'Please, Mrs. Ladd, hear me out. It is true, isn't it?'
'Yes,' she answered reluctantly. 'My husband was a Lutheran, for one thing, but there were other considerations as well.'
'Your husband is dead,' he pointed out.
'I'm well aware of that, Father, but I haven't changed my mind about the other things.'
'I see,' he said, nodding.
'What do you see?' Diana didn't try to conceal her growing impatience.
'You still haven't told me what this is about.'
'As I said earlier, it's about Dancing Quail. . .
'Who?'
'Excuse me. About Rita. You know her as Rita Antone.
Dancing Quail was her name when she was much younger, when I first knew her. She was still a child then, not many years older than your own boy. But to get back to what I was saying about Papago beliefs, these are people with a strong spiritual heritage, you know. They have accepted much the whites have to offer while at the same time keeping much of their own. The reverse hasn't always been true.'
'Meaning?'
'Meaning we Anglos haven't always been smart enough to learn from them.
As a race, we've been very pigheaded, all caught up in teaching others, but not bothering to learn from our students. It's a problem I've been trying to rectify in my old age. For instance, I've learned something about Indian beliefs concerning illness and shamanism.
'In his youth, Rita's friend Looks At Nothing, that blind medicine man, probably was a victim of what the Indians call Whore Sickness, which results from giving way to the temptations of your dreams. Eye troubles in general and blindness in particular are considered to be the natural consequences of succumbing to Whore Sickness. Looks At Nothing could see as a child, but after he lost his sight in early adulthood, he went on to become a well-respected medicine man.
'Whore Sickness?' Diana repeated dubiously. 'Do you really believe that?'
'Maybe I don't, not entirely, but the Papagos do, and that's the point.
There's tremendous power in belief, especially in ancient beliefs, and that's what we're dealing with as far as Davy is concerned-ancient beliefs. Looks At Nothing is convinced that Rita's accident occurred because she lives in close proximity to an unbaptized baby. As such, your son is a danger to her, and will continue to be so until something is done to fix the problem.'
'This is outrageous!' Diana grumbled. 'It sounds like some kind of trick to trap me into coming back to church.'
'Believe me, young lady, it's no trick. My concern is far more straightforward than that. In addition to the accident which has already happened, Rita is evidently suffering from what the Indians call 'Forebodings.' These pose an additional danger, a threat not only to Rita, but to Davy and yourself as well.'
'So what are you saying?'
'Would you have any objections to your child being brought up in the church?'
She shrugged. 'I never thought about it that much one way or the other.'
'Mrs. Ladd, what I'd like to propose is this. Allow me to come give the boy some religious instruction. At his age, he ought to have some say in the matter. Once he's baptized, we can work together to solve the catechism problem and prepare him for his first communion.'
Diana Ladd remained unconvinced. 'This is the craziest thing I've ever heard.'
Father John sat forward and hunched his meager frame over the desk.
'Mrs. Ladd,' he said earnestly. 'I have been a priest in the Catholic Church for over fifty years. Priests are expected to live celibate, godly lives, and for most of my career, that has been true. But once, very early on, I made a terrible mistake. I fell in love with a beautiful young woman.
I almost quit the priesthood to marry her, but an older priest, my superior, took matters into his own hands. He shipped her far away.
Years later, I finally realized that I had a rival for her affections, a man of her own people. When she was sent away, not only did I lose her, so did he.'
'This is all very interesting, but I don't see ...'
Father John held up his hand, silencing her. 'No, wait.
Let me finish. Afterward, the other man, the rival, swore that he and I were enemies. I always believed that would be true until our dying day, but yesterday he came to see me here at San Xavier. We smoked the Peace Smoke, and he asked me for my help.'
'The blind medicine man?' Diana asked, finally beginning to grasp the situation. Father John nodded.
'Believe me,' he said, 'Looks At Nothing never would have come to me for help unless he believed Dancing Quail to be in mortal danger.
Naturally, I agreed to do whatever I could.'
The old priest fell suddenly silent. He turned away from her and sat gazing up at the rough saguaro-rib crucifix hanging on the wall behind his desk. He averted his gaze, but not before Diana detected a telltale trace of moisture on his weathered cheek. She could only guess what telling that story had cost him, but she knew it wasn't an empty ploy.
