CHAPTER I A MARRIAGE MADE

"Get up there," Father Rodriguez growled at the horse. He flicked the reins and kicked the heavy leather heels of his worn boots sharply into the old mares sides. The drab brown horse with its mottled hair and swayed back examined the hill, then shook its head and mane as if to say 'no.' The priest prodded it again -- more forcefully. Reluctantly the animal obeyed and started up the steep slope. The loose rocky soil of the slope slipped under the horse's hooves. The horse faltered and then churned erratically to sustain its progress. The priest's heels insistently urged the mare up the twenty-five foot embankment and out of the dry wash. As they topped the worst of the grade, the torso between the priests legs surged with heavy breathing. "Dont you die on me, you worthless old nag," he muttered, halting the horse to let it regain its breath. A stench from the horse's lathered perspiration rose around him. The large black flies with green flecked bodies that always accompanied the horse and subsisted on its parasites took the opportunity to bite at each of them. Father Rodriguez waved uselessly at the flies. Between waves, he pulled a cloth from his rear pocket, pushed back his black hat and wiped the sweat from his brow and out of his eyes. The day was already hot and it was only three hours after sunrise -- not unusual for Northwestern Mexico in early June. The heat,the smell, the flies and the urgency of the day's mission conspired against giving the horse more rest. He nudged the horse with his heels. The beast moved slowly onward up the hill. They soon crested the manzanita bush strewn hill. Father Rodriguez again paused the horse to let it cool. In the distance to the East, he saw his destination -- the base of a gray rock cliff. The cliff was majestic in size with a smooth wall that rose almost vertically for three hundred feet. Its base ran north and south for the better part of a mile. Beyond lay the Sierra Madre mountains. Father Rodriguez had never seen anything quite like the rock cliff. The simple grandeur of that mass of unblemished rock reminded him of God's great power. Its plain yet massive appearance contrasted sharply with the complex landscape around it and seemed to mark the area as special. Yet, he knew the area was not special. It held only the Conjon farm, and its life-sustaining spring, in the low hills at the cliff's base. Father Rodriguez looked to his right and saw the desert several miles distant. The uniform brightness of its undulated surface was broken only by the shadows of few large protruding rocks -- the sole remains of the receding mountains behind the cliff. Looking at the desert reminded Father Rodriguez of his mission today. Seven years ago a young girl -Maria -- was found wandering alone and nearly dead in that desert. She'd been brought to him. As with the region's other unwanted waifs,he'd taken her in to raise. Maria was the reason for today's urgent trip to see Juan, the sole occupant of the Conjon farm. Father Rodriguez urged the horse onward toward the cliff. Father Rodriguez bounced harshly in the saddle as the horse made its way down the hillside and back into a dry wash. He found riding a horse uncomfortable and unpleasant. Yet, his only alternative was to walk, for he owned no car. Even if he had one, it couldn't make the trip over this rough roadless terrain.

It hadnt always been this way for him. Back in Guadalajara he'd been the assistant pastor of a large church. Then, he didn't have to ride a horse. Buses and cabs were available. Sometimes parishioners even chauffeured him in their own cars. In Guadalajara food was plentiful and of a wide variety. The demands were few. Head abundant time to meditate in comfort. It had been the best time of his life. Until... He didnt like to think back to what happened. Yet, invariably, once the memory was stirred from its lair, it refused to return until it had fed full on his feelings. Today was no exception. A moment of candor -- possibly jolted loose by bouncing in the saddle -- flared in his thinking. His thoughts touched lightly upon the cursed weakness of his flesh that had gotten him into trouble. The candor was short-lived, for in his heart he knew it had been more than a weakness of his flesh. The monks that raised him had taught him the truth: the devil insidiously and unceasingly tries to tempt man into sin. In this case, the devil took the form of the parish's young girls. Yes, those young girls... He thought back to them as he bounced along uncomfortably in the dry wash depression. The air was still. Light glared at him from the blazing sun above. Its debilitating heat also reflected to him from the innumerable tiny silicon crystals of the surrounding sand. Dust clogged his nostrils. Lizards scrambled away from the sound of his horse's hooves. Even now, a thousand miles and years away, embryonically sterilized of comfort, memories of those days stimulated him. He could still vividly recall their soft delicate voices coming from the darkness beyond the confessional screen. Halting, whispering and seemingly innocent feminine voices teased him with confessions of impure thoughts, feelings and actions. He played along with their pretentious innocence and silliness. He questioned them. They opened up to him; gave him graphic recounts of their encounters with the boys; reflections of obscene words and thoughts; detailed descriptions of the stimulating touches; inadequate summaries of the feelings that accompanied the culminating acts. Those lengthy weekly confessions by the devil's agents were open invitations for him to partake of their sweet fruit. Those young girls performed their penance's so perfectly; so willingly. And then later...for them to say that he forced them! That was the most ironic part of all. He cleared his sinuses with a series of snorts and spit the accumulation forcefully onto the ground. So now here he was serving the tiny, poverty-stricken, isolated village of Guadato and its surroundings. He was the only priest for almost a hundred miles. A dozen year shed been here. Worst of all, he knew that it was unlikely he would ever be transferred out of this dilapidated ministry. As he approached the gate to the Conjon farm, Father Rodriguez' thoughts had returned to his work with the orphanage's children. He felt satisfied with how he raised them in obedience to God's ways, especially the girls -- the devil's agents. He again cleared his sinuses with a series of snorts and spit the yellow-brown accumulation forcefully onto the ground. <-----> The sounds of barking dogs and a foreign horse's whinnying alerted Juan to the arrival of a visitor. Perplexed by this unusual event, he ceased his tree watering and hurried toward the farmhouse. Juan was nearly to the barn when he saw and recognized the tall, darkly clad figure of Father Rodriguez. He sat looking around from atop his horse. The sight stirred ambivalent feelings within

