location on the front page of the second section of a Sunday paper?

Shaking his head, he tore out the page and stuffed it in his pocket.

Brandon Walker was the very last person to pretend to understand why women did some of the crazy things they did. If, prior to the fact, Diana Ladd had asked his advice, he would have counseled her to keep Davy's name and picture out of the paper at all costs. You could never tell what kind of fruitcakes would be drawn to that kind of article or how they would behave.

But the truth of the matter was, Diana Ladd hadn't asked his advice, so MYOB, buddy, he told himself. You've got trouble enough of your own.

The three men wandered over to one of the many ocotilloshaded food booths that lined the large dirt parking lot. In each shelter, two or three women worked over mesquite burning fires, cooking popovers in vats of hot grease, fining them with chili or beans, and then selling them to the hungry San Xavier flock, churchgoers and tourists alike.

Father John led them to a booth where he evidently had a charge account of sorts. The women took his order and quickly brought back three chili popovers on folded paper plates and three cans of Orange Crush.

No money changed hands.

'Shall we go into my office to eat?' Father John asked.

'It's much cooler in there.'

They went to a small office hidden behind the mission bookstore where Father John was obliged to bring in two extra chairs so they could all sit at once. While eating his own popover, Father John observed the fastidious way in which the medicine man ate. Chili popovers, are notoriously messy, but Looks At Nothing consumed his meticulously, then wiped his entire face clean with a paper napkin.

Father John flushed to think that there had once been a time when he would have thrown a visiting siwani out of the mission compound, especially this particular siwani.

He had learned much since those early days, not the least of which was a certain humility about who had the most direct access to God's ear.

Over the years, he had come to suspect that God listened in on a party line rather than a private one.

Patiently, although he was dying of curiosity, the old priest waited to hear what Looks At Nothing had to say.

Father John knew full well that it was the medicine man and not Fat Crack who was the motivating force behind this visit. And he knew also that whatever it was, it must be a matter of life and death. Nothing less than that would have forced stiff-necked old Looks At Nothing to unbend enough to set aside their ancient rivalry.

It was August, hot and viciously humid. The summer rains had come with a vengeance, and the Topawa Mission compound was awash in thick red mud.

As Father John picked his way through the puddles from rectory to church, the Indian materialized out of the shadow of a nearby mesquite tree. He moved so easily that at first the priest didn't realize the other man was blind.

'Understanding Woman has sent me,' the man said in slow but formal English. 'I must speak to you of Dancing Quail.'

Father John stopped short. 'Dancing Quail. What about her? Is she OK?

She missed her catechism lesson yesterday.'

The other man stopped, too, unexpectedly splashing into a puddle. As he struggled to regain his balance, Father John finally noticed that his visitor couldn't see.

'Dancing Quail will have a baby,' he said.

'No! Whose?'

For the first time, the blind man turned his sightless eyes full on the priest. Without being told, Father John understood his visitor must be the young medicine man from Many Dogs Village, the one people called Looks At Nothing.

The blind man faced the priest, but he did not answer the question. He didn't have to, for under the medicine man's accusing stare. Father John knew the answer all too well.

His soul shriveled within him. His fingers groped for the comforting reassurance of his rosary.

'How far along is she?'

'Since the Rain Dance at Ban Thak, she has missed two mash-athga,' Looks At Nothing said, 'two menstrual periods.'

'Dancing Quail has told you this?' Father John managed.

'Dancing Quail says nothing. It is her grandmother who has sent me.

We who have no eyes have other ways of knowing.'

'I will quit the priesthood,' Father John declared. 'I will quit and marry her.'

'No!' Looks At Nothing was adamant. 'You will not see her again. She is going far away from here. It is already arranged with the outing matron. She will go to a job in Phoenix. You are not to stop her.'

'I'll speak to Father Mark, I'll. .

'You will do nothing. A man who would break one vow would as easily break another.' An undercurrent of both threat and contempt permeated Looks At Nothing's softly spoken words. 'Besides,' he added icily, 'Father Mark has already been told.'

'You want her for yourself!' The accusation shot from Father John's lips before he had time to think.

Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату