The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya
The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya
The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya 20for his birthday.Eventually there were no more chores he could do in the barracks, and he decided to go on awalk across the brief stretch of desert to the shooting range, which was the source of the gunshots hehad heard the day that he found the camp. Even though he had not yet actually been allowed to fire ElFlaco, and even though he could not retrieve it from the armory today, he thought that perhaps justgoing to the range and mentally practicing might make him a better shot when the time came. Hethought that was reasonable, since as a child in school he had gotten very good at mathematics in thesame way, making up and solving problems in his head. He arrived at the range and looked around. Itwas empty, and he headed towards the observation grandstand to lay down and look up at the shapes ofthe thin clouds, just as he had done for the past two months riding on the roofs of the trains.In quiet contemplation, he closed his eyes and let the sounds of the desert sing to him. He slept,but only lightly, and visions of sugared skulls and La Catrina pirouetted around in his mind, mixinghere and there with El Flaco and shouting corporals and serious sergeants. His sleep was so light thathe seemed to himself to be perpetually awake and dreaming at the same moment. Time thus passedmore quickly than he realized, and when he awoke with a start just as he was about to finally seize LaCatrina in a passionate embrace, the sun was much lower to the horizon than he would have guessed.He sat up and looked around. On the bench below him was stretched out Ned Skelly, whoappeared to be looking up at the clouds and daydreaming much as Jose had set out to do. Jose jumpeda little bit when he saw Ned, more from being startled than from any aversion to the dead – he hadwitnessed an entire battle, after all. Ned raised up his head and nodded a greeting to Jose, and thenwent back to his surprised contemplation of the sky. Jose nodded his own greeting back, and thendecided it was time to walk back to the commissary and get himself something to eat. He turned to seeif the spiritwould follow him, but Ned appeared content to continue laying on the grandstand.Surprised, but content. Jose left him there and went to see what the cooks had managed to find for
The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya 21dinner.What the cooks had found to make was a stew of beans and a few hares that they had managedto shoot early in the afternoon. Jose ate until his belly was full, and then went back to the barracks. Helaid down on his bunk and tried again to write a letter to his parents, but found that he still could not getwords out in any reasonably coherent fashion. Like they frequently did, his thoughts began to wander.He thought of his parents and his sisters, and even of Concepcion. He wondered what it would be likein 1950. He thought about the war in Europe, and if it were true that the United States would getinvolved soon, like the sergeants kept telling the troopers. He thought about La Catrina, how perhapsshe might come for him some night and take him around the world and show him all of the wondersthat she had seen. His mind occupied with these happy thoughts, Jose once again drifted off to sleep.It was not a good sleep. It seemed to Jose that every few minutes another couple of trooperswould stagger back into the barracks from their pass, talking too loudly and banging things aroundbefore they fell asleep. It was after midnight when Jose thought that finally all of his fellow troopersmust be back, and he allowed himself to fall back into a deep sleep. In his dreams now he marched anddrilled with El Flaco on his shoulder. He was the best there was, handling the rifle with grace andstrength, his movements from standing at ease to presenting arms fluid and precise. It was like a dance,this drill with the rifle, and his every step was perfect.More noise roused Jose slightly from his sleep. He was annoyed that people were still comingin and taking him away from his dreams. It was still pitch black out the windows, still the belly of thenight. Jose closed his eyes, and heard the noise again. It was a gunshot, followed immediately byseveral more. A man shouted, and then screamed, and then was silent.Jose dropped out of his bunk and struggled into his trousers and then his boots as he was lyingon the floor. He did not know what was going on outside the barracks. His first thought was that some
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<strong>The</strong> <strong>Long</strong> <strong>and</strong> <strong>Storied</strong> <strong>Life</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Jose</strong> <strong>Montoya</strong> 21dinner.What the cooks had found to make was a stew <strong>of</strong> beans <strong>and</strong> a few hares that they had managedto shoot early in the afternoon. <strong>Jose</strong> ate until his belly was full, <strong>and</strong> then went back to the barracks. Helaid down on his bunk <strong>and</strong> tried again to write a letter to his parents, but found that he still could not getwords out in any reasonably coherent fashion. Like they frequently did, his thoughts began to w<strong>and</strong>er.He thought <strong>of</strong> his parents <strong>and</strong> his sisters, <strong>and</strong> even <strong>of</strong> Concepcion. He wondered what it would be likein 1950. He thought about the war in Europe, <strong>and</strong> if it were true that the United States would getinvolved soon, like the sergeants kept telling the troopers. He thought about La Catrina, how perhapsshe might come for him some night <strong>and</strong> take him around the world <strong>and</strong> show him all <strong>of</strong> the wondersthat she had seen. His mind occupied with these happy thoughts, <strong>Jose</strong> once again drifted <strong>of</strong>f to sleep.It was not a good sleep. It seemed to <strong>Jose</strong> that every few minutes another couple <strong>of</strong> trooperswould stagger back into the barracks from their pass, talking too loudly <strong>and</strong> banging things aroundbefore they fell asleep. It was after midnight when <strong>Jose</strong> thought that finally all <strong>of</strong> his fellow troopersmust be back, <strong>and</strong> he allowed himself to fall back into a deep sleep. In his dreams now he marched <strong>and</strong>drilled with El Flaco on his shoulder. He was the best there was, h<strong>and</strong>ling the rifle with grace <strong>and</strong>strength, his movements from st<strong>and</strong>ing at ease to presenting arms fluid <strong>and</strong> precise. It was like a dance,this drill with the rifle, <strong>and</strong> his every step was perfect.More noise roused <strong>Jose</strong> slightly from his sleep. He was annoyed that people were still comingin <strong>and</strong> taking him away from his dreams. It was still pitch black out the windows, still the belly <strong>of</strong> thenight. <strong>Jose</strong> closed his eyes, <strong>and</strong> heard the noise again. It was a gunshot, followed immediately byseveral more. A man shouted, <strong>and</strong> then screamed, <strong>and</strong> then was silent.<strong>Jose</strong> dropped out <strong>of</strong> his bunk <strong>and</strong> struggled into his trousers <strong>and</strong> then his boots as he was lyingon the floor. He did not know what was going on outside the barracks. His first thought was that some
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