Juan. He was always happy to have visitors. They broke the lonely monotony of his solitary life. Yet, a visit by Father Rodriguez was a special case. Conversation with the priest was interesting and informative. Unfortunately, the discussions invariably gave way to lectures on Juans poor church attendance and innuendos about donations to the church. The latter topic usually left Juan poorer. Juan studied the gangly priest as he swung down from the horse. He had sharp facial features, including a large, long nose and a protruding pointed chin. These,along with his pronounced cheekbones formed a sort of raised cross on his face. Black straight hair touched with gray at the temples gave him the dignified look Juan expected of God's representative. After a few words of greeting, Juan invited the priest into his home: a single-story adobe building that was the main structure of the Conjon farm. The room they entered was the largest of the house. The principle feature of the room was the large dining set -- a table with benches -- where daily meals had been served for as long as any one of his family remembered. Some distant ancestor had crudely fashioned the table by pegging rough hewn wooden planks onto a frame made from medium sized tree trunks. The tree trunks had been notched, interconnected,pegged and, for good measure, had been tied at the intersections with several turns of wet rawhide strips. It was a massive and sturdy table. The left wall contained a fireplace. It also opened into the room beyond the wall -- the formal parlor. The room they were in also contained chairs and small tables. Juan remembered that the chair in the far left corner was where his mother used to sit and sew. In his youth, when many others lived here, this room had seldom been empty. Now it was rarely occupied. "You need a woman here to help you," said the priest as he surveyed the room. Juan looked around. Normally, he paid scant attention to the room's condition. Now, taking a cue from the priest, he saw its true state. During his years of living alone,he had let it become cluttered and dirty as his mother would never have allowed. The wood plank floor showed a deep accumulation of dust and dirt. Juan couldnt remember the last time he swept it. Next to the front door stood a broken hoe that had been unobtrusively awaiting repair for many months. On the long table were several items he intended to fix when the opportunity permitted-- a harness for the horse, several leather water bags, a boot with the sole torn loose. Tools and leather and wood remnants remained on the table as testimony to prior repair work done there. A small portion of the distant end of the table, near the kitchen entrance, was clear, except for the dirty dish and cup that he used that morning. Flies feasted on the remnants. Juan smiled sheepishly and said, "You're right. I have all I can do just to keep the crops and animals alive. I must haul water to them from the spring every day. Then there's all the tilling to do. And if I don't keep the fences in repair the coyotes carry off my animals. I have little time left to work inside. A wife would be a God send. Someday." He pushed an area clear at the end of the table and offered the priest a place to sit. Sitting down himself, he handed the priest some fruit. "At least my fruit crop looks good this year. Last year it wasn't. Everything was puny and dry. Maybe this year I'll get a good price for my crop." While slurping a juicy orange, the priest slurred out the words, "Time is passing. You're not getting any younger. You should be seriously looking for a wife." Juan shrugged and said, "What can I do? The farm takes so much of my time that I don't have a chance

to look for a wife." He shrugged his mind and reflected on the matter of a wife. It wasn't a foreign consideration. Sometimes, when his mind wasn't on his work, mostly on those infrequent rainy days alone in the house, he thought about a wife. The woman he imagined was serious and sturdy woman -like his mother. She would be the centerpiece of the household and the family. Her domain would be the children and the house. As with his parents, Juan and his wife would work hard together. Someday they would rebuild the farm to its former populated stature. As always,thinking about a wife brought Juan to the same frustrating conclusion: he didnt have the vaguest notion how to go about getting one. "It would have been different if my father had lived," Juan said, as much to himself as to the priest. "He and I could have made much of this farm. He would have helped me find a wife, too. He knew about such things." "Its unfortunate that God called your parents to their heavenly reward so soon," said the priest. "But, it must have been for a good reason. One that we with our feeble minds can't understand." "I guess so," answered Juan. "You know I'm always on the look-out for someone who would make a good Christian wife for you," said the priest, matter-of-factually. "I appreciate that," said Juan. He looked at the priest hopefully. The priest said, "There aren't many to choose from. So many of the young people leave and go to the cities. They just have no desire for the honest work of this kind of life. It's a shame, too. Hard honest work like yours keeps a person dedicated to Christ. And that sort of dedication is what gains a person the rewards of heaven." "No,"the priest continued, "today's young people want to go to the cities. Always looking for pleasures. That's what they're looking for. And you know what they find?" The priest looked intently at Juan. Before Juan could decide what answer the priest wanted, he continued, "What they end up finding is the devil. The devil and sin -- that's what they find! Sometimes I think that it was the devil himself that devised the cities. Towering temples of temptation. You would not believe how bad it is. Lord, the sins that I heard confessed when I was in Guadalajara." "Probably,"muttered Juan. "Sinners. Thats what they are. Hand in hand with the devil they go seeking the pleasures of the body. Then we have to listen to those sins. And we're expected not to be affected; to be above it all." The priest's eyes glazed over. His words dwindled. He stared into the cold fireplace. Juan was certain that his mind was back in that distant city. Juan spoke into the silence of the priest's mental absence. "I've never been to the city. My father went a couple of times. He said it was too crowded. People everywhere. Noisy. Smelly. My younger brothers went North to America. Theyre in a big city called The Angels. They said they didn't want to spend their lives working for me on the farm. Occasionally, they write and tell me to come and be with them. But, I couldn't do that. Not leave the farm. I have to keep working it. Someday it will be prosperous again. My father wouldn't want me to leave."

