I looked at her. Her lips were pale with chill. I realized that we should not be sleeping out in the open. I’d have to find a place more sheltered from the winds that swept down from the mountains across the prairie.
“Get up,” I said, pulling her to her feet.
“But it’s dark and I’m tired. I can’t walk anymore.”
“You have to,” I said. “We’ve got to find a warmer place to sleep.”
We began to walk. I looked up at the sky. I didn’t like the looks of it. The clouds hung low and threatening, obscuring the moon and the stars. A chill damp wind had come up, and I knew that rain could not be far away.
I remembered that earlier that morning I had seen a little forest across the fields. If only we hadn’t gorged ourselves on the mangoes we would have been there by now. I tried to see through the darkness but it was no use. All we could do was keep on walking and hope that we would be there soon.
The rain began to come down in great slanting sheets, pelting against our backs from the gusts of wind. In a moment we were soaked through. I pulled Amparo along rapidly, feeling the wet pantalones clinging to my legs. The earth turned soft and muddy under my bare feet.
Amparo was crying again. Once she half fell to her knees, and I hauled her up roughly. We began to run again. Suddenly we were there. I pulled her into the forest and stopped under a big tree. It was relatively dry; the rain had not yet penetrated the thick umbrella of leaves. We fought to catch our breaths.
I was suddenly aware that she was shaking from a chill. Her eyes seemed strangely bright and shining. “Dax, I hear voices.”
I drew her close to me, trying to warm her with the heat of my body. “No, I hear voices.” Her voice sounded strained and thin.
I touched her forehead; she was hot. She must be coming down with a fever. “Shh. Now we can rest.”
She pushed me away. “No,” she said angrily, “listen.”
More to humor her than anything else I did. At first I heard nothing, then I became aware of a low buzz of voices. It seemed to be coming from behind us.
“Wait here,” I whispered.
Amparo nodded, and I crept off into the forest. I had gone perhaps fifty yards when I saw them. There were three wagons drawn off from the road under the shelter of the trees, and three men were sitting in one of them. They were hovered around a small lantern playing cards. Three others lay stretched out between the other wagons. They all wore the red and blue uniforms of the army. I could see their rifles stacked along the side of the front wagon.
I wondered if there were more of them. I shinnied up a tree and carefully studied the other wagons. They were empty, but I could see several blankets in one of them. I looked back at the wagon with the card players in it, and wondered if I could get away with one of the blankets.
Then I remembered Amparo’s fever and knew I had no choice. She was my responsibility, just as I had been Fat Cat’s. There was nothing else I could do. I came down out of the tree and slipped silently up into the back wagon. Moving quickly, I scooped up a blanket and rolled it up tightly. I looked around for anything else we could use. I saw a box of matches and stuck them in my pocket. There was a dried-out piece of fatback lying on the wagon floor, so I took that too.
It took me a few minutes to orient myself when I got back into the woods, then it was easy to work my way back to Amparo. She was lying very quietly as I came out of the underbrush.
“Dax!” she whispered. I could hear her teeth chattering.
“Yes. Quick, get out of your wet clothes!”
I spread out the blanket and rolled her up in it, then took out my knife and cut off a thin strip of fatback. “Here, suck on this.”
She nodded and put it into her mouth. I lay down beside her and cut off a little piece for myself. It tasted gritty and salty but the feel of it in my mouth was oddly comforting. I could feel Amparo’s shivering slowly subsiding and after a few moments her even breathing told me she was asleep. I remember smiling to myself as I drifted off. For a girl, Amparo wasn’t so bad.
A bird singing in a tree over my head awakened me. I opened my eyes and stared upward. Through the branches I could see the clear blue sky. I turned my head to look at Amparo. She was rolled up completely in the blanket.
I looked around for her clothes. They were lying in a damp heap by her feet. I picked them up and hung them on a bush where the sun would dry them. By that time she was sitting up. I held my finger to my lips so that she would not speak.
