Rosa and her husband, Wilmar, pulled the wagon up outside of the Galvez home, a three-bedroom, one story home that was in need of a bit of repair. Mario sat in back and jumped down once the wagon came to a stop. Chickens pecked at the bugs in the dry grass and the family dog barked until he saw Mario jump down to greet him. Two other men road horses behind the wagon: the alcalde, the mayor of Santa Maria, Ignacio Sanchez, and the sole Oficial de policía, Hector Mendez, who was actually just a friend of Senor Sanchez, who helped the mayor take care of local disputes – mostly drunks and thieves – since there was no law enforcement for the small town. They dismounted and all four men walked up to the house, the front door still open, as Mario had left it. Rosa stayed in the wagon. She had no desire to see what was inside.
Mario stopped just outside the front door. “I cannot go inside.”
The three men stepped silently past Mario, Hector leading the way.
Not a minute later, Ignacio staggered out and immediately threw up over the porch rail.
“Come quick,” Wilmar said from inside the home. “The boy, he is still alive!”
Mario was the first to reach Wilmar and the boy. The boy, just three, was next to his mother in the kitchen, in front of the back door.
Oscar’s hair was matted with dried blood, his left eye stuck shut from the blood that had dripped down his face. The boy’s right eye opened slightly. Then seeing his father, it rolled back into his head.
“He is gone! My precious boy is gone!” Mario wailed, rocking the boy in his arms.
Hector stepped out of one of the bedrooms along the right side of the house. “There is an old woman in here, dead in her bed.”
Ignacio motioned for Hector from the doorway, as he couldn’t make himself step back into the carnage that littered the small home. Eva, Yolanda’s friend, and Lourdes were lying together in the living room, next to Mario’s daughters: Julianna, eight, and Estella, six, their bodies limp as rag dolls.
Ignacio led Hector into the yard.
“What do you think happened here?” Ignacio whispered. “Could it have been this drifter that Galvez says he saw leaving the home as he approached?”
“They were all beaten to death, but I can't find a weapon. They are all women, yes, except the young boy, but they did not appear to put up much of a fight, which seems strange. The old woman could have still been asleep when she died.”
“That must have been the senorita’s mother. Galvez has no family here except for those of his wife.”
Hector hitched up his gun belt. “I will get more information about this drifter from Senor Galvez and put together a search party. We will find him and get his story.”
“Could Mario have done this?” Ignacio asked.
Hector looked at the open door, then leaned in closer to Ignacio. “Who knows what can happen. I have seen him in the cantina, but even drunk, he seemed harmless.”
“But first we must help Mario bury the dead.”
Hector nodded in agreement and they walked back toward the home.
Wilmer eventually touched Mario’s shoulder. “Let him go, Mario. He is gone.”
Mario set the young boy gently back against his mother, wiping the tears from his face with his handkerchief. Hector stood next to them now with a blanket, which he laid over top of the boy and his mother. He had already covered the bodies in the living room and bedroom.
Mario dropped down on the bench next to the kitchen table as Wilmar rifled through the cupboards until he found what he was looking for.
He pulled out a bottle of whisky that was mostly empty and four glass. He poured each man a glass. They drank in silence.
“I will go home and get another shovel,” Wilmar said in a quiet voice, as if he was afraid to wake the dead. He turned and accidentally tripped over the small boy’s foot on his way out of the room.
“Uh.”
All four men snapped to attention, looking at each other, then down at the blanket-covered bodies. None of them had made a sound. It had come from the blanket!
Wilmar threw off the covering and touched the small boy’s chest.
“He is still breathing! He is alive!”
He took the little boy in his arms and ran for the front door. “Rosa! Oscar. He is still alive! Come quick!”
No comments:
Post a Comment