Dark Truth

by Lindsay McKenna

  Mary had considered it normal and told Ana that among her medicine people, some of them had this innate ability. Ana, though, was afraid of that possibility. Losing control scared her more than anything else.

  Tearing her attention back to the present, she asked the farmer, “How long did your contact with the mother jaguar and la niña go on?”

  “Almost six months, throughout the dry season. By that time, the little girl had a burning curiosity about me, I think.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I used to put some bread or fruit by the stream for her. Juanita, my wife, would wrap a bit of food in a cloth for her every morning. La niña was so thin. I could see every rib on her body. I felt sorry for her. I don’t know what she was eating and I was worried she’d starved to death.”

  “That was very generous of you to leave her food.” And it was. Juan was very kind looking, and Ana felt her heart go out to the old man. She imagined that food was hard to come by.

  “La niña got so she looked around for the food,” he said, smiling. “Every time she came for water, which was usually at dawn, I would be there. When I started putting a bit of food near the stream bank, well, she really liked that! La niña would peek about, looking for that packet of food as soon as she arrived. Over time, she crept closer and closer to me, to watch me for an hour or more. I would smile, wave and say hello to her. And then one day I decided to leave a little bit of candy on a broad rubber tree leaf that I’d pluck off the tree. Only I put it at the edge of my field instead of on the stream bank. I wanted to get her to trust me, so I started doing this every day. And each day I’d put the leaf closer to where I was working. She’d come and get it every time.” He chuckled fondly.

  “Because of my own Quero training, I was not afraid of the jaguar at her side, señorita. The mother cat would always sit at the stream and watch the little girl, much as a mother would watch her child explore. The jaguar never stopped la niña from coming into the field where I was working. Eventually, one day, I was able to hand the little girl the candy myself! That was a great day.” Juan grinned. “I felt like I was taming a shy, wild animal who didn’t know she was a human being. When she was with her jaguar mother, I’d hear her mew, grunt, snarl or hiss, just like the other cubs. I don’t think she knew any human language.”

  Shock rifled through Ana. She kept her face down because she didn’t want Juan to suspect her true identity. With her gut in knots, she held her breath as the old man continued.

  “My wife was afraid that I was working with the devil,” he added. “But I saw the relationship between the girl and the jaguar. There was love between them.”

  “So, you said the jaguar mother treated the little girl as one of her own?” Ana’s voice was thin and strained.

  “I did. She often licked her, as if she were one of her cubs. Licked her face, her hair, which was an unholy mess. She would often nudge her to lie down next to the cubs as they suckled. La niña suckled from the mother jaguar, as well. I’m sure the girl survived due to the rich milk of the jaguar.”

  “That seems impossible. What I know as a biologist—”

  Juan eyed her. “I know that, señorita. But my father was a Quero medicine man. I had seen him with wild animals many times, and they never hurt him. He had a special, spiritual relationship with the jaguar nation.”

  Turning, Juan looked across the field toward the stream. “I know this little girl had a spiritual relationship with this mama jaguar.”

  “I understand.”

  “Anyway, something tragic happened,” Juan said, frowning. “I was making good progress with the child, getting her to trust me. I would stop my work when they appeared, and I would gently call her to me. I would speak to her softly about many things. I don’t know that she understood the words, but I could tell she knew I would never harm her. Her curiosity grew about us two-leggeds, I’m sure.

  “By the beginning of the wet season, when I had to abandoned my farming plot here for the year, la niña was no longer afraid of me.”

  Juan plucked a blade of grass and chewed on it thoughtfully. “I had a plan, señorita. My plan was to get her to trust me enough to come home and live with us. The wet season was coming and I was worried for her.”

  Ana fought back tears and kept on writing. “You said something awful occurred?”

  “Yes.” Juan straightened, his voice growing sad. “The day before the rains arrived, I came out to my field one last time. I had just put down my hoe, my food pack and water jug, when I saw movement at the far end.” Scowling, Juan pointed across the waving corn. “There was a man, a poacher, I’m sure. He carried a big rifle with him. I watched as he leaped off the train tracks and started to look toward where the jaguar and the little girl always appeared at the stream. I didn’t know him, but he gave me a bad feeling. I could see the colors around him.” Juan made a circular motion with his hand. “They showed an angry thunderstorm, and I knew him to be an evil person.”