"Huh?"said the priest, his mind returning from the distant place to which it had wandered. "I was just saying that ...." "You know, Juan," the priest interrupted, "finding the right wife isnt going to be easy for you. You might go your whole life and not have a wife. You wouldn't want that, would you?" "No!"said Juan in a slight panic. "That won't happen. I'm going to find someone. It's just going to be a while. My father didn't marry until he was older. I still have time." "But you are ready now, aren't you. If the right woman was available, you'd marry her wouldn't you?" "Oh,yes. Certainly," confirmed Juan. "But, like you said..." The priest cut him off when he leaned forward, looked intently into Juan's eyes and said,"Juan. Listen to me. As you know, I serve God by taking in orphans and raising them in God's light. In Guadalajara, the church that I served in had a large orphanage run by the Sisters of Our Lady's Goodness. The rich people generously supported the Sisters in their work. But, here we have no Sisters. I am the only one to do this important work. As hard as it is, I must do it, as well as seeing to the salvation of my parishioners. So much responsibility. Such hard work." The priest's eyes drifted from Juan's and over to the fireplace. He sat back slightly as he continued to speak. "And these children -- if I didn't take them in and raise them in God's word... Well, who knows what would happen to them. It's not that I mind. Even Christ spoke of watching over the children. Although, sometimes I can't believe he realized how much trouble they can be. What with..." Father Rodriguez paused. His eyes returned to Juan's. "But then, that's another matter." "Among the orphans I took in is a young girl named Maria. She came to me over seven years ago. As best anyone can tell, her family was coming from some place south of here and was trying to get to the United States. They must have attempted to cross the desert on their way north and gotten lost. When their food and water ran out, they all must have died -- except for Maria. She was found wandering in a delirious state and nearly dead from thirst. When the prospector brought her to me she was badly burned. I didn't think she would live. But, she was a strong girl. I nursed her. With God's help, I saved her and brought her back to health." "Umm,she's lucky," said Juan. Then he added quickly, "Except for her family, of course. That's a tragedy." "Yes,but that was years ago. Maria is a young woman now. I think she may be somewhere around fifteen years old. She's strong and healthy. In my own way Ive taught her all the things she needs to be a good servant of God and Christian wife. She can work the fields, do all the chores that a household requires, cook and tend the farm animals. In short, Juan, she is ready to make some man a fine wife in God." "Oh?"said Juan. His thoughts, lagging the priest's words, were still on the terror of a child lost and alone in the desert. "I believe that Maria would make you a good wife, Juan," said Father Rodriguez

Juan sat in dumbfounded discomfort as the priest stared intently at him. "Ah... Well... I don't know what to say," Juan stammered. "You should say yes. That you would have this girl for your wife." This seemed too simple -- as if a fat heifer had wandered onto his property and could be his if he merely said that he wanted it. It was that unreal. Yet, as unreal as it seemed, the prospect rapidly infected him with excitement. "Would you want her for your wife?" asked the priest sternly. A sudden fear came over him. It was a fear that the priest might withdraw the opportunity -- the dream might end. He blurted out, "Oh, yes, Father. Definitely! How can I say no, when someone as important as you has gone to such a great effort to make this wonderful offer." The priest sat back and slapped his palms onto his knees. "Good. A wise decision." His head nodded in affirmation of his words. "You wont regret it. She'll make you a good wife." "A wife. What did you say her name is?" "Her name is Maria. Soon it will be Maria Conjon. And I suspect that God will quickly bless you with sons to carry on the Conjon name." "Maria."Juan liked that name. It felt good on his lips and tongue. "Tell me more about her. What's she look like? How tall is she?" "There's not much to tell. She's young and handsome. And obedient. She can be relied onto do what you say. She takes care of almost everything for me. I hate to even see her go, but... In any event, it won't be long and you will be able to see for yourself. Today is Friday. You come to Mass on Sunday. After Mass I'll introduce you to Maria." "Friday,"said Juan. He placed this information securely in his memory. "Sunday at Mass. I'll be there. I will." As he pondered seeing and talking to this woman he had never met, a thought came to him. "Father?" he said. "Maybe she won't have me. What if she won't marry me? And how am I supposed to ask her? When? What do I say?"His euphoria was suddenly gone, driven off by the specter of rejection; a specter that charged forward on its fearful war horse -- his ignorance of women and how to court one. "I dont know, Father. Maybe this isn't a good idea." "You neednt worry," consoled the priest. "I'll take care of everything." "But,what if she won't have me?" "Shell have you," the priest said matter-of-factually "Believe me. You just beat Mass Sunday. Soon she'll be your wife and you two can begin doing God's work together."

Prior to leaving, the priest preached the needs of God's work and his own diligence in serving them. Juan agreed to give him four sacks of fruit and two piglets. He would bring his offerings to the village with him on Sunday. <-----> After Father Rodriguez departed, Juan returned to his chore of watering trees. Not many got watered that afternoon. Juan's thoughts refused to remain focused on the work at hand. Time after time he found himself standing deep in thought, having completed some action -- such as pouring a pouch of water under a tree. His mind was recounting the things the priest had said to him about Maria -- a scant description that he tried to formulate into the image of the woman he would soon meet. Thinking of Maria repeatedly triggered Juan's uncertainty on how to court her. He wished that his father were alive to help him through this. He consoled himself with the fact that Father Rodriguez would be there Sunday to help him. And the priest had assured him that all would go well. Juan prayed that it would. The rest of that day and the next passed slowly. Late Saturday afternoon, Juan began preparations for Sunday. He dug into the wooden chest that contained his fathers clothes and took out a pair of dress pants and a shirt. Then he brought water to the house and, after heating it, he bathed for the first time in weeks. Juan slept little Saturday night and was up with the first light to prepare for the trip to the village. By the time the sun crested the cliff, Juan was driving his wagon through the gate of the stone and wood topped fence that kept predators from his livestock. The old wagon bounced and creaked in response to the rocky surface beneath the wheels. He guided the horse down the gently sloping land and into the dry wash. After a little over two hours, Juan's wagon crested the last low hill between him and the village. From there Juan saw the village of Guadato less than three miles to the North. It was situated on a long low plateau. Between him and the village lay a low area that wrapped around the west side of the Guadato plateau. The periodic winter flooding of this low area gave Guadato its life. It raised the water table to a level reachable by hand dug wells. The rain-swept soil from the hills was deposited in the land beneath the village plateau. This soil, with its imported nutrients, was adequate for farming and pastures for cattle to graze upon. Adequate, but not bountiful, and even then only if one worked hard and expected little surplus. As Juans wagon approached the village, its bouncing and creaking subsided. The horses hooves and the wagon's wheels raised less dust. Around him arose an eclectic collection of randomly placed buildings that constituted the village. Juan headed his wagon towards the central structures of the village: Father Rodriguez' hacienda and church. Both were squat buildings fabricated from adobe brick and finished with a white-washed stucco facade. The church was a thick-walled edifice designed to withstand the periodic earthquakes. The building's strength was enhanced by the use of only a few small windows. They admitted little light which kept the church's interior dim and cool. Two wooden doors formed the church entrance. They opened onto the village square -- the zocalo. The doors did little to illuminate the church's interior. A small bell hung from the wall next to the front doors. This bell was issuing a first announcement of the pending services.

