by Ann Rinaldi
Ramona wanted a new cast-iron stove in the kitchen. The one she presently used smoked unmercifully, and Elinora had promised her that she would speak to her uncle about it. Of course, not even Ramona would enter into such a conspiracy if she knew the girls met with boys at night. They told her they simply wanted to sit in the garden and watch the stars.
This night Elinora lied to her again. She told Ramona we were going to check on Doña Elenita, a friend of Mrs. Lacey's, and that Mrs. Lacey was not able to sleep until she heard that this friend's baby's fever had broken. We would be only an hour. Ramona was inordinately fond of Mrs. Lacey. She was always baking special delicacies for her. And she had instructed her husband, Gregorio, who was also the gardener, to let us out the front gate and in an hour be waiting to let us back in.
What we were really doing was paying a visit to Dolores la Penca. She lived on Agua Fria Road.
She was a good witch.
Consuello, one of the night boarders at the school, had told us about Dolores. And explained to us the difference between curanderas, good witches, and brujas, bad witches.
Consuello had told us of Dolores la Penca's reputation of healing and relieving suffering and illness. And how she had special powers to predict the future.
Elinora had boned up on Dolores, and on other witches in Santa Fe. I thought I might ask this woman if I would ever hear from my father again. So we set off in the bone-chilling November evening. In a small basket, Elinora had some tortillas left over from supper, and cooked dried chokecherries. Ramona sent it along for Doña Elenita. We, of course, would give it as an offering to Dolores, the good witch.
I held our lantern as we stole through the streets. At first I was very frightened. What I saw bore no resemblance at all to Santa Fe in the daytime. The people looked different, sinister. The young señoritas had let their hair down and it flowed on their backs like horses' manes. They wore pearl and amber combs high in their hair. Their skirts were bright red. Men wore scarlet sashes and tight pants and polished boots. Their outfits gleamed with silver, and they all seemed possessed by a quality of languorous confidence.
It was the light, I decided. The brightness of day was gone, with all its brutal truth. A special glow was thrown out onto the wooden walks from the saloons, from which drifted the music of guitars and mandolins. There was excitement in the air as we made our way through the throngs of people. I pressed closer to Elinora, who seemed to know her way.
We turned down a side lane, and the street was filled with menacing shadows. Our small lantern gave scant light. Up ahead a single window glowed with light. "That's it," Elinora said.
She did have brass, I decided.
"Consuello said this is the oldest house in Santa Fe," Elinora told me as we walked up the lane. "Another witch lives here with Dolores, but she isn't often home. I suspect that on a night such as this she is out riding her fireball. New Mexico's witches ride fireballs instead of brooms, you know."
I stared at her. "You believe that?"
"I don't dare not believe it. Any more than I dare not believe that they can cure a migraine headache by passing an egg across your forehead. Or cure a serious illness by hitting the person's shadow with a broom. Now, be careful what you say to Dolores. Call her ma'am, like you do Mother Magdalena. They require utmost respect. They can put hexes on people, too, you know. Whatever you do, just don't make the sign of the cross in her presence."
I nodded silently. And then, as we neared the house, a figure stepped out of the shadows. At first he seemed to be an old man, poorly clad in some rough cloak. Behind him stood a mule, and over the mule's back was a sack. "Scusa," he said.
"Oh!" Elinora stepped closer to me, startled.
"Very sorry," the man said. As he stepped out of the shadows, I held up the lantern and saw he was not that old. Only his eyes were. His face was one minute young and the next like my father's, lined but not old. "I did not mean to frighten you. I heard you talking and thought I might ask."
"Ask what?"
I thought Elinora was being unnecessarily rude, but I kept a still tongue in my head.
The man searched her face with those old eyes of his, then looked at me and smiled, almost as if he recognized me. "I need some work," he said. "I am a carpenter. I am new to town and I need some work. My tools are in that sack." He pointed to the mule. "Do you young ladies perhaps know of someone who needs some building to be done?"