  “Who was he?”

  Holding up his palm, Juan muttered, “You will know shortly, señorita. Anyway, I felt as if the little girl was in terrible danger, and so was her jaguar mother. They hadn’t arrived yet, but I knew they would. Just as I started to shout at the stranger, to stop him, they appeared out of the jungle. By now, la niña was very trusting of me, and she started to run toward me. To get her share of my desayuno.”

  Juan’s mouth tightened and he scratched his furrowed brow with dirt encrusted nails. “I saw the hunter stop in his tracks when he noticed the girl. He raised his rifle at her, not the jaguar! I screamed at him, waved my arms to draw his attention. But the little girl didn’t see him—she had eyes only for me, señorita. She was smiling, her little arms open, hands stretched toward me….”

  “Oh, no,” Ana choked out as she sat there, her eyes riveted to Juan’s suffering features.

  “That hunter was pure evil. Tupay. I felt it. I saw it. He wanted to kill that poor little girl. I screamed at her to stop, and started running toward her, but I was too far away. The next thing I knew, the mother jaguar burst out of the jungle and charged across the stream. She raced at top speed into my field and headed directly for la niña, who was running toward me.”

  Shaking his head, Juan whispered, “Everything slowed down. I saw the hunter draw a bead on the little girl. As I saw the jaguar racing toward her, I kept yelling at the hunter to stop. I felt so helpless.” After wiping his watering eyes, the old farmer looked down at his short, jagged fingernails. “I heard the gun go off.”

  Juan sighed raggedly. “It was a terrible sound, señorita. The whole jungle seemed to vibrate from that one shot. And then it was quiet, as if in shock. Just as the hunter fired, the female jaguar made a mighty leap into the sky toward the little girl. The bullet struck the big cat, the shot so powerful that it threw her backward at least six feet. The jaguar hit the little girl and knocked her to the ground. I stumbled and fell myself, gasping in horror. The jaguar was dead and lying on top of the unconscious girl. At that time, I didn’t know if they had both been shot or not.”

  Taking in a ragged breath, Juan said, “I cursed the hunter. He took off running, back down the railroad tracks, back toward Aguas Calientes. I screamed angrily at him as I raced across the field to his victims. My heart was bursting with pain. I was so afraid la niña was dead. When I fell to my knees beside the jaguar, I could barely see the girl’s ratty black hair sticking out from beneath the cat. There was blood everywhere, and I began to cry and pray to the Inca to spare la niña’s life. I pushed the jaguar off her. The little girl was so pale, muddy and lifeless. Her body was covered with warm, red blood. I was afraid to touch her, for fear the bullet had found her, too.” Juan wiped his eyes once more. “I pulled her free, gathered her in my arms and ran to the shade of this tree. I stripped off my shirt and started wiping the blood and mud off her. I couldn’t find any wounds on her, and soon enough, she became conscious. But she was dazed. She recognized me, so she didn’t f
ight me. I just wrapped her in my shirt, held her to my chest and hurried home.”

  Tears burned in Ana’s eyes as she searched the kindly farmer’s wet face. “That poacher,” he grated angrily, “has blood on his hands to this day. I have cursed him daily since then, because he wanted to kill the girl. I know he did. I don’t know why. If I ever see him again—” Juan reached for his sharp-bladed hoe “—I will slice this through his head for what he did. He needlessly killed a beautiful jaguar guardian. Her two cubs died, too. They were too young to survive without their mother. He tried to murder la niña. And then he ran like the coward he was.”

  “Wh-what happened then?” Ana asked, her voice unsteady.

  “I took her home. My wife was angry with me. She was alarmed at all the blood on the girl. La niña was frightened of her, so I took her to the tub and washed her off with warm water. I dressed her in one of my soft, old cotton shirts and put socks on her feet to keep her warm. My wife calmed and I asked her to cut off the girl’s hair because it was so filthy. I could not put a comb through it.”