The priests whitewashed hacienda sat adjacent to the rear corner of the church. A tall old Eucalyptus tree dominated the priest's hacienda. Juan pulled the horse to a halt within its sparse shade. After securing the reins, Juan walked along the horse, patting its sweaty rear flank and telling him to stay put. He walked back and looked in on the two squealing piglets in the wagon's bed. "Youd best hush up unless you want to be on the Father's dinner table tonight," he warned them with a smile. They ignored him and continued squealing and ferreting around the floorboards of the still wagon. Convinced that everything was secure, Juan walk around the hacienda and to the village square. More than two dozen people had arrived in anticipation of the bells final call to Mass. Most had staked out places within the shade of one of the five large oak trees that surrounded the zocalo. Juan approached two local women. Their eyes were locked together as they engaged in conversation. Each alternately nodded agreement to the others words. Upon reaching them, he tipped his hat and greeted them by name. Neither heard nor acknowledged him. They merely continued talking and nodding to each other. His presence was as far from their thoughts as the crying baby in one's arms and the others three year old boy. The latter was whining complaints and trying to pull loose from her grip. Looking around he saw another mother hollering threats to her sons. One clung to a tree branch crying for help while the other hung from his bare ankles. Juan watched her walk over and grab the lower boy's ear. He loosened his hold and fell to the ground out of her painful pinch. Fearing her further fury, he jumped up and dashed away with his hand over the punished ear. In the center of the square was the open well that served the water needs of the village. Near it a group of older men stood talking. The speaker's arms waved in animation. Juan could hear him telling about how he and his dogs fended off a pair of coyote's that attacked one of his sheep. Things in the square were normal. Juan strolled over to the group of men at the well. He listened as the attacking coyotes were hunted down, unmercifully shot and left as buzzard food. In the interlude that followed the story, one of the men, Rafeal Gomez, greeted Juan with a beaming face. Rafeal was the owner of the only store in the village. He knew all the area residents, having at some time or other traded with or extended credit to each of them. Rafeal asked Juan about his spring. Juan was happy to report that it flowed well and that the farm would probably provide a surplus this year. Rafeal was glad too. It meant goods he could buy and profitably sell in the city. "What brings you here this Sunday?" Rafeal asked. "Father Rodriguez get after you or just a chance visit?" "Father Rodriguez says he may be able to find a wife for me," Juan gladly explained. The group of men listened intently and nodded as he told about the priests visit and the opportunity for a wife. Emilio, the local butcher, smiled slyly at the other men and then said to Juan,"Pretty lucky. She's a sweet young thing. Hardly more than a child, Id say. A nice prize. Maybe too sweet a morsel for an old man like you." The others returned the butcher's grin in nodding agreement. Juan ignored his joke. He had more serious matters to worry about. He confided in quiet tones to the group,"I'm not sure what to say or do.

How should I go about getting her to become my wife?" The faces of the men, all married, took on serious expressions. One man turned his attention to the distance, as if pondering the question. Another looked for the answer in the dirt at his feet. A third looked to Rafeal. Rafeal coughed. The corner of his mouth twitched several times. "Ahh, ..." he said. Then he became silent. The others echoed his silence. Juan was about to amplify on his question when the church bell clanged out an anxious final call to services. The men suddenly became uncharacteristically eager to get into the church. They excused themselves and within seconds Juan stood alone. <-----> The churchs wooden doors stood wide open. The dark interior beyond waited to swallow up the sunbrowned bodies of the faithful. Juan took the one step up from the zocalo's hard packed dirt onto the slate-paved entryway to the church. The distance to the doorway was only three long strides. Such long strides were precluded by obstacles in the form of people ahead waiting to enter the dim coolness. So,Juan shuffled into the church with the others. His floppy wide brimmed hat came off just as he stepped inside. The church could hold nearly a hundred people. Today it was less than a third full. After genuflecting, Juan moved into the last pew, sat down and waited for the Mass to start. As his eyes adjusted to the dim illumination, Juan looked around. The church was as familiar to Juan as it was simple. The pews were made of rough hewn wood. They had been worn smooth from years of usage by peasants clad in crude clothing. The church's adornments were few, old and austere. They were an accurate reflection of the life of the man whose image hung on the large and plain crucifix above the altar. Nothing in the church appeared different. Everything was as it had been for as long as Juan could remember. Yet, today it felt different. Today, in a very short time,Juan knew that Maria would be in this church. For the children of the orphanage always attended Mass. Then, as if cued by his thoughts, the front entrance to the right of the altar opened and the area glowed brightly from the outside sunlight. One after another, small shadowy shapes penetrated the doorway. Each was larger than its predecessor. Once inside and away from the glare of the light, the shadows became poorly clad children, heads bowed, solemn and silent in reverence. The youngest child was no more than three years old, while most of the rest appeared to be between6 and 10 years of age. They filed into the first pew. The last shadow to enter towered above the others. Juan had no doubts -- it was Maria. Only her shape was distinguishable. She turned, closed the door behind her and disappeared into the new dark. All Juan could see was her gliding form moving towards the front pew. Before he could get a good look at her, she was in the pew and kneeling with her head bowed. She sank deep into prayer. What remained for Juan to observe was her long black wavy hair. It settled haphazardly on her shoulders. From those same shoulders hung a simple, beige colored shift-like dress. The coarseness of the cloth was obvious even at this distance. She displayed an intensity of stillness unequaled in the church. Juan marveled at her ability to remain so focused on her prayers. He tried to emulate her, but

