Guardian's Faith

by Jacqueline Rhoades

  He spoke with Lalo and Adam about their training and asked them questions about what they'd observed while on patrol. Those conversations always sounded awkward as if Lucien knew he should include them, but didn't know how. It was awkward for the trainees as well, because the Liege Lord's questions sounded more like a test than conversation and they were fearful of offering a wrong answer. They didn't talk to Faith because the Liege Lord didn't. She couldn't fault them for it. They were learning the ways of this new House, too.

  It was especially painful at dinner when all except Faith were more formally dressed. Coming from a wealthier background, Adam was more familiar with a dinner jacket and tie, but swore they were only required on special occasions. It was always a relief for Faith to be 'excused' from the dinner table while the men enjoyed after dinner drinks and cigars.

  "If they're all going to ignore me, I don't see why I can't eat in the kitchen with you and Vasco," she complained to Agdta one afternoon.

  "The Patron says you are a young lady and should sit at a proper table with the gentlemen. It is how he was raised and his parents before him. It's tradition; I suppose."

  Not that Agdta would know. There had never been young people at the Patron's table during her tenure as Housekeeper. She did her housework while the Patron was asleep, except for his rooms which he cared for himself. Twice a year, she hired women from the village to come and help her clean and air out the long unused rooms, and recover the beautiful furniture with clean cloths.

  After Álvaro became the Vigilante, her father took over the job of serving meals in the dining room where the three men shared meals in the big empty room. There were never any guests and they never went out. Faith was the first young woman she'd ever known who was allowed to roam the halls at will.

  She shrugged. "Perhaps he believes that children should be seen and not heard."

  "I'm not a child."

  Agdta laughed at her. "When I was fifteen, I thought I was a woman. I was twenty before I realized I was not. Eat," she said, pointing to the curls of fried dough covered in cinnamon sugar, "They're best while still warm."

  She and the cook were the only ones up and about since it was two hours before the rest of the House arose. The day after Faith stole the truck, Agdta had come knocking at her door in the wee hours of the afternoon, telling her to get dressed and come to the kitchen. Bleary eyed, Faith obeyed.

  When she arrived, the sweet breakfast treats were waiting for her along with a glass of milk.

  "They will carry you until breakfast," Agdta told her. "The Patron says you are to earn your keep by helping Diego with his chores. You need the exercise and the fresh air will do you good."

  "What are Diego's chores?"

  "Whatever Álvaro tells him to do," Agdta told her and went back to her ironing which was set up in the corner of the kitchen. "We'll have to find you some clothes. You have nothing to work in but those two pair of jeans." And she was hoping to see the last of the skinny things very soon. There were eight-year-olds in the village who could use them. "Eat or you'll be late."

  "May I at least have a cup of coffee?" Faith asked, yawning again. She didn't really like the stuff, but it did offer a kick start to waking.

  "Milk now. Coffee at breakfast. Coffee won't put meat on your bones."

  "No, but it will help me wake up."

  "You'll wake up fast enough if Álvaro comes in here and finds you lazing about in my kitchen instead doing what the Patron has ordered."

  That got her moving faster than coffee ever could. Álvaro was the last person she wanted to antagonize any more than she already had.

  It was the same after dinner. She was excused from the table and went to find Diego for evening chores. They cleaned stalls, moved mountains of manure, fed the pigs and chickens, collected eggs, weeded and watered the garden and did every other chore Diego said needed to be done. She wasn't sure how Diego got his orders from Álvaro. They never saw him and the boy never complained about being assigned extra chores, so Faith assumed this was his regular routine. He seemed grateful for the help and pleased that she seemed to know what she was doing.

  "I grew up in the country. My father wasn't a farmer, but we had chickens and a pig and a cow that had to be milked twice a day." Most of those were her sister's chores, but she'd helped enough to know her way around the barn, particularly after Hope began teaching school.