She nodded.
I cut her another small strip of fatback. “Wait here,” I whispered. “I’ll be back.”
It took me only a few minutes to get to the clearing. The soldiers and wagons were gone. The remains of a small fire were glowing in the center of what had been their camp. I threw a few twigs on to keep it going, and went back for Amparo.
The fire felt good after the cold damp night. I tried to figure out what time it was by the sun. It must have been near nine o’clock. Time to start out again. I rolled up the blanket and threw it over my shoulders, and we moved off toward the road.
Three times that morning we left it to hide in the fields. Once it was several men on foot, another time a man in a wagon, and finally a man and a woman in a wagon. For a moment I was tempted to hail the wagons but I thought better of it. There was no point in taking any chances because from the frequency of the wagons I figured we must be nearing a small town.
When we turned the next curve in the road I could see houses and smoke coming from some of the chimneys, so I pulled Amparo off the road into the field. “We have to go around the town.”
She nodded, and we struck out across the fields. It took longer that way and it was nearly night by the time the village was behind us.
I’m hungry,” Amparo complained. “Fatback doesn’t fill my stomach.”
“We’ll have something to eat tonight.”
I had spotted a couple of chicken coops and as soon as I found a good place to camp for the night I was going back. I found a place soon enough but Amparo refused to stay by herself.
It was black as pitch as we settled down in a field near the chicken coops. They were out back of a house so we had to wait until I was sure everyone had gone to sleep.
“Wait here. Don’t move!” I cautioned Amparo.
I didn’t wait for an answer. I sped across the ground on silent feet, taking out my knife as I lifted the latch on the nearest coop.
Almost immediately the chickens set up a racket that could be heard forty miles away. One big red hen ran at me, and I flat-edged her with my knife. I slashed at another but missed, then caught a white pullet as she went by. Quickly I sheathed my knife, grabbed the chickens by their legs, and ran back across the field with their bodies still jerking in my hand. I dove down beside Amparo just as the farmer came out of the house, his nightshirt flapping. He was carrying a rifle and when he saw the open coop he ran to shut it. Then he came running over to the edge of the field near us.
“What is it?” a woman’s voice called from inside the house.
“That damn weasel’s been at the chickens again! Some night I’m gonna get him!”
He stood there a moment longer, and then went angrily stamping back to the chicken coop. He unlatched the door and went in.
I touched Amparo’s arm and gestured for us to leave. The minute he found two hen heads in the coop he’d know that it was no weasel that had raided his flock. We ran all the way back to our hideout, and suddenly we weren’t tired anymore. Even Amparo was laughing and happy as the chickens dangled over the fire, the lice jumping crazily from their feathers to keep from being incinerated.
19
The days became nights and the nights turned into days and we had lost all track of time when finally we came down the last of the range of hills into the desert. Vaguely I thought it had been about three weeks since we had left the hideout but I could not be sure.
It was about two in the afternoon as we stood there looking across the des
ert to the next range of hills beyond which lies the green and fertile valley around Estanza. I could see a few wagons on the road, so I knew that we dared not cross by daylight. We would be too easily seen, since there was no place to hide in all that flat hot sand.
I tried to calculate the distance with my eyes. It had taken Fat Cat and me three hours to cross it with the wagon. That would mean about twenty miles. By walking all night we should be able to make it. I turned to Amparo.
Her face was deeply tanned by the sun and her blond hair bleached almost white; her brows and lashes were pale and practically invisible against her dark skin. Her cheeks were thin and drawn and I could see the fine ridges of her bones beneath the flesh and the weariness that pulled down the corners of her mouth. I pulled a chicken bone from my pocket. She put it in her mouth and sucked it gently, letting her saliva soften and moisten it before she chewed. Amparo, too, had learned a lot in these last few weeks.
Several times a day we had had to leave the road and hide. More than once we had nearly bumped into patrols of soldiers but we had developed a sixth sense that warned us when danger was near. I looked out across the desert again. “We’ll have to cross it at night. We’ll find a place to rest until dark.”
