by Paul Clayton
Juana stood before him.
Calling Crow got to his feet to stand beside her. He liked her smell. It was like the earth at night after a rain.
“You came,” she said.
“Yes.” He felt a little sad for a moment. Tiamai was gone from him. But here was this woman who was strong and pleasing.
“Where is your friend?” she said.
“He did not want to come.” He could tell by the look in her eyes that she knew what Miguel had said. They stood silently for a while, watching the people walking about.
“I do not understand,” said Calling Crow. “Why are these people free, while others are chained in the gold pits?”
“Aieyee,” said Juana, shaking her head. “It is difficult to explain. Those who are taken by the Spanish in a fight, those who refuse to convert, they are made to work in the pits. But for the people on this island, it is different. I think it is because of the Black Robes. They have spoken to the Spanish cacique across the waters on the behalf of the reservations. It was agreed that the reservation people could continue to live as they have. But the reservation must still pay a tribute to the Spanish.”
“What do they pay?” asked Calling Crow.
“They paid gold at first,” said Juana, “but then the gold ran out.”
“And now?”
“Every day the village must send a hundred men to work.” She pointed to a place where there was a smoldering firewell. “They assemble there every morning to be taken to the place where they will work that day.”
Juana studied Calling Crow for a few moments and then grabbed his arm. “Let us go down to the beach and watch the dance.”
As she led him away, two Spanish soldiers and a Black Robe came out of a hut. They were followed by a smiling man who, given his many adornments, Calling Crow assumed was the cacique of the people of this reservation. He felt anger burning in him as he watched the cacique smiling up at the Spanish in subservience.
“We outnumber them all,” Calling Crow said to her quietly, “and yet they rule over us. Why can’t we drive them away?”
“No. That is what everyone thinks when they are first brought here. They are too strong.”
“Perhaps. Why don’t more people run away to the mountains?”
Juana looked at him curiously. “And live like hunted rabbits?”
“Not like rabbits. Like men.”
Juana smiled at him and tugged him by the arm. “Come. Forget about that for a while.”
They walked down to the mass of people by the beach bonfire. Calling Crow joined the men on one side while Juana joined the women opposite them. When the line of women came and danced before him and the other men, she pulled him out of the line and danced around him. As the others smiled at him, he watched her, his face expressionless. She is very beautiful and she moves so gracefully. He did not know what would happen to the two of them. How could he know? Instead of worrying he gave himself up to the dancing and the celebration.
Chapter 26
After several moons Calling Crow took Juana for his woman. Occasionally, memories of Tiamai came to him, but he could not deny himself this woman who was here and wanted him. In the beginning he would wait until evening when Father Luis was busy praying with the other Black Robes in the church and then he would leave and meet her on the beach. He tried to take her away to the mountains, but she would not go. He continued to see her and he grew happy. Memories of his home village remained, but they were no longer leaping flames in his mind, but rather dull red embers under a covering of soft gray ash. Such was the power of this woman, Juana, that even Calling Crow’s dream of the Destroyer began to fade. Now his heart was full of only her. Many nights they lay on the beach on soft sand that still held the heat of the sun, looking up at the heavens as the sea sang its sacred songs to them.
Then the rains came. Calling Crow had never seen so much rain. Juana’s people told him that it was the way it should be, the way it had always been, and that it was good. Juana took Calling Crow to a secret place she knew. There, inside a thick grove of palmetto, Calling Crow built a small hut. They brought skins and blankets to lie upon, tallow candles, skins bags of water, Calling Crow’s spirit bag, Juana’s treasure bundle full of things from her people, and a finely carved wooden Jesus on a cross. They planted corn, and there was plenty of small game to be found in the surrounding forest. Calling Crow dug a firewell in the hut, and the smoke from their fire rose to the palmetto thatch roof, where it dissipated in a gentle fog, instead of rolling up in a telltale column. They had many happy nights there.
They sat before the small fire. Calling Crow occasionally stirred the embers while Juana stitched together some clothes in the Spanish fashion. They did not speak much, for there was no need, and the fire’s flames seemed to reflect their love for each other. After a time Juana got to her feet and turned down the skins of the pallet. She stepped out of her gown and lay down to wait for him. He damped the fire down and went to lay with her. Later they fell asleep nurtured by each other’s warmth..
One damp morning after Calling Crow had quietly returned to the hut behind the mission church, old Miguel came in. Calling Crow was very tired and, hearing him, raised his head. “What is it, Grandfather?”
“Father Luis was looking for you.” Miguel looked out at the churchyard. “He was going to take you to Roldan’s pit again, but he could not find you.”
Calling Crow felt bad. He had gone once to help with the baptisms, and he had convinced Father Luis to bring along fruits for the people to eat. “I will go next time,” he said.
Miguel frowned. “You have been seeing that woman, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
Miguel’s voice was gruff. “She is no longer of the people.”
Calling Crow looked at him and said nothing.
“Stay away from her. If you do not, you will become like the Spanish and lose your soul.”
