The Girl Who Could Silence the Wind

by Meg Medina

  The sun grew hot as Pancho trudged along, following the train tracks for guidance as best he could. He ate the meat pie he had filched from a passenger’s bag some time back, and when that was finished, he took to eating the berries that he saw birds pecking at, which he assumed meant they weren’t poisonous. Each time he grew parched, he listened for water and found creeks to drink from. He cooled his throbbing feet and stuffed leaves in his shoes as the soles began to give way like wet paper.

  He walked along for hours, singing and telling himself stories, thinking of Sonia, but his spirits were dying as quickly as the daylight. He hurried his steps and kept his eyes on the winding tracks to keep from imagining the long distance that remained.

  He had finished going around a series of sharp bends when he was stopped abruptly by the disheartening sound of rushing water. When he lifted his gaze, he confirmed the worst. Pancho was looking across an enormous canyon. All that spanned the impasse was a precarious train bridge.

  To cross it would be madness, he reasoned, looking down at the foaming river below. There would be nowhere to keep safe from an approaching train, especially not with an injured arm. He looked with defeat at the long terrain he would have to navigate without anything to guide him. The detour would add several more hours to his journey, and nightfall was near. It would be morning before he ever reached the city — if he reached it at all.

  Entrusting his soul to guardian angels, he walked toward the trees. Already the howler monkeys were shrieking their complaints. A lump of feces hit his back.

  It was as the moon rose that Pancho became aware of two things. First, he was terrible at navigating by stars. Second, he was not alone.

  At first he worried it might be ghosts trying to unsettle him, but the smell of burning wood seemed too real to be imagined, and he was starting to feel chilly. Nearly sprinting, he followed his nose until he found a glowing campfire. He hid himself in the trees to see who had built it.

  He saw several pelts, a tin cup and plate, and a worn leather pouch filled with an impressive collection of hunting knives that had apparently been put to use; two skinned rabbits were skewered on the fire. A horse was snorting softly nearby.

  All at once, a ferocious growl sounded behind him, and Pancho was thrown to the ground. He prepared for a panther’s fangs to pierce his neck, but instead he was pinned by someone who held a sharp blade to his back.

  “¡Ay! Have mercy!” Pancho screamed. The pressure against his arm was demonic. His ears buzzed and his scalp grew cold. Silver dots floated before his eyes. “My arm is broken!”

  At the sound of his cries, the attacker stopped and dragged him, grunting, toward the flames. Pancho was sure he’d be seared alive like another rabbit on the pit, but the brute only heaved him into the light to have a good look.

  Pancho stared in disbelief at the face gaping before him. His head went icy and his mouth limp. Several faces swirled before his eyes.

  “It’s you!” he said weakly.

  Then the world went black.

  PANCHO AWOKE INSIDE a dry tent. He sat up and found that his arm, though still throbbing, was now set properly in a sling.

  He stuck his head out of the flap and saw someone leaning over the fire. It had not been a dream after all.

  Mongo was sharpening his knives. He caught Pancho’s reflection in the curved blade.

  “Imagine running into you here, kid.” He made another long swipe and chuckled.

  Pancho stepped out of the tent, relieved though his knees were still a bit unsteady.

  “Thank God it was you, Mongo. I was sure it was the end.” He looked around at the horse and the tidy campfire. “But what are you doing here in the middle of La Fuente?”

  “I could ask you the same,” Mongo replied. “I can see you didn’t like my advice about seeing Arenas.”

  “No,” Pancho admitted. “But really, what are you doing here?”

  “Trying to keep you alive and out of trouble, of course.”

  “Oh.” Pancho felt his cheeks get warm in a pleasant sort of way. “How did you know where to look?”

  “I’m only ugly, Pancho, not dumb. They found your bike at the station, and I added things up.” He examined his blade in the sunlight. “I thought you might need some company out here. This is no place to be alone.” He glanced at Pancho’s torn shirt and pants. “From the looks of it, someone has been trying to kill you already.”

  “Kill me? Not exactly. I . . . fell off the train.”

