by Paul Clayton
Gregorio looked around at Pedro who kept well away from the women, gripping the harquebus as if he might have to shoot at any minute.
“What should we do?” said Pedro.
Gregorio smiled. “I think it is safe. Let me see what she wants.”
The woman pointed to the bushes and Gregorio went to her. He called back to Pedro. “She wants to talk with me away from the others, over there. It will be all right.”
Pedro’s face was dark with suspicion but he said nothing.
The woman pushed Gregorio toward the bushes.
Pedro called out. “Don’t go with her. It could be a trap!”
Despite the coolness of the shade, Gregorio’s face was beaded with sweat. He was charmed by this beautiful, young woman and her interest in him. He called to Pedro, “Don’t worry. Try to relax. It is all right.”
The older woman began haranguing the others. They gathered around her. The woman with Gregorio looked over at the old one, then turned to Gregorio and touched her breastbone.
“Shal-ee,” she said, “Shal-ee.”
Gregorio jabbed his thumb into his chest. “Gregorio, Gregorio.”
The woman who was called Shalee looked back and forth from the old woman, who appeared to be waiting for her, to Gregorio. She made signs to him, indicating that she wanted to meet him here again.
Gregorio nodded. He was struck with an idea. He took one of the match cords from the pocket of his doublet. Tying five knots into it, he used signs to tell her that she should untie one knot every day and he would meet her here when there were no more. She nodded and took the cord. Then she went over to the others.
The women left and Pedro remained where he was, eyeing the forests warily. Gregorio rejoined him and said nothing. “Let us go,” he said.
Without a word, they headed back in the direction of the fort.
Chapter 17
Calling Crow spent the morning in Green Bird Woman’s hut working on his new bow. She came and went and several times he glanced at her belly to see if it had gotten any bigger. He was sad that it had not. The other child hadn’t made much of a bulge either. Several moons had passed since their loss and they were again trying to make a baby. Calling Crow hoped it would come soon.
At full day, Calling Crow took his bow and left. Approaching the forest, he came upon a pretty girl walking alone. It was the same maiden who had wiped his brow the night of the black drink. She had been watching him ever since. She paused and smiled before entering the trees. He did not follow. There were two women in his life now and he had more trouble and sorrow than he had ever known. He did not need any more.
Calling Crow took a different path than the girl’s. In the forest, the dim light heightened his sadness, making him feel like a ghost. He headed for the dream place. He had gone there several times now but had seen no evidence that Juana had ever returned. Maybe she would come today. After walking awhile he stopped. Someone was following him. He left the trail and doubled back to where he had been. He froze in the shadows and waited. Dappled light moved on the forest floor; a beetle rustled the leafy litter at his feet as it followed its own tiny trail; a red-crested woodpecker rapped against a tree. Calling Crow waited motionless for a long time, but saw no one. Intrigued, he began walking again, picking up a faint trail. Someone had come through, moving in the direction of the Spanish settlement. He was sure of it. He ran the trail for a while, but their track had faded in the dim quiet.
Calling Crow watched the Spanish settlement from the trees. They had almost completed their palisade. The Spanish made a racket as they chopped trees. Their smoke was everywhere. They were burning green wood. Even traces of their bodily smells were evident on the breeze. He remembered how back on their island they would not let their slaves bathe, believing that it would kill them, and they would then no longer have the fruits of their labor. In their towns, they lay down smooth, hard stones to walk upon, evidently not caring to feel Mother Earth under their feet. Calling Crow did not hate them like Black Snake and some others, but he did not care for them either, except for a few. He wondered if he would ever understand them.
He studied them for a while as they worked on their wall and searched for roots, and then he went back into the forest.
He ran, leaving the sights and smells of the Spanish behind. As he glided between the trees, leaping logs and rocks, he was a part of the forest again, brother to the panther and the deer, son of Mother Earth and Father Sun. He slowed to a walk as he neared the dream place.
