In the dark night we heard an owl sing. It was Ultima’s owl. It seemed the first sign of life we had heard around the ranch all day, and it lifted our spirits. Somehow the memory of the falling rocks faded with the owl’s cry, and what had been frightening and unexplainable grew distant. I looked for the rock pile in the corral, but I could not see it. Perhaps it was because the bright fire made the shadows around us very dark.
“¡Cuidado!” my father shouted. I turned and jumped back as the top of the platform toppled into the ashes beneath. A flower of sparks blossomed into the night air. The four posts which had held the platform continued to burn like torches, one for each of the directions of the wind. We threw the rest of the juniper branches in the fire. Already the platform and the three bundles were only white ashes.
“You two are good workers,” Ultima said. We had not heard her and were startled at her approach. I went to her and took her hand. She smelled sweet with incense. “It is done,” she said.
“Good,” my father answered and wiped his hands.
“You know, Gabriel,” she said to my father, “I am getting old. Perhaps this would be the best burial you could provide me—” She peered into the dying fire and smiled. I could see that she was very tired.
“It is a good way to return to the earth,” my father agreed. “I think the confines of a damp casket will bother me too. This way the spirit soars immediately into the wind of the llano, and the ashes blend quickly into the earth—”
Téllez came and stood by us. He too peered into the embers of the strange fire. “She says the curse is lifted,” he said dumbly. He too looked very tired.
“Then it is,” my father answered.
“How can I pay you?” Téllez asked Ultima.
“Instead of my silver,” she said, “you can bring us a nice lamb the next time you come to Guadalupe—”
“I will bring a dozen,” he smiled weakly.
“And stay away from the one-eyed Tenorio,” she finished.
“¡Ay! That devil was in this too!” my father exclaimed.
“I was at El Puerto about a month ago,” Téllez said, “I went to the saloon for a drink, and to play some cards. I tell you, Gabriel, that man has nothing but revenge in his heart for la Grande. He said something insulting, and I answered him. I thought nothing of it, I was only upholding my honor, our honor, the pride of those from Las Pasturas. Well, a week later the bad things started here—”
“You picked a bad one to tangle with,” my father shook his head thoughtfully as he stared into the dying fire, “Tenorio has already murdered one of our friends—”
“I know now of his true evil,” Téllez muttered.
“Well, what’s done is done,” my father nodded. “Now we must be on our way.”
“I can never thank you enough, old friend,” Téllez said and embraced my father warmly, then he embraced and kissed Ultima.
“Adiós.”
“Adiós.” We climbed into the truck and drove away, leaving Téllez standing by the dying embers of the fire. The bouncing lights of the truck cut a jerky path through the night as we traveled out of the dark llano back to Guadalupe. My father rolled a Bull Durham cigarette and smoked. The fatigue of the day and the humming sound of the tires on the highway made me sleep. I do not remember my father carrying me in when we arrived home.
In my dreams that night I did not recall the strange events that happened on the Agua Negra, instead I saw my three brothers. They were three dark figures driven to wander by the wild sea-blood in their veins. Shrouded in a sea-mist they walked the streets of a foreign city.
Toni-eeeeee, they called in the night fantasy. Tony-reel-ooooo! Where are you?
Here, I answered, here by the river!
The brown swirling waters lapped at my feet, and the monotonous chirping of the grillos as they sang in the trees mixed into a music which I felt in the roots of my soul.
Oooooo Tony… they cried with such a mournful sound that I felt a chill in my heart… Help us, Toni-eeeeee. Give us, grant us rest from this sea-blood!
I have no magic power to help you, I cried back.
I carefully marked where the churning waters eddied into a pool. There the catfish would lurk, greedy for meat. From my disemboweled brothers I took three warm livers and baited my hook.
But you have the power of the church, you are the boy-priest! they cried. Or choose from the power of the golden carp or the magic of your Ultima. Grant us rest!
They cried in such pain for release that I took their livers from the hook and cast them into the raging, muddy waters of the River of the Carp.