Bless Me, Ultima: Chapters 10-12

My father was dejected about his sons leaving, and he drank more than before.

Even the holy priest at El Puerto had been asked to exorcise el encanto, the curse, and he had failed.

"Even to the great doctor in Las Vegas we took him, to no avail," my uncle said.

Lucas did not say what it was they cooked, but he said it made the most awful stench he had ever smelled

No one in his right mind would confront the cohorts of the devil!

He told the story only to papa, who admonished him not to repeat it.

"Evil begets evil," my uncle said.

The drive to EI Puerto was always a pleasant one, but today it was filled with strange portents.

He must know that those who tamper with fate are often swallowed by their own contrivance

His gnarled body only trembled with anger.

The sky remained dark around us, but the clouds of dust abated somewhat.

He was the youngest of my uncles, and I always remembered him full of life and bravado.

He groaned in pain and convulsed as if he wanted to throw up the medicine.

Instead of sleep I slipped into a deep stupor.

His body convulsed with the spasms of a madman, and his face contorted with pain.

This one did not smell like the first one, it was more pungent.

The acrid smell of the dark­ yellow pee blended into the fragrance of the cereal.

"Perhaps," he mused for a long time.

He reached through the green wall and a secret latch opened an ivy-laden door.

I could not imagine a drunk man planting and reaping such fruits!

We followed the footpath along the creek until we came to a thicket of brush and trees.

The cool waters of the creek came out of a dark, shadowy grotto of overhanging thicket, then flowed about thirty feet before they entered the large pond.

The drone of the summer insects and grasshoppers made me sleepy.

I knew I had witnessed a miraculous thing, the appearance of a pagan god, a thing as miraculous as the curing of my uncle Lucas.

"My name means sea," I pondered aloud.

They were the first cowboys in a wild and desolate land which they took from the Indians.

Texas with my forefathers was full of blood, murder, and tragedy.

I huddled down and watched with anticipation the drama that unfolded as Narciso regained his composure and related his story.

"Why are farmers out playing vigilantes when they should be home, sitting before a warm fire, playing cards,
counting the rich haiVest, eh?

"But we must all abide by the trial," Narciso said.