So, without saying much one morning except a few words to La Loca, who didn’t acknowledge them anyway, he packed a bag and set out to Chimayo to resume the project of building la Caridad’s little adobe. Caridad had returned to doña Felicia’s trailer complex and never asked about her unfinished house in Chimayo because that’s the way la Caridad was, but Domingo had promised it to her and despite the fact that he had pilfered a good portion of the lottery winnings that were supposed to go to the builders, he still had enough money left to buy the materials needed.

He himself would complete it, he decided. He would install the plumbing—using a manual, finding a claw-footed tub in Dixon, a sink with brass faucets in Española. The mud plastering would not have to be done alone, since there was always a helping hand available for a cold beer in exchange, and this way, using his own perseverance, ingenuity, and more or less communal spirit he would finish his ’jita’s house.

In six months the project would be done and having shown his true mettle, Domingo would ask her this time—not la Silly Sofi, but la Mayor Sofia of Tome—if he could come back home.

10

Wherein Sofia Discovers La Loca’s Playmate by the Acequia Has an Uncanny Resemblance to the Legendary Llorona; the Ectoplasmic Return of Sofi’s Eldest Daughter; Fe Falls in Love Again; and Some Culinary Advice from La Loca

By midday on a certain afternoon in June it reached 98 degrees, but a minute after it was best to stop counting. La Loca, finding no relief from the heat in the house, swamp cooler going full blast or not, would seek at least a little comfort from the shade of a cottonwood near the acequia that ran by her mother’s house. Sometimes one of the dogs or a horse, tongue hanging to the ground and not feeling so great about the heat either, went along to keep her company.

Lately, on its own accord, however, a strange bird with a tremendous turquoise blue tail that opened at whim like the Spanish fan her mother used to cool herself when sitting on the front porch had found its way to her shady spot. She hid when its owner came looking for it, saying things to the bird with the big fantail like “There you are, you bad bird!” and “Your wife’s been looking all over for you!”

Later, overhearing her mother and a comadre talking about the big fantailed bird, she learned that it was called “peacock.” The comadre had said “pavo real,” which meant it wasn’t just any kind of strange bird, but one born of royalty. And it was indeed the most splendid thing on two claw feet that Loca had ever seen, this noble bird.