Something grey and furry was lying dead in the town square. Two big vultures with black heads and black, clawed feet waited nearby on the sagging roof of a crumbling adobe mill. 

“Don’t look,” Isabella said, covering her little sister’s eyes. 

“I want to see,” Alijandra insisted. She pulled Isabella’s hands away. “Ugh. What is it?.” 

Their dog, Jack, pulling a wooden travois with a yucca-string bag on it, padded off towards the dead animal. “No!” Mama said, and Jack stopped. Looked at Mama. Looked at the animal. Slunk back to them. 

“Good boy,” Mama said. “Come along, girls.” She took both of them by their hands. “We have things to do. Alijandra, please watch where you are walking.” 

“Sorry, Mama. I just wanted to see.”

“There’s nothing to see,” Isabella said. 

One could have said the same about Scorpion Tail. It was a town in name only, consisting of the old mill, a smithy, a trading post, and eleven shacks, all surrounding a town square with a stone well. Besides Mama and her two girls, the only other people about were a tall, thin man and six children. The man was wearing only a pair of brown trousers and sandals. He was hunched over, pulling weeds from a garden in the shade of a squat, wooden shack that had never been painted. The children—two teenaged girls and four younger boys—were helping him. The girls wore brown dresses sewn from blankets. Like the man, the boys wore only ragged trousers.

“Good day, Daon Raul,” Mama said. 

The man straightened up and smiled, showing teeth stained orange from eating too many kavo nuts. His skin was brown and wrinkled and the hair on his head and chest was gray. “Good day, Mrs. Anerson,” he replied. “It has been a while.”

“A few months,” Mama agreed.

“Children, this is Mrs. Anerson and her daughters,” he said. 

“Hello, Mrs. Anerson,” they said, smiling. 

“You remember my children, don’t you?” he said.

“Yes, I do. Hello,” Mama said. 

“And who are these two?” Daon Raul asked. “Isabella, right?” The older girl nodded. “And you are how old, now?” 

“Twelve, sir.” 

“Twelve, yes. Growing up fast, aren’t you? And you,” he said, squatting down in front of Isabella’s sister. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen you. You’re Antonia, right?”

“Alijandra,” the little girl said. “But everyone calls me Ali.” 

“Ali, then,” Daon Raul said. “And how old are you, Ali?”

“Seven.”

“Seven—no!”

“Yes,” she replied.

“’Yes, sir,’” Mama said.

Daon Raul smiled. “That’s all right, Mrs. Anerson.” He held his hand up to Ali’s waist. “The last time I saw you, you were only this tall,” he said, “and your big sister here was carrying you around like a doll.” 

Alijandra giggled. “Now that I’m seven, Mama says I’m old enough to come to town with her and Bella.”

“Good,” Daon Raul replied. He stood up. “So, what can I do for you, Mrs. Anerson?”

“We’ve come to receive a blessing for our family.”

“I see,” he replied. “Is someone ill? Are you traveling somewhere?” He leaned closer. “Does the fact that Mr. Anerson is not with you have something to do with it?”

“Something, yes,” Mama told him. “My husband left us several weeks ago to look for work. We have not heard from him.”

“I see, I see,” he nodded. “The same work as before, I take it?”
“Yes.”

“Ah. I imagine that his line of work can be quite challenging. So, Mrs. Anerson, it sounds like you need a blessing for the three of you,” he smiled, putting a hand on Alijandra’s head, “to keep you and your girls safe while your husband is away. And you need a prayer said for him so that he is safe until he returns. And, perhaps, another prayer that his search may be successful.”

“Yes, please,” she replied. 

“Your husband—he is not a believer?”

“No, Daon Raul,” she admitted. 

“That’s all right,” he replied. “Our Mother loves us all, even if we don’t return Her love. Why don’t you wait in the shade—” he glanced back at the garden—“while I prepare? Children, please do some of your other chores while I take care of Mrs. Anerson and her daughters. Shadi!”

