Bless Me, Ultima(35)

“Yes, yes,” my mother urged, “and then what happened?” The story had held us both spellbound.

“Well, you know Lucas. He could see the evil one himself and not be convinced. He thought the three witches were three old dirty women who deserved a Christian lashing, tongue or otherwise, so he stepped forth from behind the tree that hid him and he challenged them!”

“No!” my mother gasped.

“Sí,” my uncle nodded. “And if I know Lucas, he probably said something like: ¡Oye! You ugly brujas, prepare to meet a Christian soul!”

I was astounded at the courage of my uncle Lucas. No one in his right mind would confront the cohorts of the devil!

“It was then he recognized the Trementina sisters, Tenorio’s three girls—”

“¡Ay Dios mío!” my mother cried.

“Ay, they have always been rumored to be brujas. They were very angry to be caught performing their devilish mass. He said they screamed like furies and were upon him, attacking him like wild animals—but he did the right thing. While he was behind the tree he had taken two dead branches and quickly tied them together with a shoelace. He made a rude cross with the two sticks. Now he held up the holy cross in the face of those evil women and cried out, “Jesús, María, y José!” At the sight of the cross and at the sound of those holy words the three sisters fell to the ground in a fit of agony and pain. They rolled on the ground like wounded animals until he lowered the cross. Then they picked themselves up and fled into the darkness, cursing him as they went.

“Everything was silent then. Only Lucas remained by the light of the dying fire at that cursed spot. He found his frightened horse by the river, mounted it, and returned home. He told the story only to papá, who admonished him not to repeat it. But within the week Lucas was stricken. He speaks only to mutter of the revenge the Trementina sisters took on him for discovering their secret ceremony. The rest of the time his mouth is clamped so tight he cannot eat. He wastes away. He is dying—”

They were silent for a long time, each one thinking about the evil thing that befell their brother.

“But didn’t you go to Tenorio?” my mother asked.

“Papá was against it. He would not believe in this witchcraft thing. But Juan and Pablo and myself went to Tenorio and confronted him, but we could not charge him with anything because we had no proof. He only laughed at us and told us he was within his right to shoot us if we made an accusation against him without proof. And he had his ring of coyotes around him in the saloon. He said he had witnesses if we tried anything, and so we had to leave. He laughed at us.”

“Ay, he is an evil man,” my mother shuddered.

“Evil begets evil,” my uncle said. “His wife was known to make clay dolls and prick them with needles. She made many people of the valley sick, some died from her curses. She paid for her sins, but not before she delivered three brujas to carry on her work in our peaceful valley—”

“I am ready,” Ultima interrupted.

I turned to see her standing, watching us. She carried only her small black satchel. She was dressed in black and her head scarf crossed over her face so that only her bright eyes shone. She bore herself with dignity, and although she was very small she was ready to do battle with all the terrible evil about which I had just heard.

“Grande,” my mother went to her and hugged her, “it is such a difficult task we ask you to do, but you are our last hope.”

Ultima remained motionless. “Evil is not easy to destroy,” she said, “one needs all the help one can get.” She looked at me and her gaze made me step forward. “The boy will have to go with me,” she whispered.

“What?” My mother was startled.

“Antonio must go with me. I have need of him,” Ultima repeated softly.

“I will go,” I said.

“But why?” my mother asked.

My uncle answered the question. “He is a Juan—”

“Ay.”

“And he has strong Luna blood—”

“Ave María Purísima,” my mother muttered.

“It must be so if you want your brother cured,” Ultima decreed.

My mother looked at her brother. My uncle only shrugged. “Whatever you say, Grande,” my mother said. “It will be good for Anthony to see his uncles—”

“He does not go to visit,” Ultima said solemnly.

“I will prepare some clothing—”

“He must go as he is,” Ultima said. She turned to me. “Do you want to help your uncle, Antonio?” she asked.