  Faith never thought she'd miss the Community of Saints and was surprised that working with Diego brought back fond memories of her childhood and the people she'd known. For the most part, they were good people who believed that living a simple life brought them closer to God. Her father was the exception, not the rule, but for a long time she blamed them all for not seeing what she saw. How could they when there was no one to tell them where to look?

  Even though the work wore her out and she found herself falling asleep in the middle of the night when the others were working elsewhere, she liked working with the boy who was chatty and cheerful and proud of the fact that, at twelve, he'd been entrusted with so much responsibility.

  "What I do helps to feed the Patron and the men who work for him. Without my good care, these plants and animals would die. Do you think it hurts to die?"

  Diego paused in his weeding to look at her, which told Faith he expected an answer. This was not a part of his usual chatter. She wiped her hands on the loose cotton pants that had shown up in her room the day after Agdta mentioned them.

  "I don't know," she answered truthfully. "I suppose it depends on how someone dies," she started to say, but at the bleak look on the boy's face, she quickly switched to, "I suppose it's like going to sleep, all peaceful like and then when you wake, you're in Heaven."

  Diego nodded. "That's what my mother said, but I didn't know if it was true or just something mothers were taught to say."

  "Diego, is someone you know dying?" she asked gently. She knew from experience how painful that could be to watch. "A friend?"

  The boy nodded. "Goyo. He got kicked by a cow two weeks ago. A cow! Everybody gets kicked by a cow, but this time, the cow got him in a soft spot." He touched his stomach over on the side, below his ribs. "He was up and working the next day," he told her, confiding, "Goyo's fourteen and just started riding with the men. A day later, he fell from his horse. He had a high fever and they put him to bed. He never got up. His belly is all swollen and funny colored. They've done everything they know how."

  "Did they take him to a doctor? A hospital?" Faith couldn't believe that in this day and age, they would let a child die just to cling to the old ways.

  "He is one of the People…" he started to say and then, "They can't," he told her with such finality that Faith was taken aback.

  "Why, Diego, why?"

  The boy pressed his lips together and shook his head. He refused to look at her. Faith gave him a gentle shake and his closed eyes popped open.

  "It's okay, Diego. You don't have to tell. I already know. He's like you, isn't he, like you and Agdta and Álvaro." She smiled at him to let him know everything was okay.

  Faith wasn't surprised there were secrets the boy was not allowed to tell. She already knew there was something different about The People. She'd felt it first from Álvaro and then from his father. Agdta had a hint of it, too, though not as strong. So did the boy, Diego.

  "Can you tell me where Goyo is? Maybe I can help."

  "I wish you could, Señorita, but everything has been done." Diego looked over his shoulder to see if anyone else was near. He couldn't tell the People's secrets, but he had something else he thought it was safe to share. He'd heard his Tio Álvaro call Faith a bruja, but she couldn't be. She didn't look like one. Brujas were old and ugly and had warts on their nose. Señorita Faith was merely skinny.

  "I heard my mother say they even called on the brujo and paid him a lot of money to see to Goyo," he whispered, "but you mustn't tell. No one is supposed to know."

  "I promise."

  Faith was growing exci
ted. A male witch? Manon swore there was no such thing.

  "What did he do? Did he help your friend?"

  "No. He took the money and looked at Goyo and said they were too late. He told them they chose el Patron over the old ways and now Goyo's death was on their heads." Diego's eyes pleaded with her to understand. "They are good people and they would do anything for their son."

  What kind of man could accuse these poor people of being the cause of their son's death?

  "They did what they thought best, Diego, and no one can fault them for that, but what if I could do something for Goyo." Faith called the golden light to her fingertips and smiled when Diego's eyes grew wide. "I think I can help your friend. I won't take their money and I'll only promise to try, but we must go now." If Goyo really was at death's door, they couldn't afford to wait. "Please, Diego, I'm begging you. Give me a chance to help."

