The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya

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The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya 48It was not a cloud that blocking out the stars; it was the bottom half of a red dress, and it was ared dress that was burned into Jose's heart and mind. It was the dress that La Catrina was wearingwhen he had seen her outside Agua Prieta, the dress that she wore in all of his dreams and fantasies.This was La Catrina herself, Jose was sure of it, and she was pacing back and forth alongside his truck.Now that he was aware of her presence, he could hear the dirt of the road softly crunching under herboots as she paced. He could also hear the occasional soft click and clatter of her fan folding andunfolding.Questions passed through Jose's mind faster than he could examine them. Was she aware of hispresence? Was she looking for him? Had she come to take him, to consummate their relationship?The many months that Jose had waited for her since he had last seen her flowed away like water,leaving only the present and the imperative that he be with her now. He tried to sit up, and found to hishorror that he still could not move his body. He tried to call out her name, and realized that no soundswere coming out of his mouth. In tears Jose watched her pace back and forth, close enough to touchbut a lifetime away. His heart torn in two, Jose surrendered to the waves of pain welling up from hisleg and let them carry his conscious mind away into nothingness.When Jose awoke the sun was overhead and the caravan was once again bouncing along therutted, uneven road to Columbus. The Villista raid had been easily repulsed by the American soldiersfrom their trench underneath the trucks of the convoy, and Jose had been the sole American casualty.Pumped full of morphine and carefully placed in one of the trucks on a bed of blankets, Jose could feelno pain from his leg. The pain from his heart was a different story, however. He was sure that LaCatrina had come looking for him, to take him away to be hers forever, and that because he had beenunable to move or even speak she had not been able to find him. He lay on his back, tears filling hiseyes and turning the sky into a curtain of blue diamonds. He cried most of the rest of the way back to
The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya 49the border, until his body was dry and no more tears would come.Once the tears were dried up and Jose knew that they would not return, no matter how much hewished them to, he pulled himself up into a sitting position as best he could. The convoy was enteringthe town of Las Palomas, which meant that they would soon be back in New Mexico. This brought thesadness in Jose clawing back to the front of his mind, but at the same time lifted his spirits somewhat.Jose had very much come to think of himself as American in the last few months, and so even thoughhe had only been in Camp Furlong for a couple of weeks before the expedition into Mexico had started,still this felt like a sort of homecoming. He had also fairly convinced himself that America somehowlimited La Catrina's powers, and that only in Mexico could he see her incarnate. By a peculiar, circularlogic this was a relief to Jose, since if he had no hope of seeing her then he would not have to worryabout not seeing her.As the convoy crossed the border Jose had a clear view of the Mexican border guards. He wassure that they were sneering at him, and none so much as acknowledged his nod as he and the othersoldiers left the land of mysticism and entered into the land of logic. On the American side of theborder, the cheering crowd of civilians that had sent the expedition off in style was not there towelcome it home. To Jose's delight, however, there were two well-wishers there to celebrate his return:Ned Skelly and Grayley.Jose had no more than waved at the two spirits when they vanished from the side of the roadinto Columbus and reappeared next to him in the back of the truck. They were happy that Jose wasback on American soil but unsure exactly how long he had been gone, since time ceases to have muchmeaning in the spirit world. Skelly was surprised that Jose had been wounded in Mexico. Grayleykept poking a ghostly finger through Jose's bandages and into the wound in Jose's leg, giggling witheach thrust. It was not painful to Jose when Grayley did this, but it did impart a sensation of cold toJose that made him shiver a tiny bit in the hot desert afternoon. The two stayed with Jose all the way
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The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya

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