The door of the shack opened and a Diheneh woman—one of the native people—came out. She, too, wore a simple dress made from two brown blankets sewn together. She had lines on her forehead and the corners of her eyes, but her hair was just as black as Mama’s. Isabella saw that her left hand was twisted and knotted into a club. Ugh. How did that happen? she wondered. 

As Daon Raul’s children wandered off, he spoke to Shadi—I suppose she’s his wife, Isabella thought—in a language Isabella didn’t understand. Shadi scowled, glaring at Mama and the two girls, but nodded curtly. Then the two of them went into the shack, with Shadi shouting something to someone else inside. 

“He lives here?” Alijandra asked. “With her?”

“Hush,” Mama said. “Don’t be rude.”

A few moments later, the door opened and Daon Raul came out, followed by Shadi and two more boys, both younger and smaller than Alijandra. Daon Raul’s head was wet—Isabella guessed that he had splashed some water on himself to clean up—and he had put on a yellow tunic with sleeves that went to the elbows. He held an empty glass bowl and a brass rod topped with a medallion. One side of the medallion had a sun with a woman’s face; the other side had two crescent moons, facing each other. The two boys wore nothing except ragged brown trousers made from burlap. 

“Over here, please,” Daon Raul said. “By the well.” 

“Wait here,” Mama said, and Jack, settled in the shade, careful not to flatten any of Daon Raul’s vegetables. 

The seven of them—Mama and her girls, Daon Raul, Shadi, and the boys—crossed the square, the boys kicking dust on each other and giggling. Shadi spoke softly to them—again, Isabella could not understand what she said—and the boys stopped their game at once and followed quietly. 

Like most other wells, this one was round and lined with stones cemented together, and there was a wooden bucket tied with a long rope to the top of the well. A tin ladle hung by a chain from the handle of the bucket. As they approached the well, Isabella noticed a bearded man in ash-stained clothes watching them from the doorway of the smithy nearby. He shook his head, threw away his cigarette, and went back inside. 

“How far down does it go?” Alijandra asked, looking over the side of the well.

“Come away from there before you fall in, you silly,” Isabella said, taking her sister’s hand. 

“I just want to—”

“Quiet,” their mother whispered, as Daon Raul held up the bowl and the wand. 

“Life-giving Mother of Us All, we ask you today to shine down on us in favor. Be our Light and our Guide. Send your Twin Sons to show us the way through night and darkness. We ask this in Your name.”

He handed the bowl to one boy and the wand to the other. The boys stood straight and still, both watching Daon Raul as he dropped the bucket. A heartbeat later, the unseen water below went splosh. Then he leaned back and swiftly started reeling in the rope tied to the bucket’s handle.

“What’s he doing?” Alijandra asked.

“You’ll see,” Mama whispered. 

“When he gets the water out of the well, can I have a drink?” Alijandra asked. 

“Hush,” Mama answered. 

Grunting, Daon Raul leaned over, pulled up the bucket, and set it on the lip of the well. He scooped up a ladle of water and held out his other hand. The boy with the bowl brought it over.

“Thank you, Tomas,” he said, taking the bowl from the boy. He carefully poured the ladleful of water into the bowl. He dipped the ladle again, poured it again, dipped the ladle again, poured it again, dipped the ladle a fourth time and poured the water into the bowl a fourth time. He put the ladle back in the bucket and held out his hand again. The other boy brought the wand to him. 

“Thank you, Carlos,” Daon Raul said. Holding the bowl of water in one hand, he used the wand to draw four circles in the air above the bowl. “Loving Mother,” he called, “your Light makes all life possible. Because of You, plants grow from the soil and animals feed upon them, and we feed ourselves with both. Because of You, our world is warm though the Endless Night outside is cold. Because of You, the wind blows and the rains come and refresh the world and ourselves.” He handed the wand back to Carlos and held the bowl of water over his head, letting the sun shine through it. “Send down Your Radiance and bless this water. We ask this in Your name.”