  She'd had the chance to save someone's life before, but she'd failed. The girls at Tyn's house needed her, but she didn't know what the golden light at her fingertips was for. She didn't use it. She never touched them with it and every last one of them died because of it. She couldn't let that happen again, not now when she knew what she could do. She had to try.

  Her young friend was torn between doing what he knew he ought to and doing what he wanted. He would lose whichever way he chose. Tio Álvaro would be angry with him for abandoning his duties and he was already angry because Diego insisted that he liked the Patron's new guest and he swore she was fun and worked hard by his side. She never complained, even when she stepped in a pile of shit in her silly white sneakers.

  Goyo could die. Surely Tio Álvaro would understand that. Faith had magic in her fingers. She could talk with her hands. And didn't old Vasco call her an angel? Surely someone as old as Vasco would know. Maybe, just maybe, she could do something to help his friend. Diego would never forgive himself if he brought her too late.

  "Come," he said, "We'll ride Josephina. It's three miles to the village and Tia Agdta says last time you tried to walk so far, you fell asleep."

  Josephina could not be urged to move faster than a walk, but her big body and four legs covered the miles much faster than Faith could. To think Diego walked this twice every day! Faith made a promise to herself to talk to Adam and Lalo about what she could do to improve her strength.

  *****

  "Agdta! Where is the girl? We've been waiting breakfast for the last twenty minutes." Lucien stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips.

  "I called her as I always do, Patron," Agdta told him. "It's not my fault if she doesn't listen. I haven't seen my nephew either and he always stops for something to eat on the walk home. They're probably still working away. You know what a slave driver my brother is." She brushed the flour from her hands. "Would you like me to go look?"

  "If you would please."

  Agdta was already on her way to the door. "If Diego hasn't left yet, someone will have to drive him home in the truck. He's a big boy, but I don't like him walking home in the dark." Since the break-in, she worried more and more about whom he might meet walking back and forth.

  Another of the young women had left the village recently and while no one was surprised other than the girl's parents, there was a rumor that she'd met someone from outside, up in the hills, who'd offered her the means to leave. While there was no suspicion of foul play - her clothes and personal possessions went with her - it gave everyone an uneasy feeling to know there was a stranger about who could remain so well hidden.

  When Agdta didn't immediately return, Lucien sent Álvaro after her. They both returned with no sign of Faith or Diego.

  "Josephina's gone," Álvaro told him.

  "You see. They've taken a ride and why not? It's a beautiful evening," Agdta said and spread her arms to show her lack of concern. If the two were up to no good, they would have taken a faster horse.

  "Diego didn't finish his chores," Álvaro stated flatly.

  "So? You never shirked your chores when you were his age? He's still a boy, brother, with a boy's need to play. They will be back. You'll see."

  "He never did this before she came," her brother grumbled.

  He'd watched the girl carefully and had cautiously questioned the trainees about the role these Daughters of Man played in that House. He could find no reason for the uneasiness he felt and yet the feeling wouldn't go away. His father should feel it, too, but Vasco was so besotted with the girl; he could see nothing but her big blue eyes.

  Daughter of Man? Horseshit! Daughter of the Devil more like. She could call herself anything she pleased. She was still a bruja, a witch and no good could come of her being in this House.

  "You were a good boy, too, until little Briza started to bloom," Vasco said laughing as he joined them in the hall. He was followed by Adam and Lalo. "His mother wondered why he was always chopping wood." He turned to the young men behind him. "Fifty degrees and he would strip off his shirt to show his manly muscles to Briza. It's a wonder he still has all his fingers and toes. His eyes were always on her."

  Adam was looking at Álvaro in a whole new light. "Did it work?" he asked his trainer.

  "I was a boy and it was a long time ago," Álvaro snarled.

  "Yes, it worked," the old man said, suddenly serious, "Until he became the Vigilante and forgot he was a man."

  "I forgot nothing!"