"Certainly not," Elinora said. "But I do know that no gentleman approaches young ladies on the street in Santa Fe. Especially when we are wearing the uniform of Our Lady of Light Academy!"
I pulled her aside. "Elinora, he said he's new to town," I protested. "How would he know our uniforms?"
"He's still no gentleman if he does not recognize young ladies of quality," she whispered.
I had a thought then. "What about the staircase in the chapel? It needs a builder."
"Nonsense," she whispered back savagely. "Can't you see he's dressed like a beggar? What would he know about building a staircase in such an elegant chapel?"
"We must be on our way," she said to the man. "I am sorry. Perhaps if you ask tomorrow in town."
He nodded solemnly. Then he gestured with his head to the witches' house. "Have a care in there."
"What?" Elinora asked indignantly.
"Don't believe everything you hear. There is only one magic." And he pointed to his chest. "The goodness of the heart."
"Come on, Lizzy." Elinora pulled my arm.
"Wait." I stood firm, and something compelled me to pay mind to this man. There was about him something familiar. I felt as if I knew him. It was the same way I felt about Sister Roberta. "Sir, are you hungry?" I asked.
He smiled. "It has been awhile since I have partaken of food. And my mule here could use some fodder."
"If you wait until we come out of this house, you can come back to the school with us. The nuns often feed hungry strangers."
"Lizzy!" Elinora's whisper was fierce. "What's wrong with you? Bring him back? We aren't even supposed to be out!"
"I don't wish to cause trouble," the man said.
"Then go, and leave us be!" Elinora grabbed my arm and pulled me in the direction of the gate to the witches' house. I looked over my shoulder to smile at the man, but he had disappeared into the shadows.
We went through the little gate and up the walk. A light burned beyond the windows. Firmly Elinora knocked. A silky youthful voice came from the other side of the iron grillwork door. "I will be there in a moment."
"Oh, one more thing," Elinora cautioned. "Don't look directly into her eyes. They know the art of the ojo malo, the evil eye. They can make you sick with a stare. She has been known to turn men into women. And women into coyotes."
The door opened.
The woman who stood there seemed too young to be a witch, although I must admit that night I could not fathom anybody's age. She wore a black skirt and a shawl. At first I thought the shawl was ragged. Then I saw it had strips of cloth sewn on it that dangled down, like wide fringe. And there were some designs on the strips; they looked to be Indian. And when she moved they appeared to be luminous in the lantern light.
"Ah, the little girls from the academy. Come in. Consuello told me to expect you this evening." She stepped aside, and hesitantly I followed Elinora through the door and quickly looked around.
The house seemed elegantly furnished, as far as rugs and silver plate and curios and polished wood, but it was overcluttered. From the rafters hung bundles of herbs. On the wide windowsills sat pots of plants. There was a cast-iron stove in the corner, the kind Ramona wanted for her kitchen. On it were cast-iron pots simmering with liquids that let off putrid smells.
"Come in, come in, sit down," Dolores said. She took the lantern from my hand, held it up before her, stared at it, and the candle within went out. I felt a chill. I followed Elinora to the hearth, where a fire burned. I sat on a settle next to Elinora. Dolores sat opposite us. I slid my eyes around again
, looking for cats or brooms. I saw none, but in a moment I heard a rustling of feathers, then felt something fly past my head. I put my arms up to protect myself.
"That's only Sitting Bull," she said. And she laughed at our wide-eyed response. "Watch when he lights on something. There, doesn't he look like an Indian chief?"
The owl had taken hold of a wire rod on a table. He snuggled down into his feathers and eyed us steadily. I saw no resemblence to any Indian I ever knew, but Elinora said, "Yes, yes," as if she recognized the likeness.
"Now, tell me what you require," Dolores said.
Elinora sighed heavily. "First let me give you this." She handed over the small basket of food intended for Doha Elenita.
"An offering. Thank you. I see they teach you manners at the academy. Well, come now, it grows late. And I am sure you must soon be back."
"Yes." Elinora cast me a sideways look and plunged in. "Ma'am," she said, "I know you give advice. I need it badly. It concerns my future."