“Ha,” said Calling Crow, “being so long in this strange place I have already lost my soul.”
“She is a chola.”
“Why, because she is a servant to the chief Black Robe? Many of the people are servants to the Spanish. Is it because she speaks the language of the Spanish and lives as they do? Half the people on the island do this. Is not that better than being a slave, or being dead.”
“No!” Miguel’s hoarse voice took on a great strength. “It is much worse than that. She lies with the chief Black Robe!”
Calling Crow felt as if Miguel had jabbed a cold stone spear into his belly. “How do you know this?”
“Three others who live in that house have told me this, so I know that it is so.”
Calling Crow got to his feet and walked outside. He thought he heard Father Luis calling him, but he continued walking. His heart was on fire with anger. As he headed across a pasture, warm rain washed over him, but it did not soothe him. Instead his anger grew so hot that even the seas could never put it out. He entered the jungle and moved quickly through the foliage. Big drops of rain splattered down on the wide glossy leaves. Soon he came to the hills near the sea. He passed through the corn patch and entered their hut in the palmetto grove. The fire had died down, and Juana sat, stitching some skins together. She lifted her head as he entered the hut.
He stood looking down at her, saying nothing.
Juana looked at him worriedly as she got to her feet. She pulled her gown on. “Did you come back to work on the corn?”
He said nothing.
“Why do you look at me that way? Tell me.”
“Because I see you for the first time, Black Robe woman.”
Juana’s expression collapsed as if he’d struck her across the face. “Who told you that?”
“Miguel. He said there are others who say that it is so.”
She turned away to pick up the water skin. He advanced and turned her around to face him.
“Is it true?”
She looked at him as if she could not believe he would treat her so. “Is
what true? That I love you! Yes, that is true.”
“Did you lie with the chief Black Robe?”
She said nothing and he shook her. “Did you lie with him?”
She would not look at him. “I love you only.”
“Why did you do it?”
“I did it only for others,” she said.
“What kind of answer is that?”
“It is true. To save my uncle and my brother. They were going to kill them for striking a guard. The Bishop said he would intercede if I did what he asked.”
“And did he?” said Calling Crow.
“Yes.”
He pushed her away, and she fell backward onto the sand. “I shall kill him. I will get into his house and do it.”
“No, Calling Crow,” she cried, “don’t do it. I will lose you.” Her face an anguished mask, she grabbed him about his legs as he started for the entrance to the hut.
He didn’t seem to be aware of her as he moved away, dragging her through the sand. She cried out, her eyes shining with tears as she clung to his leg. “Don’t do this to us. Don’t do it.”
He said nothing, reaching down to pry her arms away.
“Would you kill our child also for your revenge?”
He stopped and turned to her. “A child? How do you know it is ours?”
She looked deep into his eyes. “I ate some medicine an old woman of our people prepared for me every time I was with him, so I would not have his child.” She touched her belly. “This is our child.”
Calling Crow sat suddenly in the sand, his strength leaving him. Juana came and put her arms around him. “Please understand, my love. I did what I did with him only because I had to. I did it for my family.”
“Where are your brother and your uncle now?” He spoke as if in a daze.
“They ran away to the mountains. Uncle died, but my brother still has not been captured.”
Calling Crow threw back his head. “Aieyee! We must leave this island.”
Juana put her hand on his face. “We can find peace here. If we are smart, our child can have a happy life and can be a part of this new world.”
“Woman, I am in their world, but I can never be of it.”
“Yes, you can, Calling Crow. You are a strong man, and brave. If you take from this new world what it offers, you can be much stronger.”
“What are you saying?”
“Those who fight against the Spanish are not happy. Those who fight can only run away or be killed. Those who take on the Spanish ways become stronger, don’t you see? To hunt the deer in your land, you must learn the way of the deer. You must wear the skin of the deer. It is the same with this. You must learn their ways. You must take on their ways. You are wise. You see how things are. Do I lie about these things?”
“You talk too much,” he said, but in his heart he was thinking. What she said might be true, but he didn’t know if he could do these things.
“If you would learn the ways of the Spanish we could have a better life here and so will our child.”
To even consider this hurt him. He said nothing.
Juana went on. “Why don’t you learn their language? Father Luis would teach you.”
“Why should I learn their language?”
“You could be one of their interpreters. You could make the lives of the people better.”
Calling Crow got to his feet. He could not consider that now. “That is enough talk for now.”
“I will wait for you here tomorrow,” she said.
He said nothing as he walked out.
On Calling Crow’s way back to Father Luis’s church, he saw the people who had come up from the reservation, sitting about on the streets of the town, waiting for food to fall from a wagon, or waiting for a chance to steal. He saw them rush to get out of the way when one of the Spanish rode past on their large horses. He saw their children begging. This contrasted with how fat and healthy the cholos and their children looked in their Spanish clothes. The Spanish had great power and wealth. Juana spoke the truth. It was as if he was seeing right for the first time in a long time. The Spanish were strange, brutal people, and he could not understand how the Great Spirit could let things come to this, but he could not hide from what his eyes showed him. The Spanish had great power and great medicine. And the ones who took on the Spanish ways had fat women and babies, and some of them even had the horses and carts of the Spanish.
