Bless Me, Ultima(52)

“Who accuses her?” my father asked sternly. He was forcing the men to identify themselves, and so the false courage the whiskey and the darkness had lent them was slipping away. In order to hold the men together Tenorio was forced to speak up.

“It is I, Tenorio Trementina, who accuses her!” he shouted and jumped forward so that I could plainly see his ugly face. “¡La mujer que no ha pecado es bruja, le juro a Dios!”

He did not have a chance to finish his accusation because my father reached out and grabbed him by the collar. Tenorio was not a small man, but with one hand my father jerked him off his feet and pulled the cringing figure forward.

“You are a cabrón,” he said, almost calmly, into Tenorio’s evil, frightened face. “You are a whoring old woman!” With his left hand he grabbed at the tuft of hair that grew on Tenorio’s chin and yanked it hard. Tenorio screamed in pain and rage. Then my father extended his arm and Tenorio went flying. He landed screaming in the dust, and then scrambling to his feet he ran to find refuge behind two of his coyotes.

“Wait, Márez!” one of the men shouted and jumped between my father and Tenorio. “We did not come to fight you! There is no man here that does not hold you in respect. But witchcraft is a serious accusation, you know that. We do not like this any better than you do, but the charge must be cleared up! This morning Tenorio’s daughter died. He has proof that it is Ultima’s curse that killed her—”

The rest of the men nodded and moved forward. Their faces were sullen. They all held hastily made crosses of green juniper and piñón branches. The light of the torches danced off crosses of pins and needles they had pinned on their coats and shirts. One man had even run needles through the skin of his lower lip so that no curse might enter him. Blood trickled down his lip and dropped from his chin.

“Is that you, Blas Montaño?” my father asked of the man who had just spoken.

“Sí,” the man answered and bowed his head.

“Give us the witch!” Tenorio shouted from behind the safety of his men. He was raging with insult, but he would not approach my father.

“There is no witch here!” my father answered and crouched as if to await their attack.

“Tenorio has proof!” another man shouted.

“¡Chinga tu madre!” my father retorted. They were going to have to fight him to take Ultima, but there were too many for him! I thought of running for the rifle.

“Give us the bruja!” Tenorio shouted. He urged the men forward and they answered as a chorus, “Give us the witch!” “Give us the witch!” The man with the crossed needles on his lip waved his juniper cross towards the house. The others waved their torches back and forth as they slowly approached my father.

“Give us the witch!” “Give us the witch!” they chanted and moved forward, but my father held his ground. The hissing of the torches frightened me, but I took courage from my father. They were almost upon us when they suddenly stopped. The screen door banged and Narciso stepped forward. Instead of a bumbling drunkard there now stood in the path of the mob a giant man. He held my father’s rifle casually in his hands, as he surveyed the mob.

“¿Qué pasa aquí?” his booming voice broke the tense silence. “Why are farmers out playing vigilantes when they should be home, sitting before a warm fire, playing cards, counting the rich harvest, eh? I know you men, I know you, Blas Montaño, Manuelito, and you Cruz Sedillo—and I know you are not men who need the cover of darkness to hide your deeds!”

The men glanced at each other. The man they considered the town drunk had shamed them by pointing out the lowliness of their deed. One man took a drink from a bottle he held and tried to pass it on, but no one would take it. They were silent.

“You shame your good names by following this jodido Tenorio!” Narciso continued.

“Aieeeee!” Tenorio groaned with rage and hate, but there was nothing he dared to do.

“This cabrón has lost a daughter today, and for that El Puerto can sleep easier now that her evil-doing is gone to hell with her!”

“Animal!” Tenorio spit out.

“I may well be a beast,” Narciso laughed, “but I am not a fool!”

“We are not fools!” Blas shouted back, “we came on an errand that is a law by custom. This man has proof that the curandera Ultima is a witch, and if it is her curse that caused a death then she must be punished!” The men around him nodded in agreement. I was mortally afraid that Narciso, like my father, would anger the mob and we would be overrun. Then I knew they would take Ultima and kill her.