torture. His lolling head was covered with a black cloth bag. His feet were bare. His back was torn and bleeding, and a cold cloud of steam rose from his wounds. The seat of his white cotton pants was black with the blood draining from his back.
Behind this trio came three more Hermanos. One carried a large crucifix in one hand as he steadily plodded, head down. Another whirled the matraca with one hand as he dragged the blood-soaked whip that had probably been used by the unconscious Penitente in the other. The third, farthest behind, was the pitero. He was an old man, thin and bony in his long black robelike coat and black pants. His blue-white hair stuck out like thick thatch over a black bandanna he had tied across his forehead.
The moon, nearly full and directly overhead, illuminated the cavalcade like a spotlight as they marched up the slope and across the meadow, leaving a wide silver trail in the frost-covered grass. They approached the morada, where, once again, two men armed with rifles stood outside. One of the sentries opened the door and leaned out of the way as they dragged the unconscious Penitente through. The door slamming after them sounded like a muffled shot echoing across the meadow grass, breaking like waves on the silent shore of the cold, still night.
I watched for ten or fifteen minutes, but nothing else happened. The two
When I got back to my campsite, the tiny, downlike hairs on my forearms seemed to be standing up and reaching out like sensors to detect any danger. I slid off Redhead’s back, still holding my rifle in one hand. I looped her reins over a branch and stood stock-still as I scanned the area. A tingling sensation ran down my shoulders and gave me gooseflesh on my arms. Had my gear been moved? Was that where I left my backpack? The saddlebags? Or was I just unnerved by the grim scene I had just witnessed?
The moon had climbed higher and I could see all the way down the slope to the draw, where the crevice in the earth made a black shadow. If someone had been in my camp, they could be hiding in there, or behind those cottonwoods, or even farther up the slope from me, in the denser thicket of junipers and pinons. I heard a noise behind me, raised my rifle to my shoulder, and whirled around, wondering at the same time where I should go for cover.
“Jamaica? It’s me!” He was coming through the low growth of some sage scrub on his way down from the forested land above my camp-the same way I had just come.
“Kerry! What are you doing? You’re lucky I didn’t shoot!”
He took long steps down the slope and reached my camp before I finished speaking. “Easy there. Hold on. I just came over to check on you and found you gone and your horse’s saddle and your gear still here. I was worried. I thought you might have headed up toward that morada by Boscaje, so I went back through there looking for you.” I noticed he was carrying a rifle, too.
“We must have barely missed one another. I just came back from there. I saw a small procession. That’s why I left camp-I heard the pito.”
“Yeah. I heard it, too. Eerie sounding, isn’t it? I’ve heard that before. It really travels across the mountains, and sometimes it echoes. The first time I heard it was over in the Mora Valley, and I thought it was a wild animal cry or a woman shrieking. It nearly drove me crazy. I tried to follow the sound, but it seemed to move all over, and the way it echoed, I couldn’t tell if I was after the sound or its twin. I finally gave it up. So, you’re okay?” He dusted off his jeans.
“I’m okay. I just had the strangest feeling.” I looked around my camp area again. “I thought we weren’t going to meet up until morning.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know. I just thought I ought to see how you were doing over here.” He fidgeted with a tiny nest of cedar needles that had attached themselves to the cuff of his coat. “I keep forgetting to ask-how’s your… where you fell off your horse? You seem like you’re all better.” He looked at me and grinned, his hat brim casting a moon shadow across his eyes.
“Oh, that.” I blushed. “Yes, all better, thanks. And I forgot to ask you: how was your trip to Santa Fe?”
“It was good. There’s a gallery there that carries some of my photographs. I sold two last month. So I dropped off two more and picked up a nice little check. Helps pay for my equipment, printing and framing, stuff like that. Hey, that reminds me.” He reached into his coat pocket and held up something. “This should work for that memory card you found.” He moved in closer and turned slightly so the moonlight would shine on the item in his hand. “You plug that card in this slot here, see?”
I nodded my head.
“Then you plug this end into the port on a computer. It should open up on your computer’s desktop like another drive. If there are any photos on that memory card, you’ll be able to open that drive and see them.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking the device from him and holding it up to examine it more closely. “I’ll have to try that the next time I’m in the office. I don’t have a computer myself, but maybe I can use the one there that I do my reports on.”
“Good. Now, come on and let’s get a fire built, what do you say? It’s cold tonight.”
We worked together and quickly built a fire. While Kerry nurtured the first flames, I once again unrolled my extra horse blanket and spread it on the ground. I brought my bedroll over to use as a back cushion, sat down on the horse blanket, and offered him a seat beside me. He sat down beside me and then stretched out his legs and leaned back, one elbow on the bedroll, his arm so near it was touching my side. I could smell that scent of his. I leaned back, turned onto my side to face him, and put my elbow right beside his on the bedroll. “Did you move any of my stuff?” I asked.
“No, I didn’t move anything. Why?”
“You didn’t move my backpack, or those saddlebags over there?”
“No. I didn’t touch anything. I just saw you had left your things. I worried, especially when I saw the saddle. I went right off in the direction I thought you’d gone. I was concerned about you.” His face was twisting, as if he were lying about something.
“Why are you all of a sudden so worried about me?” I asked. Our eyes met.
He broke into a wide smile and shook his head slightly. “You know, he asked me not to let you know this, but being right here next to you and looking into your face, I can’t lie to you…”
I interrupted. “Roy. The Boss asked you to check on me.”
He closed his lips, but there was still a boyish grin that couldn’t be reined in. “He did. And I said I would. And here I am.”
I didn’t say anything. Part of me felt annoyed that these two men didn’t think I could take care of myself. And another part was grateful right now that I wasn’t alone.
Kerry reached across his chest and took my chin in his hand. He turned my face toward him. His hand felt warm. His eyes reflected the fledgling firelight. “I wanted to come. I would have found some excuse to check on you anyway. I wanted to see you as soon as I could. This just gave me a reason to see you before we exchanged reports in the morning.” He released his hold on my chin, but did not take his hand away. Instead, he began gently stroking my cheek with the backs of his bent fingers.
It had a strangely calming effect. I closed my eyes for a moment and felt his tender touch. I exhaled and let tension slip out on my breath. I opened my eyes and looked into his. “I’m glad you came. But I can take care of myself. This is my job. This is what I do, and I do it all the time. Nobody has to check on me.”
He continued touching my cheek, brushing wisps of my hair back from my face. He didn’t say anything, and his eyes never left mine.
“I have something I want to say.”
He grinned. Now he was making small strokes with his thumb on my jawline and in front of my ear. “I’m listening.”
“If I have ever done anything to hurt you or offend you, I hope you will forgive me.”
His grin broadened into a big smile. “I forgive you for being so perfect and for making my heart beat wildly.” He reached for my hand and pressed it to his chest.
I held my palm against his coat, and Kerry pressed his hand on top of mine, as if to gather me into his heart. But it was my own heart that I felt beating wildly-it felt like a large bird fluttering its wings in my chest.
Kerry’s hand moved to my shoulder and pulled me toward him. I could feel the warmth of his face moving toward mine. I turned my head slightly and touched my lips to his. His hand traced my shoulder to the nape of my neck and he pulled my face closer to his, his other arm opening as he pulled me into the warm cave of his chest and