couldn't. Her presence distracted him. Soon the priest entered from the sacristy to the right of the altar. Everyone stood and Maria disappeared beyond them. The priest began to pray. His deep voice raised tremors at all points within the small church. Mass had begun. The Mass progressed slowly for Juan. He tried to pray for God's help in winning Maria for his own. Praying was difficult. Every move she made distracted him. He found himself shifting positions frequently to see around the people who seemed to maliciously move between them. He sought to catch a glimpse of her. All that he could see was the upper portion of her rear profile not obscured by the pews. The sermon was given. Father Rodriguez spoke on the responsibilities of marriage. His words and the sight of Maria instilled in Juan a resolve to be the best of husbands in God's eyes. More prayers followed. Then came the communion. Juan partook, tasting the dry wafer and swallowing its meager portion quickly. His mind wasn't on the communion. It was on the tall girl in the front pew; the girl with the bowed head, still deep in mental communion with their God. At last, the Mass ended. Father Rodriguez disappeared. Juan returned to kneeling, head bowed, trying to pray while his neighbors filed from the church. Soon, all were out except Juan and the children. He watched as the orphans arose in unison. The door opened, again painting the area with brilliance. The moving forms transfigured from poor children into shadows as they left the Church. None looked up. None spoke. The last to leave was Maria. As she followed the other children out, Juan watched the cloth of her dress shape the contours of the frame hidden beneath. Everything about her was smooth and flowing, like an angel floating across the floor. Then, she too became a shadow and disappeared. The door to the light closed, ending the apparition. In her transition from the church, Juan had gotten a good look at Maria. He was pleased with what he saw. She had plain bulbous facial features characteristic of the natives from southern Mexico. Hers was a sturdy body frame composed of muscles firmed as only continuous hard work can achieve. Juan had caught a glimpse of a woman before whom all others paled in comparison -- the woman who might one day be his. Juan lingered with the memory of her vision teasing his loneliness. At last, anticipating more of her, he arose and exited into the blinding sun. Squinting against the light, he saw that Father Rodriguez had come into the zocalo. He stood in the shade of the nearby tree from which the boy had earlier hung. He spoke with some of those who had attended his Mass. The bright sunlight irritated the recesses of Juan's nostrils at the bridge of his nose. He sneezed loudly. A second sneeze burst from him. He wiped his moist upper lip with the sleeve of his shirt. Satisfied that he had no more sneezes within him,he walked over to the group and stood listening. The priest was telling Fanuella that she should try harder to get her husband to attend Mass. Juan waited to be noticed by the priest. With every opportunity, he moved a little closer to him. Juan was sure the priest saw him. Yet, he showed no sign of it. This set Juan to wondering if maybe Father Rodriguez had forgotten. When at length the priest failed to speak directly to him, Juan took

advantage of a slight break in the conversation to assert, "I brought some donations for you, Father. They are in my wagon." The words attracted the Father's attention. "That's very generous of you,Juan," he said. "Donations are desperately needed in order for me to continue God's work." He looked at the others in the group to ensure that they got his message. Then, he turned his attention back to Juan and said,"Go to my place and wait on the porch. I'll be there shortly." "What about..." Juan began to ask. "Wait on my porch," said the priest. The words came firmly and accompanied by astern look. Neither left room for discussion. Juan turned and started for the priest's residence. He remained concerned by the priests failure to acknowledge the main business of the day. At the edge of the zocalo,he turned and looked back at the people clustered around the priest. He considered going back. After a second, he decided against it. The path to his destination took Juan past the corner of the church. There he saw the young boy who had earlier been trying to pull his brother out of the tree. The boy stood looking down through the long ragged ends of his scraggly black hair. He intently poked a stick in the dirt in front of him. Juan paused two steps away,curious about the boy's actions. He saw that the boy was toying with a beetle. The object of his attention was an inch long and dark brown. Six crooked legs extended from its oval body. At one end two long feelers waved rapidly in the air. Beneath the feelers were two tiny hook-shaped pincers that would undoubtedly inflict considerable pain if they grabbed flesh. The ugly bug was not particularly fast. With rapid and adroit flicks of the stick, the boy continually blocked of the beetle's attempt to escape to a dark crack in the church wall. Frustrated, but lacking any other alternative, the insect repeatedly turned and scurried, only to be thwarted again and again. After several seconds of this, the boy looked up at Juan. Juan returned the boys blank gaze with one of his own. They looked back down. The beetle had taken advantage of the momentary distraction of its tormentor. It had scrambled nearly away and was less than a foot from the safety of the church wall crevice. Safety was not to be its fate. In a swift accurate motion the boy jabbed the insect with the stick. The sound of its shell cracking spoke of its imminent death. The stick fell to the ground as the boy dashed off, seeking anew way to pass time. Juan watched him go. When the boy was no longer to be seen, Juan looked down at the beetle. It was frozen motionless in an unprovoked death. Using the edge of his boot,Juan dragged a pile of dirt over the beetle. With only a tiny mound and stick remaining as reminders of the contest, Juan continued to the porch. From a chair in the shade of the hacienda porch Juan watched the priest converse with the various villagers. After nearly a half an hour, the priest excused himself from the last of them. He approached the porch with brisk purpose. Upon arriving, he looked at Juan and said, "Let's go inside. The heat and talking made me thirsty." He led Juan through a wooden gate at the end of the porch and into a passageway. It took them to a central courtyard -- a rectangular area surrounded by the rooms of the house. Each room had windows or a door facing the interior expanse. Lush and colorful growth shaded much of the area. Seats and tables were set about for lounging.

The priest led Juan across the courtyard and into a room that was still cool from the night before. As the priest settled into a padded leather chair he let out a bellow, "Rosita!" The shout startled Juan in its loudness and ferocity. Within seconds a girl of about ten years of age appeared in the doorway. Her right hand grabbed the doorjamb to arrest the momentum of her rapid arrival. Large and worried brown eyes darted back and forth between Juan and the priest. Mostly, they sought a message from the priest. The arm that supported the hand on the doorjamb was tense and ready to catapult her from the room. Juan noticed an ugly red mark on the back of her other hand. It looked like a burn. "Yes,Father?" she whispered. "Bring us some cool tea," he snapped. "And be quick about it. After that, go find Maria and tell her to get in here." Without further question the young girl's arm and thin legs ejected her from the room. She disappeared as quickly as she had arrived. "So,Juan, have you given any more thought to Maria?" "Oh yes. A lot. She's all I've been able to think about." "And?Are you still of a mind to have her for your wife?" "More than ever. I think I saw her in Church. She's beautiful." "Beautiful?Humph! Well, I suppose so. After all, aren't all of us created in Gods beautiful likeness? It just depends on how you see them." "Yes, I guess that's true," said Juan. He was a little offended at the priest's slighting of her attractiveness. "But, I think she would make an excellent wife. She looks so young and strong. I hope I can convince her to be my wife. I'm still not sure..." "Juan,"the priest interjected, "you have lived alone for a long time. You've never had to deal with women. As your priest and confessor, I feel that it's my duty to tell you about them. I have said it many times in my sermons -- the devil frequently acts through representatives. He can be fiendishly sly in his attempts to lead a man into sin. "As you know, women are weak. They are easily distracted to sinful ways. Men are strong. Sometimes, when it comes to women, men lose the good sense that God gave them and behave in ways that God does not approve of. "So,the devil uses this fact. He tempts women to sin. Then, like Eve in the Garden of Eden, he uses women to cause men to sin." Juan listened intently to the wisdom of the priest and nodded his understanding and agreement. The priest continued, "It's important to be true to God's teachings. It's important not to let the Devil deceive you into sin, especially through women. In order to prevent this a man must always be on