Amparo nodded. She knew why without my having to explain. “Have we anything left to eat?” she asked, still sucking on the bone.
“No.”
I looked around. This wasn’t game country. There were few trees, only scrub brush that seemed to grow only in the desert. That meant there probably wasn’t much water either. “But we’re not far from Estanza,” I said. “There’ll be plenty to eat and drink there.”
She nodded silently. I watched her look down at the moving wagons along the road. “Do they all hate us? Do they all want to kill us?”
I was surprised by her question. “I don’t know.”
“Then why do we have to hide all the time?”
“Because we don’t know how they feel about us.”
She was silent for a moment. “Mamá is dead,” she said suddenly, “and so are the others. Roberto and Eduardo, too. That’s why we can’t go back, isn’t it?”
I didn’t answer.
“You can tell me,” she said quietly. “I won’t cry.”
I nodded.
She stared into my eyes. “Is Papá dead too?”
“No.”
She turned away and looked out at the desert. For a long time she stood there silently. Then she turned back to me. “If Papá is dead,” she asked, “will you marry me and take care of me?”
I stared at her. She looked so skinny and helpless standing there. Like Perro used to look when he wasn’t quite sure I would give him a bone. I reached for her hand. It felt warm and trusting in mine. “You know I will. We settled that a long time ago.”
She smiled. “Do you have another bone?”
I took the last one and gave it to her. She stuck it in her mouth and began to chew on it. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s find some shade and try to sleep.”
***
The wind came up later that night as we started down the road to cross the desert. We shivered as its chill struck us. I looked at Amparo. “You all right?”
She nodded and pulled the shirt closer around her and lowered her head into the wind.
“Wait,” I said, and unrolled the blanket and cut it down the middle with my knife. After tonight we wouldn’t need it anymore. We would be at Señor Moncada’s farm. “Here, use it like a ruana.”
She wrapped her half around her and I did the same. The wind seemed to be getting stronger. Occasionally it would lift the sand and fling it up in our faces and soon our eyes were stinging. The skin on our faces became raw and chafed, and after we had been walking a few hours even the hard-packed surface of the road was covered with a fine layer of sand.
Several times we stumbled off the road and sank in sand to our ankles. The wind was so fierce now it was hard to see where we were going. I tried to look up at the stars to get my bearings, but even they were obscured. More than once we found ourselves floundering and had to fight our way back to the road.
“I can’t see,” Amparo cried. “The sand is blowing in my eyes.”
“Make a hood.” I pulled the blanket up over her head and made a peak with just a narrow opening in the front to see out of it. “Better?”
“Yes.”
I did the same and it worked. We moved off again but before we knew it we were off the road again. It seemed like an hour before we stumbled onto it once more.
“I can’t walk anymore, Dax,” Amparo sobbed. “My shoes are filled with sand.”
I made her sit down, and I emptied her shoes. Then I pulled her to her feet. “It’s only a little way farther.”
We struggled on. My throat felt raw and dry. I could feel a rattling in my chest. Suddenly the sky seemed to lighten. One moment it was a faint gray, then the sun popped over the mountains behind us. I stared at it incredulously. It was coming up in the west.
Suddenly I realized what had happened. Sometime in the night we had turned around and begun to backtrack. Now we were caught in the middle of the desert in broad daylight. I turned and looked down the road toward Estanza. There was a wagon coming in the distance.
I took Amparo’s hand and we ran off the road. Everything was flat; there was no real cover. I told her to lie down and I stretched out beside her. I pulled our ruanas up over our heads. Perhaps they would look enough like the sand to fool anyone passing by.
I heard the creaking rumble of the wheels of the wagon. I raised a tip of the blanket and peeked out. The wagon had gone by. I was already up on one knee when I saw another down the road. Quickly I fell to the ground again.
“What is it?”
“Another one.”
