“he is worse than when you saw him last. We are at the end of our rope, we do not know what to do—”
“My poor brother Lucas,” my mother cried, “that this should happen to the youngest! He has such skill in his hands, his gift with the care and grafting of trees is unsurpassed.” They both sighed. “Have you consulted a specialist?” she asked.
“Even to the great doctor in Las Vegas we took him, to no avail,” my uncle said.
“Did you go to the priest?” my mother asked.
“The priest came and blessed the house, but you know that priest at El Puerto, he does not want to pit his power against those brujas! He washes his hands of the whole matter.”
My uncle spoke as if he knew the witches who cursed Lucas. And I also wondered, why doesn’t the priest fight against the evil of the brujas. He has the power of God, the Virgin, and all the saints of the Holy Mother Church behind him.
“Is there no one we can turn to!” my mother exclaimed. She and my uncle glanced at Ultima who had remained quiet and listened to their talk. Now she stood up and faced my uncle.
“Ay, Pedro Luna, you are like an old lady who sits and talks and wastes valuable time—”
“You will go,” he smiled triumphantly.
“¡Gracias a Dios!” my mother cried. She ran to Ultima and hugged her.
“I will go with one understanding,” Ultima cautioned. She raised her finger and pointed at both of them. The gaze of her clear eyes held them transfixed. “You must understand that when anybody, bruja or curandera, priest or sinner, tampers with the fate of a man that sometimes a chain of events is set into motion over which no one will have ultimate control. You must be willing to accept this responsibility.”
My uncle looked at my mother. Their immediate concern was to save Lucas from the jaws of death, for that they would accept any responsibility.
“I will accept that responsibility on behalf of all my brothers,” my uncle pedro intoned.
“And I accept your help on behalf of my family,” my mother added.
“Very well,” Ultima nodded, “I will go and cure your brother.” She went out of the kitchen to prepare the herbs and oils she would need to affect her cure. As she passed me she whispered, “Be ready Juan—”
I did not understand what she meant. Juan was my middle name, but it was never used.
“Ave María Purísima,” my mother said and slumped into a chair. “She will cure Lucas.”
“The curse is deep and strong,” my uncle brooded.
“Ultima is stronger,” my mother said, “I have seen her work miracles. She learned from the greatest healer of all time, the flying man from Las Pasturas—”
“Ay,” my uncle nodded. Even he acknowledged the great power of that ancient one from Las Pasturas.
“But tell me, who laid the evil curse?” my mother asked.
“It was the daughters of Tenorio,” my uncle said.
“Ay! Those evil brujas!” My mother crossed her forehead and I followed suit. It was not wise to mention the names of witches without warding off their evil with the sign of the holy cross.
“Ay, Lucas told papá the story after he took sick, but it is not until now, that we have to resort to a curandera, that our father made the story known to us. It was in the bad month of February that Lucas crossed the river to look for a few stray milk cows that had wandered away. He met Manuelito, Alfredo’s boy, you know the one that married the lame girl. Anyway, Manuelito told him he had seen the cows moving towards the bend of the river, where the cottonwoods make a thick bosque, the evil place.”
Again my mother made the sign of the cross.
“Manuelito said he tried to turn the cows back, but they were already too near that evil place, and he was afraid. He tried to warn Lucas to stay away from that place. Dusk was falling and there were evil signs in the air, the owls were crying to the early horned moon—”
“¡Ay, Dios mío!” my mother exclaimed.
“But Lucas did not take Manuelito’s warning to wait until the next morning, and besides our papá, Manuelito was the last person Lucas spoke to. Ay, that Lucas is so thick-headed, and so full of courage, he spurred his horse into the brush of the evil place—” He paused for my mother to serve him fresh coffee.
“I still remember when we were children, watching