He moved into the copse and parted the bushes without a sound. Juana sat on the ground dressed in a Spanish gown, her arms wrapped around her knees. Calling Crow moved closer and confusion flooded his head. His life was divided into two parts now, with one woman for each. Juana was from that first life of long ago. Green Bird Woman was from the second. His life with Green Bird Woman had been good of late. She would soon bear him a child, or so she insisted. Could he go back and re-enter that first life now? He was confused. His spirit guide had brought Juana and him to the same place. Why?
He watched her for a while and knew he must go to her. Ever since he saw her last, his love for her had grown. Like a fanned heap of coals, it had burst into flame and now it burned hot. He left the bushes.
Juana stood and turned to run. Calling Crow ran to her and held her fast. Terrified, she struggled so much that he was afraid she would hurt herself.
“Stop,” he said.
She was unable to hear him and fought. Her frantic eyes moved rapidly over his face. Then recognition dawned in them.
“Calling Crow,” she said in wonder, “it is you!” She cried, shaking.
“Stop,” he said with concern, “why do you cry so?”
She looked up at him. “Calling Crow, when I saw you before, I thought you were a ghost. But it is you!” She caressed his face.
Calling Crow rubbed away a tear. “It is me, yes, and it is you.”
They held each other tightly.
“I couldn’t believe it when I first saw you,” said Calling Crow, “I had begun to think that we would never find each other. But the Great Spirit has brought us together. It is his wish.”
Juana laughed with joy. “I came here with these people because I thought I could find you again. Something kept telling me I could. Thank God you are all right. They beat you so badly I thought-- “ Juana started to cry again and Calling Crow pulled her close.
“We are together again. Speak not of the troubles of the past.”
They sat on the bank for a long time without speaking. Then Calling Crow said, “Where is our child?”
Juana put her hand on his knee. She looked at the ground as she spoke. “He was born on the ship the day they took me away from you. And he only lived for three days.”
Calling Crow got to his feet and walked off a ways, looking into the thick bushes. He raised his arms to the sky, crying out. “Aieyee! It is a curse.” His eyes were moist with tears but he made no sound.
“I buried him in the sea,” Juana continued. “His death was a punishment from God for forsaking him. When they put me on the ship for Hispaniola and I thought I would never see you again, I stopped believing in God. For that, he punished me.”
Calling Crow said nothing and Juana went to him. She put her hand on his shoulder. When he turned she said, “He was not baptized, but Father Tomas said that he is in Heaven now. He said my repentance and my prayers have sent him there.”
Calling Crow recognized the words that a priest had once taught him for the place in the sky where the Catholics went after they died.
Juana reached up and wiped a tear from his face “I have already shed all my tears for him. There are no more left.”
Calling Crow nodded. He pulled out the wooden cross from under his buckskin shirt. “You dropped this here before. It stopped an arrow that could have killed me.”
“Father Tomas has blessed it and it will continue to protect you. Keep it.”
Calling Crow put the cross
back under his buckskin shirt. “Who is Father Tomas?” he said.
“He is a wonderful priest who is also a physician. Back on the island, when I no longer wanted to live, he showed me the way back to faith.” Juana smiled at him. “Tell me about what has happened to you.”
Calling Crow told her how he had gone back to his people and how they had begun dying of the Spanish disease. He told her how they had blamed him for the tragedy and chased him out. He told her of his trek south and how he was captured and then adopted by the Coosa people.
Juana’s smile faded as she intuited Green Bird Woman. She turned away from him. “There is a woman,” she said.
“Yes,” said Calling Crow. “She took care of me when I was sick. I have stayed in her house these last eleven moons.” Calling Crow pulled Juana to him. “But always I wanted to be with you. I have never stopped loving you, never.”
Juana lay her head against his chest. “Nor I you, my love.”
Neither spoke for a few moments.
“Come with me and be my woman again.”