Daon Raul brought the bowl back down and dipped the end of the wand in it. He stepped in front of Mama and she bent her head. “Bless this woman, Juanita, Your daughter,” he said, using the wand to draw a circle with water on the top of her head. He dipped the wand again and went to Isabella. “Bless this girl, Isabella, Your granddaughter,” he said, drawing a circle of water on top of her head. “Bless this girl, Alijandra, Your granddaughter,” he said, doing the same with her. 

“Keep them safe while Your son, Thad Anerson, is away looking for work. Keep him safe as well, and let him come home happy and healthy and successful. Let him find the work he needs to provide for Juanita and Isabella and Alijandra. Bless their family always, now and ever and forever, and keep them always in Your Light. We beseech you, Gentle Mother, to hear our prayers this Day, in Your name.”

Daon Raul held the bowl of water to Mama. “This water has been blessed and may not be spilled into the dust. Drink.” She took the bowl from him and drank some of it. He took it back and went to Isabella. “This water has been blessed and may not be spilled into the dust. Drink.” She took a small sip and gave it back to him. He went to Alijandra and said the same thing.

“I’m awfully thirsty,” she said. “Can I have the rest of it?” 

“Yes, you may. I insist,” Daon Raul replied, smiling. Alijandra took the bowl and gulped down the rest. 

“Still thirsty?” he asked, taking the bowl from her. 

“No,” she said, wiping her mouth. 

“What do you say?” Isabella asked.

“Thank you, sir,” Alijandra said. 

“You’re welcome, dear,” he replied, patting her on the head. “The blessing ceremony is over. I hope everything goes well for you and your family, Mrs. Anerson.”

“Thank you, Daon Raul,” Mama said, holding out a few brass coins. 

“There’s no need,” he said.

“I insist,” Mama replied.

“No, no thank you.”

“You have children to take care of, too. More than I do.”

“You are very kind,” he replied, giving the money to Shadi. “If you will excuse us, we must get back to the garden.”

“Hopefully, Our Mother will send us some rain,” Mama said.

Daon Raul glanced up into the burning sky. “Not anytime soon, I think.” He handed the bowl and the wand to the boys. “Please put these back where they belong. Carlos, be good enough to wipe the bowl with a clean cloth, please.”

“Yes, Papa,” Carlos said.

“Yes, Papa,” Tomas said. 

“It was a pleasure,” Mama said to Shadi. The Diheneh woman merely nodded. “Come along, girls. We need to speak to the smith. Jack!” 

Their big black dog got up. Pulling the travois behind him and careful not to spill the bag on it, he trotted past Daon Raul and his family as they walked back to their shack. Tomas reached out, stroked one of his floppy ears, and giggled. 

The door to the smithy was open, but it was dark inside. Mama stopped and rapped four times on the doorframe. “Hello?” she called.

“Yeyeah,” a man answered. Isabella heard a chair leg scrape against a stone floor and someone moving towards them. The bearded man in the ash-stained clothes, another cigarette dangling from his lips, came to the door. He was tall and thin, with grey eyes and thinning yellow-grey hair combed straight back from his sunburned forehead. Up close, Isabella could see that his yellow beard was flecked with white. “You want what?” he asked.

“I am Mrs. Anerson,” Mama replied. “These are my children.”

“And so?”

“And your name, sir?”

“Kolb. And so what you want?”

“Mr. Kolb, I was wondering if you could repair a bracelet for me,” she said. “Isabella, give me the bracelet.”

“Sit, boy,” Isabella told Jack, and he did. She opened the yucca-string bag on the travois, took out a small leather pouch, and handed it to her mother.

“Thank you,” Mama said. She untied the pouch and handed the man a slender silver chain with five small pearls dangling from it. “The clasp broke,” she explained.

“Sorry, Mama,” Alijandra said.

 “I don’t fix,” Kolb said, handing it back to her. “Go home.” 

“I would like you to fix my bracelet, please,” Mama said. 

“Trash,” the smith sneered. “Throw to birds,” he said. He blew out a big cloud of smoke. 

“It has sentimental value to me,” Mama said. “I’ll give you five centavos to fix it.”

“Five? I don’t fix for five. Twenty,” he said. “Or go home, Anerson.”

