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Show -3- All the days since were a dream of sandstone, boiled meat and berries, a retching in his stomach at the wall along the floodwater. The native's eyes had burned when Juan Domingo shoved him from the camp. The Yuta's pleas were mocked by the ring of the soldier's laugh; the strong arms stretched out, tossing a strip of dried meat to the Indian as he crawled away from camp. The Padre's pale eyes did not reflect the fire as the Indian crept off - he only mumbled a benediction, Juan did not understand the Padre, nor Juan Domingo, but he was glad for the Indian because of the meat and the prayer. Running back with the Indian under the darkness would be pleasant - away from the fear, back to the cool caverns of the Timpanogots and their green-willowed creeks. Juan felt the chill of the rock as he pressed against it, leading the horse down the arroyo to the river, his eye resisting the drop-off, fixing on Fray Silvestre's tonsure. The white head gleamed the color of the driftwood strewn below like stark bones. He could smell the horse, the same scent of fear as in the cave of the night camp; he could see the black strings of meat and Fray Silvestre fingering his crucifix. Now the river widened to a great wash in Juan's fearful eyes, Slipping below the line of cliffs he could no longer see the base of Tucane, only the peak, fat and black in the haze. Late autumn clouds cushioned it from the sky and wind. Juan clutched the rein of the horse as he had when Fray Silvestre cleared the gates of Santa Fe and Juan's teacher waved him away. He could see Sister Blanca Negra and her black robes floating on the wind, her hand waving him into the desert. He remembered her fat white cheeks and the motions of her arms as she taught in the bare room with a window overlooking the mission. There was Juan Domingo, his pigtail and boots black in the sun outside, his eyes on the horses, his fingers plucking the straps and bridles as Fray Silvestre inspected them. A white ghost in the yard - the priest fingered the crossing straps and cinched them carefully, binding the pack firmly down. Sister Blanca Negra took Juan and held him, her heavy woollen scent familiar and warm. Juan looked at the soft hair of her cheek and embraced her with a |