Later that afternoon he went back to the mission church. With a heavy heart, he went inside and saw Father Luis praying alone. Calling Crow walked up behind him.
Father Luis turned and smiled expectantly.
“I want to go to the cacique school and learn more of the speech of your people.”
Father Luis raised his hands to the Jesus on the cross and smiled warmly. “Thank you, God, for hearing the prayers of someone with weak faith, such as me.” He turned to Calling Crow. “Roberto, my son. I take you there tomorrow.”
Chapter 27
In the workhouse behind the church, just past the big whitewashed arch that separated the small room from the big one, Calling Crow sat on the straw littered floor with three other Indian men. They were carving crucifixes from blocks of wood. He noticed that the two priests had finally begun working on the big forge, and he put down his carving and walked over to watch them. They had been building the thing for as long as he had been coming to the cacique’s school, and they had only recently finished it. He had watched them make the mud bricks, and the rack inside for the crucible, as well as stitch together the bellows. Earlier this day he had watched some men bring in baskets of the strange earth they used to make Spanish iron. Then they had begun feeding the fire. They worked all morning and the thing grew very hot, almost as hot as the sun, it seemed. Now they were about to make Spanish iron and Calling Crow very much wanted to see how it was done. He stood silently behind the priest who was moving the wooden pole coming out of the forge up and down. Sweat ran down the man’s tonsured head in the intense heat and the bellows wheezed like a man with a knife in his chest. The other priest prayed as he worked, his mouth moving as he paused from time to time to peer into the hot insides of the forge. Calling Crow strained to hear what medicine prayers the priest said in order to make the iron, but he could not hear because of the sucking noise of the bellows. Someone grabbed Calling Crow on the shoulder and he turned. Father Luis’s red sweaty face smiled at him. Calling Crow was pleased to see him. The father had been very good to him.
“Que piensa de la escuela?” asked Father Luis.
“Me gusta mucho,” Calling Crow said slowly.
Father Luis clapped him on the shoulder. “Father Gomez tells me you are learning faster than any of the other students.”
Calling Crow nodded.
“Good,” said Father Luis. “I would like you to go to the market for me.”
“Yes. I will go,” said Calling Crow.
Calling Crow brought the ass from the barn. He looped the halter over the animal’s head and then checked to ensure that the pack frame was secured to the its back. As he started down the road, Calling Crow looked back to see Father Luis watching him. He returned the wave. This trip to the market had become Calling Crow’s weekly chore. Calling Crow especially liked the trips because they gave him and Juana a chance to meet in the light of day. They met at the Stone Pouring Woman at the plaza.
Calling Crow went slowly through the streets, careful of the many people and animals racing here and there. He was always amazed at the sights of so many people and carts in one place, and so many big fine horses. He saw them now as noble animals, and he was amazed at how frightened he had been of them when he had first seen them and thought them demon dogs.
He spotted Juana ahead sitting alone on the edge of the fountain. The language of her posture made his heart heavy. She appeared weighed down by a heavy spirit. When she saw him approach, she straightened up and tried to appear happy.
“Why are you so worried?” he said as he came up to her.
She looked around at the people passing by and waited till a woman who had stopped to dip some water out of the fountain with her hands had finished and moved on. “The Bishop says he is going to send me away on the packet ship which leaves in the spring for New Spain. He worries that the baby will soon show, and he doesn’t want talk in his house.”
Calling Crow’s anger swelled as he thought of this man who had used her for so long, but anger soon turned to apprehension. He couldn’t let them take Juana away from him. “We could go to the mountains,” he said. “You could find someone to guide us.”
“And spend all our time moving and hiding while the soldiers hunt us? No, Calling Crow. Think of the baby. Up there it gets very cold at night and there is little food. The baby would not survive.”
“We cannot let him send you away.”
She looked around worriedly as his voice grew more agitated.
“We should have run away,” he said. “I should not have allowed you to change my mind.”
They fell silent as a group of people came to drink from the fountain’s cool waters. When they left Juana pulled him by the arm to sit down. He remained standing, holding the ass’s halter.
“I have a plan,” she said.
“What is that?”
“We could go to the Floridas.”
“How?” said Calling Crow, “by walking on the water like the Jesus?”
“No,” she said. “It can be done.”
“I thought it could only be done by the Spanish in their large ships.”
She shook her head. “My people did it for generations in big sea canoes long before the Spanish came here.”
“Then we shall just take one of their sea canoes and go,” said Calling Crow.
“There are no more.”
“Woman, why do you tell me these things if there are no more sea canoes?”
“Because,” Juana said slowly, as if thinking of the task at hand, “there are still a few old men left who know how to make the sea canoes, and how to read the winds and seas.”
“Who are they?”