“Twenty centavos is outrageous, Mr. Kolb. I’ll give you ten.”

“Give me. I to fix day from now.”

“I need it done today,” Mama said. “Ten and you fix it in an hour.”

The man pursed his lips for a moment, then nodded. “Yeyeah. I fix in hour.” Mama handed him the bracelet and he shuffled back inside his dark shop. 

“I don’t like him,” Alijandra said. “He smells bad. And he doesn’t talk right.” 

“It’s your fault we had to talk to him at all,” Isabella snapped. 

“Enough,” Mama said. “Let’s go to the trading post.”

The trading post was a yellow, two-story, adobe building with a flat roof. It had once been a fort, and thus was the largest building in Scorpion Tail. “Wait out here,” Mama told Jack. Panting, he sat. Mama took the bag from the travois and carried it inside. 

It was hot inside, of course, and the first floor was all one room, most of it empty and dim, the only light being the sun streaming through the open windows. In the center of the room were several barrels, some crates, a few standing shelves with a variety of bottles and boxes and bric-a-brac on them. Several skins of deer and antelope were nailed to the wooden posts of the building. Some sprigs of dried herbs and a few packages of meat, wrapped in brown paper to keep off the flies, hung from the low ceiling. There was also a table and a chair, at which sat an old, fat woman with only a thin scruff of white hair. Alijandra giggled. 

“What are you laughing about?” Isabella whispered.

“She’s bald!” her sister cried. Mama glared, but if the old woman had heard, she didn’t say anything as they approached.

“Good day, Mrs. Cornejo,” Mama said. 

“The dragontamer’s wife,” the old woman rasped. “Where’s he? Run off again, I suppose?”

“I have not come here to discuss my husband.” Mama put down the bag. “I have several items I would like to trade.”

“What do you have, and what do you want for them?”

Kmp. Kmp. Kmp. A Diheneh man with long black hair came down the stairs from the second floor. He wore a long-sleeved black shirt; tan antelope leggings; and hard, black boots with pointed toes. He carried a round, black hat. He smiled at Mama. “Haala ahaneeh. Ya’at’eeh, Wahnneeta Anerson,” he said. 

“Ya’at’eeh, Ahiga,” she answered. “Ya anisht’eeh.”

“Who’s that?” Alijandra whispered. 

“I don’t know,” Isabella said. “But Mama seems to know him.” 

“What are they saying?”

“I don’t know.”

The girls stood there for a few moments while Mama and the man spoke with each other in the Diheneh language. Mrs. Cornejo waited, saying nothing, her toad-like eyes shifting back and forth between the grownups. 

“I’m bored,” Alijandra announced. “Let’s look around.”

So far as the girls could tell, the sacks held yellowish-white ground cornmeal. Most of the crates were nailed shut, with no writing on them, but a few had their lids pried off. One of them held a long ivory dress. One of the barrels held a few dozen dirt-crusted potatoes; another was half-filled with a variety of dried beans, red or brown or black. The girls couldn’t tell what most of the bottles on the shelves held: most of them were partially full with yellow or brown liquids or oils. A few of them were empty and dusty. Why doesn’t Mrs. Cornejo just get rid of those? Isabella wondered. 

“Look at this,” Alijandra said, taking a small tin box off one of the shelves. The drawing of a mustachioed man with a monocle stared back at them. Elegant cursive script implied that he was “Doktor E. Klavensper.” The rest of the script was in a language they didn’t understand. 

“It’s our tooth powder, isn’t it?” Alijandra asked.

“Yes,” Isabella said. “Mama wanted to get this.” She looked over. The Diheneh man had left. Mama was unpacking her bag and offering Mrs. Cornejo some wool from their sheep. 

“We’ll show it to her later,” Isabella said, taking it from Alijandra.

