Sitting up, Paige lowered her legs into the pool again, but remained seated on the edge. She dropped her head forward and let the breeze sweep across her shoulders and neck. Had she ever taken time like this to be alone on assignments? To just sit, surrounded only by her thoughts, the wind and the absence of pressure? She thought about her life in New York, travel memories, plans for the future. So much was undefined in her life. This allowed her freedom, which she’d always craved. But somewhere inside her she heard a soft voice suggesting there was something more. She’d been hearing the same light voice ever since she met Jake Norris for the first time, in Jackson Hole.
Paige pulled her legs out of the water and stood, moving across the courtyard to the row of lounge chairs that Miguel had mentioned. She spread her towel across one and stretched out. Without thinking, she reached to one side of the chair with her arm, and then the other. What was she looking for, anyway? Her cell phone? A book? Something, anything to occupy her mind, rather than simply relaxing? How strange it felt just to let the time pass. How odd that something so simple should be so challenging.
Paige allowed the warm sun and light breeze to take over as she willed her unquiet mind to let go. She cleared her thoughts and, relaxing into the chair, drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Two stately church doors were propped open when Paige pulled up in front of St. Bernadette’s. The parish priest stood on the top step, shaking the hands of departing parishioners – young girls in flowered dresses and pigtails, teenage boys who shuffled obediently alongside parents, and elderly church members who leaned on walkers. A few cars were already pulling out of parking spaces, while others posed with open doors as passengers climbed in.
In the courtyard, a half-dozen people waited patiently while an older woman stepped up to the center fountain and took a seat. She eased herself back until her legs dangled off the ground, looking like a young girl trapped in an old woman’s body. As she settled, those around her also took seats, prepared to listen. Abuela’s court was now in session. Paige parked her car and moved in close enough to hear.
The old woman raised a shaky hand in the air and moved it across the crowd, making eye contact with the group as her fingers pointed to each eager listener. The faces of those who surrounded her were focused, ready to absorb every word. Children, in particular, sat with wide, eager eyes.
“Today I will tell you of the Wind Bird and what happened when he broke his wing.” Abuela adjusted her sitting position and rested both hands on her knees. “A man and his wife and sons lived on the seashore, where the waves grew fierce during a storm. Night and day the wind blew and the family could not fish or build a fire. They became hungry and ill and one of the sons feared for his family.”
Two children resembling brother and sister shuffled onto the fountain steps. Without looking at them, Abuela paused, waiting for them to sit before continuing. The girl, who appeared to be five or six years old, pulled a rag doll into her lap. She put one finger to her lips and looked intently at the doll to hush it.
“Worried about food, the son decided to wander along the water’s edge, looking for fish that may have been cast ashore during the storm, but he found none. As the wind grew fiercer, he came to a giant boulder on the Edge of the Sky and waded through the water until he reached it. On top of it, he found Wind Bird, flapping his wings. He offered to carry the bird across the water to the soft sand and Wind Bird agreed. But the water was filled with slippery rocks and the son fell, breaking one of Wind Bird’s wings.”
Paige glanced across the faces in the crowd. The children who had shuffled positions looked worried. Several adults wore soft smiles.
“The son fixed Wind Bird’s broken wing and told him to be still,” Abuela continued. “And so he was still for many days, until the waters of the sea didn’t move and the fish grew sick. The son then told Wind Bird he must see if his wing was healed. Wind Bird flapped his wings and found the broken wing had healed. As the wind came back, the waves returned and the fish became well. The man and his wife and sons had food again, as did all the people who lived on the sea’s edge. The Wind Bird remained friends of the people, and to this day he sometimes blows wind and sometimes leaves the sea calm.”
The young girl clapped her hands, delighted with the story. “Tell us another story, Abuela. Tell us about how Rabbit lost his tail.”
The old woman nodded, running her wrinkled hands along her faded skirt. Paige noticed the hem was only partially stitched, leaving a portion of the fabric hanging lower than the rest.
