Bless Me, Ultima(90)

“And there is no beauty like this earth,” Ultima said. They looked at each other and smiled, and I realized that from these two people I had learned to love the magical beauty of the wide, free earth. From my mother I had learned that man is of the earth, that his clay feet are part of the ground that nourishes him, and that it is this inextricable mixture that gives man his measure of safety and security. Because man plants in the earth he believes in the miracle of birth, and he provides a home for his family, and he builds a church to preserve his faith and the soul that is bound to his flesh, his clay. But from my father and Ultima I had learned that the greater immortality is in the freedom of man, and that freedom is best nourished by the noble expanse of land and air and pure, white sky. I dreaded to think of a time when I could not walk upon the llano and feel like the eagle that floats on its skies: free, immortal, limitless.

“There is power here, a power that can fill a man with satisfaction,” my father said.

“And there is faith here,” Ultima added, “a faith in the reason for nature being, evolving, growing—”

And there is also the dark, mystical past, I thought, the past of the people who lived here and left their traces in the magic that crops out today.

Enveloped in our thoughts, we bounced down the sandy road that at times was no more than a cow path. I was lost in the immensity of land and sky, but my father knew where to go. At the foot of a hill ahead of us crouched the troubled home of Téllez. It was a simple adobe ranch house, squatting low to the good earth, its rusted tin roof shielding it from the hot sun. To the side of the house were the corrals.

“That is his place,” my father announced. He drove the truck near the corral and stopped. Téllez came running.

“¡Gracias a Dios que venites!” he cried. He believed in Ultima’s power, and he knew it was his last source of help. He took Ultima’s hand and kissed it, then led us excitedly into the house. A frail, thin woman and the children cringed against the wall when we entered. “It is all right, it is all right,” Téllez said soothingly, “la Grande has come to help us.”

Only then did the woman, whose eyes were burning with fever, come forth and greet Ultima. “Grande,” she said simply and kissed her hand.

“Dorotea Téllez,” Ultima greeted the woman.

“These are bad times,” Téllez’ wife whimpered, “I am sorry but I can offer you nothing to eat or drink—” Her voice broke and she went to the table, sat, bowed her head on the rough wooden planks and cried.

“It has been like this,” Téllez threw up his arms in exasperation, “since the evil thing came—”

As he spoke a strange thing happened. A cloud passed overhead and darkened the house. Téllez looked up and cried, “It’s here! It’s here!”

“Benditos sean los dulces nombres,” his wife moaned. She crossed herself and fell to her knees.

A few moments ago the sky had been clear, and now in the gloom we saw each other as dark bultos. My father started for the door but Téllez leaped in his way and shouted, “No! Do not go! The evil is out there!”

Then the pounding began. The darkness had already terrified me, but now the strange pounding noise on the roof made me seek Ultima’s hand. She stood quietly, listening to the devil’s bombardment that held us with such terror that we could not move. The fear of the deafening, evil noise held us prisoners. The children cringed around their mother, but they did not cry. They seemed accustomed to the devil’s beating on the roof.

“¡Jesús, María y José!” my father cried out, and he crossed his forehead.

“Aiiiiiiiie,” Téllez groaned, “it is the devil dancing on my roof—” His body twisted to the crescendo of the fearful drum beat. But almost as quickly as it had begun the noise stopped and the dark cloud moved away. My father ran to the door and we followed.

It was incredible, but we stepped out into the perfectly quiet day we had known earlier. The llano was so quiet I could hear the drone of the grasshoppers and crickets in the grass.

“The rocks,” my father muttered, “they weren’t here when we came—” He pointed at the melon-sized stones that lay around the house. That is what had pounded on the roof! But where had they come from? We looked up. There was not a cloud in the sky.

“Incredible,” my father said and shook his head. “The cloud darkened only the house, and the stones fell only on the roof—” As he spoke the two boys who had been inside with their mother came outside. Without a word they began picking up the rocks and carrying them to the nearby corral where there was already a pile of rocks.