  Mongo crossed his arms and grunted. He looked feral in the woods, even more ferocious than he had throwing knives inside La Jalada.

  “Did I ever mention that men have died for lying to me?” he asked evenly.

  “In that case, I was pushed off the train.”

  “That’s better.” He took a long swig of water from a jug. “So, what? Were you trying to rob it? It takes special skill, you know. It’s not for amateurs.”

  Pancho’s mouth fell open. “Rob the train? Certainly not!”

  Mongo pulled another knife across his stone and smiled. “Well, if you weren’t robbing the train, why did they toss you?”

  Pancho hesitated.

  “Speak!”

  “I have an urgent errand in the capital but no money to get there. I had no choice but to stow away.”

  “No choice?” Mongo stabbed his knife into the ground. “Don’t bother with lamentations about choice. There’s not a man in the whole world who has all the choices he wants. A man can steal because he’s starving, but they’ll jail him just the same. The sooner you learn that, the better.”

  Pancho gave this some thought.

  “I was on the way to the capital to see Sonia Ocampo.”

  “Ah,” Mongo said, flashing his pointy-tooth smile. “You’re after a woman. How original. Didn’t we talk about this?”

  Pancho’s cheeks burned even hotter than before. “It’s not like that . . . well, not exactly. I’m . . . I’m trying to save her brother, as a matter of fact.”

  Mongo stared in shock at Pancho’s thin limbs and worn shoes; then he burst into a guffaw. His laughter shook the branches as he doubled over to catch his breath.

  “You?” he snorted. “Your face is still smooth! You’ve barely grown out of your pigeon chest!” He made rude cooing noises and burst into another long wave of laughter.

  Pancho pulled back his sore shoulders.

  “I’m not completely powerless, either,” he said over Mongo’s racket. “As you may remember, I’m a poet. We’re a clever lot, if a poor one. I’ve gotten this far, haven’t I?”

  Mongo held his sides and wheezed even harder. Finally, he wiped his eyes and looked with wonder at Pancho’s resolute expression.

  “Is this one of your stories? Because if so, it is a wonderful comedy.”

  “I’m serious, Mongo. I must get to the capital to see Sonia Ocampo. Her brother is Rafael Ocampo. You know him. You told me yourself that he’s probably left with one of Conchita Fo’s drivers to meet Iguana.”

  Mongo sobered at once at the name. He picked at his nails with the tip of his knife. “He sold himself to the devil, then.” He motioned his friend to come closer. “There’s very little time. So tell me, how much do you know about kidnapping?”

  “¡NECIA! YOU’RE so clumsy. Pick that up!”

  Sonia startled as Teresa snapped her fingers in front of her face. She’d been lost in another daze.

  There were many severe punishments possible, Teresa had explained in her fury that afternoon.

  “But I know what will fix you,” she’d hissed. “It’s time I took you in hand. For the rest of your time here, you are to be by my side as if you’re tied there, do you hear me?”

  Sonia stared now at the mess on Señora Masón’s bedroom floor. In her distraction, she had forgotten to balance the velvet jewelry tray. Señora Masón was dressing for a formal dinner at the social club. Her collection of emeralds and pearls was now scattered at Sonia’s feet, which were still bandaged from the
encounter with Umberto two nights ago.

  “A million pardons, señora.” She stooped to collect the mess.

  Teresa snatched a choker and matching earrings from her hands.

  “How did we ever end up with such a disaster of a girl?” she said, slipping the gold posts through Señora Masón’s lobes. “Arenas has clearly forgotten our standards.”

  But Sonia was barely listening. She was already lost in thought again, remembering Rafael’s teary face the first day he’d followed their father into the mines. Teresa gave her a pinch that made her jump.

  “Do you hear what’s been said? You ought to be ashamed!”

  “A million pardons,” Sonia mumbled. “I was —”

  Teresa waved off further explanation.

  “You were thinking of things that do not concern anybody,” she snapped. “You’ve had the look of a dead fish all night!”