  Juan smiled softly. “That little girl sat in my lap, trusting me. Her little hands gripped my big fingers. She was wary of my wife and the scissors she held. We had to cut all her hair off. All of it. There was no way we could save any of it. Then I took her back to the tub and washed her again, with soap and warm water. Her scalp was scabby and had many little bites and swellings all over it.

  “As I was drying her little head with a towel, there was a smudge of mud still on her neck, so I took a washcloth and wiped it away. My wife shrieked. She frightened me to death with her scream. La niña cried out and clung to me. My wife began sobbing hysterically.”

  “Why did your wife scream?” Ana asked.

  Juan tapped the back of his neck. “She had the sign of the Tupay on her neck. The sun symbol. When my wife saw that, she flew into a panic. She said the girl was the devil incarnate. I have never seen her so frightened. I tried to tell her that was not true, that the little girl was sweet and pure. But she wouldn’t hear it. She chased me out of the house with a broom and told me not to return until I’d handed la niña over to the orphanage in Cuzco. My first wife, Maria, would not, but she died many years ago.”

  “So, that’s what you did?” Ana asked, wiping tears from her eyes.

  Juan gave her a unhappy look. “I had to. I had just enough money to travel to Cuzco. By nightfall, I was on the steps of the orphanage, talking with Sister Bernadette, who took the little girl in to care for her.”

  “You saved her life.”

  “No, señorita. The mother jaguar saved the little girl’s life. She deliberately jumped in front of her to save her from the hunter’s gun. She took the bullet meant for la niña. All I did was give her a chance to go on with her life.” Juan seemed to search Ana’s face. “I have often wondered what happened to her, if she was adopted. Despite the birthmark on her neck, her green cat eyes held nothing but innocence, never evil.”

  His trembling, emotional words reached Ana’s raw, pounding heart. Again she felt the sun symbol on the back of her neck prickle, as if to remind her of its presence. The birthmark said she was evil. Yet, as she absorbed Juan’s compassionate words, Ana started to believe in what he said—that she was not evil. Did she dare hope? “You are a hero in my eyes, Señor Sanchez. You did something very good and kind.”

  “Who could let a little child starve to death? You tell me,” he said, suddenly gruff. “I cannot tell this true story without shedding tears.” Once more, he wiped his eyes with his tattered rag.

  “It has a happy ending. Maybe that’s why.” Ana fought back her own tears, and slowly closed the notebook in her lap. The sun had changed position. Perhaps an hour had gone by, but it felt like five minutes to her.

  “My wife was happy to have la niña gone. But I was not. I am just a poor farmer and Cuzco is a long, long way away. I often wanted to take the train to see if she was still there, and how she was doing, but we are very poor.”

  Hearing the longing in his voice, Ana reached out and touched Juan’s stooped shoulder. “I have to think that your good heart and influence helped her have a positive life.”

  “I hope so, señorita.” Juan smiled faintly as he gazed toward the stream.

  “Do you have a description of the poacher? Were you close enough to see his face?” Ana asked.

  “I was close enough to notice he had a black beard beneath his narrow, thin face. He wore black clothes, but those who hunt the jaguar frequently wear black or dark green to melt into the jungle. And he had dark, lifeless eyes. I’d never seen him before, but I know he’s a sorcerer. That’s all I need to know. With time and age, my eyes are bad now. I probably wouldn’t recognize him unless I was standing within two feet of him.”

  Ana closed her eyes and felt her heart squeeze violently with fear. Juan was describing Victor, the man who intruded into her dreams. He was the one who had killed the jaguar, who had tried to kill her! This was why she felt as if he was stalking her, hunting her. Her breathing quickened as the danger she was in became clear. Her father wanted her dead.

  But she had to keep this from Juan.

  “By any chance, do you know a man by the name of Victor?” she asked.

  “I do not, señorita. Are you all right? You look very pale.”

