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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> 70nothing else occupied his mind: Not Ned Skelly's ghost following him from tree to tree in surprise, <strong>and</strong>not even the farmer who kept walking past with his eyes closed.<strong>Jose</strong>'s obsession remained with him after he returned to his room Saturday evening <strong>and</strong> througha long <strong>and</strong> sleepless night. On Sunday morning he tried to write a letter home about apple picking butfound that his memories <strong>of</strong> the day could not be severed from Eudora, <strong>and</strong> after many false starts hegave up trying. By Sunday afternoon he decided that he would go to the library, full <strong>of</strong> hope thatmaybe she would be there. He rehearsed the meeting over <strong>and</strong> over in his mind, arming himself withdifferent things he might say <strong>and</strong> then imagining her responses. When the library proved to be almostdeserted, with no sign <strong>of</strong> Eudora anywhere other than in his mind, <strong>Jose</strong> felt disappointment washthrough his whole body. He stayed until the the sun set, trying to read a book about Tecumseh, until hewas finally chased out by an attendant anxious to close up <strong>and</strong> go home.<strong>The</strong> following days at the rifle range were no better. <strong>Jose</strong> tried his best to remain focused ontraining soldiers to shoot, but he found his attention straying frequently <strong>and</strong> his h<strong>and</strong>s shaking as hetried to balance nickels on rifle barrels. On Tuesday night, back alone in his room, he took out his tin<strong>of</strong> treasures <strong>and</strong> tried to chase Eudora away with thoughts <strong>of</strong> La Catrina. <strong>The</strong> rose was still in bloom<strong>and</strong> still fragrant, but its scent failed to transport him as it usually did; if anything, the walls <strong>of</strong> his roomseemed even closer <strong>and</strong> more solid than usual. <strong>Jose</strong> held the bloom in his h<strong>and</strong>s for a long time, sittingon the edge <strong>of</strong> his bed <strong>and</strong> trying to marshal his memories. Unlike soldiers, however, they just wouldn'tfall into line.Wednesday seemed to <strong>Jose</strong> like the longest day he had ever lived through. He assigned a valuein minutes to even the smallest task that he had to do, so that he could constantly count down in hismind the time remaining until he could go to the library. At long last all the trainees had fired theirfinal rounds down the range <strong>and</strong> picked up all their spent casings, <strong>and</strong> <strong>Jose</strong> was free. He rushed back to
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