adobes, welcoming Trace, falling hushed as they recognized Reina. Trace told them Doña Luisa was dead. They crossed themselves and murmured. A man with lean hips, massive chest, and a curious moustache, white on one side, black on the other, approached Reina and spoke in a stilled rumble.
âWe have much sorrow, señorita. Your mother was a great lady. May the saints receive her and comfort you.â
She thanked him quite graciously, but when. Trace explained that I was also Doña Luisaâs daughter, Reina ignored his proffered hand and swung down by herself. The broad-chested vaquero waited till Trace had helped me from the saddle and then bowed.
âI am Lázaro Pérez, at your orders, señorita. I regret you have had such a sad homecoming.â His gaze moved to Sewa.
The child kept her outward calm, but I knew she must be shrinking inwardly. Lázaro said sharply to Trace, âYaqui?â
Trace nodded. Lázaro swung from the girl without a word and took Reinaâs horse and mine while a second man led away Sewaâs after Trace lifted her down. He carried her into his house, kicking the door ajar, put her down, and lit a candle.
The dim yellow glow showed a square room plastered with clay, benches of adobe built out from the wall, and a fireplace at one end. There was a rough table, a chair, and a bed spread with a serape in tones of brown and gray. A shelf by the fireplace held a few dishes and cooking staples. Clothes hung on pegs. The floor was hard dirt and there was only one window.
One of the vaqueros brought in the bedrolls, my valise, crumpled hat, and Reinaâs saddlebag. âCanât you send him after this witch doctor?â Reina inquired acridly.
âNo.â Trace shook out the pallets, put one on his bed. I helped spread the others on the floor.
âWhy not?â she persisted.
âThe men wonât ride up his canyon at night.â
The green of her eyes was almost hidden by swelling black pupils. âThen he is a witch!â she breathed.
âWise,â Trace corrected. âThough to be wise or even sensible in this world comes close to magic.â
âSurely it can wait till morning,â she urged.
Trace went to Sewa, who still huddled on the bench where heâd placed her. He undid the bandage. The stench made my stomach turn. Reina gagged and flung away in disgust. Traceâs nostrils twitched. He rewound the bandage and said briefly, âIâd better take Sewa with me. Now.â
âItâitâs that bad?â I asked, heart constricting. Blood poison, gangreneâterrible names I didnât fully understand thrummed in my head.
âIâm afraid so.â
âThen Iâll come, too.â
âStay here, Miranda. Youâre done in. There wonât be any way for you to help.â But when he spoke to Sewa, her dark eyes sprang to me.
She didnât ask; she never would. But I dragged my body up and said, âIâm going.â
He started to argue, glanced at Sewa, and gave in. He shouted out the door for fresh horses and coffee, if any was left. In a few minutes Lázaro brought coffee that was at least lukewarm. Reina declined the bitter brew.
âYou are mad,â she told me. âTrailing about in the dark to find a Yaqui witch.â
âCruz?â demanded Lázaro. He stared at Trace. âThat one is an onza! If you have business with him, leave it till morning.â
âWe are friends,â said Trace.
âPerhaps by day,â retorted Lázaro. âBut once in his cat shape, an onza has no friends.â
âCrazy talk,â snapped Trace. âDidnât Cruz set that broken ankle for you? Didnât he cure Roque when he was dying of snakebite?â
âHe is still an onza ,â Lázaro maintained stubbornly. âI beg you. Wait.â
âWe cannot.â.
Lázaro cast a hate-filled look at Sewa. âAll for this
Frankie Robertson
Neil Pasricha
Salman Rushdie
RJ Astruc
Kathryn Caskie
Ed Lynskey
Anthony Litton
Bernhard Schlink
Herman Cain
Calista Fox