  Taking a deep, ragged breath, she forced a smile for the benefit of the worried farmer. “I—I’m fine, really. Just feeling out of sorts. Jet lag, you know? And this altitude I’m sure is bothering me. My body must be adjusting, these first few days being in Peru.” Ana hated to lie to this dear old farmer, but she had no choice.

  “Ah, then chew coca leaves. That will cure your altitude sickness, señorita.” Juan smiled sympathetically. “We Inca have chewed those leaves for centuries, because we live at such high altitudes. That or drink the tea.”

  Reluctantly, Ana stood up. “I think you’re right. I don’t want to go, but I have to.” It was nearly noon. “I want to thank you for telling me your story, Señor Sanchez. It means so much to me.” Her heart felt as if it would tear from her chest. Ana watched as tears glimmered once more in his squinted eyes. Juan’s features blurred as hot tears flooded her own eyes. Gulping, she whispered, “I don’t want to go, but I have time constraints. The train leaves for Cuzco early this afternoon, and I have to be on it.”

  Another lie, and Ana felt horrible. But she was barely in control of her fleeing emotions over the revelation of her father’s treachery. She needed time to think and to get a handle on herself. Victor had said he would see her in person tomorrow. Oh, Great Spirit, she didn’t want anything to do with him! He could be coming to kill her with that same rifle.

  Gazing up at her, Juan nodded. “I understand, señorita. But drink some coca leaf tea and you will feel better shortly. That I promise you. You have green cat eyes, too. You know, when you walked up, I thought immediately of la niña once more. She had the most beautiful green eyes, as you do. And she had the very same rainbow colors around her.”

  Afraid that he might realize she was that child, Ana smiled brokenly. “I’m sure my colors aren’t the same as hers. Though I wish they were.” Reaching into her pocket, she drew out six hundred soles. “Here, I want you to take this, Señor Sanchez. Your time is worth money to me. Take this gift, please.”

  Gasping, Juan stared at the crisp, colorful bills. “You are so generous, señorita.” He took them gratefully. “Thank you.”

  Ana pulled the baseball cap a little lower over her eyes after she shrugged into her knapsack. It was time to walk the two miles back to town. She needed to think and read over her notes on Juan’s story. “You’re welcome,” she told the farmer. Lifting her hand, she whispered tremulously, “And someday, Juan, I’ll be back, I promise you.”

  Smiling, Juan waved. “You are kindhearted, señorita. I will look forward to your next visit. Come whenever you like. We will share a good cup of coffee at our home the next time you come, eh? Juanita will love you! I can tell you mo
re jaguar stories if you like.”

  Ana gave him a long, fierce hug. Juan smelled of sweat, of the earth and the damp fragrance of the jungle. “Thank you, I will. I love coffee. Farewell for now, my good friend.”

  The old farmer clasped her to him, as if he were not going to let her go. Ana felt his love toward her, felt his strong, arthritic fingers gripping her upper arms. “You are more than a friend, señorita. You have touched my heart, my grieving spirit. I feel as if la niña has somehow returned to me in a way I cannot explain.” And he released her.

  Ana would have loved to go home with Juan right now, to get to know this dear old man and his wife. Wiping her eyes, she gave him an unsteady smile. “I will come back.”

  As she hurried toward the tracks, Ana experienced a jumble of emotions, one of them fear. As she hiked back to town, it escalated steadily, until she felt suffocated with dread. Of her own death coming to meet her. The sorcerer, Victor, had not finished off what he’d started when she was four years old, and now he was coming again. This time, Ana knew he wouldn’t miss.

  Chapter 7

  “And that’s the whole, incredible story,” Ana told Mace over a late dinner at the India Feliz. Well, she’d shared most of the story with him. Ana hadn’t had the heart to tell him about Victor, the father who had tried to kill her. When she could find a working phone, she would talk to her adoptive parents. They would know how to comfort her, as well as counsel her on her next step. For now, as much as she was bursting to confide in him she needed to be cautious with Mace. At the same time he understood her experience more than most, and she was hoping he’d give her some feedback.