  Lucien held up his hand. "This is getting us nowhere. Álvaro, if they aren't back by dark, send out a few of the men to the south and east. Discreetly. Vasco, if you're up to it, old man, you can take the hills, but be careful.

  Vasco looked offended. "I'm old, not dead, and I did not get to be old by being stupid."

  Lucien nodded his apology and turned to the recruits. "You two will take the truck to the village. There's only one road headed due west. Stay on it. We'll meet in front of the church. I'll ride out to the creek and follow it into the village. If they rode out for pleasure, it seems a likely place to go. Agdta, two shots in the air if they return while we're out. Everyone else, two shots if you find them. In the meantime, go eat. There's no point wasting good food when they may turn up at any moment."

  The others did as the Patron directed, but the man himself did not. Lucien stood in the shadow of the open doorway, watching and waiting for the slow moving sun to set.

  Chapter 12

  Diego pointed off into the distance and Faith squinted in the direction he pointed. The boy must have the same eyes as the huge bird soaring above them because all she saw was a group of dark, undefinable shapes in the distance.

  "Antelope," he said when she spread her hand palm up to show him she had no idea what she was looking at.

  Faith had thought of this place as barren of anything but small scrub brush and patches of grass interspersed with brown dirt, brown rock and brown dust. But every hundred yards it seemed, Diego proved her wrong. He'd already pointed out a low rise where he said a badger lived and another where he was sure a fox raised her kits. They'd sent a group of rabbits bounding away and they were the biggest rabbits Faith had ever seen. Jack rabbits, according to Diego, who said they had cottontails, too, which Faith thought were the kind that ate people's gardens back home.

  Diego laughed when she told him the men of the Community hunted deer and she couldn't tell him what kind. She'd thought deer were deer, but no, those were white tail she discovered when the boy described three or four others he'd hunted, mule deer being his favorite, though it was only found in the higher elevations.

  As dire as their mission was, Diego's running commentary about the flora and fauna of the area made the time go faster. Faith wanted to know more.

  "You see those hills over there?" Diego pointed to a cluster of desolate low rising hills that were formed when huge outcroppings of rock were forced through the earth's crust.

  "They look like the ones they use in western movies where the good guys and bad guys shoot it out. I'll bet they're fun to climb and explore," she said. She thought such an advent
ure would appeal to a twelve year old boy, but Diego shook his head.

  "They're haunted by the dead," he told her. "A long time ago when the People were young, bad tribes lived up there. They worshiped devils and made human sacrifices. The People slaughtered them, but others came and they became as evil as those who were there first. No one lives there now but the spirits of the dead who wish to avoid the fires of hell and people say that in spite of their barrenness, a man could get lost up there and never be found. Those that are, come back insane."

  It was obvious the boy believed what he was saying. So many superstitions were built on truth. Those hills probably were once occupied by a rival tribe and those outcroppings probably were dangerous. Combine the two and long ago parents had a perfect story to keep adventurous boys like Diego from straying too far. Told often enough the story would become legend.

  "Then I'll have to be careful not to go there," she told him seriously. Rock climbing was not something she had any interest in.

  "Only the very brave can go there and not be touched," Diego added now that he knew she understood. "My Tio Álvaro and the Patron hunt there. My grandfather hunted there, too. Someday I will hunt demons in those hills with them," he said proudly.

  "I've no doubt you will," Faith agreed, "but not for many years yet."

  "Not so many. I'm almost a man." Diego sounded a little offended.

  "You're right," she agreed again, this time smiling inwardly, "I wasn't thinking clearly. In a few short years, you will be a man."

  The village seemed to rise up out of empty space, one minute there was nothing but the road, little more than a dirt track, and suddenly a tiny village was there looking like something from a cowboy movie set. In this section of the village the houses were built with the same mud brick as the hacienda, though some had been painted in once bright colors that had faded with sun and time to dusty pastels. They looked as ancient as the land surrounding them.