The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya

The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya 85Jose's thoughts turned to his own home in Agua Prieta, and then to the battlefield where twoyears ago on this very night he had seen and fallen in love with La Catrina. He still loved her. She wasinescapable and constant, his fancy lady that seemed to be always near, always watching, alwaystolerant. Then he thought of Eudora, and how to her he was Joe, and he wondered if his own home wasnow forever out of his reach, an endless walk through a culture he did not recognize.He decided he didn't care. He decided that culture was a lie created by revolutionaries. Hedecided that if you walked forever, you would end up right back where you started. He decided thatmaybe home didn't matter, because you could at times be more confused and lost there than anywhereelse, and most at peace as a stranger in a strange land.Jose stood and filled the pockets of his coat with the bullets left by the Indians and walked backdown the range to his quarters. He was only mildly surprised by the two roses that lay on his bed,which was still in disarray from Eudora's visit. The powers of La Catrina extended even here, to thiscold northern place, and she was just as elusive and as forthright as ever. Two roses: Two years goneby? One for each of them, or one for him and one for Eudora, a symbol of never-mind and good will?He cut the blooms from the roses and fished his tin of treasures out of the desk where he had slid itearlier that evening. The two roses fit easily with the first one, inside his little box that seemingly hadan endless capacity. And even though he was not sure what the three of them together meant, Jose hadno doubt now that each would stay forever fresh and in bloom. Sitting down at the desk, he composeda letter to his family about how the weather was getting cold, but that ultimately one got used to it.Winter came and denuded and ravished the land before giving it back a new white gown tocover its shame. After-church picnics turned into after-church snowball fights and sledding. On oneparticular Sunday, after all the assembled saints had been reminded of their unworthiness, when thechurch was stifling on the inside but outside the snow was cold and the air was crisp and the sun felt