatpants, fresh shirt, fresh braids.
Mami makes a broth. I try to bring a bowl to César, but he insists on coming out and sitting with us.
“How is my little girl?” César asks between mouthfuls, pointing toward Belén with his chin.
“She’ll be all right,” answers Abuelita. “She just had a nasty blow and is sleeping it off. You don’t worry; get your rest.”
When César has finished his soup, he goes into his room and lies down again. Abuelita and I clean up the meal and try to pretend we can’t hear him wheezing as he tries unsuccessfully to fall asleep.
“You rest and sit with Belén,” says Mami. “We’re going to go break some rocks.”
“You’re not staying to look after them?” I ask.
Mami gives me a tired smile as she wraps her shawl around her shoulders.
“We’re out of money. If Belén doesn’t wake up soon, we may need to take her to the hospital. If César’s cough gets any worse, we’re going to need to take him to the hospital too.” She heaves a sigh, one that o
nly poor women know.
“We still haven’t paid off the loan for the medical bills from Daniel,” Abuelita adds. “They may not treat them if we don’t have money. We have to go.”
“Do you want me to come and help?”
Mami shakes her head.
“You might as well sleep if you can,” she says gently. “You were up all night. But try not to sleep too deeply. If either of them needs something, you’ll have to help them with it. If Belén wakes up, try to get her to eat a little bread or drink some tea.”
“Okay.”
“Hey.” Abuelita pats my cheek. “Don’t be sad. Who knows? Maybe the miners will have missed a great big chunk of silver, and I’ll find it, and we’ll all eat steak tonight. Hmm?”
Her words remind me of Francisco and Guillermo’s robbery. Sometimes more silver doesn’t make things better.
“No sense hanging around when a steak dinner is on the line,” I say, hoping my smile looks more real than it feels.
Abuelita gives me a quick peck on the forehead, and she and Mami head out the door. When they’ve left, I shuffle into the alcove I share with Belén and curl up beside her. I smooth her thick black hair away from her face. Belén has lovely hair. She’s going to grow into a real beauty. But now there are traces of blood matted in that lovely hair and her face is pale in the darkness. She still hasn’t opened her eyes.
I bite my lip hard and try not to start crying again.
I thought it was bad enough in the mine when the devil guarded every exit. Now it feels like he’s loose in the world and I see his bloody handprints everywhere.
* * *
Hours later, Belén finally wakes up.
“Ana?” I hear, a whisper beside my ear.
“Belén!” I jolt upright and reach out to touch her face. “You’re awake! How do you feel?”
“My head hurts.”
“Are you hungry? Can I get you some bread?”
“I don’t really—” she starts, but I have my orders.
“You need to at least drink something. Stay here, I’ll get you some broth.”
I hop off the bed and bring a cup to Belén. I sit beside her, prop her against me, and hold the cup to her lips. She sips it slowly. With her leaning on me, my face is right next to her head and I can’t help but smell the dried blood and rock dust still caked in her hair. It makes my stomach turn, but I don’t move or say anything. It’s not her fault that she was injured there. It’s Francisco’s. And I suppose, in some ways, it’s mine. I should never have let her stay.
“How do you feel?” I ask again.
“My head still hurts, but the broth is nice,” she says.
She’s barely touched it. I smooth her hair away from her face.
“What happened?” she asks. “After I hit my head, I mean. I don’t remember anything after that.”
I take a deep breath. “Well, it’s complicated. A lot happened after that, actually.” I’m glad she’s sitting in front of me. It’s easier to talk to the back of her head than it would be to talk face-to-face. Quickly, I catch her up on the rest of the night after she was knocked out.
“Ay!” Belén exclaims. “You were so brave!” Then, after a pause, “Did they manage to take anything? Is the damage very bad?”
I hesitate. “Maybe?”
In my arms, Belén starts to cry.
“Oh, sweetie!” I give her shoulders a squeeze. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s our fault,” she whispers.
“No, you can’t think that way,” I tell her.
“No, but it is. It’s part of being a guarda. It was our job to keep the mine safe. If they managed to take anything, then we owe the mining cooperative the money to replace it. If the mine got wrecked, we have to pay to repair it.”
My comfort dies in my throat. She’s right. Whoever’s working as guarda, it’s their debt if something gets taken. A feeling in my chest tightens like a winch.
“Maybe I can get a job as a guarda too”—Belén sniffs—“at one of the other mines.”
“What?” I ask, having been lost in my thoughts. “No way. You’re eight!”
“We have to do something.” She chews on her lower lip, thinking out loud. “Maybe if I leave school, I can get a job as a palliri . . .” She trails off miserably.
