Jacqueline Carey - Santa Olivia by jacqueline carey

Author:jacqueline carey
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-09-06T08:37:51+00:00

TWENTY-SIX

They buried Tom Garron the following afternoon.

It seemed like half the town came to the funeral. Everyone wept when Father Ramon gave the eulogy. People who had known Tommy spoke. Floyd Roberts. Kevin McArdle. Even Danny Garza gave a speech about Outpost’s lost hope and the death of dreams. Loup heard it in a daze, dry-eyed. The Santitos surrounded her, offering comfort. She shook them off.

“Let her be,” Mack said briefly.

At the grave site she watched Mack and C.C. shovel dirt. Miguel Garza approached her.

“I just want to tell you I’m real sorry, kid.” He sounded genuine. “Your brother and me, we had our differences, but it wasn’t nothing personal. I never wanted to see him go down like that.” He hesitated. “And yeah, it could of been me. You ever need anything, tell me. I owe Garron one.”

Loup nodded, wordless.

And then it was done. Father Ramon planted a makeshift cross that Mack had built at the head of the grave. Floyd Roberts hung Tommy’s boxing gloves from the cross. After a moment of silence, the mourning crowd began to disperse.

Loup lay down on the sparse dusty grass, curled on her side.

This time there was no doctor to give her a shot and make her compliant. There was only a shell of emptiness encompassing a vast knot of pain. She wrapped herself around it. It had hurt when her mother had died, but this was worse, so much worse. It should have been Tommy’s moment of triumph, the fulfillment of all his hopes and dreams. Instead, he was just gone.

No warning.

No time to say goodbye.

People talked to her, pulled at her. Sister Martha, Anna. The Santitos. Father Ramon. Their voices were distant and buzzing. She ignored them. All she wanted to do was lie still and hold the hurt in one place, because it felt like it would explode into a million pieces if she didn’t.

“… can’t just leave her!” Pilar protested.

“Ever see a dog get hurt?” Mack asked. “That’s what they do. Hole up and wait to live or die. We all treat Loup like she’s one of us. She’s not.”

“We’ll give her time.” Father Ramon’s deep voice. “But I want someone to stay with her. I don’t want our Santa Olivia doing anything foolish.”

“I’ll stay,” T.Y. volunteered.

“We’ll take shifts,” Mack agreed.

As the sun crawled across the sky and sank in the west, they came and went. Loup was aware of them in a vague way, some more than others. T.Y. talked to her and tried to lift her spirits. Jane tried to reason with her, alternately coaxing and scolding. C.C. chattered incessantly, driving her deeper into herself. Dondi pleaded.

Day turned to night.

Jaime sat cross-legged, reading a book by the light of a kerosene lantern; and then Mack came, also blessedly silent. Hours passed. He didn’t speak at all until Pilar came to relieve him, wrapped in a woolen blanket.

“Hey.”

“Hey. She okay?”

Mack shrugged. “Dunno.”

Everyone else had left her alone, had only talked at her. Pilar plopped down beside her, felt at her.

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