guard against the temptations of women and particularly his wife. He must ensure that she follows God's teachings to the letter. Don't be like Adam and give in to her if she tries to lure you into sin. At all times you will have to be very firm with your wife. Don't let her speak ill of God, the Church or its priests. Women are not beyond making up false stories to confuse you. Don't let her act badly. She should work, pray and serve your needs. When she doesn't, you must use your position as her husband to bend her will to yours. If necessary, God would want you to use strength to dispel the devil when it appears in her. Force and an occasional beating may be necessary. Only in this way will the both of you find the eternal happiness of God's light and presence." "Do you understand this?" he questioned Juan intently. "Yes,Father, I understand what you say." Juan thought of the forceful mastery that he periodically had to apply to his mule when it got stubborn and refused to obey him. Juan listened as Father Rodriguez continued to lecture to him. The arrival of the girl named Rosita interrupted him. Watching the full glasses against spilling,she moved as rapidly as they and her control would permit. After setting the drinks on the table between the priest and Juan, she said, "I'm going to get Maria now." She fled from the room. <-----> Maria was in the chicken coop gathering eggs when she heard Rosita calling out her name. Maria detected a quiet panic in Rosita's voice. Maria rushed outside to find out what was happening. The panic was real. "Father wants to see you," Rosita blurted out. "Hes in the parlor." Maria handed Rosita the pouch of eggs and said, "Take these. Is there a problem? Is he angry?" She dreaded the most probable answer. "I dont think so. But there's another man with him." Maria felt some relief at this news. None-the-less, as she hurried towards the parlor a black unknown churned up questions in her mind. Why was she being called into the Father's presence this time? Who was the other man? Had something gone awry for which she would be blamed? If so, what could it be? The Father was so unpredictable. This was not the first time she had been forced to confront the Father's unknowns. Many times before she rushed, in just this manner, into the depths of that black precarious cave. It was compellingly necessary. Long ago she learned that she had to confront the beast of the dark depths head on -immediately; hope to find it only grumbling with displeasure; a displeasure that a token sacrifice would satiate. For when she didn't immediately confront the beast, it later roared loose. Then, no token sacrifice placated it. By that stage only a truly painful sacrifice calmed the beast. Maria breathed heavily from haste and fear as she stepped through the room's doorway and into the dark cave. A knot of concern trembled inside her stomach. It seemed to be squeezing out the perspiration she felt forming under her arms and in the palms of her hands. She kept her eyes lowered and arms straight with her hands clasped in front of her. She stood in silence waiting to be noticed. It happened almost immediately.

Through the top of her down turned eyes, she saw the Father look over at her. She read nothing positive in his face or eyes. At least she couldn't detect any of the angry lines that she believed had, over the years, shaped his face into its long leanness. The other man also watched her intently. "Come closer, girl. Come closer," ordered the Father. It was the last thing she wanted to do. None-theless, she obeyed and shuffled a few feet closer. The knot in her stomach tightened, squeezing more moisture out of her. She felt a bead of it move down the crevice in the middle of her chest. It tickled and demanded attention that she could not give it. The minuscule sensation made her all the more uncomfortable. Still unsure of her situation, she wished that she were not the apparent center of his attention. That never bode well. "Juan,this is the woman who will soon be your wife," she heard the Father proclaim. The Father looked harshly at her and said, "Maria, this is Senor Juan Conjon. Youre going to become his wife. Say hello to Senor Conjon." Marias discomfort was furthered by the peculiarity of what the Father said. A confusion arose within her. His words, albeit just spoken, seemed unintelligible. She had clearly heard the order to say hello. That, at least,she understood. But, something had been said before that. She replayed the last few seconds in her mind. The Father's words didn't make sense to her."His wife?" As she tried to assimilate what the words implied, her mind became fog-bound. It was as if the words had broken apart into a myriad of tiny pieces that floated around her. She was trapped within them, unable to see beyond them or bring them together and examine them for meaning. The icily stern voice of the Father came at her again. "Say hello to Senor Conjon." The voice demanded obedience. It stirred feelings of humiliation and pain in her. She struggled against her fear and the fog to find a voice with which to speak. "Hello, Senor Conjon," she whispered. She tried to produce a normal voice by speaking softly, but it trembled anyway. Maria sought, through her down turned eyes, to study the man who sat with the Father. He stared at her with small steadfast eyes. His looks brought on a sensation of slimy fingers touching her everywhere. Fear came over her. She wanted to turn and run from here. Her fear was cold and froze her in place. She had nowhere to run to anyway. Experience had taught her that. She stood for what seemed forever until the Father said, "Juan, you must stay for a meal with me. I'll go see to it while you talk with Maria. I'll send someone to get you when the meal is ready." The Father stood up and moved towards the door. He stopped, towering in front of Maria. He put his fingertips under her chin and lifted her face upward. The touch was not foreign to her. It set the knot deep in her abdomen reverberating as if it had been punched. Her eyes involuntarily met his. They contained a threatening look. Blessedly enough, the look and touch were short. He dropped his hand and stepped around her. He left the room. With the Fathers departure, Maria felt only slightly less tense. She continued standing, eyes once again

