bowed his head. “May I send the word to those who wait?” he asked.
“Of course,” Ultima nodded. “We are ready to leave.”
“Pedro!” my grandfather called. Then my grandfather came into the room. He walked towards the bed cautiously, as if he were not sure what to expect.
Lucas moaned and opened his eyes. “Papá,” he said. My grandfather gathered his son in his arms and cried. “Thanks be to God!”
Aunts and uncles and cousins began to fill the house, and there was a great deal of excitement. The story of the cure spread quickly through El Puerto. My uncles began to pour into the room to greet their brother. I looked at Ultima and knew that she wanted to get out of the commotion as quickly as possible.
“Do not tire him too much at first,” Ultima said. She looked at Lucas, who gazed around with curious but happy eyes.
“Gracias por mi vida,” he said to Ultima. Then all my uncles stood and said gracias. My grandfather stepped forward and handed Ultima the purse of silver which was required by custom.
“I can never repay you for returning my son from death,” he said.
Ultima took the purse. “Perhaps someday the men of El Puerto will save my life—” she answered. “Come Antonio,” she motioned. She clutched her black bag and the gunnysack that had to be burned. We pressed through the curious, anxious crowd and they parted to let us pass.
“¡La curandera!” someone exclaimed. Some women bowed their heads, others made the sign of the cross. “Es una mujer que no ha pecado,” another whispered. “Hechicera.” “Bruja—”
“No!” one of my aunts contested the last word. She knelt by Ultima’s path and touched the hem of her dress as she passed by.
“Es sin pecado,” was the last I heard, then we were outside. My uncle Pedro led us to his truck.
He held the door open for Ultima and said, “Gracias.” She nodded and we got in. He started the truck and turned on the lights. The two headlights cut slices into the lonely night.
“Do you know the grove of trees where Lucas saw the brujas dance?” Ultima asked.
“Sí,” my uncle said.
“Take us there,” Ultima said.
My uncle Pedro sighed and shrugged. “You have performed a miracle,” he said, “were it not for that I would not visit that cursed spot for all the money in the world—” The truck leaped forward. We crossed the ancient wooden bridge and turned right. The truck bounced along the cow path. On either side of us the dark brush of the bosque closed in.
Finally we came to the end of the rutty trail. My uncle stopped the truck. We seemed swamped by the thick brush of the river. Strange bird cries cut into the swampy night air. “We can go no farther,” my uncle said. “The clearing of the witches is straight ahead.”
“Wait here,” Ultima said. She shouldered the sack that contained all the dirty linen and the evil ball of hair. She disappeared into the thick brush.
“Ay, what courage that old woman has!” my uncle exclaimed. I felt him shiver next to me, and I saw him make the sign of the cross to ward off the evil of this forsaken ground. Around us the trees rose like giant skeletons. They had no green on them, but were bare and white.
“Uncle,” I asked, “how long were we in the room with my uncle Lucas?”
“Three days,” he answered. “Do you feel well, Tony?” he rubbed my head. Next to Ultima it seemed the first human contact I had felt in a long time.
“Yes,” I answered.
Up ahead we saw a fire burst out. It was Ultima burning the evil load of the sack exactly where the three witches had danced when my uncle saw them. A trace of the smell of sulfur touched the foul, damp air. Again my uncle crossed himself.
“We are indebted to her forever,” he said, “for saving the life of my brother. Ay, what courage to approach the evil place alone!” he added.
The burst of flames in the bush died down and smouldered to ashes. We waited for Ultima. It was very quiet in the cab of the truck. There was a knock and we were startled by Ultima’s brown face at the window. She got in and said to my uncle, “Our work is done. Now take us home, for we are tired and must sleep.”
Once
Hey Toni-eeeeee. Huloooooo Antonioforous!”
A voice called.
At first I thought I was dreaming. I was fishing, and sitting on a rock;