Juana frowned. “So much has happened. It is not that simple, Calling Crow. We must wait and pray and think about this. I will talk to Father Tomas.” She smiled, hope lighting her face. “If we pray together with him, he will guide us and give us his blessing.”
“Juana,” said Calling Crow. “Haven’t we had enough of them? All of our troubles, all of our sorrows are because of them.”
Juana looked at her feet. “Perhaps not, Calling Crow. Perhaps our troubles were our own doing. We never had our union sanctified by the sacrament of marriage. In God’s eyes we were living in sin.”
“No,” said Calling Crow, “don’t talk like that. You have been too long with the Spanish. Come with me. After you are away from them for a while you will see things right.”
“It is not that simple, Calling Crow.” She tried to smile. “Now there is this other woman. For us to continue as before would be a sin.”
“Aieyee!” said Calling Crow. “Forget sin and come with me.”
Juana got to her feet. “I must go now.”
After she left, Calling Crow’s head filled with many questions and worries. He sat unmoving on the bank until the sun began to set.
Chapter 18
Gregorio took one last look back at the palisade and was convinced no one had seen him. In the early summer heat, the others spent more of their time inside the huts, out of the sun. He slipped into the forest. Shouldering the crossbow, he headed for the stream where the women had been. He found the place deserted. Crouching on the stream bank, he watched the slowly moving water. Soon he heard a rustle in the bushes and jumped to his feet. It was her!
The woman called Shalee stepped out of a gap in the bushes and gestured. Gregorio followed her, coming out into a clearing under a tall tree. In the gentle, dappled light, the air smelled of warm mud and flowers. Shalee caressed the thinning hair of Gregorio’s forehead. She moved her hand along his nose, his lips. He looked into her eyes and saw warmth there. She smiled and took the necklaces from her neck, revealing her pear-like breasts. She dropped her skirt and Gregorio stared in wonder at her nakedness. In two years of marriage he had never seen his own wife naked.
Shalee laughed like a girl at Gregorio’s shock. She lay her skin skirt down and sat down upon it. She patted the grass beside her. He swallowed hard and sat.
He was a little embarrassed at her total lack of concern for her nakedness. He felt guilty. It must be sinful to be here with her, he thought, but his desire overruled all caution. He moved to do as she indicated, feeling almost as if he were a marionette.
She lay back and pulled him toward her. Smiling, she indicated that he should mount her.
Gregorio’s heart pounded. He looked around, then pulled down his breeches. She received him with such enthusiasm that it startled him. Soon he lay spent beside her.
She uttered a small cry of delight and tugged at a button on his doublet. He pulled out his knife, cut it off, and handed it to her. She brought the button close to inspect it, her eyes shining with such fascination that Gregorio felt another twinge of guilt. She seemed not to know the seriousness of what they had just done and was as casual about it as an animal would be. But he knew. And he had not stopped her. She smiled at him and indicated that they should do it again. He wanted to, but his original feelings of guilt were returning with greater force. She caressed his member and laughed. Again, her total lack of guilt worried and frightened him, but her touch thrilled him. It was not right, but it was. It was wonderful but it was debauched, not quite-- right.
She seemed to know his troubled mind and caressed his brow while looking into his eyes. Her face lit up with a childlike mirth. “Shalee,” she said. She touched his chest, “Gregor.”
He jabbed his thumb into his chest. “Gregorio, Gregorio.”
He discovered that his manhood was awake and throbbing. She laughed at his excitement and pulled him down. They coupled again and this time it went on longer. Finishing, he kissed her. She laughed, evidently finding the custom strange. She rubbed her lips as if exploring them for the first time. He laughed and they lay a long time together in the dappled light beneath the tree. Finally he got to his feet and helped her up. She took his arm and pulled him close. He smiled and indicated that he had to go back to the fort.
