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“To your vision quest, ” she says, tightening her grip on the wheel as the road takes a turn for the worse. Looking at me when she adds, “Please use this time to rest, nieta. You will need all of your strength if you are to endure.”
“If?” I swivel in my seat until I’m fully facing her. My eyes practically popped from their sockets, challenging her to explain.
“There are no guarantees,” she tells me, her voice calm and sure. “Though I’ve no doubt you’ll prevail.”
I turn back toward the window, having no idea how to reply. Too wound up by her words to even think about resting.
We travel for miles. Travel over unfamiliar terrain that grows increasingly rugged the farther we go. And when we finally stop, braking just a few feet from the water, I see we’re not the only ones here—Chay’s luring two horses from their trailer, one that I recognize as Kachina, the other his Appaloosa.
“I’m afraid I must leave you now,” Paloma says, voice laced with regret. “This part of your journey involves a long ride on horseback, and these old bones aren’t fit for the saddle.” She tries to smile, but there’s something behind it, something I can’t quite grasp. Though it’s only a moment later when she’s turning away, retrieving a tissue she presses over her mouth, coughing up a thick spray of blood she can’t hide no matter how hard she tries.
“Paloma—are you okay?” I ask, having no idea what’s going on with her, but knowing that coughing up blood never leads to anything good.
“I am fine, nieta. I assure you.” She waves away my concern. “Chay will accompany you and see you there safely. Though once you’ve arrived, he will leave you as well. A vision quest is a solo journey, and your supplies are quite meager. Though please be assured you need far less than you think to survive. Rely upon the matches and candle only when necessary, for they must last t
he duration. As for food, there is none. The fast is deliberate—it is how you’ll begin to purify yourself. You will stay for as long as it takes—there is no time limit. And you will head back when it is right to do so. You will know when that is.”
“You seriously expect me to go, now?” I fold my arms before me, hugging myself hard around the waist. “But it’s nighttime—it’s cold—and, for the record, I’m starving. I never even got a chance to eat dinner!”
Though my arguments are all good and valid, the words are lost on Paloma. She dismisses them with a wave of her hand.
“What about my cast?” It’s a last-ditch effort, about as obvious as it gets, but still worth a shot.
Paloma smiles. “You are already healed, nieta, as I’m sure you have guessed. You are no longer in need of it, and I have no doubt you will return without it. Its materials are nonpolluting and biodegradable. The cast will take care of itself.”
Chay approaches, announcing the horses are saddled and ready, but I’m not. I have so many questions I’m not sure where to start. Though I don’t get the chance to say much of anything before Paloma’s hugging me tight, whispering, “Good-bye and good luck.”
And the next thing I know, Chay’s lifting me onto Kachina’s back and we’re heading into the dark.
eighteen
We ride through the night. Our horses picking their way across a difficult trail, guided by the moon, the stars, and not much more.
Our conversation kept to a minimum, with mostly Chay asking: “You okay? Need anything?”
And on the two occasions when I dozed off and almost fell from my saddle: “Careful now!”
Until finally, when the dawn begins to break and the sun begins its slow ascent over the ridge, he looks at me and says, “We’re here.”
I gaze all around, my eyes so tired and bleary I’m unable to see what makes this particular place any different from all the other places we passed earlier. It’s got dirt, weeds, rugged cliffs, and barren trees. There’s nothing of note, nothing special about it—just more of the same.
“What do you say we leave the horses here and get you settled?”
I screw my mouth to the side and hold tight to my mount.
“Daire, it’s time,” he says, voice as gentle as the fingers that pry Kachina’s reins from my hand.
“I don’t want to go.” I chew my bottom lip, embarrassed by the words, by the way my voice broke, but still I continue. “I’m tired and hungry and … I don’t like it here. I don’t feel safe.” My gaze pleads with his, but he stands firm and offers a hand.
“C’mon.” He coaxes me to my feet, motions for me to walk alongside him. “It’s better to hurry. The sooner we get you started, the sooner we can get you back home.”
He keeps his tone light, almost playful, but it doesn’t quite work. Chay’s a good and trustworthy man—a man of good character and noble intentions. This alone makes him a terrible liar.
When the trail narrows, he veers to the front, leading me up a long, winding path that leaves us both winded. Stopping before a large dark opening that appears to be the mouth of a cave, he says, “Many of your ancestors have endured their vision quest here, including Paloma back when she was your age.” He turns to me. “As you know, Django never made it this far, which means it hasn’t been used for many, many years.”
“How can you be sure?” I glance between him and the cave. “Paloma’s vision quest must’ve been what—almost forty years ago? So how can you be so sure no one’s used it since then?”
Chay nods toward the ground, the toe of his boot nudging at some grainy white substance that forms a thick border along the entrance, reminding me of the white line that lies inside the adobe wall and coyote fence that surrounds Paloma’s house. “I said it hasn’t been used in many years. I didn’t say it hasn’t been tended to. The salt works to protect it—keeps the energy pure and the predators at bay.”