  Sonia closed her mouth and pretended not to hear the rest of the complaints that Teresa hissed in her ears. It was true enough about her appearance. She had had no appetite all day, and so she felt faint and her eyes were dull. But how could it be otherwise? Rafael was crowding every thought, and when he wasn’t, it was Umberto who worried her to distraction. She hadn’t seen him since their encounter in the library. At any moment he could return and tell his aunt a terrible lie. As far as Sonia knew, Señora Masón had no idea of what had happened.

  Teresa pulled out the drawer of the vanity and held out a small brass key.

  “Put this box in the top drawer,” she ordered, handing Sonia the jewelry case. “You can manage that without dropping things, can’t you?”

  Katarina Masón chuckled. “I think the sight of all this jewelry is making her nervous,” she said. “Calm yourself, girl.” She held up her hair to let Teresa fasten her choker. “Did Umberto say when he was coming back?”

  Teresa fumbled with the clasp.

  “No, señora, he didn’t.”

  “I’d hoped he could join me tonight. I have a girl in mind for him — have I mentioned it? The colonel’s daughter. A little homely, but she’ll run a good house, and her people are well connected. My brother’s son needs someone steady, not this string of harlots who are always throwing themselves at him in bars.”

  Teresa’s face was red with frustration as she worked the delicate clasp.

  “Caldera is half a day’s drive from here, señora. Remember? I don’t expect he’ll be back soon. You know how young men are about their cars.”

  Katarina Masón shook her head. “I don’t know what we’re coming to. Vandals are going to ruin this city! Imagine having the nerve to break in to someone’s home to destroy things! First my library and then the garage! Oscar said they made a mess of Umberto’s car. I’m going to have to hire private guards for the grounds before long.”

  She looked impatiently at Teresa in the reflection. The old woman’s hands were shaking too badly.

  “Niña,” she called. “Come and do this for Teresa.”

  Sonia set the box down slowly and went to her employer. Teresa gave her a warning look as she handed over the emeralds.

  “Oscar’s mechanics tried their best to fix Señor Umberto’s car, señora,” Teresa said. “But these European models are so complicated — especially for those simpletons. Don’t worry, though. Oscar has assured me his man in Caldera will have the auto like new in a week or two. He is the very best mechanic in the country, I’m told, though he does require that Umberto be on hand to approve the repairs. Naturally, he wants to be sure his most important customer is happy with the work.”

  Sonia hooked the gold latch, her own hands fighting to keep steady. So this was how the broken window had been explained. It had never occurred to her that the old crone might actually be saving her from doom. But here it was, plain as day. Teresa was lying about everything, and Oscar was helping.

  “Finish up already, niña, and put the jewelry box away,” Teresa ordered. “How many times do I have to say it? We’re pressed for time.” She stepped behind the lacquered screen with Señora Masón.

  Sonia opened the lilac-scented drawers to place the jewelry box among the French intimates folded there. The box was almost too pretty to touch with hands that peeled garlic and swept dirt, Sonia thought. Its ebony cover was inlaid with dragons of ivory and jade from the Forbidden City.

  She couldn’t resist lifting the lid. Inside was a mesmerizing collection: ruby chokers, rings of amethyst, emerald pendants, and gold bangles. The sight made her jealous, though not for the jewels themselves. A person who owned gems like this would never have to work as a servant or say, “Sí, señora; no, señora,” or put up with a toad like Umberto. She wouldn’t have to worry a single night about making her family hungry or losing a brother to the lure of a better life.

  She replaced the lid carefully, slid the drawer shut, and locked it.

  “Is there anything else?” she asked, peering out the window. The moon was already rising — bloodred. It was the kind of sight that made mothers in Tres Montes close their shutters.

  “Put the key in the vanity,” Teresa said from behind the screen. “Lock the balcony before you go, too. It’s been a busy season for crooks in the capital,” she added hastily. “They’ll slit a decent woman’s throat in her bed without a care.”

