Bless Me, Ultima(99)

“How? Why?” my uncle Pedro asked.

“Tenorio has taken the body into town, and like the madman that he is, he has stretched out the corpse on the bar of his saloon!”

“No!” my uncle gasped, “the man is insane!”

“Well, that is a truth that does not concern us,” my uncle Juan agreed, “but what does concern me is that the man has been drinking all day and howling out his vengeance on la curandera, Ultima.”

When I heard that the hair on my back bristled. I had seen the devil Tenorio murder Narciso, and now there was no telling what he might do to avenge his daughter’s death. I had not thought of Tenorio all summer even though the man lived on the black mesa down the river and had his saloon in town, but now he was here again, plotting to bring another tragedy into my life. I felt my heart pounding even though I had not moved from where I stood.

My uncle Pedro stood looking down at the ground for a long time. Finally he said, “Ultima helped restore our brother’s life—once before she needed help and we stood by idly. This time I must act—”

“But papá will not like—”

“—The interference,” my uncle Pedro finished. Again he turned and looked at me. “We indebted ourselves to her when she saved our brother, a debt I will gladly pay.”

“What will you do?” my uncle Juan asked. His voice was tense. He was not committed to act, but he would not interfere.

“I will take the boy, we will drive back to Guadalupe tonight—hey, Antonio!” he called and I went to them. He smiled down at me. “Listen, something has come up. Not a big emergency, but we must act to help a friend. We will drive to Guadalupe immediately after supper. In the meantime, there are only a few hours of work left in this day, so go to your grandfather’s house and pack your clothes. If anyone asks why you are back early, tell them you got time off for being such a good worker, eh?” He smiled.

I nodded. The fact that my uncle would go to Guadalupe tonight to tell of what had happened with Tenorio lessened my anxiety. I knew that my uncle treated the matter lightly so as not to alarm me, and besides, if Tenorio was drinking it would take a long time before he gathered enough courage to act. By that time my uncle and I would be in Guadalupe, and Ultima would be safe with my uncle and my father there. Also, I doubted that Tenorio would go to our house in Guadalupe. He knew if he trespassed once again on our land my father would kill him.

“Very well, tío,” I said. I handed him the hoe I had been using on the weeds.

“Hey! You know the way?” he called as I jumped over the acequia.

“Sure,” I replied. He was still making light of the matter so as not to arouse my suspicions.

“Go straight to your grandfather’s house—take a rest. We will be in as soon as this field is done and the tools collected!”

“¡Adiós!” I called and turned up the road. Once the road left the flat river bottom it got very sandy. Lush, green mesquite bordered the road and shut off most of the horizon. But in the west I could see the summer sun was already low, hovering in its own blinding light before it wedded night. I walked carelessly up the road, unaware of what the coming darkness would reveal to me. The fact that I would be back home in a few hours excited me, and it put me so much at ease that I did not think about what Tenorio might do. As I walked I gathered ripe mesquite pods and chewed them for the sweet juice.

Half a mile from my uncles’ fields the narrow wagon road turned into the road that crossed the bridge and led into town. Already I could see in the setting sun the peaceful adobe houses on the other side of the river. The river was at its flood stage and swollen with muddy waters and debris, and so as I crossed the narrow, wooden bridge my attention was drawn to the raging waters. And so it was not until the horseman was almost upon me that I was aware of him. The sharp, reverberating hoofbeats that moments ago had mixed into the surging sound of the river were now a crescendo upon me.

“¡Cabroncito! ¡Hijo de la bruja!” the dark horseman cried and spurred his black horse upon me. It was Tenorio, drunk with whiskey and hate, and he meant to run me down! Fear glued me to the spot for long, agonizing seconds, then instinct made me jump aside at the last moment. The huge, killer horse swept by me, but Tenorio’s foot hit me and sent me spinning to the floor of the bridge.

“Hie! Hie! Hie!” the madman shrieked and spurred his horse around for a second pass. “I have you where I want you hijo de la chingada bruja!” he shouted with anger. He spurred the black horse so savagely that blood spurted from the cuts in the flanks. The terrified animal cried in pain and reared up, its sharp hooves pawing the air. I rolled and the hooves came down beside me. He would have forced me over the side of the bridge if I had not reached up and grabbed the reins. The horse’s jerk pulled me to my feet. I hit his nose as hard as I could and when he turned I hit the sensitive flank the spurs had cut open. He cried and bolted.