Bless Me, Ultima(59)

“It’s only one day, Tony,” Andrew said, coming to sit at the breakfast table.

“It is good for him,” my mother said. She served us bowls of steaming atole and hot tortillas. “If he is to be a priest, he should learn early about sacrifice—”

Andrew looked at me and I at him, but we didn’t speak. Instead Andrew asked, “How about work at the highway? Has it opened up?”

“Ay no,” my mother said, “the ground is frozen. Your father has been home two weeks—only the salt trucks are out.”

“What’s the play about, Tony?” Andrew asked.

“Christ,” I said.

“What part do you play?”

“A shepherd.”

“You think you should go to school?” he inquired. I knew he was concerned because the snow was so deep.

“Yes,” I nodded.

“How about you, Andrés?” my mother asked, “I thought today was your day off at the store—”

“It is,” Andrew answered, “just going to pick up my check.”

“And see your girl,” my mother smiled.

“No girl,” Andrew frowned. “Come on, Tony.” He rose and put on his jacket. “Let’s get going.”

My mother tucked me into my jacket and put my wool cap on my head. “My man of learning,” she smiled and kissed my forehead. “Que dios te bendiga.”

“Gracias,” I said. “Adiós, Ultima.” I went to her and gave her my hand.

“Take care of the evil in the wind,” she whispered and bent low to kiss my cheek. “Sí,” I answered. I put my hand to my chest where I wore her scapular and she nodded.

“Come on!” Andrew called from the door. I ran after him and followed him down the goat path, trying to step in his footsteps where he broke the snow. The early morning sun was shining and everything was bright. It hurt my eyes to see so much whiteness. “Perhaps the blizzard will lift now…” Andrew puffed ahead of me. In the west the clouds were still dark, but I said nothing. It was slow walking through the thick snow, and by the time we got to the bridge our feet were wet, but it was not cold.

“There’s the Kid.” It was the first time I had ever seen the Kid standing still. He and Samuel had caught sight of us and were waiting.

“Race!” the Kid called as we came up.

“Not today,” Andrew answered, “you’re liable to break your neck on that ice.” He nodded and we looked down the ice-covered sidewalk of the bridge. Cars had splashed ice water onto the sidewalk and overnight it had frozen solid. We had to pick our way carefully across the bridge. Still the Kid did not trust us. He walked just ahead of us, backwards, so that he could see us at all times.

“Did you hear about the fight last night?” Samuel asked. He walked quietly beside us. Our breath made plumes in the crisp, raw air. Down in the river the water, bushes, trees, everything was covered with ice. The sun from the east sparkled on everything and created a frozen fairyland.

“No,” Andrew said. “Who?”

“Tenorio and Narciso—”

I listened carefully. I still remembered Tenorio’s threat.

“Where?”

“At the Longhorn.”

“Drunk?”

“Drinking—”

“Who told you?”

“My father was there. My father was drinking with Narciso,” Samuel said, “then Tenorio came in from El Puerto. Tenorio was cursing la Grande, Ultima. Then he cursed Narciso in front of the men. But it wasn’t until he cursed all of the people of Las Pasturas that Narciso got up and pulled that funny little beard that grows on Tenorio’s face—”

“Ha!” Andrew laughed. “Serves that old bastard right!”

Samuel continued, “My father says it will not end at that—”

We reached the end of the bridge and the Kid jumped across. He had won the walking race.

“Where will it end?” I asked Samuel.

“It will only end when blood is spilled,” Samuel said. “My father says that the blood of a man thickens with the desire for revenge, and if a man is to be complete again then he must let some of that thick blood flow—”

We stopped and it was very quiet. One car started across the bridge. It moved very slowly, its tires slipping on the ice. Up ahead a few of the gas station owners could be seen sweeping snow from their driveways. Everyone was hoping the blizzard had lifted. Everyone was sick of the cold.

“They are drunks with nothing better to do than argue like old women,” Andrew laughed. “Perhaps your father would be right if he were talking of men.”

“Drunks and devils are also men,” Samuel countered.