“Your evil bird has blinded me!” he cried. “For that I curse you! I will see you dead! And you, Narciso, I swear to kill you!” The men pulled him away. They disappeared out of the dim light of the sputtering torches and into the darkness.
“¡Grande!” It was my mother who now burst through the door. She put her arms around Ultima and led her back into the house.
“Ay, what a night,” my father shrugged as he looked after the men who had slunk away. Up on the hill we heard their trucks start, then leave. “Someday I may have to kill that man,” he said to himself.
“He needs killing,” Narciso agreed.
“How can I thank you, old friend,” my father said turning to Narciso.
“I owe la Grande my life,” Narciso said, “and I owe you many favors, Márez. What are thanks among friends.”
My father nodded. “Come, I need a drink—” They walked into the house. I followed, but paused at the door. A faint glitter caught my eye. I bent down and picked up the two needles that had been stuck to the top of the door frame. Whether someone had broken the cross they made, or whether they had fallen, I would never know.
Trece
We awakened late and hurried to pack for our trip to El Puerto. We did not talk about the awful thing that had happened that night, but I guess it was because of it that my father decided to go with us. We were excited because it was the first time he had made the trip and stayed. He went into town and arranged for a week’s leave from his work on the highway. When he returned I heard him whisper to my mother about the talk in town.
“Tenorio is in the hospital, he has lost the eye—and they say the priest at El Puerto will not allow the dead daughter inside the church for her mass. There is no telling what will happen—”
“I am glad you are going with us, Gabriel,” my mother answered.
I went outside. Someone, I guess my mother, had cleaned away the burnt torches and swept clean the patio. There was no trace of what had happened. The sun shone white and clean, and there was chill in the air. I ran to Jasón’s and asked him to feed the animals for me while we were gone. When I returned my uncle Pedro was already there, helping to load our luggage.
“¡Antonio!” he greeted me with an abrazo. I returned the greeting and went off to find Ultima. I was worried about her. But I found her busy at work, cleaning up the morning dishes. Everyone was busy doing something, and that helped us to forget the terror of the night before.
Deborah, Theresa, my mother and Ultima rode with my father. I rode with my uncle. We drove in silence and I had time to think. We drove past Rosie’s house and I thought about the sins of the town and how the golden carp would punish the sinners. He would drown them in clear, blue water. Then we passed the church and I thought about God’s punishment for sinners. He casts them in the burning pit of hell where they burn for eternity.
We passed over the bridge at El Rito and I remembered Cico’s story of the people and the god who became a fish. But why had the new god, the golden carp, chosen also to punish people? The old God did it already. Drowning or burning, the punishment was all the same. The soul was lost, unsafe, unsure, suffering—why couldn’t there be a god who would never punish his people, a god who would be forgiving all of the time? Perhaps the Virgin Mary was such a god? She had forgiven the people who killed her son. She always forgave. Perhaps the best god would be like a woman, because only women really knew how to forgive.
“You are quiet, Antonio,” my uncle Pedro interrupted my thoughts, “are you thinking about last night?”
“No,” I replied, “I am thinking about God.”
“¡Ay! Do not let me interrupt you.”
“Why did you not come to warn us last night?” I asked. My uncle frowned.
“Well,” he said finally, “your grandfather would not allow any of us to mix in what took place yesterday—”
“But Ultima cured my uncle Lucas! Isn’t he grateful for that?”
“Of course he is!” he contended, “you just don’t understand—”
“What?”
“Well, the village of El Puerto is small. We have lived there a long time, and we have lived in harmony with the good and the bad. We have not passed judgment on anyone.” He nodded with some finality.
“But you allowed Tenorio to pass judgment on Ultima,” I said, “and if it had not been for Narciso he would have carried out his judgment. Is that fair?”
My uncle started to answer, but held back. I saw his hands grip the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. For a long time he fidgeted, then he finally said, “It does not decrease my shame to say I was a coward last night. We all were. We took our father’s wish as an excuse. Believe me, my faith is bound with that woman for saving Lucas. The next time, and God grant there isn’t a next time, I will not shirk my duty to her.” Then he turned and looked at me and reached out and touched my head. “I am glad you stood by your friend,” he smiled, “that is what friends are for.”