Marco and the Devil's Bargain (19 page)

“
Dear God,” she whispered.

The room had nothing more than a bed with a crucifix above the headboard, a charcoal brazier, cold now, and a
reclinatorio
for the penitent. His arm still around her, Marco sank down on the bed. “
Madre de Dios
, how did it come to this?” he asked. “All I have tried to do is serve these people, my friends—”

“
You don't have to face this alone,” she told him. “I will come with you.”

“
You needn't be there,” he said, with no conviction.

She didn't bother to reply, but stood up and pulled him to his feet. “March, señor.”

Easy to be tough; harder to knock and stand in front of Father Francisco's closed door for an inordinate length of time, behavior that struck her as rude.

The door finally opened. His face a study in discomfort, Father Francisco ushered them in. He hesitated to let in Paloma, but she pretended not to notice.

“
Where my husband goes, I go,” she said, her head high.

They seated themselves in front of the priest's desk. He looked at Marco a long time, his glance wavering before Marco's, troubled.

“
Let me help you, Father,” Marco said, as kindly as he could. “The Castellanos came to you to tattle that I had encouraged her to be inoculated against
la viruela
, even if there was a danger from inoculation that she could lose the child she carries.”

Father Francisco's relief was almost palpable. “Yes, that is what they did. Marco, Marco, how could you
say
such a thing?”

“
Truly, Father, our little
médico
is not certain that would be the result. He doesn't
know
! Before Christ, he is also fully aware of what he asks.” Marco shook his head. “You know me, Father. I am not a man to go against any teachings of our Catholic faith.”

Father Francisco sighed and stood up, pacing two steps forward and two steps back in his tiny office. He stopped and held out his hands. “What can we do, if
la viruela
visits us? Some will die anyway.”

“
But not as many! And truly, it may not even visit us, but I fear it will. Antonio Gil has seen its ravages across Texas.” Marco stood up, too. “Father, I will encourage inoculation among all the people on my list. If women who are with child ask us, what do we tell them?”

Father Francisco clapped his hands together in frustration. “Tell them, oh, tell them what you told the Castellanos, but do not encourage such women to be inoculated! Holy Church cannot tolerate that.” He pointed his finger at the
juez.
“And
you
would be in danger of excommunication, and worse, if the news traveled to Santa Fe and the bishop.”

His words hung in the air. Paloma held her breath, full of new fear. How had it come to this?
Does my cousin hate us so much?
she asked herself, appalled.

“
I will do as you say, Father,” Marco said finally. He knelt. “Bless me, please.”

Tears in his eyes, Father Francisco did as he asked. When he finished, he kissed Marco's forehead. “You have been placed in a bad position, but I do not know what we would do without you, señor. It must be that you have to do our dirty work.” He clapped his hands again, but quietly this time, as if he wanted to change the subject and clear the air. “And now, please join me for our noon meal, the
médico
, too.”

Paloma took Marco's hand as they walked back to get Antonio. She leaned against his arm, saying nothing. “All I really want to do is raise my cattle and sheep, live in peace and love you,” he whispered, staring straight ahead. “Is the burden of
juez de campo
too much?”

She had no answer for him, stung because he had been forced to agree to Antonio Gil's devil's bargain in the first place. A lesser man would ignore it, but she knew she had not married a lesser man. Her cousin Maria Teresa had done that.

Marco did his best to maintain normal conversation over
la comida del mediodía
, grateful that Paloma kept up a steady commentary with the priest. Father Francisco's words had stung far more than the old man knew. Marco sat back—which made Paloma give him a startled glance—and considered the matter, remembering a time when a rancher, long dead now, had raked his own father,
juez
before him, over the coals for some misdemeanor or other. When the man left, still full of righteous indignation, Papa had only shrugged. “That's what it is to be
juez
de campo,
mi hijo
. Don't let anyone talk
you
into tackling such a thankless burden. You
know
better.”

If only I hadn't had such a good example, dear Papa, he thought.

Antonio had been darting him quizzical glances. Once the meal was over and they began their rounds to the homes that had requested inoculation, Marco explained to the doctor just what had happened at the Castellanos and why the priest had talked to him in private. All he received in return for his explanation was a shake of the head, and “You Catholics,” from Antonio, who was probably a total heretic, or worse, a Methodist.

Supplying balm to Marco's sore heart, they were well-received in Santa Maria, with entire families submitting to inoculation. There were frowns and tears, but it helped that Paloma was willing to hold the little ones on her lap and cuddle them while Antonio did his work. Even old Emilio Blanco, the blacksmith, had no objection when she held his hand. He blushed, but he did not draw away. While Antonio bandaged, Marco looked at his list and paired the patients with those who would help them while they suffered.

“
I have to admire your lists,” Antonio said as they passed the house of Señora Carmen Saltero, the mad seamstress. “You're a better bureaucrat than most.”

“
Is that a compliment or not?” Marco protested, but not with any vehemence.

“
A compliment. Wait now, is this house on your list or not?”

Marco had stopped to face Señora Saltero's house. “It is not, but I want to try once more.” He touched Paloma's arm. “And I have a gift for you here.”

His wife smiled at him, her eyes lively. “Something for me? Is there an occasion?”

“
Do I need one?” he asked in turn, remembering what old Andrés had said a year ago, about Paloma not being a woman who would ever make demands. He was right; too bad Andrés was not alive for Marco to remind him of his observation. “Perhaps there is an occasion. Let's stop.”

Señora Saltero met them at the door with a smile wreathing her already wrinkled face and a tape measure around her neck. “Come, come,” she said, ushering them inside to warmth and the fragrance of cinnamon.

