Marco and the Devil's Bargain (36 page)

“
Oh, Paloma,” he whispered.

She was in charge now. She held up both hands to stop the laughter, and gestured with five fingers again, while Toshua took up the story and Eckapeta translated.

“
After five days of good life, the Dark Wind wants out,” Toshua's woman said. “The suffering begins, but it is smaller this time. It does not kill.”

Paloma continued her pantomime, lying down in the dust at the feet of warriors who might, at the very least, kill her. She suffered with fever. Marco did not fail her. He knelt and wiped her face, raising her up and signing “food.” Kahúu helped, too, wiping her legs, turning her over and cleaning her like a baby, as Paloma lay in the dust and prayed God was watching their performance with sympathy.

Toshua stopped speaking and raised his hands. It was hardly necessary, because he already had everyone's total attention. As Marco gasped in surprise and Kahúu covered her face in relief, Paloma sat up, smiled, and stood. She did a little
paso doble
, and Marco joined in. “And they think
we
can't dance,” he whispered to her, which made her smile.

“
The Dark Wind is gone after five days more, and it will never return,” Eckapeta said, triumph in her voice now. “This is what the little man and … and,” she stopped and looked with great pride upon Paloma, “Tatzinupi, my daughter, can do for The People. They will not fail you.”

The sun had passed its meridian now, and the air was cool, but Paloma dripped with sweat. She shook the dust from her clothes and wiped her arms, noticing the second cut on her other arm, the one she had insisted on to convince their ragged friends a month ago.

“
Follow me, Toshua,” she said, and gathered all her courage and walked to Kwihnai, the war chief. Silently, she pushed both her deerskins sleeves to her shoulders so he could see identical cuts.

“
Dear chief, I have amazing power,” she told him, her head up and her voice unnaturally high. She had noticed that the Kwahadi sang in high voices to honor the gods. It couldn't hurt to do the same with war chiefs. “
Twice
I have been cut. So has my man, the big Spaniard. The Dark Wind trembles and runs from us. Do any of The People suffer from the Dark Wind at this moment?”

The chief listened carefully, and made the sign for yes.

“
Let me and anyone else who has driven out the Dark Wind stay the night with them. We will be alive in the morning, and we will do this cut for each of you, so you and your people will be safe. Yes, you will suffer in five days time, but it is not a suffering unto death.”

Kwihnai stood in thought a long time, not a man to rush into anything, evidently. He gave her a shrewd look then, and gestured to Marco.

“ ‘
Let me speak to this man of yours that you like so well,' ” Eckapeta translated.

Marco stood next to her, taking her hand. He bowed, one leg forward like a Spanish grandee, then gave her hand a little tug. With her own flourish, she went into the deep, deep curtsey she had performed once for her almost-husband when she accepted his proposal, and thought never to do again. The People seemed suitably impressed.

He spoke into her ear. “See there, you had another occasion, my dove,” he teased. She laughed and jostled his shoulder.

The war chief smiled briefly, and then he was all business. “Spaniard, tell me why would you do this thing for people you hate? Three years ago, your war chief, and maybe you, fought us. Why should you keep The People alive?”

It was certainly the question of the century. Paloma put her arm around Marco's waist, pleased that there wasn't a tremble in his entire body. Or hers, now. They were in so deep that there was no need to fear. What happened was in God's hands.

Marco glanced at Toshua, indicating without words the necessity that every sentence be translated correctly. Toshua nodded. He stepped forward and put his arm around Marco's waist; he, too, was committed.

“
I am the man who lives behind stone walls. You know of my place. I have fought you, it is true,” Marco began simply. “I do not lie. I only wish to live in peace in Valle del Sol. This is where my loved ones are buried. I never want to come here again, even though your canyon is beautiful. It is
your
land. Can we not divide our lands and live in peace? Why is this hard?”

“
If you help us, you would like us to leave you alone?” the chief asked.