Shalee spoke again and he knew she was asking him to come and see her again. He wondered what the priest would think of this, worse, what would Peralta think? Pedro knew nothing about his coming back here. But he would have to be careful. Despite the danger however, he knew he would come back. He could not live without a woman. Not anymore. When he had come here with the others, his own wife had remained back in Santo Domingo. He was to send for her when they became established. When she came here, could he have this woman and keep it a secret? He would deal with that later. At this moment he cared not.
Chapter 19
Pedro stood guard, the big harquebus loaded and upright by his side, as he stared into the deep green of the forest. A few feet away, four other men, Senor Peralta’s assistant, Bartolome Valdez, Salazar, the interpreter, and Aguire and Gregorio, knelt as they dug up Indian turnips. The sun had disappeared over the trees and the tired, hungry men worked slowly in the sultry air. Pedro half-listened to their talk. Always it was the same, talk of their days in Santo Domingo, of the ship that would not come until the season of storms had passed, of the strange sights and sounds of this strange land. Just the night before Pedro had been roused by the hysterical screams of a woman who had awakened to find a serpent coiled around her ankle. It was not poisonous and she was unharmed, but her screams had plunged the entire settlement into a noisy night of terror. Everyone thought the Indians were attacking, and not a soul had slept until the sun began to rise. When word finally got around about what had happened, the woman was soundly chastised. Pedro however, sympathized with her. What did they expect from anyone in this God-forsaken place.
He should never have come. He had thought there would be more opportunity here than in Santo Domingo. How wrong he had been. He had also come because he was Catholic and had wanted to help the priest in his conversions. They said that for every savage soul one brought to Baptism, thousands of years of one’s sentence in hell were wiped out. But even the savages would not cooperate, refusing to let him or anyone near their pigsty of a village.
A parrot cawed loudly somewhere in the green of the forest and Pedro thought of the woman named Selena, back in the City of Santo Domingo that he had been courting. Her mother had kept a parrot in their house. He had hoped to bring Selena over when they became established here, but now he had doubts. The more he thought about it, he was tempted to go back to the island on the first ship that came here. That is, if a ship ever came here. He worried about bringing a new bride here to struggle like a peasant. Despite the lechers and brigands back in the City of Santo Domingo, he would go back. They could live a good Catholic life there. And as far as the opportunity of saving souls was
concerned, there were still some Indians back there who desired to learn the faith, while here they were arrogant and refused to even listen.
Pedro thought of his walks with Selena, her girlish laughter tickling his ears. Then he thought of the other woman he had once been with, one of the women the soldiers went to, and he felt a hunger. Then shame came over him, for he knew to go to them was a sin.
His stomach growled. His hunger was even worse than his loneliness. He looked down at his sack of turnips at his feet that the others had collected. Later this evening when they went back to the huts, Senor Peralta would parcel them out, everyone getting his or her meager share, barely enough to keep one alive.
Pedro looked over at Valdez and the others. They were not looking his way and he took a turnip from the sack and shoved it into his mouth. It tasted of the cool earth as he crunched its bitter, wet flesh between his teeth. He bent over to get another and something hard crashed into his head.
Young Senor Valdez faced him, a stick in his hand. Behind him stood Gregorio and the other two men.
“He’s eating the damn turnips!” said Valdez.
Pedro boiled with rage at the injustice of the blow. “I only took one,” he shouted, “I swear it! Only one.”
Valdez’s eyes flared at the young man’s carping. He pulled back as if to strike Pedro a second blow and Pedro backed away, his face reddening.
“One more word,” said Valdez, “and I’ll report you to Senor Peralta for a whipping.”
Pedro noticed the superior smile on Gregorio’s face and his anger flared anew. How dare he, of all people, laugh at his discomfort? Pedro had not actually seen Gregorio go back to the place where they had met the Indian women, but he suspected that he went there. Pedro remembered the way Gregorio had looked at one of the women that time.
Pedro turned away from the others and stared into the forest. Something in there moved. He blinked his eyes. Savages appeared a short distance away, almost as if they had climbed out of the very trees. Pedro brought the harquebus up to firing position.