Marco watched the doctor as they stepped into the
sala
, where Carmen Saltero kept her collection of ladies' mannequins, life-sized and grouped in cliques, as though they spoke to one another. Eyes wide, Antonio leaped back and swore in English, so no one was offended.

“
I'll explain later,” Paloma whispered to the man, giving him a little shove in the small of his back, because in his sudden terror, he had nearly collided with her.

While they stood in the
sala—
Antonio edging inch by inch toward the front door—Carmen went to a side table. She picked up a cloak and handed it to Paloma.

“
He said you needed the warmest cloak I could make,” Señora Saltero said, and looked at Marco for his approval. “Will this do, señor?”

With an exclamation of delight, Paloma shook out the handsome brown cloak, with its attached hood. She hefted it. “My goodness, Marco, it's so heavy! I'll be warm forever.”

Marco nodded at the seamstress. “Perfect. We're going on a little winter trip, and I want my dear one to be warm.”

“
She will be, and then some,” Señora Saltero said, pleased. “And now you two, what else can I help you with?”

Marco came close and put his arms around the dear lady, who let him fold her into his embrace. “Now why have you not consented to be inoculated? I will worry about you, if you are not.”

She pulled away far enough to see his face but did not step out of the circle of his arms. “Twenty years ago in that last Comanche raid, I lost everyone.” Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at Antonio, the one she did not know. “Señor, a husband and five children! I miss them,” she said simply.

Marco pulled her close again. “Who will make dresses for our lovely ladies in Santa Maria?”

“
I have been training Aldonza Rivera,” she said. “She is even now in my sewing room, hard at work.” She touched Paloma's cheek. “She made that cloak.”

“
It is a lovely cloak,” Paloma said. Marco thought she might try to argue with the seamstress, but she did not.

People have their reasons
, he thought, giving Señora Saltero a kiss on both cheeks. “Go with God, dearest,” he said.

“
And you, señor. Good day now.”

“
You could have put up more of a fight,” the doctor said, when they closed the gate and stepped into the street again.

“
No.”

“
That's all? No?”

Maybe he spoke out of turn, but Marco stopped and put his hands on the doctor's shoulders. The man flinched at his touch, and again he wondered just how badly the traders had used him. “Señor Gil, when you had a practice back there in Georgia, did you really get to know your patients?”

The man bristled and shook off Marco's hands. “Of course I did!” He paused and looked away. “Well, I tried. Now and then. I was busy.”

So I thought
, Marco told himself. “I am their
juez
and I know these people. I know that woman's pain. I would never argue with her. Trust me, it would be futile.”

“
If only I were as wise as you,” Antonio snapped. He hurried ahead and Marco watched him go, shaking his head.

But here was Paloma, wearing the lovely new cloak, putting her arm through his arm. “I'll be warm when we ride to the Llano.”

Butcher, baker, soldiers, the town beggar, Indios, prisoners in the presidio, the only
fiscal
, widows and orphans. Antonio inoculated most of them, but made Paloma do one for every three persons. The first cut had been difficult, considering that she had not had the courage to cut Toshua's arm. After that, she took her turn.

Two more houses and they would be done. The sun had long since left the sky and the snow had stopped, which meant that the cold settled in. Paloma pulled her new cloak tighter around her, relishing the warmth and wishing Antonio had such a cloak. The little man shivered, which didn't escape Marco's notice.

“
I have something warmer for you at the Double Cross,” he said as he knocked on the second to the last house. “We'll be warm and welcome here at the Mendozas.”

Paloma gave him her questioning look.

“
Rico and Luz Mendoza live here with their four children,” he whispered in her ear. “I'm surprised the gossips in the knitting group didn't already do my work for me. I came so close to marrying this good woman, two years after Felicia …. Ah, Rico, may we come in?”

Rico the tinsmith. She should have known. Elaborate tin sconces with candles burning made their kitchen brighter than anyone else's. She would have to ask Marco to let her buy more sconces for their
sala
and perhaps their bedroom. She had no objection to eyeing him in bed.

Children and servants went first, except for two older women who already bore the scars of smallpox. While Paloma helped Antonio, she noticed Marco and Luz Mendoza deep in conversation and felt the tiniest twinge.
My love, if you had married this woman, you would have such a family now
, she thought, unable to help herself.
Ay de mi
.

Rico was next, his face serious. Intent, he watched Marco and Luz, too, and Paloma wondered what he was thinking. She glanced at Luz, who nodded before resting her head for the briefest moment on Marco's arm. She looked at Rico, worried, but he had a look of such relief on his face that Paloma was astounded.

“
Gracias a Dios
,” he whispered, unmindful of the nick on his arm. He held out his other hand to Luz, and she hurried to his side and kneeled, kissing his hand.

“
I know what I have to do, my love,” she said. “The matter rests between us alone.”

Rico nodded and flashed a huge smile to Marco, who sighed and turned away, overcome by something that Paloma did not understand. Never mind; he would tell her later.

Then it was Luz's turn. She sat on the stool her husband had vacated and dutifully held out her arm. “Señora Mondragón, would you?” she asked, her eyes bright, her expression resolute. “You were so gentle with Pepe and Celestia's inoculations.”

“
With pleasure.”

Marco said nothing all the way back to the church, so she did not pelt him with questions. This was something he must not want Antonio to hear. The doctor walked beside them, moving more slowly. Sympathetic to his exhaustion, Paloma slowed her steps. Marco now noticed they were hurrying too quickly for the little man and so began to move at a more leisurely pace, even though it was so cold.