“
It would be a beginning,” Marco answered. “All I ask is a chance.”

Paloma heard Antonio clear his throat loudly, interrupting the mood. The war chief frowned.

“
There is another reason, and our little medicine man reminds me,” Marco continued. “Once we have satisfied you by showing you that we cannot get the Dark Wind and we mean what we say, we will tell you.”

Kwihnai nodded and gestured to the older warriors. They gathered around him, leaving Marco, Paloma, and Toshua on the outside.

“
You could have mentioned Pia Maria,” Antonio began.

Marco grabbed his shirt, lifting him off his feet. “I am doing the best I can to keep us alive,” he whispered. “Little by little.” He shook the doctor, whose eyes were starting to bug out.

He started to say more, but the crowd of warriors separated and surrounded them again. Kwihnai had made his decision. Marco released the doctor.

Kwihnai gestured toward the distant tipis. “Go there tonight. If you are alive in the morning, we will let in the Dark Wind.”

Silent, wordless, Paloma, Marco and Antonio started toward the three tipis. Antonio rubbed his throat, but wisely chose to remain quiet.

Could you develop some wisdom fast enough? Marco thought.

“
You know it takes more than one night with
la viruela
to cause symptoms,” Antonio began finally.

Perhaps I hope in vain
, Marco thought, weary of the man.

“
The point is, The People don't know that,” Paloma told Antonio, much kinder than Marco could ever be. “Incubation is not something even Toshua understands.” She managed a small laugh. “I barely do.” She leaned against Marco's shoulder as they walked, noticing that The People had fallen way back. “What will we find ahead?”

“
That which we have seen before,” Marco replied. “Be brave a little longer.”

His dear one nodded. “You will owe me red shoes and a coral necklace when we are home.”

“
I was thinking more in terms of emeralds and rubies. Perhaps you can bathe in mare's milk like Cleopatra.”

They laughed together, which made Antonio stare at them.

“
Wait up there, my children.”

Marco turned around, touched to see Toshua and Eckapeta walking toward them. Ayasha held Eckapeta's hand. She carried trade blankets and a buffalo bladder full of water. Their arsenal of medicaments was puny, indeed.

“
We cannot really do anything,” Marco reminded them gently.

Trust Ayasha. When she spoke so softly, he prayed that someday he would have a daughter like her. “We can do as you say, señor. We can begin here.”

T
his night in the tipi with the dead and dying was not Paloma's worst night, by any means. She knew it was not Marco's. As she looked at the others, she knew it was not their worst night, either.

To her astonishment, Antonio took charge and assigned them each to a tipi. He went about his work more quietly and efficiently than she had seen at any point in their acquaintance. She could call their association nothing more than acquaintance, even after several months. She knew he was a man desperate for his daughter, and she understood that. She also knew she never wanted to know more about him; he was that kind of person.

Still, Paloma reminded herself that Ayasha had no trouble helping Antonio. She had observed them on the final part of the journey to the Gathering, watching how they rode together, each so aware of the other. She even thought Ayasha was teaching him the language of The People. Paloma herself was certainly more proficient in sign language now, even more than Marco.

She spoke about Antonio to Marco while they cleaned the dying as best they could and tried to give sips of water to those beyond water. “He is a complete mystery to me, but if Ayasha likes him, then he must have qualities I am not aware of.”

“
Poor Antonio,” Marco said, many minutes after her comment, long after she thought he would respond. “Some people are just not well-liked, no matter what, and then when they are, it's a shock.” He managed a wry smile. “Truth to tell, Alonso Castellano is a man like that. He has few friends, but you know, I always liked him and would like to be his friend again.”

“
I do not think even my cousin is his friend,” Paloma said. “I wonder how they have fared, and the people of Santa Maria.”

“
Does it seem to you like they all belong to another world?”

She nodded, too tired to say more.