directed downward, wondering what would happen next. Clearly, the Father expected her to remain here. She would do nothing, that being the safest thing to do in this unknown situation. Maybe no harm would come to her. Maybe soon she could return to her chores and the consoling company of the other children. A long silence ensued, disturbed only by the distant voices of children playing in the zocalo. Maria was startled and instinctively drew back when Juan unexpectedly spoke. "I... I have a very prosperous farm not far from here." He paused before continuing. "It has a spring." A shorter pause occurred before he said, "It flows all year around." Then the pauses ended. His speech flowed unimpeded as he talked more about his farm, as if to convince her of what a wonderful place it was. He spoke with affection for the spring,the land, the animals in his stock and the produce he grew. Mostly, he talked about the importance and bounty of the farm's spring. Maria half listened. Mainly, she wondered at what was happening. The Father had spoken of her becoming Juan's wife. It hadn't been a question to her, but rather a statement of fact. Marriage??Her?? She tried to envision exactly what that meant. Nothing came to her; no feelings; no illusions. She saw only a blurry picture of her and this man on the extreme and opposite edges of an otherwise blank canvas. She only knew marriage as some abstract thing from the Father's sermons. The Father performed marriages in the church. She knew that the men and women who lived together did so only after marriage. She understood nothing else of marriage. Least of all had she ever associated marriage and herself. In fact, her future was something she seldom thought about. All she could conceive of was living as she had for all these years with the Father -- serving him and his household. What else could there be besides that? What else had the Father ever indicated might be in her future? Through her down turned eyes Maria sampled the man who spoke to her. He was like the many men she saw about the village, at Mass and coming and going from the Fathers home. He was slim with a hard body. Regular work in the sun-pounded fields had gilded his body with dark leather-like skin. His clothes were ill-fitting and as poor as her own and most others in the area. She watched his thick hands wave and flick about as he spoke. They were the hands of a farmer -- coarse,callused and with short worn fingernails. They were a marked contrast with the Fathers pallid long nailed hands. The knot in her stomach quivered. The face and eyes of this gesturing vocal man were also a sharp contrast with the Fathers. Senor Conjon's eyes gleamed gaily as he spoke of the thing he obviously loved-- his farm and its spring. His lean face showed none of the anger lines she saw in the Father's. Senor Conjon talked at length. All the while, his eyes probed her. She grew less uncomfortable as it became apparent that only his eyes and voice would touch her. Her discomfort flared again when he stopped speaking and stood up. He took a step towards her and said, "Is everything all right?" Maria didnt know how to answer such an unexpected question. Surely, the truth would be the wrong response. She remained silent. "I know you can talk. I heard you earlier. Why don't you talk?" He stood waiting. She continued to cautiously watch through the top of her eyes. He scratched at his groin. A new dread washed over her. She bit at her lower lip to hold back its quivering. He made no move towards her. Rather, he used the hand he had scratched with to point at the Father's

chair. He said, "Sit here. Talk to me. If we're going to get to know each other, we have to talk." Reluctantly and stiffly, she moved to the chair and sat down. She kept her eyes set downward towards her hands in her lap. Nervously, she examined her work roughened skin and worn nails. She gingerly touched the scab of the deep scratch she got two days ago from an exposed nail in the barn. "You can talk, can't you?" he repeated. "Yes, I can talk," she said to her hands, nodding slightly, "but I don't know what to say." "Father Rodriguez says we'll be married. What do you think about that?" he asked. His eyes probed for hers. "I...It's... I haven't had time to think about it," she said in confusion. Tears began to blur her vision. This was too confusing. "You have a spring on your farm?" she asked, trying to direct the conversation back to him. It worked. He began talking about his farm again. To Maria's relief he didn't pursue the confusing issue of marriage further. The largely one-sided conversation continued until the Father returned. Startled by his entry and certain that she shouldn't be found sitting, Maria leapt to her feet. The Father ignored what would normally have been the transgression of idleness. "Our food is ready," he said to Juan. "Come on. Let's eat. Im famished." At the Fathers invitation, Juan preceded them out of the room. A nod of the Fathers head told Maria to follow them. As he showed Juan into the dining room, the Father stopped outside. Out of Juan's sight he turned to Maria and laid his hand on her shoulder. His touch, while light, sent a reflexive pain throughout her. His words were even more shocking. "Go get cleaned up and get your things together. You're to be married shortly. You'll be leaving with him today." The jolt of his words broke through the years of conditioning that trained her to refrain from questioning any of his demands, no matter how unpleasant. She gasped,"But..." Before she could add more, his hand clenched painfully tight through to her shoulder's bones. His eyes and face turned to jagged rusty nails. Between teeth that didn't separate he hissed, "Do as I say!" In the years she had lived with the Father, she had suffered more of his displeasure than she could or wanted to remember. But, she couldn't recall ever seeing his face so distorted with anger. It was a face that she was sure would frighten the devil himself. "Yes,Father," she whispered, looking away from the horror in his face. He released his grip. As he turned to go into the dining room, she saw the horror transform into a mask of benevolence. It was a benevolence she never saw directed towards her. Maria hurried to the back room that she and the other girls shared. She struggled to slip reason into what was happening to her life. Like so many things about the Father, this set of events defied reason. What was apparent was that she was trapped between the Father's dangerous jagged face and the

unknown of going away with the stranger. If she had a choice, it would have been between terrifying alternatives. She didn't. 'Get cleaned up and get your things together,' he had said. Both were simple tasks. The first meant slipping back into the dress she wore to Mass. Packing was not a large effort. All that she had to call her own were a few changes of worn and tattered outer and under clothes. Her only other possession was the necklace she always wore. Its delicate gold chain held a pink tear-drop shaped stone with thin gold bands on it. She had been clutching the necklace when they found her in the desert. To this day, she didn't know how she obtained it from her mothers neck, where Maria knew it always hung. The necklace was the only thing she remembered about her family. While changing and bundling her things together, Maria realized that she had to let the children know what was happening. Maria rushed about telling the other children that she was leaving. She hugged each close so that neither of them would have to look at the fear and grief in the others face. She spoke words of encouragement so that she wouldn't have to try to answer their trembling questions. Soon Maria was back and sitting outside the dining room. She waited and listened with her mind in confused uncertainty as Juan and the priest dined leisurely. After the meal and a considerable period of restful conversation, Maria heard Father Rodriguez tell Juan, "It's time for the wedding." Juan's voice reflected the same confusion Maria felt. "Now? So soon? I... I assumed that the wedding would take place some other time." Maria began to wonder if maybe they wouldn't be married today. She might yet have time to adjust to the idea. "You dont have any problem with having the wedding now, do you?" asked the Father. Maria held her breath awaiting the answer. "Well... no, Father. It's just that I didnt think it would be today. But certainly, I'm ready. Now would be wonderful for me. But, is Maria ready? Does she know? Doesn't she require more time? I got the impression that this was all new to her," rambled Juan. "Women serve God and men as they are told. She doesn't need any special time to get ready. As we dined, she made such few preparations as are necessary. Like I told you, she is an obedient girl." The Father continued, "You rest here for a few minutes while I go get ready for the sacrament of Matrimony. You attended Mass and took communion this morning, so youre ready in God's eyes. I'll send one of my children to fetch you to the Church shortly." The Father came out of the dining room. Seeing Maria, he nodded his head for her to follow him. She did. After a few quick preparations, he summoned Juan. The marriage ceremony began. Standing before the altar and the Father, Maria kept her eyes fixed to the floor listening to the Father's words. She still wondered why this was happening. Her doubts seemed not to be shared by Juan, who excitedly accepted Maria as his wife. "Maria,do you take this man, Juan Conjon, to be your lawfully wedded husband to love,honor and obey in the law of God?" the Father said. Maria hesitated, not looking up, uncertain what to do. The Father reached over, grabbed her chin hard and raised her head. His fingers were as cold as usual. His