The sun was beginning to bake the sand. The heat rose up all around us. “There’s nothing we can do,” I said. “We’ll just have to wait for the night. There are too many people on the road.”
“I’m thirsty,” Amparo said.
“Lie still; try not to think about it.”
I could feel the sweat running down my back and between my legs. I licked my lips. They were dry and salty. I lifted the blanket. The road seemed clear in both directions as far as my eye could see.
“All right,” I said, “let’s walk for a while. Put your ruana up again. It will keep off the sun.”
The heat shimmering off the road formed wavy patterns before our eyes. My feet began to burn.
“I’m thirsty, Dax.”
“We’ll walk a little more,” I said, “then we’ll stop and rest.”
We managed to go on for another half-hour. The sand was so hot now that when we stretched out on it we could scarcely bear it. My tongue felt dry and swollen. I made the saliva run in my mouth for a moment but as quickly it seemed to dry up.
“It hurts, Dax.” Amparo began to cry. “My mouth hurts.”
She was sobbing quietly. Her shoulders were shaking. I knew she would have to wet her lips somehow. I took out my knife and cut the edge of my finger. The blood suddenly welled up.
“Damn!”
“What did you do?” Amparo asked.
I held up my finger. “I cut myself.” I pushed my finger toward her. “Suck it.”
She put my finger in her mouth and sucked. After a moment she looked up. “There, is it all right?”
I looked at my finger. I squeezed it, forcing the blood to well up again. “Better do it once more to make sure.”
She sucked again. This time when I held up my finger the edge of the cut was white. “It’s all right now.”
“Good.” She lifted the blanket and looked out. “It’s starting to get dark.”
She was right. The day had almost gone, and night was coming. I could feel the heat beginning to leave the sand. I got up on my knees. I looked down the road that cut through the pass between the mountains. On the other side lay Estanza. “If we walk all night, we could be there by morning.”
Amparo
looked up at me. “Can’t we get a drink of water?”
“There’s none between here and Estanza.”
She went over to the side of the road and sat down. “I’m tired.”
“I know, Amparo.” I covered her with my ruana. “Try to sleep a little. Tomorrow everything will be all right.”
She lay back and closed her eyes. In a moment she was asleep. I tried to, too, but there was a peculiar ache in me that wouldn’t let me. No matter how I turned I seemed to hurt. I let Amparo sleep for about two hours.
***
It was about an hour after sunup when we finally reached Señor Moncada’s farm. Several horses were tethered out in front but I saw nobody. I gestured to Amparo to be quiet as we went around to the back.
There was smoke coming from the kitchen chimney. It was so strong in my nostrils that I could feel myself growing dizzy with hunger. We crossed the backyard to the kitchen door. Still holding Amparo’s hand, I opened it.
It was dark and I couldn’t see until my eyes adjusted, then I heard a woman scream and my vision suddenly cleared. A cook was standing near the stove, and three men were sitting at the kitchen table, two of them facing me. A third had his back to me. The red and blue of their uniforms suddenly registered.
I turned, pushing Amparo toward the door. “Run!”
She took off like a rabbit across the yard. I started after her. I heard a yell behind me and when I looked over my shoulder I tripped over a log and fell. As I scrambled up a soldier ran past me.
“Run, Amparo, run!” I screamed. “Run!”
Another soldier came up to me. I turned to face him, pulling my knife. I began to feel dizzy. Exhaustion and the long night had taken their toll. Then I saw clearly his face, and suddenly nothing remained in me but a burning rage and hatred. I felt the desire to kill rise in my throat. “Fat Cat!” I screamed, and I launched myself at him, my knife outstretched.
He had sold us out. That was why the soldiers had been able to raid our hideout. It was because of him that so many had been killed, and all for a lousy black stallion.
As I slashed upward with the knife I heard Amparo scream. I turned and saw that a soldier had caught her. He was pulling her back toward us, kicking and screaming. I began to feel dizzy again.
The Adventurers Page 12