By dawn, it was done. One
pobrecito
remained alive in their tipi, but only just. When she and Toshua looked in, Eckapeta shook her head. Worried what she would find in the third tipi, Paloma was touched to see the order Antonio and Ayasha had created there. As they watched in sympathy, Antonio sat back on his heels finally and told Ayasha to stop. “We can do no more,” he said simply, and Paloma agreed with him.

Weariness itself, Toshua beckoned Marco and Antonio for a conference. They squatted outside the tipi while the women drew closer to each other. Their words were soft, until Antonio stood up and declared, “I cannot,” and left the two men.

“
You know what they will do,” Eckapeta said.

“
I know,” Paloma said, her eyes on the men when they drew their knives and went into one tipi and then the other. There was no need of their merciful services in the third tipi. Antonio and Ayasha stood together, silent, until Antonio walked away from them.

“
I did not know he had a tender heart,” Eckapeta said, her eyes on the solitary figure.

“
He didn't when we started this journey,” Paloma replied.

Too tired to move, they huddled close together in the cold morning air, waiting for someone to come by—not too close—and see that they lived.

Marco was as comforting as ever, opening his generous embrace to Ayasha, as well. “A man has two sides, after all,” he said, kissing one on the head and then the other.

They sat in silence, listening to the small birds and the lowing of cattle, stolen from one rancher or other in Texas or New Mexico. “I should copy the brands,” Marco said idly.

“
With what?” Paloma asked. “Don't be a
juez de campo
now, because I would just about give my right arm—no,
your
right arm—for a piece of beef cooked just so.”

He laughed softly at her little joke.

When the sun's rays finally struck the broad meadow surrounded on all sides by towering canyon walls, Kwihnai and two of his elders walked toward them. Toshua stood up immediately and hurried to them, but not too close, on the little doctor's advice.

“
He's telling them to send a man who has a pockmarked face to check inside the tipis and see what we have been through. He's also asking for new clothes,” Marco explained. “I told him to do that. We need to burn everything: the tipis, the dead and our clothes.”

“
I wish I could keep this dress of Kahúu's sister.”

“
I wish you could, too, but on the bonfire it goes.”

The warriors left, sending back an old man with a ravaged face, and Buffalo Rut, also scarred. They carried with them an armload of clothing and a torch. Eckapeta, Ayasha, and Toshua stripped and threw their clothes into the first burning tipi. Paloma retreated behind the second with Marco. She took a long look at her beaded dress, sighed and threw it into the tipi as Buffalo Rut applied the torch. Antonio changed alone.

Paloma watched Marco, quite practiced now, adjust his breechcloth. “I could almost start to think you enjoyed dressing like this.”

He grinned at her, the first genuinely pleasant smile after their long night. “There's a certain freedom,” he told her, “a nice swing to the jewels.
Ay de mi!
Paloma, leave me alone!”

She blushed when she heard Toshua laugh from the other side of the tipi that was now a bonfire.

I could sleep a week
, Paloma thought, as they walked to the encampment. Smoke curled from tipis and the dogs growled over scraps. She heard women talking, horses neighing. Once the little
médico
explained his terms, The People would line up for inoculation and their work would be done. Antonio would retrieve his daughter and they could go home.

Eyes nearly closed, Paloma sat with Eckapeta and Ayasha, women apart now, because they had powerful medicine against the Dark Wind. Had they not survived a night with the disease? Antonio Gil spoke and Toshua translated his feeble Spanish, just in case Kwihnai didn't understand everything.

By now Paloma knew a little of the language, but she knew more of human nature. The look on the war chief's face could have mirrored Marco's a few short months ago, when Antonio explained his devil's bargain. But there it was; as Antonio Gil had bent Marco to his will, so he trapped and cornered the war chief: inoculation for The People in exchange for his daughter. Antonio gestured the height of a small child, touched his own light-colored hair, folded his arms and sat back with less triumph on his face this time, maybe even some doubt.