by Horst, John
She could make out no direction in which the campers had traveled and she couldn’t find any more evidence of Juana. She rode along the most likely trail all day and found nothing. It was beginning to get dark and she was forced to return to her cave. She hadn’t brought provisions for an extended foray into the desert.
Maria didn’t hold out much hope for Juana now anyway and thought it a worthless endeavor to follow up on whoever had caused all the blood. She ate a little and did not bother with a fire. She got into her bed and finally fell asleep.
After a time, she sensed a presence and sat up. Juana was sitting in her bloody clothes and eating Maria’s leftovers. She smiled at Maria. There was something very strange about her. She looked like a dead person, very pale, her round face appearing to glow in the dark; her raven tresses were almost too black to be natural against the porcelain skin. Maria got up and sat next to her. She suddenly felt cold and got a fire going. The whole time, Juana said nothing. Maria watched her eat.
Finally, Juana smiled and, lifting her chin, leaned back and a gash opened wide across the width of her neck. “Look what the son of a bitch did to me.”
Maria got closer. She could see it was a fatal blow. “So, you are dead?”
“I guess.”
Maria looked at her hands and down into the fire. She felt as she had when the old woman died. She looked back at Juana. “Why are you here, then?”
“You need to sew this up for me.” She pointed at her throat. “I can’t go around like this. And I need clean clothes. These are a mess.”
Maria got her kit out, the one she got from the nice lady by the sea, and began working on Juana’s throat. Before she could start, Juana stopped her. “Use blue thread, Maria. I like blue.”
Maria changed the thread and worked on Juana’s neck. She got some water and a rag and wiped the dried blood from her neck and face and arms. She got her a new dress and handed it over. Juana stripped down and threw her bloody outfit on the fire and, as it burned, the whole room lit up and got very warm. “Are you in heaven, Juana?”
“I guess so.” Juana looked herself over and then looked around the room. She found Maria’s old mirror, the one the old woman had given her. She looked into it to survey the work Maria had done on her neck and was satisfied. She turned the mirror over to Maria and regarded Maria’s reflection as they both gazed into it. “This is the only one you can rely on, Maria. Remember that.”
“Did the man who attacked us do this to you?”
“I don’t know.”
Juana stood up and brushed the back of her dress off. “Thanks, Maria. Your sewing looks good.” She looked as if she was preparing to go somewhere and Maria didn’t want her to leave. She suddenly thought of a question.
“What’s it like?”
“Oh, it didn’t hurt. I just …, just died.”
“No, no. What’s heaven like?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s nice. I don’t know, it’s more of a feeling, not like the world. I haven’t seen any people and I’m not tired or hungry. Just nice.”
“You’ve not seen Jesus then?”
Juana laughed out loud, as if it was a silly question. “Oh, no. None of that.” She began to drift away, away from the firelight and then stopped. “You can’t stay here, Maria. You can’t be alone. You’ll go mad.”
Maria looked at her. She felt desperate to say something, but she was becoming very sleepy and she couldn’t think of anything to say. She finally came up with some words. “Where will I go?”
“Go to the whores, Maria. You don’t have to be one, but you need them. You need them.” Then she was gone.
Maria woke late. She awoke to hunger pangs as she’d not eaten since early the day before. She looked around the room for Juana but she wasn’t there. She missed her and wanted to cry. She’d never cried before, even over the old woman, but she wanted to cry now. She suddenly started crying and the tears ran down her cheeks and into her mouth and they tasted salty. Her nose was running and she got tired of crying and stopped. She wiped her face and blew her nose.
She occupied herself with chores and thought about Juana some more. She kept looking for Juana but she was never there and all the looking made her exhausted. She had to lie down. She never went to sleep during the day but she had to now. She was so tired and had a horrible headache. She awoke near sunset and climbed up to her lookout and watched as the sun went down.
Maria felt a little better because the sky was clear and the sunset beautiful. She watched as shadows were cast on the land and daylight slowly turned to darkness. The sky became a beautiful deep purple and, eventually, black and the stars were out again. Way off she heard coyotes crying and it was a comforting sound.
She thought about Juana when the coyotes cried. They were together, the coyotes, it was always that way. The animals, most of them, liked to be together. She had thought at one point, before Juana became a ghost, that she could always be alone, that it wouldn’t bother her, but Juana’s words were haunting and she was suddenly lonely. She’d never been lonely up to this point in her life but now she was and it was a sad feeling. The ghost of Juana was right. She could not stay here, in her lovely cave, all alone. When Juana wasn’t a ghost it was all right. She didn’t need a huge clan, but she needed another human being. Juana’s ghost was right.
She ate and got ready for bed. She had no companionship and decided to bring the burros into the cave. They were such good burros, they always did what she wanted, and as long as they were together, they didn’t mind where they spent the night.
Soon they became acclimated to their new sleeping quarters and lay down like a couple of oversized dogs, at the foot of Maria’s bed. She felt better hearing other beings breathing, living, nearby and this let her fall quickly to sleep. She hoped that Juana would visit her again as she missed her desperately.
