His wife served a dinner of corn tortillas and beans. It was simple but Juan couldn’t have asked for a better meal.
Afterwards, they sat watching Jose’s children play while his wife took the plates back to the small kitchen area of the house. Jose laughed as his youngest son picked up a stick to hit his older brother for picking. “That little one, he takes nothing from his older brothers and sisters.”
Jose sipped his coffee. “Tomorrow, I need to go back into town for a few supplies. They didn’t have them today but promised they would arrive in the morning from Raton. Would you like to come with me?”
Juan said that he would and they drank the thick, dark coffee, watching the stars appear overhead. Just before darkness invaded the land, Jose lit a fire. Juan noticed that he did not use matches, only his hands.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
It was late. Juan could hear Jose snoring from another part of the house but other than that, nothing stirred.
He was restless as he thought on what would come the following morning. He could think of nothing that would change the outcome and it saddened him.
Before the sun welcomed a new day, Juan rose from his place beside the fire to find Jose already awake. Juan was offered hot coffee, which he readily accepted and he two men enjoyed their coffee in the early morning silence.
Juan turned his attention to the mountains in the horizon and Jose noticed his gaze. “The mountains are beautiful, are they not?”
“They are indeed.”
“I have lived my entire life under these mountains and yet I do not grow tired of their beauty and strength. You have mountains where you are from?”
“We do. They’re not as large as the mountains here but they are peaceful.”
“Do you miss your home?”
“I miss my friends,” Juan admitted.
Jose was somber. “You are very unusual, amigo. But at the same time, I think you and I are much alike.”
Juan considered what he had seen with Jose starting the fire only with his hands, “You may be right.”
They made their way to Cimarron and were in the hotel’s restaurant when a man entered. Juan didn’t notice him at first but he should have.
Without speaking, the man raised his pistol and fired twice. The first bullet hit Jose in the chest and propelled him backwards. Juan took a step forward and the man’s gun rang out again. The second bullet passed through Juan’s right shoulder. He was so preoccupied with Jose that he forgot to feign being shot which would have slammed him backwards at such a close range.
The man squeezed his trigger again. This time the bullet passed through Juan’s head. More preoccupied with the shooter, he didn’t notice the crowded room witnessing a man shot twice with no impact.
The shooter retreated out of the restaurant with a static grin. Juan started to give chase but then looked down and saw Jose; there was little doubt of his death.
It had all happened so fast but he got a look at the shooter. At first the face meant nothing. Then, it dawned on him and he knew who had attacked.
Even before they entered the town, Juan knew that Jose would die but the circumstances of his death were unclear. With the recognition of the shooter, the reason behind the death became palpable.
The next week was as Juan had expected. He had lived among native tribes before. In Tennessee, he had spent much time among the Cherokee and although they had different customs, their approach to death was very similar. The rituals and ceremonies of the Taos Pueblo reflected their loss. But they also reflected on Jose’s leadership, courage and strength in life.
Jose’s family would now be cared for by the entire village. Juan was content knowing that Jose’s sons would be mentored by the men of the village, constantly reminded of what a great man their father had been.
Juan met with the elders of the village many times and each time they questioned him, gauging the involvement of the people of Cimarron in the death of Jose.
“So you know the man who killed Jose?”
“I do,” Juan answered. “He goes by the name of McKale.”
“Why did he attack you?”
“It’s complicated. He is a man of great rage.”
“Well,” the elder spokesman said, “he has disappeared. We have our scouts looking for him but so far they have come back with an empty trail.”
“It’s not likely that you will find him. He truly has the ability to disappear.”
“We shall see. In the meantime, you are welcome to stay with us as long as you would like. You said you were not wounded by this McKale and so you are fortunate. Perhaps your spirit needs rest.”
Juan thanked them and returned to Jose’s home. There, he was faced with his own questions. “What do I do now? Do I risk him coming here and harming these people? Is it time return to the fountain?”
He decided that he would leave the village and shared his decision with the elders the following morning. Then, he mounted his horse and was gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
“McKale? Is that who I think it is?” Diego asked.
“It is.”
“Who’s McKale?” the priest asked.
“That’s not an inconsequential answer, Padre,” Juan answered. “But I’ve spent too much time with my story and the answer will have to wait. Now we must turn back to our present. We can’t stay in this room forever.
“Diego and I have both studied the Book of Jubilees but you have dedicated your life to sharing what is within. What does the book say of the Ark?”
The priest considered for a moment. “It tells of the Seven Laws of