“Many worlds ago, Rabbit had a very long tail,” Abuela said as she looked at the young girl. She paused and moved her eyes around the crowd, as if to make sure each person understood the starting point of the story. “It was a beautiful tail, even more beautiful than Fox’s tail. Rabbit liked to brag about it. One winter day Fox grew tired of listening to Rabbit boast. He went down to the lake and cut a hole in the ice. He tied four fish to his tail and dropped the tail in the water.”
“Wasn’t his tail cold?” the young girl asked.
“You must listen to the story, mi hija,” the old woman said.
“Yes, Fox’s tail was cold, but he did not have to wait long before Rabbit came hopping along and asked Fox what he was doing. Fox told Rabbit he was fishing and pulled his tail out of the water, showing him the four fish. ‘I will trade these fish for a set of beautiful tail combs in the village. There is only one set and I must have them,’ Fox said. Rabbit hopped up and down and decided he must have the tail combs for himself, since he had the most beautiful tail. Fox showed Rabbit how to sit with his tail in the lake and left him there for the night.”
The young girl giggled and the storyteller paused until she quieted down.
“When Fox returned in the morning, Rabbit was shaking and his teeth were chattering. ‘Show me how many fish you caught,’ Fox said. Rabbit tried to pull his tail out, but couldn’t because it was frozen in the lake. ‘Help me, Fox,’ Rabbit said. So Fox smiled and gave Rabbit a big push, which sent him flying far from the ice hole. But his tail stayed stuck in the ice. And that is why Rabbit’s tail is so short to this day.”
The old woman stood; the story session was over.
“But tell us about the boxes, Abuela!” The young girl clapped her hands with enthusiasm. The boy sitting next to her pushed her shoulder and corrected her.
“Foxes, you silly girl,” the boy next to her said. “Abuela is talking about foxes, not boxes.” He rolled his eyes, clearly disgusted with the girl’s confusion.
“I know the difference between foxes and boxes,” the girl shouted, pushing the boy in return. The two started to tussle.
“Children, do not fight.” The deep voice of the priest, strong yet soothing, quickly ended the disagreement. “We are lucky to have Abuela to tell us stories each week. We need to be grateful for each story she offers us, whether about foxes, boxes or children who know how to behave.”
A few adults smiled and nodded in agreement.
The old woman smiled. “I will tell you a story about boxes next time,” she said.
Her announcement was greeted with another round of enthusiastic clapping from the young girl, as well as more eye-rolling from the boy.
“What stories has Abuela told this week?” Miguel said into Paige’s ear. She jumped.
“Sneaking up on people again, I see,” Paige said.
“I was driving through town and saw your rental car. Besides, I like to stop by and listen to her when I can. She was like a mother to us after we lost our parents. Ana and I could always go to her for advice. Or other important things, like ice cream.”
Paige noted the grin on Miguel’s face.
“You must have been a comfort to her, too” Paige said. “Luz told me she lost a son when he was young.”
“Yes, long before I was even born,” Miguel said. “Sometimes she tells a story about a snake that took a boy away. It upsets her. We all know what she means, but she will not ta
lk about it, if you ask. What was she talking about today? That trickster, Coyote?”
“Nothing about coyotes,” Paige said. “Today was about a bird and his broken wing. And about how a rabbit lost his tail.”
“Next week is a story about boxes!” Paige looked down to see the sweet, young girl from the storyteller’s audience skipping by, chattering away to her rag doll.
“I think you mean foxes, mi hija,” Miguel shouted after the girl before turning back to Paige. “Kids get so confused. Most of our legends have to do with the animal spirits. Not all of them, but many.”
“Not this time,” Paige said. “She really means boxes. The storyteller said she would tell her a story about boxes next week.”
“I do not know of any stories about boxes, but sometimes Abuela makes things up to entertain.” Miguel surveyed the crowd, noticed the priest turning in their direction, and said a quick goodbye. “Better get to those chores,” he said, leaving Paige as quickly as he’d arrived.
Paige watched Miguel retreat and then turned to the approaching priest.
“Hello, Father,” Paige said. “You have a lovely church. I stopped by to listen to your town’s storyteller.” Paige shook hands with the priest.
“I’m Father John. Padre Juan. And thank you. Yes, Abuela is here every Sunday, telling tales to anyone who lingers after Mass. She has been doing this for decades, relaying legends that have been passed down for generations. Along with some creative side stories of her own, I suspect.” The priest smiled as he released Paige’s hand and smoothed his cassock. “What brings you to Tres Palomas?”
“Half work and half vacation,” Paige replied. “I write a series about the Old West for The Manhattan Post. We’re featuring southwestern mineral springs, and I was due for some personal time, so it was a good mix.”
“You must be staying out at Agua Encantada, then. Wonderful place. Luz works hard to keep it going.”
“Yes, it seems like it. That, plus she owns the store here – it’s quite a heavy load. At least she has good help from Marisol, Miguel and Ana,” Paige said.
“Ah, yes. It’s not enough help, but at least it’s something.” The priest noticed a parishioner approaching and shook Paige’s hand again. “I hope to see you again while you’re here. And you tell Miguel I look forward to seeing him at Mass soon.” The twinkle in the priest’s eye told Paige the priest meant his statement as a poke to get Miguel to return to church. It must have been a while since he’d shown up to claim a place in a pew.
Paige returned to her car and drove by Luz’s store, finding it stayed closed on Sundays. She circled through the town, as she’d done on her first trip into Tres Palomas, noting again how run down the homes and businesses were. In general, the town wasn’t too remote to be inaccessible, but it was far enough off the main drag not to draw as many visitors as it could use. Santa Fe and Taos attracted the majority of visitors to the area, which was understandable since both cities offered a variety of culture, galleries and restaurants.
Agua Encantada was obviously the main draw to Tres Palomas. Resort guests who visited Luz’s store were also likely to shop at other businesses in town or to grab a bite to eat at the little bar – what was it called? – on the edge of town. The Coyote Cantina – that was it. Catchy little name.
Although normally Paige didn’t go alone to bars in strange towns, her curiosity beat her caution, as it tended to do. She turned her car toward the Coyote Cantina and arrived five minutes later. She recognized the pickup truck in the parking space next to hers as Miguel’s. So much for heading back to work after he’d made his fast escape from Padre Juan back at the church. Paige grinned.
As Paige entered the cantina, a few people turned to stare, mostly men sitting at the bar, but also a few from small tables scattered around the room. Some wore jeans and T-shirts, as if on a liquid lunch break from outdoor work. Others were dressed in “church” clothes, but with shirttails pulled out and collars loosened in post-worship style. An older woman in a tight tank top, faded jeans and sandals glanced over as she set two bottles of beer in front of customers at a small table. As she turned away from the table and headed back to the bar, she called out to Paige.
“Come on in. Make yourself at home.” Some of the men echoed the bartender; she heard low laughs and a whistle.
“Thanks,” Paige muttered, taken aback by the attention of the bar’s patrons. Her own outfit for the day – a short skirt and sleeveless, fitted blouse – suddenly felt too revealing. The general atmosphere reminded her why she rarely ventured out to bars.
That whistle got the attention of the remaining customers who hadn’t noticed her walk in, including one particularly familiar and delighted face.
“Well, well, look who the armadillo dragged in.” Miguel patted the empty barstool next to him. Paige approached, half hesitant and half relieved to have a destination.
“Working hard on those chores?” Paige asked as she slid onto the barstool. She couldn’t help herself. He deserved the jab.
“Just getting my vitamins before starting in,” Miguel replied, holding up a half-consumed draft beer. He waved the bartender over to get Paige something to drink. “Juanita, this is Paige MacKenzie, a guest at the resort. Also a reporter from New York, so watch what you say around her.”
“Oh, honey, you came to the right place if you’re looking for dirt about this town!” Juanita exclaimed. “All you have to do is hang out here for a few days and you’ll know every secret that has ever been whispered in Tres Palomas. Some secrets will be true and some won’t, but you’ll hear them all.” She tossed a cocktail napkin in front of Paige. “What can I get you?”