The girls looked around some more. On one shelf was a stack of four books with frayed covers. Isabella flipped through them. One of them was in a language she didn’t know, but the writing looked similar to that on the lid of the tooth powder box. The other three were in Ysparrian, her language. One discussed the best way to plant various crops. One was a history book. The last was a storybook—Kalma of Kurinda, it was called—with illustrations of blue and white sky spirits and bronze-armored warriors with long spears and purple lizardmen with long claws. Isabella took the book off the shelf. Maybe Mama will let me have this, she thought. 

“Look what I found,” Alijandra said. It was an armless doll made from a corncob and a bit of cloth wrapped around it. Someone had painted two black eyes at the top. “I’m going to ask Mama if I can have this.”

“You already have Caroleena,” Isabella said, “and she’s much prettier than that old corn doll.” 

“She’s a good doll,” Alijandra protested. “And Caroleena needs a friend.”

“She has Marianna.”

“Marianna’s your doll. And sometimes Caroleena doesn’t like her.”

Isabella folded her arms. “Mama won’t get it for you.”

“What do you have? A book? Reading is boring. I’d rather have my doll. I’ll name her…Carmen.” 

“She’s not your doll yet, so I wouldn’t name her, if I were you,” Isabella replied. 

“Mama’s still talking to that mean old lady—”

“Quiet! She’ll hear you!” Isabella scolded.

“I don’t care if she does,” Alijandra said. “Let’s look upstairs. Maybe they have more things up there.”

“I’m sure that everything they’re selling is right here,” Isabella said. “Why would they keep anything upstairs when they have plenty of room down here?”

“I don’t know,” Alijandra said, as she mounted the wooden steps. “But I’m going to look.”

“Well then, I better come too,” Isabella replied, “to watch over you.” 

There were fewer windows upstairs, so it was darker and hotter. The upstairs was also one large room, the same size and shape as the downstairs. Whatever treasures Alijandra had hoped to find were not here: no boxes, no barrels, no bags or shelves. In one corner of the room, someone had nailed a few dusty, brown blankets to the rafters to make a private area.

“I wonder what’s over there,” Alijandra asked. 

“You’re not supposed to be up here,” a woman said, stepping out from behind the blankets. As the blankets parted, Isabella thought she saw a grey mattress lying on the floor. The woman was fat and her nose was crooked and she wore a short, thin brown dress. Her long, black hair was tangled, and as she came closer, Isabella noticed that her feet were grimy. 

“Hello,” Isabella offered. “We were cur—”

“What’s that over there?” Alijandra asked, pointing to the blankets.

“Never mind,” the woman said. “Get out of here and don’t come back, or you’ll get in trouble.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Isabella said, taking Alijandra’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“We just wanted to see,” Alijandra protested.

They slunk back downstairs, but neither Mama nor Mrs. Cornejo had noticed they were gone. The two women were haggling over how many sacks of cornmeal Mama could have for the wool. 

“Mama, can I have her?” Alijandra asked, holding up the corn doll. “Her name is Carmen. She’s going to be Caroleena’s friend.” 

“There’s this,” Isabella said, showing her mother the tooth powder. “May I have this storybook, please?” 

“I’ll need more than that old wool for those things,” Mrs. Cornejo said, holding up her hands. 

“That’s fresh wool,” Mama replied, “combed and clean. But because I’m fair, I’ll offer you a dress that my little one has outgrown. That’s more than enough for two bags of meal and these other things.”

“Not much use for that dress, I’d say,” Mrs. Cornejo said. “It’s too worn. Maybe it could be a head scarf.”

“I sewed that dress myself and it’s still perfectly good,” Mama countered. 

“Come on, Ali,” Isabella said. They left their things with Mama and sat on the bottom step. They waited for a long while as the two women continued bickering. 

“It’s hot in here,” Alijandra announced. 

“I’m hot, too,” Isabella said, “but Mama isn’t done yet.”

“Let’s go outside,” Alijandra replied. “Maybe we can get a drink from the well.”

The two girls went outside. Jack had moved around to the side of the building and lay in the shade. He saw them, lifted his head, and whuffed once, but the girls paid him no attention. Standing by the well were eight horsemen. Horsemen with rifles and sabers. 
 
 

© Kenton Kilgore, January 2007