“No,” Cico smiled, “they catch two and three pounders below the beaver dam, the black bass must weigh close to twenty—” He threw his spear and line behind the clump of grass and came to sit by me. “Come on, let’s put our feet in the water. The golden carp will be returning—”
“Are you sorry you missed?” I asked as we slid our feet into the cool water.
“No,” Cico said, “it’s just a game.”
The orange of the golden carp appeared at the edge of the pond. As he came out of the darkness of the pond the sun caught his shiny scales and the light reflected orange and yellow and red. He swam very close to our feet. His body was round and smooth in the clear water. We watched in silence at the beauty and grandeur of the great fish. Out of the corners of my eyes I saw Cico hold his hand to his breast as the golden carp glided by. Then with a swish of his powerful tail the golden carp disappeared into the shadowy water under the thicket.
I shook my head. “What will happen to the golden carp?”
“What do you mean?” Cico asked.
“There are many men who fish here—”
Cico smiled. “They can’t see him, Tony, they can’t see him. I know every man from Guadalupe who fishes, and there ain’t a one who has ever mentioned seeing the golden carp. So I guess the grown-ups can’t see him—”
“The Indian, Narciso, Ultima—”
“They’re different, Tony. Like Samuel, and me, and you—”
“I see,” I said. I did not know what that difference was, but I did feel a strange brotherhood with Cico. We shared a secret that would always bind us.
“Where does the golden carp go?” I asked and nodded upstream.
“He swims upstream to the lakes of the mermaid, the Hidden Lakes—”
“The mermaid?” I questioned him.
“There are two deep, hidden lakes up in the hills,” he continued, “they feed the creek. Some people say those lakes have no bottom. There’s good fishing, but very few people go there. There’s something strange about those lakes, like they are haunted. There’s a strange power, it seems to watch you—”
“Like the presence of the river?” I asked softly. Cico looked at me and nodded.
“You’ve felt it,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Then you understand. But this thing at the lakes is stronger, or maybe not stronger, it just seems to want you more. The time I was there—I climbed to one of the over-hanging cliffs, and I just sat there, watching the fish in the clear water—I didn’t know about the power then, I was just thinking how good the fishing would be, when I began to hear strange music. It came from far away. It was a low, lonely murmuring, maybe like something a sad girl would sing. I looked around, but I was alone. I looked over the ledge of the cliff and the singing seemed to be coming from the water, and it seemed to be calling me—”
I was spellbound with Cico’s whispered story. If I had not seen the golden carp perhaps I would not have believed him. But I had seen too much today to doubt him.
“I swear, Tony, the music was pulling me into the dark waters below! The only thing that saved me from plunging into the lake was the golden carp. He appeared and the music stopped. Only then could I tear myself away from that place. Man, I ran! Oh how I ran! I had never been afraid before, but I was afraid then. And it wasn’t that the singing was evil, it was just that it called for me to join it. One more step and I’da stepped over the ledge and drowned in the waters of the lake—”
I waited a long time before I asked the next question. I waited for him to finish reliving his experience. “Did you see the mermaid?”
“No,” he answered.
“Who is she?” I whispered.
“No one knows. A deserted woman—or just the wind singing around the edges of those cliffs. No one really knows. It just calls people to it—”
“Who?”
He looked at me carefully. His eyes were clear and bright, like Ultima’s, and there were lines of age already showing.
“Last summer the mermaid took a shepherd. He was a man from Méjico, new here and working for a ranch beyond the hills. He had not heard the story about the lakes. He brought his sheep to water there, and he heard the singing. He made it back to town and even swore that he had seen the mermaid. He said it was a woman, resting on the water and singing a lonely song. She was half woman and half fish—He said the song made him want to wade out to the middle of the lake to help her, but his fear had made him run. He told everyone the story, but no one believed him. He ended up getting drunk in town and swearing he would prove his story by going back to the lakes and bringing back the mer-woman. He never returned. A week later the flock was found near the lakes. He had vanished—”