Outside the wind had picked up and rattled at the windows. Dolores gazed intently at Elinora, waiting.
"I think I have a calling," Elinora said. "As a matter of fact, I am sure of it. I want to become a nun. I need you to tell me if my calling is real."
More wind and rattling windows. For an instant all the candles flickered, and from the corner of my eye I saw Sitting Bull hop to another perch, closer to us than before. That old man out there will he cold, I found myself thinking crazily. We must get him back to the convent. Maybe he can sleep in the barn tonight. I'll give some of Ben's food to his mule.
For a moment or two the old man was all I could think of. I tried desperately to recall who he reminded me of, where I had seen him before. I closed my eyes, the better to see him again, gentle and asking for work. And admonishing us to "have a care in there." That there is only one magic, the goodness of the heart.
I knew in that moment a terrible need to take him back with us. It became more and more urgent and right in my mind as I sat there.
And then Elinora was shaking me. I jerked myself awake. I'd fallen asleep! Oh, I felt so embarrassed. The fire was low in the hearth. Dolores got up, bent over it, blew on it, and all at once it came to life with a crackling glow.
"We must leave, Elinora," I said. "It's late."
Sitting Bull's eyes were closed. I pulled Elinora to her feet. Dolores led us to the door.
"Be careful going home. And remember what I told you," she said to Elinora. Then she blew on Elinora's lantern and a light appeared on the candle.
What had she told her? I had dozed. Or had I? And then as the chill night air hit me I knew the truth. Dolores the witch had put me under a spell so I couldn't hear what had transpired between them. I hadn't even had a chance to ask her if I would hear from my father again. I felt cheated. I was angry as the door closed behind us, and the minute I could adjust my eyes to the darkness I looked for the man and his mule.
He was there in the shadows. Waiting.
9
ELINORA ABIDED THE MAN and his mule only because she was so tainted with vanity on the way back about what Dolores had told her.
"I have a calling, Lizzy! She told me it was true! I have a calling to be a nun! Oh, wait until I tell my uncle!"
The man and his mule followed a discreet distance behind us. "You want to be a nun?" I was incredulous. "What about your singing? I thought you wanted to be like Jenny Lind."
"I want to be a nun. I just wasn't sure if my calling was true, before tonight. Now I know it is!" She did a little jig on the wooden walk. "Oh, look, there's a crowd up ahead. What do you suppose is going on?"
The crowd was assembling at the end of the Governor's Palace, where the jail was. "I don't know," I said. But I had a queer fear inside me. We had stopped to stare, and the old man's voice came from behind us. "Perhaps it would be good to travel on another street."
Elinora had forgotten he was with us. She stared up at him. "Yes, let's walk one street over." So we went down a side street to avoid trouble. I was surprised that Elinora had taken his advice, or even condescended to speak to him. At the same time, I had the feeling she was grateful he was with us. Especially when we heard, from the direction of the crowd, the long, agonized sound of a man crying out in the night.
AS WE NEARED THE SCHOOL and convent, we knew immediately that something was amiss. Torches were lit all up and down the walk in front, and in the back courtyard. Lights burned in the windows. People were gathering out front of the street, where two mules—the first white mules I'd ever seen in my fife—were harnessed to a wagon. I even saw some of the boarding girls, in long wrappers, in the courtyard.
"Oh!" Elinora drew back into the shadows. "It's my uncle's wagon!"
"Are you sure?" I knew he wasn't expected until next week.
"Yes. Those are his mules, Contento and Angelica. He's had them for years. But he's a week early! Oh, what will we do? How will we get inside without being seen?"
"I think we can probably sneak inside, what with all the confusion."
Just then we heard a whisper through the iron gate. "Girls, girls. Psst."
It was Gregorio. And Ramona. We crept toward them.
"You must come inside. They think you lost," Gregorio said. "Come, please. My wife, she get in trouble."
We started in the gate, then Elinora stopped and turned. "Not you," she said to the beggar. "You can't come in. Not now."