Halfway through the night, Juana was there. She was eating again and the burros didn’t stir. She waited for Maria to sit down across from her at the fire ring before addressing her.
Juana looked at the burros. “It stinks of these beasts in here, Maria.”
“They’re not so bad.”
“Why’d you bring them in?”
Maria shrugged.
“I know and so do you. You’re lonely. You’re going to go mad, Maria. You’ve got to leave.”
“I’m …, I don’t know the way.”
Juana ate crumbs from her skirt. “It’s easy. Just follow the road north. It’ll take you right to the town. Once you’re there, go to the whores. It’s going to be okay, Maria. See the one with yellow hair. You remember her.”
“What’s her name?”
Juana shrugged.
“You don’t know her name?”
“I’ve forgotten.”
Maria looked at Juana’s neck and the sutures of blue thread were gone. She was surprised at this.
“I know.” She tilted her head back to give Maria a good view. “All healed.” She stood up and smiled at Maria. “I’ve got to go now, Maria. And you do, too. Go before the rains come. It will be good. I promise it will be good.” She looked around the cave and then at Maria. “This is no place for you, Maria.” She was gone.
For the next few days, Juana didn’t visit her and Maria spent her time making baskets and talking to the burros who were very companionable. They’d now become familiar with the new routine and would let themselves in and out of the cave as they pleased. Every evening, just at sundown, they returned to Maria’s bedchamber and settled in for the night. Maria mucked out the cave every day and added it to her list of chores. She didn’t mind as it kept her occupied.
She awoke to heavy rain and thought how nice her cave was now. It kept her dry, not like the hovel she shared with the old woman. Every time it rained there, it was miserable because the structure had a horrible roof and all their things would get wet. She’d have to lie under a wet blanket and it was so hot and steamy that it would make sleeping impossible. The cave was not like
that at all and she fell back to sleep listening to the rain and the sound of rolling thunder off in the distance. Every now and again a lighting flash would light up the cave, but not even the burros cared one way or another. They were all safe and dry.
By morning the rain was still coming down and Maria regretted disappointing Juana. She was certain she’d get a visit from her, admonishing her for not going to the whores by now. She couldn’t say that she actually liked Juana’s visits. They were scary and she didn’t like talking to the dead. It was not natural for Juana to be roaming about as a ghost, but she did enjoy the conversations with her. She liked, even perhaps, loved Juana very much and missed her terribly. Now she’d have to wait for the rain to stop and this gave her some time. She didn’t have to worry about what to do as she could do nothing until the rains were gone.
Maria heard a great rushing sound and decided to investigate. Suddenly she started to run as she realized her treasure cache was in danger. The water under the cave had become a great rushing river and had risen above the height of her secret ledge. She arrived to see the water steadily rising and, without giving it any thought, jumped in. The current was horrendous and she found herself being swept away.
Maria fought with all her might and made it across. Everything was gone. The ledge was empty. She held onto the ledge and looked back at the other side. She didn’t want to try to get back. A wave of panic hit her and she clamped onto the ledge, frozen, unable to move.
Maria knew she had to move, knew she could not stay where she was. The water was cold and she was getting numb. Soon she wouldn’t be able to make her legs move and the water was getting steadily higher. She thought about what she had to do.
If she didn’t get back across, the water would soon press her against the roof of the cave and she’d drown. Taking a deep breath, she pushed off with all her might. She felt herself being sucked downward, down as if the river was running into a giant drain. She wondered if she would soon be dead, would she join Juana. They’d be together, but perhaps not. She was a pagan and Juana was not. Maybe she wouldn’t go where Juana was and then she’d be alone again.
Maria was becoming lightheaded and she wasn’t certain where to swim. She was fading. Finally, looking up, she saw a light and could see Juana standing in a little doorway at the foot of the steps. She was reaching for Maria.
Maria found the bottom and pushed off, using the last bit of energy she had. Finally, she was there, on the other side and could pull herself out of the water. She was safe and Juana was gone.
She made a fire and warmed up as she considered her situation. Now she had no money. She had plenty of food and the burros, but no fortune. She couldn’t wait it out until she was old enough to find a man and settle down like the nice lady by the sea told her to do. She was back to square one and she thought she might just have to stay in the cave indefinitely. At least she was out of the elements and could survive. She had enough to keep herself alive.
She thought about all this until she fell asleep and Juana woke her again.
“Well, you’ve done it now.” Juana was eating.
“I know.”
“You should have left before the rains. I told you that.”
“I’m sorry.”
Juana smiled, like a parent scolding a child. “Oh well. At least you’re alive.”
Maria sat and wondered what to do. Juana continued. “You still need to go to the whores. You’ve got the burros and your lamps and blankets and things. You can sell all that and live. You can find work with the whores. You don’t need to be one. You can do the washing and you’re a pretty good cook.”
Juana continued to give her advice but Maria didn’t hear her. She was too tired and drifted off to sleep.
