"Amen," she said. They opened their eyes but kept their hands together. They listened to the water as it rushed gently over the rocks. There was an odd sensation as his burdens seemed to be lifted; his shoulders felt lighter, his head clearer, his soul was less troubled. But Nate carried so much baggage he wasn't certain which loads had been taken away and which remained.
He was still frightened by the real world. It was easy to be brave deep in the Pantanal where the temptations were few, but he knew what awaited him at home.
"Your sins are forgiven, Nate," she said.
"Which ones? There are so many."
"All of them."
"It's too easy. There's a lot of wreckage back there."
"We'll pray again tonight."
"It will take more for me than most folks."
"Trust me, Nate. And trust God. He's seen worse."
"I trust you. It's God who's got me worried."
She squeezed his hand even tighter, and for a long still moment they watched the water bubble around them. Finally, she said, "We need to go." But they didn't move.
"I've been thinking about this burial, this little girl," Nate said.
"What about it?"
"Will we see her body?"
"I suppose. It will be hard to miss."
"Then I'd rather not. Jevy and I will go back to the village and wait."
"Are you sure, Nate? We could talk for hours."
"I don't want to see a dead child."
"Very well. I understand."
He helped her to her feet, though she certainly didn't need assistance. They held hands until she reached for her boots. As usual, Lako materialized from nowhere, and they were off, soon lost in the dark woods.
He found Jevy asleep under a tree. They picked their way along the trail, watching for snakes with every step, and slowly returned to the village.
Chapter Thirty-One
I HE CHIEF wasn't much of a weatherman. The storm I never materialized. It rained twice during the day as Nate and Jevy fought the tedium by napping in their borrowed hammocks. The showers were brief, and after each the sun returned to bake the dampened soil and raise the humidity. Even in the shade, moving only when necessary, the two men sweltered in the heat.
They watched the Indians whenever there was activity, but the work and play ebbed and flowed with the heat. When the sun was out in full force the Ipicas retreated to their huts or to the shade trees behind them. During the brief showers the children played in the ram. When the sun was blocked by clouds, the women ventured out to do their chores and go to the river.
After a week in the Pantanal, Nate was numbed by the listless pace of life. Each day appeared to be an exact copy of the one before. Nothing had changed in centuries.
Rachel returned in mid-afternoon. She and Lako went straight to the chief and reported on events in the other village. She spoke to Nate and Jevy. She was tired and wanted a quick nap before they discussed business.
What's another hour to be killed? thought Nate. He watched her walk away. She was lean and tough and could probably run marathons.
"What are you looking at?" Jevy asked with a grin.
"Nothing."
"How old is she?"
"Forty - two."
"How old are you?"
"Forty - eight."
"Has she been married?"
"No."
"Do you think she's ever been with a man?"
"Why don't you ask her?"
"Do you?"
"I really don't care."
They fell asleep again, sleeping because there was nothing else to do. In a couple of hours the wrestling would start, then dinner, then darkness. Nate dreamed of the Santa Loura, a humble vessel at best, but with each passing hour the boat grew finer. In his dreams it was fast becoming a sleek, elegant yacht.
When the men began to gather to fix their hair and prepare for their games, Nate and Jevy eased away. One of the larger Ipicas yelled at them, and with teeth flashing issued what seemed to be an invitation to come wrestle. Nate scooted away even faster. He had a sudden image of himself getting flung about the village by some squatty little warrior, genitals flying everywhere. Jevy wanted no part of the action either. Rachel rescued them.
She and Nate left the huts and walked toward the river, to their old spot on the narrow bench under the trees. They sat close, their knees touching again.
"You were wise not to go," she said. Her voice was tired. The nap had failed to revive her.
"Why?"
"Every village has a doctor. He's called a shalyun, and he cooks herbs and roots for his remedies. He also calls forth spirits to help with all sorts of problems."
"Ah, the old medicine man."
"Something like that. More of a witch doctor. There are lots of spirits in the Indian world, and the shalyun supposedly directs their traffic. Anyway, the shalyun are my natural enemies. I am a threat to their religion. They are always on the attack. They persecute the Christian believers. They prey on new converts. They want me to leave and so they are always lobbying the chiefs to run me off. It's a daily struggle. In the last village down the river, I had a small school where I taught reading and writing. It was for the believers, but it was also open to anyone. A year ago we had a bout of malaria and three people died. The local shalyun convinced the chief down there that the disease was a punishment on the village because of my school. It's now closed."
Nate just listened. Her courage, already admirable, was reaching new heights. The heat and languid pace of life had lured him into the belief that all was at peace among the Ipicas. No visitor would suspect a war was raging over souls.
"The parents of Ayesh, the girl who died, are Christians, and very strong in their faith. The shalyun spread the word that he could've saved the girl, but the parents didn't call on him. They, of course, wanted me to treat her. The bima snake has been around forever, and there are home remedies that the sbalyun brew up. I've never seen one work. After she died yesterday, and after I left, the shalyun called some spirits forth and held a ceremony in the center of the village. He blamed me for her death. And he blamed God."
Her words were pouring forth, faster than normal, as if she wanted to hurry and use her English one more time.
"During the burial today, the shalyun and a few troublemakers began chanting and dancing nearby. The poor parents were completely overcome with grief and humiliation. I couldn't finish the service." Her voice cracked, just slightly, and she bit her lip.
Nate patted her arm. "It's okay. It's over."
Crying was not something she could do in front of the Indians. She had to be strong and stoic, filled with faith and courage under all circumstances. But she could cry with Nate, and he would understand. He expected it.
She wiped her eyes and slowly collected her emotions. "I'm sorry," she said.
"It's okay," Nate said again, anxious to help. The tears of a woman melted the facade of coolness, whether in a bar or sitting by a river.
There was hollering in the village. The wrestling had started. Nate had a quick thought about Jevy. Surely he had not succumbed to the temptation of playing with the boys.
"I think you should go now," she said abruptly, breaking the silence. Her emotions were under control, her voice was back to normal.
"What?"
"Yes, now. Very soon."
"I'm anxious to go, but what's the rush? It'll be dark in three hours."
"There is reason to worry."