killed her—”
The rest of the men nodded and moved forward. Their faces were sullen. They all held hastily made crosses of green juniper and piñón branches. The light of the torches danced off crosses of pins and needles they had pinned on their coats and shirts. One man had even run needles through the skin of his lower lip so that no curse might enter him. Blood trickled down his lip and dropped from his chin.
“Is that you, Blas Montaño?” my father asked of the man who had just spoken.
“Sí,” the man answered and bowed his head.
“Give us the witch!” Tenorio shouted from behind the safety of his men. He was raging with insult, but he would not approach my father.
“There is no witch here!” my father answered and crouched as if to await their attack.
“Tenorio has proof!” another man shouted.
“¡Chinga tu madre!” my father retorted. They were going to have to fight him to take Ultima, but there were too many for him! I thought of running for the rifle.
“Give us the bruja!” Tenorio shouted. He urged the men forward and they answered as a chorus, “Give us the witch!” “Give us the witch!” The man with the crossed needles on his lip waved his juniper cross towards the house. The others waved their torches back and forth as they slowly approached my father.
“Give us the witch!” “Give us the witch!” they chanted and moved forward, but my father held his ground. The hissing of the torches frightened me, but I took courage from my father. They were almost upon us when they suddenly stopped. The screen door banged and Narciso stepped forward. Instead of a bumbling drunkard there now stood in the path of the mob a giant man. He held my father’s rifle casually in his hands, as he surveyed the mob.
“¿Qué pasa aquí?” his booming voice broke the tense silence. “Why are farmers out playing vigilantes when they should be home, sitting before a warm fire, playing cards, counting the rich harvest, eh? I know you men, I know you, Blas Montaño, Manuelito, and you Cruz Sedillo—and I know you are not men who need the cover of darkness to hide your deeds!”
The men glanced at each other. The man they considered the town drunk had shamed them by pointing out the lowliness of their deed. One man took a drink from a bottle he held and tried to pass it on, but no one would take it. They were silent.
“You shame your good names by following this jodido Tenorio!” Narciso continued.
“Aieeeee!” Tenorio groaned with rage and hate, but there was nothing he dared to do.
“This cabrón has lost a daughter today, and for that El Puerto can sleep easier now that her evil-doing is gone to hell with her!”
“Animal!” Tenorio spit out.
“I may well be a beast,” Narciso laughed, “but I am not a fool!”
“We are not fools!” Blas shouted back, “we came on an errand that is a law by custom. This man has proof that the curandera Ultima is a witch, and if it is her curse that caused a death then she must be punished!” The men around him nodded in agreement. I was mortally afraid that Narciso, like my father, would anger the mob and we would be overrun. Then I knew they would take Ultima and kill her.
Narciso’s throat rumbled with laughter. “I do not question your right to charge someone with witchcraft, it is so in custom. But you are fools, fools for drinking the devil’s whiskey!” He pointed at Tenorio. “And fools for following him across the countryside in the middle of the night—”
“You have insulted me, and for that you will pay!” Tenorio shouted and waved his fist. “And now he calls you fools!” He turned to the men. “Enough of this talking. We came to take the witch! Let it be done!”
“¡Sí!” the men nodded in agreement.
“Wait!” Narciso stopped them. “Yes, I called you fools, but not to insult you. Listen my friends, you have already violated this man’s land—you have come and created much bad blood when you could have done this simply. You have the right to charge someone with witchcraft, and to discover the truth of that charge there is a very simple test!” He reached forward and pulled the needles from the man’s lips. “Are these needles holy?” he asked the man.
“Sí,” the man answered, “blessed just last Sunday by the priest.” He wiped the blood on his lip.
“I call you fools