“Give her a draft on me,” Miguel said.
“Make that coffee,” Paige said. She turned her head and gave Miguel a disapproving look. “I’m driving, you know.”
“Do not worry, Sonrisa, this is my first one,” Miguel answered, catching Paige’s hint.
Juanita laughed as she set an empty coffee mug on the counter and reached for a half-filled glass pot on a warming tray. “Ah, he’s calling you ‘Sonrisa.’ He’s taken a liking to you.” She filled the mug and winked at Miguel. “Watch out for this man. He’s broken hearts before.”
“Now, now, Juanita. Only a dozen or so. Plus yours, of course.” Miguel downed the rest of his beer and asked for another.
Paige smiled at the bantering, sipped her coffee and winced. She had a rapid yearning for a good New York latte. Or, better yet, one from Jackson Hole. It struck her as odd that one of her first thoughts in a run-down New Mexico bar was of Wyoming. But the attention from the men, Miguel included – or was it Miguel in particular – reminded her of Jake. As flattering as Miguel’s attention was, it was her Wyoming cowboy she longed to see. She would call him again when she got back to Agua Encantada. His voice always reassured her when she was on the road and feeling out of her element.
Traveling alone wasn’t usually uncomfortable. She preferred it to being on the road with company. She could stop wherever she wanted, set her own time schedule and make sudden detours, such as the one she had just made when she pulled into the Coyote Cantina.
“So this is the local watering hole,” Paige said, attempting a second sip of the watered-down coffee.
“That it is, pretty lady.” Paige turned her head to see a rough looking man slide onto the bar stool to her left.
“Paige MacKenzie, meet Charlie Whitehorse.” Paige glanced back at Miguel and noticed he didn’t turn his head toward the newcomer.
Juanita threw another cocktail napkin on the counter, automatically setting a bottle of beer on it. Clearly Whitehorse was a regular. It was also clear that Miguel wasn’t thrilled to see him.
“Now, you have both of the town troublemakers here,” Juanita said. “That’s probably good for a scoop for your newspaper. Otherwise they’re nothing but a waste of your time.”
“Juanita loves us,” Miguel quipped.
“As long as people keep their fists off each oth
er and pay their tabs, I love everyone who walks through that door.”
“Spoken like a true businesswoman,” Miguel said. “And a mighty fine point, too, about people paying their debts.”
Immediately, Paige sensed the tension between the men on either side of her, and she felt uncomfortable sitting in the middle of it. She took another sip of coffee and looked for an excuse to leave. Pulling her cell phone out of a pocket, she glanced at the time and stood up. As she attempted to put money on the counter, Miguel waved it away.
“My treat,” he said.
Paige thanked him and turned to the other man. “It was nice meeting you, Charlie Whitehorse.”
“Likewise.” He lifted his bottle and waved it in the air.
After saying goodbye, Paige left for Agua Encantada.
CHAPTER NINE
The tour bus rolled into the parking lot, pulling up outside the office. One by one, senior citizens filed off the vehicle. Many held purses and bags while they chatted with each other and pointed to various locations around the property, clearly excited. From what Luz had told Paige earlier, the group had been traveling, shopping, staying in cities throughout the southwest and now, thanks to the flooding problem at the Santa Fe accommodations, they were getting an unexpected stay at a mineral springs resort. From their conversations, Paige could tell the tour members felt more of a sense of adventure than disappointment at the changed plans.
She watched the arrival from an armchair in the lobby, where a fresh cup of coffee had been a perfect complement to the notes she was writing up for Susan.
The gathering of the guests was like The Golden Girls meets Grumpy Old Men. If the new arrivals were under seventy years of age, Paige would have been surprised. Yet they had the perky enthusiasm of a college sorority and fraternity get-together. They were there to have a good time and Paige was certain they planned to make the most of their unexpected detour.
Paige MacKenzie Mysteries Box Set Page 45