"Yes!" I pushed in front of her. "Gregorio, please. This man is hungry and cold. And he is a carpenter. Please, can't we give him a place tonight?"
Gregorio would have given a place to Jesse James to get us in off the street. "Go to the back of barn," he told the beggar. "To the gate. I let you in."
The man nodded and left, and in the next instant, Elinora and I were pulled in through the gate and it clanged shut.
"Look, look," one girl yelled. It was Consuello herself. "There they are! I told you they weren't lost. There they are, Your Eminence."
A man came striding across the courtyard toward us. He was dressed in a buckskin riding coat with fringed cuffs. It was open in front. Under it he wore a black vest, a cravat, and a stiff collar as a priest wears. On his head was a wide-brimmed hat; on his feet, dusty boots. I don't know what a bishop is supposed to look like, but this one was handsome in a dignified, stern way. I saw by the way he nodded to people he brushed by that he was mannerly and concerned. That he was wellborn, distinguished, and certainly a man to be reckoned with.
"Elinora! Is it you? Is this my dear niece's child, then?" He held out his arms. Elinora ran to him. "Uncle, dear uncle." She burst into tears and threw herself down to kneel at his feet. "Oh, Uncle, forgive me. I have been naughty. But Lizzy wanted to sneak out this evening, and I couldn't let her go alone. I feared for her safety. I only went as a friend."
I stood like a mule bitten by a rattlesnake, taken aback by her lie and her acting. Around Elinora and Bishop Lamy gathered the nuns, the girls who boarded, the household help, and several strangers drawn off the street by the arrival of the Bishop.
Then two things happened. The Bishop drew Elinora to her feet and embraced her and everyone applauded. And Mother Magdalena stepped forward to grab me by the arm. "So, it was your doing! I might have guessed! Do you know what you put us through this night? You come along with me, young lady, right now!"
As she dragged me inside I saw Sister Roberta in the crowd. I met her eyes. They were kind and she was shaking her head as if to say, "No, no, you have the wrong culprit, Mother."
But she was the only one who knew it besides Ramona and Gregorio. And they were lucky Elinora didn't lay blame at their feet.
I got a switching that night from Mother Magdalena. The switch that she kept in her office bit through the long purple uniform and my underclothes. I had never been switched in my life, and the pain was nothing compared with the humiliation. Then I was made to sleep in what the girls called the dungeon. It was not a dungeon but a small room off the kitchen, with a hardbo
ard bed with no mattress, no pillow, and a thin blanket. There was a high small window, a crucifix on the wall, and a nightstand with a bowl and a pitcher of cold water. One single candle glowed in a wall alcove below the crucifix.
The nuns called it the penance chamber.
I shivered and wept on the hardboard bed. When the house had quieted down, there came a single knock on the door, then it opened. I sat up, frightened.
"It's only me, child." It was Sister Roberta. She had brought a blanket, a pillow, and a warm brick wrapped in a towel. "I know how cold this cell can get at night. We Sisters sometimes use it when we are fasting and doing penance. You have no need to do penance, so I'm breaking all the rules. Here." She put the pillow and blanket on the bed, and the heated brick at my feet. "Now wait."
She disappeared into the kitchen. In a few minutes she returned with a mug of hot chocolate.
"Thank you, Sister." I was shivering. She sat down on the bed and held me for a moment, clasping me to her ample bosom. "It wasn't your fault, now, was it?"
I shook my head no. "But the Bishop will hate me. Maybe he'll put me out."
"Don't you worry about Bishop Lamy. He isn't anybody's puppet. He likely knows already that his niece was lying."
"How?"
"That's why he's a bishop. If he speaks to you of it, you must tell him the truth."
"Why would he speak to me?"
"Because he speaks to all the students."
"But I'm a heretic. That's what Mother Magdalena called me tonight."
"If it's a heretic you are, then you're a beloved little heretic. The Bishop speaks to heretics, don't worry. Also," she lowered her voice, "he knows what a coquette his niece was. She got her own way in everything when she was here. And Elinora is just like her."
"You remember Elinora's mother?"
