When the Owl Cries Part 51

"She'll be better in Guadalajara."

"But she needs you!"

"No, she doesn't need me. You can help."

"But I don't want to go," Vicente exclaimed.

"You're going anyway, to help Mama."

"You help Mama.... You go!"

Buzzards perched on the galvanized iron roof, and Vicente threw rotten oranges at them. When the telegraph operator came out of his room, he said that the train might come tomorrow. "No use waiting any longer.

There's no chance today."

Raul gave him cigars.

"Vicente--let's go back to your school. I'll come alone tomorrow."

Angelina had stored her luggage at the hotel, ready for departure, since a train could come at any hour. When it finally arrived, late at night, Raul was on hand. He took both her hands in his, loving her for all she had been to him.

"A good trip, Angelina," he said, as train smoke blew about them.

"Good luck, Raul," she said in her lovely voice, her fingers stealing away from him, to the brooch on her blouse.

"You'll be safe," he said.

"Watch out for yourself at Petaca."

"You too, in Guadalajara. Look after Vicente. The Colegio will be good for him."

"Yes."

She wanted to kiss him but the world inside her talked of many things; she wanted to mention Caterina, wishing she could purge herself of anguish; she wanted to speak of Fernando; she felt she could not breathe. Raul stood out plainly enough--his white shirt flapping--yet he was many Rauls.

She took Vicente's hand.

"Goodbye, Papa."

"Goodbye, son."

18

Sofia, Lucienne's maid, brought Raul a letter, arriving early at Petaca, her face, hair and hands wet with mist. She gave it to him in the living room.

"Dearest Raul," the letter began, "We are all right here at Palma Sola.

Don't worry about us. I had no luck in Guanajuato. The manager is honest but afraid. I will tell you more about it when we meet.

"I have heard that things have been bad with you at Petaca and I am sorry, darling. Sorry for you, Angelina, and all concerned. I know how much the hacienda means to you. Everything done to Petaca is something done to you.

"The Kolbs are here with me, as you know, and none of my servants has deserted me. Payno and Otello say we won't have any trouble. I hope they're right.

"My love for Palma Sola knows no bounds these precarious days. I'm so glad to be back. I go about gathering flowers for my vases, setting out new plants, sorting seeds, fixing gla.s.s broken by the quakes.

"Darling, write to me, by Sofia. She is a palmera woman and knows every trail and I trust her. I love you."

Raul read, sitting on a chair, while Sofia stood behind staring at her feet. She was a lanky woman, with loosely combed hair.

"Go to the kitchen and eat. Wait for me there," he said, folding the letter. "Have anything you want." He drew a sheet of stationery out of the desk drawer, and sat down and wet his pen in the inkwell.

He felt troubled and could not concentrate for he had just left Gabriel: he and Velasco had cupped pus from his wound, dousing it with peroxide and iodine.

"Feel it burning?" he had asked.

"It's burning."

"Good," Velasco had said. "That means live tissue. Your leg will get all right."

Only a few days ago, Gabriel had spoken in chapel of the revolution, warning everyone of its insanities. He had pleaded for sanity....

On that very day Captain Cerro had been hanged by a mob on a tree less than two miles away.

Raul bit the top of his penholder and began to write. Before he had written five lines, he crumpled the sheet and strode to the kitchen, where Sofia was eating.

"I'm going to Palma Sola now," he said. "I'm sending men to look after Lucienne and her place. I'll have my horse saddled. Rest a while here. You needn't hurry."

With Captain Cerro dead, trouble could break out anywhere. He would choose good men for Palma Sola.

Sanity--there was not much sanity. Yet he felt saner as he rode Chico toward Palma Sola through the mist.

Sanity ... was it sanity, taking men from Petaca to guard Palma Sola?

he wondered.

But it was something like sanity, seeing Lucienne sitting by her front window, at her piano. The green ocean was calm, swirling its pale color out to the horizon.

Smiling, joyous, she waited for him to dismount and come inside. She was alone.

His spurs clicked, as he came in.

"Darling," she said.

"Lucienne, I..." He kissed her lovingly.

"So sweet of you to come."

"I couldn't write. I tried. I had to come."