penetrating eyes were also cold; cold and empty of any kindness or understanding. They were a constant in him no matter what she did. Always those cold eyes that condemned her with every look. Even when... "You say yes. Now," he said to her. His look told her that no other answer would gain her safety from future retribution. She quietly and despairingly gave forth an affirmation. The ceremony concluded with the priest giving the couple God's blessing for a fruitful marriage. At the Fathers direction, Juan kissed Maria. She stood unmoving, letting his dry rough lips touch hers. She cringed at the touch. It felt unclean. His breath was unpleasant. Yet, she knew she could not resist. No celebration of the marriage occurred, except in Juan's behavior. Within minutes after the ceremony, Father Rodriguez suggested that Juan and his new bride ought to be on their way back to his farm. Juan quickly unloaded his donation and they departed. Maria sat on the far side of the wagon bench as Juan drove around the zocalo and through the tiny village filled with bright hot sun. Sitting high on the seat, chest puffed out, he waved at everyone they passed and shouted, "We're married." He seemed determined that each and every villager should know of his new status. She didn't share his ambition. Instead,Maria sat dazed. She kept her head bowed. She curled her shoulders inward and held her arms folded tightly beneath the mounds that had in recent years become a major part of her. Her mind also shrank inward and away from the world around her. Like the closed petals of a flower in the dark of a storm, she found no strength or reason to unfurl. As they drove South away from the zocalo, Maria looked back to the hacienda through the dust thrown up by the wagon. Some of the children were distributed about,watching her leave. They were jeopardizing themselves to the Father's wrath for lagging in their chores. She wanted to signal to them, to tell them to be about their chores quickly before he found them loitering. But, she had no way to do so. The distance, the dust, the tears in her eyes and the bouncing of the wagon were making it harder for her to even see them. They were on their own now. She hoped for the best for them as she turned and looked ahead down the plateau of Guadato. <----> The ride to the farm was long and agonizing for Maria. Juan told her that it would be unwise to hurry the horse and risk its health by over-heating him."Besides," Juan said, giving her a wide grin, "it's a beautiful day for a ride." She wasnt accustomed to wagon rides. The bouncing and swaying motions of it unsettled her stomach. She forced her mind off the discomforts and used the time to get her wits together and adjust to the possibilities of her new reality. Whatever awaited her, she had to learn to cope with it as she had everything else in her past. She had survived the desert. She had survived the Father. She would survive whatever lay ahead. At long last the farm came in sight. Juan pointed it out beneath the cliff and said,"See, that didn't take long." Maria felt relief from the motion as she climbed down from the wagon. Juan looked around and said, "Middle of the heat. It will be a while before I can get to work. I'll show you around." He did.

The tour took a considerable time. Juan pointed out every aspect and subtly of the house and its surroundings. He took her back to show her the barn, the corals, the other small buildings and, finally, the oft referred to spring. There, he offered her a cool drink and an orange from a nearby tree. She gladly accepted,for she had little to eat that day. The offerings settled her stomach. The tour was complete and they were back at the dirty unkempt house. Maria suggested, in a questioning manner that left the decision to Juan, that maybe she should do some cleaning and organizing. Juan happily agreed. As Juan departed the house to work in the orchards and fields, Maria dove into the work, for there was plenty to do. The house was a mess. The work distracted her from pondering a future beyond the obvious work about her. Being alone left Maria feeling more comfortable and secure. By the time Juan returned, Maria had a hot meal ready for him. As she always did with the Father, she carefully measured her every word and action in Juan's presence. She remained alert to his potential needs and desires. She attempted to anticipate any potential offense she might commit in Juan's eyes. None occurred. With the farm on a westward facing hill, twilight came late and lasted long. When darkness finally arrived, Maria was scrubbing at some long ignored kettles. Her mind was on neither the time nor the quality of the light by which she worked. She avoided thinking farther ahead than she had to in order to keep busy. Yet,she was uncomfortably aware that it was getting late. Juan was obviously growing anxious. His anxiety infected her and she cleaned more industriously. "Its time to go to bed," she heard Juan say from the doorway to the kitchen. She looked over at him. His eyes told her all she needed to know. She set down the kettle she was cleaning and dried her hands. Her mind shifted to what she knew was next. Retrieving the oil lamp, she led him to the bedroom she had cleaned and freshened earlier. By the unstable light of the lamp, she undressed purposefully, as if all alone in the room. When the last of her cloths dropped to the floor, he stopped his undressing and stared at her body. His mouth hung open gawkingly. Despite the discomfort of his gaze, she stood silent and waiting, without any attempt at modesty. Cautiously,he stepped forward and touched her. The touches, while lightly placed, were unpleasant. She endured them without wincing. In an effort to detour the increasingly bold touches, she softly suggested, "Do you want me to finish undressing you?" He agreed. She made other suggestions to which he also agreed. She used these suggestions and subtle hints to smooth his fumbling ways into his marital right and duty. She endured and hurried the brief encounter that successfully culminated in Juans ecstatic delight. As her new husband contentedly drifted off to sleep, Maria remained awake listening to his even breathing. An emptiness filled her. She missed the company of her near-brothers and near-sisters of the Father's orphanage. Even the possibility of a less tortured life away from the Father, the full ramifications of which she had not yet assessed, did not dull the loss.