Joe could imagine the scene. Fuchs discovered by probably a dozen priests, most likely including Ben Reyes. It was unusual for someone from Taos to take part in a Santiago ceremony, but not unknown. A lot of men were in the service. Priests went back and forth between pueblos just to keep the old rituals rolling. The shelf must have stored altars, which Ben and the others had carried away. Ben would be back. Certainly Roberto and Fuchs weren’t going anywhere. Trying to move, Joe had to stoop under the low ceiling. If Roberto fired the shotgun anywhere it was going to get messy. Smart of a blind man to choose a small space and a weapon with two barrels.

“Why don’t we let the lady go back down?” Joe suggested.

“And run for help?” Roberto said.

“May I sit?” Anna asked.

“Yes.” Roberto was pleased. He switched the shotgun from one arm to the other and held out his blanket.

“Thank you.” She spread the blanket on the rock and sat.

“You, too, Joe,” Roberto said.

“Thanks.” Joe took the hint.

“Like a picnic.” Roberto tilted his face in Anna’s direction. Under the blanket he wore a white shirt and work pants, the shirt buttoned at the neck and cuffs, barely showing gray body paint inside. His closed eyes were slightly sunken; otherwise he made a more handsome man than Joe had at first supposed. Joe’s .45 was in a snap holster. He wondered how good Roberto’s hearing was.

“Warm.” Joe noticed that the safety on the shotgun was off.

“Going to be a dry summer,” Roberto agreed.

“I still have a share in a bean field down in the pueblo. How do you think beans will do?”

“Bad year for rain,” Roberto said. “Good year for lightning.”

“He’s blind,” Fuchs whispered.

“What’s that got to do with the weather?” Joe asked. Through his glasses Fuchs’ pale eyes were fixed on the gun on Joe’s belt. Joe reached for cigarettes. “Smoke? I owe you one.”

Roberto nodded.

“He’s a madman,” Fuchs hissed.

“He’s a spy,” Roberto told Joe.

Joe tapped the last cigarette from his pack.

“Sorry, only three,” he told Fuchs. He lit all three at once and handed two to Anna, who passed one to Roberto’s lips.

Roberto inhaled and smiled. “I can tell she’s pretty. There’s a feeling around pretty women.”

“He doesn’t sound crazy,” Anna told Fuchs.

“It’s not funny.” Fuchs looked at the muzzle between his legs.

“You’re German too?” Roberto asked Anna. “I like your accent.”

“I’d rather lose it,” she said.

“Study Billie Holiday. Get her records,” Joe told her. He told Fuchs, “A little Fats Waller would do you a world of good. You were spying?”

“He tried,” Roberto said.

“I wasn’t spying, I just happened to be here.”

“Did you apologize?” Joe asked.

Fuchs snorted.