I know that no one will ever hire an eight-year-old as a guarda. Plus, especially after tonight, César would never let his little girl do such a thing. Hell, after tonight, Mami and César may not even let me keep doing the job. I remember, more than a month ago, when I first heard Belén’s little-girl dream of becoming a doctor. It had made me laugh. Now I feel like crying. There was never any chance that she would make it. But was it too much to ask that she get just a few more years of hoping for it before this mountain crushed her too? In her sincerity I see a reflection of myself pausing my own dreams because we needed the money. Under my fingers, the dried blood flakes out of Belén’s hair and lands on my sweatpants, as brown and dry as the llama bloodstains on the lintels of the mine. From the next room, I hear César coughing.
Sacrifices, I think. All of us, sacrifices to the devil of these mines.
I shake my head to clear it from the useless thoughts. Though I wish I had a time machine, I can’t go back and change the choices I already made. The only thing I can control is what I do now. I refuse to let Belén give up on her dreams like I had to. I refuse to allow her to become just more grit to be ground between this mountain’s molars.
“Belén, listen to me,” I whisper to her. My voice is fierce. “You will never be a guarda.”
“But . . .”
“No. Not now when you’re eight. Not when you’re older. Never. You are going to stay in school.” I close my eyes for a moment, unsure what price I will have to pay to purchase the promise I just made. “Go to sleep now.” I gently disentangle myself, laying her flat. “I’ve got this.”
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“First, I’m going to give César some of this broth. Then I’ll take care of things. Don’t worry.”
I tuck her in and drop a quick kiss on her forehead, then I bring the rest of the broth to César. When I enter his bedroom, he’s sprawled across the bed. He’s in a T-shirt again, sweat standing out on his forehead from the effort it takes to breathe. I feel awkward. I’m used to seeing César fully dressed and in public; in charge of men, working. I hate seeing him sick and weak.
“Ana,” he gasps.
I hold out a cup.
“I made some broth for Belén, but she’s done with it now. I thought that maybe you’d like some more to help with the cough.” César’s eyebrows shoot up and I answer his question before he has to ask it. “Belén woke up a little while ago. She doesn’t remember much of what happened. Her head hurts, but she was able to take a little broth and she makes sense when she talks. I think she’s going to be okay.”
César sighs with relief, and when he does, something rattles again.
“I’ve been praying,” he whispers.
I flinch guiltily. It hadn’t occurred to me to pray.
“Are you okay for now?” I ask him.
And though he’s far from okay, César nods. I close the door to the bedroom behind me softly and start preparing dinner. I pull a handful of peeled chuños from the bucket and salt the water.
I know we won’t be having steak.
* * *
It’s past dark when Abuelita gets home from working as a palliri. She must have worked till the absolute last shred of daylight left the sky. Mami still isn’t home, but that doesn’t surprise me too much. I don’t see the flashlight. My guess is that she’ll stay out as long as she can, even though she sent Abuelita home.
“Mmm, smells good, Ana,” Abuelita says. I give her a hug and catch her up on how Belén and César are doing. Then I take a deep breath.
“What?” She stills.
I take a deep breath.
“Someone has to be there tonight to guard it. Francisco, or someone else, might come again and take more. It’s still officially my job, so it will be our family’s debt if more gets taken. We can’t afford to be in any more debt.” I see Abuelita open her mouth. Whether it’s to argue or agree, I don’t wait to find out. “It’s not a plan for forever. We can talk tomorrow about other ideas, but right now I have to go. It’s already late.”
I can see emotions chasing themselves across Abuelita’s face, but all she says is, “Be careful.”
Feeling grim and beaten, I shove some food, a blanket, and my helmet into my old schoolbag and sling it over my shoulder. On my way out the door I grab four new mini-sticks of dynamite.
This time I do remember to pray that I won’t need to use them.
24
When I get to the mouth of El Rosario, I scan the area carefully. I check the shed. The lock is broken from last night, but everything is still inside where it should be, so at least no one has come by yet tonight. The blast pulled my last nest off the cliff face, so I find myself a comfortable-enough spot on the rubble still blocking the entrance to the mine so that I can sit facing the shed. I’m beyond tired, beyond furious at the world that has trapped my family in a corner. I decide that if anyone even tries to approach the mine tonight, I’ll blast them all before I let them take so much as a pebble from that shed. I stare at the destruction at the mouth of the mine, wondering how long it will take to clean up, wondering what it will cost me.
“Ana, is that you?”
The voice surprises me so much that the flame of my lighter is already halfway toward a stick of dynamite before I notice who it is.
“No no nononono . . .” he says, all in a rush, “don’t do that again. It’s me!”
Treasure of the World Page 27
