And still, there was no clue as to what Francisco’s motives were, which is why, as she sat there that day, shooing away the flies, having a piece of bread that Esmeralda’s little nephew offered her fresh from the grandmother’s orno and some sunflower seeds from a basket that the grandmother had left out there for her as well, something hit her like a terrible lightning bolt when she unintentionally overheard Esmeralda and her grandmother talking just inside the open doorway. And all she could say to herself at that moment, being the humble clairvoyant that she was, was “How could I be so blind?”

And if only it had been a real lightning bolt and not just an expression—perhaps it would have turned our Caridad into a Cloud Spirit as most certainly would happen to Sullivan from Isleta one summer day. But no, this expression was only to show how hard it all hit Caridad, all in an instant. And when Caridad heard what she heard, she could do nothing more than bring her knees up to her chest, and fold herself into a Chinese magic box, her wet weeping face hidden inside.

“What is it?” Esmeralda asked when she heard Caridad’s loud sobs and came out to see, but Caridad could not answer. So Esmeralda scooted down and simply held Caridad, trying to comfort her. “There, there,” she said, not just a little choked up herself from what she had been recounting to her old grandmother.

Then, as if bad dreams once having been entered are the inevitable long road to hell itself, Esmeralda looked up and uttered “Oh my God,” because she recognized among the small group with the guide a tall, lean, lonely coyote trying to camouflage himself as a tourist. And while we know that Esmeralda was not afraid because she just was not, we don’t know why she did what she did next. She started to run.

And behind her came running Caridad, screaming, “Stop!” and the boy too, saying, “Auntie, where’re you goin’, Auntie?” Until his little voice faded, and Esmeralda was flying, flying off the mesa like a broken-winged moth and holding tight to her hand was Caridad, more kite than woman billowing through midair.

Tsichtinako was calling! Esmeralda’s grandmother holding tight to her little grandson’s hand heard and nodded. The Pueblo tour guide heard, cocking her ear as if trying to make out the words. The priest at the church, who happened to be performing baptisms that morning, ran out and put his hands to his temples. Two or three dogs began to bark. The Acoma people heard it and knew it was the voice of the Invisible One who had nourished the first two humans, who were also both female, although no one had heard it in a long time and some had never heard it before. But all still knew who It was.