After a while the rains finally stopped. During this time Maria did a lot of thinking. She still wouldn’t go to the whores. She didn’t like the brothel and there was something about the mean man calling her a whore’s spawn, something so hateful in his voice that she resolved not to be with them. She didn’t want to be a whore and, despite Juana’s declarations that this would not happen, she was sure it would be only a matter of time. She knew, already, at a young age, that she was remarkably beautiful and she’d grow into a beautiful woman and the whores and the whores’ customers wouldn’t leave her alone. She was certain of this, knew it in her heart and she would not take such a path. She would never, no matter how bad things got, become a whore.
She thought a lot about the pretty assistant by the sea. The sea was the most beautiful place she’d ever seen, even more beautiful than the desert at sunset and she thought that, even if the fence wouldn’t let her live there, she’d have enough money to live somewhere by the sea. Maybe she’d find a cave there, like the one she had now and she’d live in the cave and she could find things by the sea to eat and sell. She could make baskets and the pretty assistant would buy them from her to sell in the fence’s shop.
Suddenly she had a great deal of energy and she resolved that she would do this thing. She would travel back to the fence’s shop and sell all that she had back to him and the pretty assistant and she’d live next to them, nearby so that the man would not be cross with her or feel like she was a burden to him, but she’d be near the pretty assistant and they’d be friends.
She thought hard about this and decided that she’d not tell Juana of her plan. She didn’t want to disappoint Juana. She knew Juana had the best intentions and that she loved the whores because that was the only life she’d known. The whores were good to her and she’d not had anyone do it to her yet, like the bastard Sanchez did to her, so Juana didn’t think it was such a terrible thing. But Maria knew differently.
Chapter V: Padre
Maria didn’t know why, but she could not resist the pretty gold candle holders on either side of the alter. She looked around. No one was in the church. She looked up and saw the likeness of Jesus nailed to the cross, just as Juana described it. It was horrible and she wasn’t sorry that she’d not known of Jesus before. She was not certain any of this could be right. What kind of God would let his son be tortured and treated in such a way? It made no sense.
She took the candles out of the holders and set them carefully down on the big table. She’d not need them as they wouldn’t fetch a good price and they’d be cumbersome to transport to the fence. She turned and nearly ran into the tall man.
“Where do you think you’re going, little bitch?” He grabbed her by the arm and squeezed hard, hard enough to hurt Maria and leave a mark. This made her angry and she clubbed him across the head with one of the sticks. He stumbled but didn’t let go. He was a tough one.
She raised the holder high. She’d do a proper job of it this time and knock him senseless. Someone grabbed her arm from behind. She could do nothing now but wait to see what her captors had in store for her.
“Well, now.” She looked at the man behind her. He had a funny accent, one she’d never heard before. He was dressed all in black so she figured he must be a priest. The other was dressed in peon clothes. He was a worker in the church. He was bleeding profusely from the blow to his head and he was very angry at her.
“Padre, let me take her, I’ll give her to the rurales.” He sneered as he blotted the wound on his head.
“No, no.” He looked down at Maria and gave her a kind smile. “If she promises not to fight or run away, I won’t let the rurales have her.”
Maria stopped fighting and stood still. She could only think of pendejo Pedro, the rurale, and did not want to be anywhere near such men. She looked up at the priest, into his strange blue eyes and nodded, promising not to fight or run away.
“Good, good.” He looked up at the peon. “Go on back and have Agata look at your head, Paulo. I’ll take care of this little one.”
Maria watched the man stride away. The priest turned away as well and began fixing the candles, putting them back in place. Maria thought for a moment and started to drift toward the front door of the church. She could ge
t away.
“Hungry?”
She stopped and looked back at the old priest. He was not like any of them. He had pale skin and tan hair with a good amount of gray on the sides. He had pale blue eyes and he was tall, more than six feet.
“A little.” She wasn’t really. She’d been eating well enough but thought it sounded better if he thought she was starving.
He stood back and regarded his work. The candles were now back in their proper place. “Come with me.”
She followed him and was soon in a kitchen with an old woman and the man she’d clobbered. He looked at her, then away. The old woman grinned.
“Agata, this is…”
“Maria.” She looked down at the floor.
“Maria. She needs something to eat.” He patted Maria on the head and walked away. Paulo soon followed and she was now in the church’s kitchen, alone with Agata, the cook.
“Will he be all right?”
Agata snorted. “Oh, you hit him on the head. Everyone who knows Paulo knows his head is full of rocks. You didn’t hurt him any.” She grinned and winked at Maria. “Just his pride.”
Maria looked at the food being prepared for the evening meal. There was pie. She’d never had pie in her life. She was suddenly hungry and looked up at the old woman. She was afraid to be so bold as to ask for some of it. She thought of another question. “Is he your husband?”
“Hah!” The old woman startled Maria with her energetic response. “No, child, my goodness no.” And at that, as if on cue, another old man came in. He was holding his hat and some work gloves. He kissed his wife on the head and smiled broadly at Maria.
“Ah, a visitor.” He bowed to Maria as if she were an important, grown up person, which gave Maria a little flutter in the pit of her stomach.
“Yes, Maria. She wanted to know if Paulo was my husband.”
The old man smiled broader. “Hah, little Maria. In his dreams. He wanted her but I got her.” He pinched his wife on the cheek. “I got her.”