  Sonia paused at the back door and clapped her hands for the dogs. Though Teresa had been with her all day since her encounter with Umberto, she was reluctant to cross the grounds alone at all, especially now when the light made the garden statues glow so garishly. The dogs, however, were nowhere to be found. They’d grown skittish themselves since the night in the parlor and wandered with their tails like scythes between their legs.

  She hurried along in the brisk night air, but when she rounded the pond, she found she couldn’t take another step. La Casita had come into view. The bedroom windows of the house were already glowing with candles, in Rafael’s honor. It was Eva’s act of friendship, but Sonia could not bear to look at the flames.

  “Don’t light them.” She tried to take the matches from Eva. The night before, she’d seen sinister shadows on the walls in the candlelight. She was sure she’d seen Luis reaching his arms to her. “We could be forgetful. We could burn alive.”

  But Eva had persisted just the same, and the smell of melting beeswax had reminded Sonia of all the unanswered prayers — of just how little she could do to help Rafael. She had nightmares until dawn.

  Sonia climbed across the footbridge and sat down, legs dangling near the surface of the pond. From her pocket she drew out her pouch of milagros and poured the silver pieces into her lap. Mouths, eyes, fists, girls, boys, houses. She couldn’t fix her own problems, let alone all that had been entrusted to her.

  “Sonia Ocampo,” a deep voice said.

  Sonia whipped around and stuffed the milagros away. There was a man’s figure at the base of the bridge, and he was approaching her quickly. She thought at once of Umberto Masón’s cologned hands all over her again, and her heart raced. Had he come back unexpectedly? How far would her scream carry?

  “Stay where you are,” she ordered.

  But the intruder did nothing of the sort. Instead, he stepped out of the shadows. When the moonlight revealed him in its reddish light, Sonia was sure he was a ghost.

  His arm was bandaged in a sling. His clothes were torn, and he smelled strongly of horses. But he was smiling at her with his whole handsome face.

  “Pancho?”

  He took off his cap as he climbed the slope toward her.

  “I did not see you off at the train,” he said quietly when he reached her. “It was rude of me; I’m so sorry.”

  Sonia stared into his face. Nothing made sense.

  “But what are you doing here? You didn’t come all this way to tell me that.”

  He scarcely knew what to say, though he had practiced for hours. There was no time to tell her about Conchita Fo or Iguana or Mongo or the train or how her name was a blanket for him each and every night.
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  “There is no time for explanations.” He put his muddy jacket over her shoulders. “You must come with me tonight. Right now.”

  “What? That’s impossible.”

  “We have to find Rafael,” he blurted out.

  There were a million questions that might have been asked, but for Sonia all of them were answered in the expression in Pancho’s eyes and the way he held out his good hand. She looked at the lights burning in La Casita and imagined the landslide of abuse that would ensue when it was discovered that she’d run away — this time with a boy she loved. Her life as an apprentice in the capital would be over for good.

  “Trust me,” he said.

  Somewhere in the distance, the dogs began their frantic barking. The garage doors swung open, and Oscar pulled the car slowly onto the path. Señora Masón was leaving at last for her party.

  “This way.” Sonia guided Pancho into the shadows, where they huddled close together, listening to each other breathe.

  When the gates finally closed and the taillights faded, she laced her fingers with his and let him lead her to a space he had hacked in the hedges.

  “Where did you get that knife?” she said, eyeing the fearsome blade he slipped back inside his sling.

  But Pancho only raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. A shiver ran along her arms.

  Soon they were dashing through the night like thieves.

  THE CAPITAL WAS unrecognizable in its night cloak. They rode the last trolley through streets that were noisy with revelers. Musicians serenaded passersby at every corner, and young couples kissed with such abandon that Sonia blushed. In the distance, the presidential palace glowed proudly, the golden domes reflecting in Pancho’s eyes.

  One by one, passengers disembarked until only they were left riding the increasingly dark turns.

  “Are you sure we shouldn’t get off?” she whispered. Her map was back in her bedroom. Nothing here looked familiar.

  Pancho shook his head and slid closer. “Not yet.”