and we looked down the ice-covered sidewalk of the bridge. Cars had splashed ice water onto the sidewalk and overnight it had frozen solid. We had to pick our way carefully across the bridge. Still the Kid did not trust us. He walked just ahead of us, backwards, so that he could see us at all times.
“Did you hear about the fight last night?” Samuel asked. He walked quietly beside us. Our breath made plumes in the crisp, raw air. Down in the river the water, bushes, trees, everything was covered with ice. The sun from the east sparkled on everything and created a frozen fairyland.
“No,” Andrew said. “Who?”
“Tenorio and Narciso—”
I listened carefully. I still remembered Tenorio’s threat.
“Where?”
“At the Longhorn.”
“Drunk?”
“Drinking—”
“Who told you?”
“My father was there. My father was drinking with Narciso,” Samuel said, “then Tenorio came in from El Puerto. Tenorio was cursing la Grande, Ultima. Then he cursed Narciso in front of the men. But it wasn’t until he cursed all of the people of Las Pasturas that Narciso got up and pulled that funny little beard that grows on Tenorio’s face—”
“Ha!” Andrew laughed. “Serves that old bastard right!”
Samuel continued, “My father says it will not end at that—”
We reached the end of the bridge and the Kid jumped across. He had won the walking race.
“Where will it end?” I asked Samuel.
“It will only end when blood is spilled,” Samuel said. “My father says that the blood of a man thickens with the desire for revenge, and if a man is to be complete again then he must let some of that thick blood flow—”
We stopped and it was very quiet. One car started across the bridge. It moved very slowly, its tires slipping on the ice. Up ahead a few of the gas station owners could be seen sweeping snow from their driveways. Everyone was hoping the blizzard had lifted. Everyone was sick of the cold.
“They are drunks with nothing better to do than argue like old women,” Andrew laughed. “Perhaps your father would be right if he were talking of men.”
“Drunks and devils are also men,” Samuel countered.
“Ah!” Andrew puffed white steam, “you guys run on to school. See you tonight, Tony.”
“See you,” I waved. The Kid had already bolted away. I ran to keep up with Samuel.
The schoolhouse was quiet, like a tomb frozen over by winter. The buses didn’t come in because of the blizzard, and even most of the town kids stayed home. But Horse and Bones and the rest of the gang from Los Jaros were there. They were the dumbest kids in school, but they never missed a single day. Hell could freeze over but they would still come marching across the tracks, wrestling, kicking at each other, stomping into the classrooms where they fidgeted nervously all day and made things miserable for their teachers.
“Where are the girls?” Bones sniffed the wind wildly and plunked into a frozen desk.
“They didn’t come,” I answered.
“Why?” “¡Chingada!” “What about the play?”
“I don’t know,” I said and pointed to the hall where Miss Violet conferred with the other teachers who had come to school. They all wore their sweaters and shivered. Downstairs the furnace groaned and made the steam radiators ping, but it was still cold.
“No play, shit!” Abel moaned.
Miss Violet came in. “What did you say, Abel?”
“No play, shucks,” Abel said.
“We can still have a play,” Miss Violet sat down and we gathered around her, “if the boys play the parts—”
We all looked at each other. The girls had set up all the stuff in the auditorium; and they had, with Miss Violet’s help, composed the story about the three wise men. Originally we just stood around and acted like shepherds, but now we would have to do everything because the girls stayed home.
“Yeahhhhhh!” Horse breathed on Miss Violet.
“The other teachers don’t have much to do, with so many kids absent,” she turned away from the inquisitive Horse, “and they would like to come to our play—”
“Aghhhh Nooooo,” Bones growled.
“We have to read all the parts,” Lloyd said. He was carefully picking at his nose.
“We could practice all morning,” Miss Violet said. She looked at me.
“I think it’s a great idea,” Red nodded his head vigorously. He always tried to help the teacher.
“¡A la veca!”
“What does that mean?” Miss Violet asked.
“It means okay!”
So the rest of the morning we sat around reading the parts for the play. It was hard because the kids from Los Jaros couldn’t read. After lunch we went to the auditorium