Hard Red Spring by Kelly Kerney Page B

bribery! She knows all about a bunch of ghosts that live in a cave and steal our things!”
    Evie’s face went hot with shame. She should have known her mother wouldn’t take her concerns about the cave seriously.
    â€œWe’re broke. The wheat plan is done,” Mother decreed, flourishing her arm. “It was never even feasible. It’s not about food, it’s about hundreds of years of history. Indians aren’t fighting hunger, they’re still fighting the Spanish. They’re fighting history. They won’t win, but they’ll starve trying because they have nothing more to lose.”
    They’re fighting history.
The phrase struck Evie. How does one fight something that already happened, that cannot be changed?
    â€œI’m hiding our fare money,” Mother told Father’s back as he walked out the door. “If your plan doesn’t require it, fine, but we’re not going to be stranded here.” Evie followed Father. She had no desire to know where their savings were hidden. She tried to block out the sound of the bureau sliding from the wall. She was afraid one of these days Father would ask her where their money was and she would tell him.
    ~~~~~
    The next morning was a special morning, Mother said, as she tugged and twisted Evie’s hair into two tight, wretched braids, then tied them off with blue bows. Evie was going with Father into Xela.
    â€œIs he selling bread? Will we be at the market?” She held her feet up, one by one, for her white leather shoes with the heart-shaped buckles.
    â€œNo, Evie. Market is on Sunday. This is special business. Just do what your father says and don’t say anything. Act like a lady,” she reminded Evie several times, making her increasingly nervous. The worse off they were, she knew, the more ladylike she’d have to be.
    â€œBe careful, Robert,” Mother pleaded, burying his gun under some sacks in the back of the cart. “Stay on the main road, and don’t give any Indians any rides. They’re worked up about the volcano. I want you back here in one piece.”
    â€œI’ll hope for two,” he said, then took Mother’s hand and began to sing, “
I lost my head in Totonicapán, over a girl . . .”
    â€œThat’s not funny, Robert.”
    â€œTwo pieces, Mattie. Me and Evie. Don’t worry.”
    The mule cart rocked downhill, shuddering with the excruciating pace of Tiny’s stubborn haunches. Magellan, in his crate on Evie’s lap, was still despite the rough road.
    â€œWhat do you think is wrong with Magellan? Is he sick? Did I not take care of him like I was supposed to?”
    â€œIt’s not your fault, Evie,” Father reassured her.
    She reconsidered Judas’s theory that Magellan wanted to kill her. “He bites me every time I try to feed him. I think he hates me.”
    â€œBirds can’t hate, Evie. It’s scientifically impossible. Their brains are too small. It’s not you, it’s the bird. I don’t know if sick is the word. Maybe he’s crazy.”
    â€œAre we taking him to a doctor?” She thought they must be going to see someone special, since she was in her best dress and Father had put on his only suit—both rescued from the field and washed just for this trip.
    â€œNo, Evie. I don’t know what we can do to help him. But maybe he can help us.”
    Now ten days after the eruption, the view in all directions had cleared. Santa María loomed ahead, looking closer than before. The shacks, too, on the bottom of the mountain seemed nearer their fence, as Mother said. More like skeletons of houses, sticks lashed together and topped with dried leaves. The sticks and leaves, Evie knew, came from their land. She stared down from the cart at shirtless men hauling enormous loads of dried corn on their backs. Bent over double, they wore head straps tied tight to counter the weight.
    A little