Larry McMurtry - Comanche Moon

His yells produced no answer. Scull stood up, to test his ankle, but immediately sat back down. His ankle would bear no weight.

Then he began to get the feeling that he was not alone: someone was above him, waiting where he couldn't see them. But the person, if it was a person, waited quietly, making no sound. Through the afternoon he turned his sore eyes upward a few times, but saw no one.

Then, as dusk was approaching, he saw what he had sensed. A face, as old and brown as the earth, was visible above him. Then he remembered the old woman. He had seen her often during his days of captivity in the cage, but had paid her little mind. Most of the day the old woman sat under a small tree, silent. When she rose to do some chores she walked slowly, bent almost double, supporting herself with a heavy stick. He rarely saw anyone speak to her. No doubt the people of the camp had left her to die--crippled as she was, she would have been an impediment to travel.

"Agua!" he said, looking up at her. The sight of a human face made him realize how thirsty he was. "Agua! Agua!" The old face disappeared. Scull felt a flutter of hope. At least one human knew where he was, and that he was alive. There was no reason for the old woman to help him--she was probably dying herself. But she was there, and people were unpredictable. She might help him.

Above him old Xitla crept about the camp.

She was glad the people had left--the camp was hers now. She had spent the day looking for things people had dropped as they were leaving. People were so careless. They left things that they considered had no use, but old Xitla knew that everything had a use, if one were wise enough to know the uses of things. In a few hours of looking she had already found a bullet, several nails, an old shirt, and a rawhide string.

These things were treasures to Xitla. With each find she hobbled eagerly back to her tree and put her treasure on her blanket.

In her years in Ahumado's camp Xitla had been careful never to tell him her name. She knew he would kill her immediately if he knew that her name was Xitla and that she was the daughter of Ti-lan, a great curandera who had known him in his youth in the south. Her mother had insisted that she take the name "Xitla" because it would protect her from Ahumado. When he was a baby, her mother told her, the elders had put a poisoned leaf under Ahumado's tongue and sent him out in the world to do evil. Though Ahumado did not know it, he and Xitla had been born on the same minute of the same day, and their mothers were sisters-- thus their destinies were forever linked together. They would die on the same moment of the same day too--in killing Xitla, Ahumado would have killed himself.

But Ti-lan, her mother, when she sent Xitla away, warned her that she was never to tell Ahumado her real name, or the circumstances of her birth. If Ahumado knew he would try to challenge his destiny by putting Xitla to death in some cruel fashion. He bore the legacy of the poisoned leaf and would do much evil as a result.

A few years back Xitla thought Ahumado had found her out. He seldom rode a horse, yet one day for no reason Ahumado mounted a strong horse and rode the horse right over her, injuring her back, so that she could never again stand straight. He had never explained his actions.

He had merely ridden over her and left her in the dust. Then he dismounted and was never seen on a horse again. He had forbidden the people to help her, too. Xitla had crawled away on her hands and knees and found roots and leaves that helped her pain to be less.

Around the camp, Xitla was known as Manuela. Because it was understood that Ahumado disapproved of her, she had few friends. Sometimes drunken vaqueros, men so debased that they would use any woman, or even a mare or a cow, came and pawed at her in the night. She had been small and dark but very beautiful; the vaqueros saw something of her beauty and still pawed at her, even though she had passed her time as a woman.

One or two of the other old grandmothers in the village spoke to her; they were too old to care about Ahumado or his wrath. Xitla's one companion was a small white cat. The little cat grew and became her hunter. It brought her the fattest rats and even, now and then, a baby rabbit, a delicacy Xitla cooked in her pot, seasoned with good spices. Her cat was Xitla's companion. It slept next to her head at night, and its thoughts went into her brain.

The cat wanted her to leave the camp and go to a nearby village. But Xitla was afraid to go.

She moved so slowly that it would take her many days to reach the village--once Ahumado knew that she was gone he might send his pistoleros to catch her and put her on one of the sharpened trees --t was the penalty for those who left without permission.

A few weeks later her cat left the camp to hunt and never came back. A woman told her, much later, that Ahumado had caught it and given it to a great rattler he kept in a cave --Xitla never knew whether the story was true.

Even though she was old many women in the camp were jealous of her, because of her great beauty. Sometimes in the night Xitla felt her cat trying to send its thoughts into her brain, but its thoughts were not clear.

Another woman told her that the story about the great rattler was nonsense; there had been an old cougar living near the camp; the cougar had probably eaten her cat.

This old woman, Cincha, had merely wanted gossip, Xitla thought. Like everyone else in the camp, Cincha was curious about Xitla and Ahumado. They wanted to know why the Black Vaquero hated Xitla so much; and why, if he hated her, didn't he just kill her. None of them knew about the sisters, or the poisoned leaf, nor did they know the real reason for Ahumado's hatred, which was simple. Once in his youth Ahumado had tried to come to her in the way of a man and she had stuck him in his member with a green thorn. She had been using the thorn to sew and had merely stuck Ahumado with it because she did not want to be with him in that way.

The green thorn had poison in it and the poison went into Ahumado's member. He had several wives, but none of them were happy--there were stories and stories, but Xitla didn't know if they were true. She just knew that Ahumado hated her so badly that he had run over her with a horse.

Now, to her surprise, Ahumado had been the one to leave the camp. He told no one that he was leaving. There was much speculation but no one really knew why Ahumado did the things he did. Within a day, all the other people in the camp left too.

No one offered to take Xitla. They had simply left her on her blanket. The women were particularly anxious to leave her--they did not like it that Xitla had such beauty of face still.

Xitla had been asleep, dreaming of Parrot, when Ahumado pushed the white man into the pit. When she awoke she heard the white man speaking to himself and knew that he was still alive.

The white man had survived as Ahumado's captive for many weeks--he had a strong spirit in him; he might yet find a way to escape the pit. She could not resist peeking at him, in the pit, and it was then that he asked her for water.

There were three or four pots laying around the camp, pots people had left in their careless haste.

Xitla took one of the pots and filled it with water from the stream. Then she searched through her treasures until she found enough rawhide string to make a cord long enough to lower the water to the white man. It would please her to help the prisoner in the pit, but when she lowered the water and looked at the man she realized it would not be easy to save him --he was very weak. He was on the point of giving up, this man, but Xitla hoped that a little cool water and some food would bring his spirit back its strength.

It took Xitla a long time to get the water, moving slowly as she did, and she was careful when she lowered it into the pit. When the white man stood up to catch the jug Xitla saw that one of his ankles was injured. He could not put his foot on the ground without pain, a fact which complicated his escape. It would be hard for him to climb out of the pit with such a sore ankle.