Page 89 of Snake-Eater
“No,” said Father Aguirre. “You can’t kill a spirit with a gun, merely ... discommode him. We should be out of here by sunrise, though. He is a creature of daylight and daylight will see him gaining strength again. But it will be a long time before he stirs from his home ground again.”
“Then let’s go home,” said Selena, feeling suddenly bone-crushingly tired.
It took them a long time to toil up the slope to the truck. Copper was limping, and every time she put three feet down and hopped on the fourth, Selena’s heart clenched. Father Aguirre seemed mostly unharmed, but he supported Grandma Billy, who was clearly in pain and pretending that she wasn’t.
The eastern sky had started to lighten by the time the truck came into view. Selena opened the door and lifted Copper’s hind end to get her up onto the seat, then fell in after her. She had never been so exhausted in her life. She felt as if her bones were made of sand and the marrow was trickling away into the desert.
Father Aguirre helped Grandma Billy into the truck in much the same way that Selena had helped Copper. When he turned on the ignition, DJ Raven’s voice came booming through the speakers. “... And for a great bunch of fans—you know who you are—here’s the late, great Freddie Mercury.” The first strains of “We Are the Champions” filled the cab and Selena wrapped her arms around Copper and fell immediately, utterly, profoundly asleep.
She didn’t wake up even as they jolted back down the hill and bumped into the dry wash. She didn’t wake up while Grandma Billy and Father Aguirre bickered over her head about exactly who had rescued who. She didn’t wake up for DJ Raven’s in-depth comparison of the lyrics of ten different folk songs about cuckoos. She didn’t wake up when the truck broke a headlight on a concealed rock and didn’t wake up for the resulting flood of Hail Marys. It wasn’t until the truck stopped at an unfamiliar house that Selena lifted her head and said, “Hwuh?”
“Rosa’s,” said Father Aguirre. “Lupé’s sister. You’ve met her, she comes to the potluck now and again. She fixes up animals, and occasionally people.”
“Which do you count as?” Selena asked, too tired to be tactful.
Father Aguirre grinned. “Both, I hope. After all, Copper’s a people, right?”
“Definitely.” Selena unfolded herself out of the cab. Her joints felt like rusty hinges, and there were aches that she couldn’t remember ever feeling in her life.
The house was a low adobe with a cheerful purple door. Rosa opened it up, pushed open the screen door, and said, “Oh Lord.”
The four of them limped inside. Rosa, who looked a great deal like an older version of Lupé, put her hands on her hips and surveyed them. “What the hell happened to you?”
It had not occurred to Selena that they’d need a cover story, so she hadn’t rehearsed anything. “Uh ... we fell down the stairs?”
“All of you?”
“We fought a roadrunner god,” said Grandma Billy cheerfully. “Kicked his ass too.”
Rosa shook her head. “Your first story was better. Right, come around back to the surgery and let’s see what we can do.”
Copper’s leg wasn’t broken but two of Father Aguirre’s ribs were. He’d also been raked several times by giant claws, which left paired slash marks across his back and shoulders.
“What the hell did this?” Rosa demanded. “If these were any deeper, I’d think somebody came after you with a sword.” Her eyes narrowed. “Was this some kind of self-flagellation?”
“Heavens, no!” Father Aguirre looked slightly offended. “I’m notthatkind of Catholic.”
“Hmmph.”
She was much kinder to Selena, and only tutted softly as she cleaned out the scrapes and gouges left behind from that hectic descent into Jackrabbit Hole. To Copper she was kindest of all, offering multiple treats and profound apologies for the cone that the dog had to wear for the next week to keep her from worrying at her stitches.
“Don’t I get a treat?” asked Grandma Billy.
“You’re getting a night of observation and I’m calling in the doctor from Masonville. Falls at your age are dangerous.”
“What do you mean, ‘at my a—’” Grandma started to say, but Rosa gave her the glare of a woman who routinely wrestled sheep, cows, and the occasional stallion, and Grandma submitted meekly. “Yes’m. Selena, will you make sure the chickens get fed?”
“Yes, of course. You just rest up.”
“I think she’s probably fine,” Rosa told Selena and Father Aguirre in an undertone at the door. “But at her age, when thingsaren’tfine, they go bad in a hurry.” She gave Father Aguirre a version of the look she’d used on Grandma Billy. “And whatever thehellyou were getting up to, if she gets banged up like this again, I swear to God, priest or no priest, I’ll get out my castrating knife and—”
“No, no,completelyunderstandable,” said Father Aguirre, in full retreat. “Wetrulydidn’t set out to do anything dangerous, I swear. It was, err ...”
“A sequence of completely unexpected events,” said Selena hastily. “Never to be repeated. Hopefully.”
“Mmm.” Rosa clearly wasn’t quite satisfied, but accepted this. Selena thought that perhaps when you were primarily a large animal vet, you got used to not knowing how your patient had managed to injure themselves. “I’ll keep you posted about her condition.”
“I’d appreciate that,” said Father Aguirre, who had swung the truck door open and was not quite hiding behind it. “Selena, why don’t I take you and Copper home?”
