Andrew skin the animals that he has hunted and trapped: rabbits, deer, and an ugly animal Andrew calls moose. Manuel has made the job easier by driving some large rusty hooks into the trunk of an old tree out back. He shows Andrew, mostly with exaggerated gestures, how to tie the legs of the dead animal together with rope, loop the rope through the eyehook and then the pulley to drag and hoist the carcass against the tree. The animal’s body stretches and drapes toward the ground and Manuel’s sharp knife cuts into its flesh, thinly separating the hide from that milky blue membrane that encases the meat.Every so often, Manuel cannot help but gaze at the naked cabin through the curtain of steam that rises from the animal. The oxblood paint flakes along its planked sides. Two small windows jut out slightly in the front and the black narrow door sits crooked on its hinges. The wind has ravaged the bleak little house that sits on the grassy hill. But all Manuel can think of is the warmth and comfort within those walls and sagging roof. On a few occasions, he has caught Pepsi looking out the window. She always turns away in time. It’s all play and it makes him want her more.
Earlier, that morning, Manuel had been roused from his sleep by Pepsi’s excited giggles. “Wake up, Manuel. Come see.” Somewhat groggy, Manuel lumbered half-naked to the front door and stepped outside. Snowflakes, large and generous, fell languidly from the sky in silence. They fell on Manuel’s hair and lashes, his bare shoulders and feet, where they disappeared into the heat of his skin. Manuel raised his hands, tried to catch the flakes between his fingers. Bewildered, he turned toward the house. Pepsi squatted in the doorway, held her robe’s sleeve in her mouth. Manuel had twirled like a boy, raised his head to the snow’s newness, opened his mouth and flicked his tongue.
“You better watch yourself, young lady,” Andrew says as he and Manuel return to the house. Pepsi continues to stare out the window as if she has not heard him.
“That man’s not for you. A good strong man needs a good woman to make him a life, you hear?”
Manuel has grown quite used to them talking about him as if hedoesn’t understand a word. Truth be told, he doesn’t understand
many
of the words, but he is clear about the passion behind these foreign sounds.
“I prayed for him, though. He’s for me. He’s the answer,” her whisper fades.
There are times when Manuel notices the fear in Andrew’s eyes. At other times, he’s embarrassed by Andrew’s mocking.
“You stupid girl … there is no answer. Look at you.” He shakes his head as he walks out the front door.
Before she can react, Manuel moves toward the sink to rinse his bloodstained hands. Duty washes over her; she confidently grabs his hands and scrubs them. She doesn’t look at him. Manuel allows her to scour his hands with a brush. They begin to burn in their rawness but he doesn’t draw them back. It helps to let her father’s words wash away with the blood and grime; they swirl in the basin and lose themselves in the drain. Her neck begins to relax; she turns to face him and her mouth smiles but her eyes betray her. Manuel lets her clean under his nails. He buries his nose in her hair, breathes in and moves into her warmth. She nudges his head a bit and her shoulders drop. Manuel can hear her exhale. He doesn’t care about her leg.
Cara Mãe
,
I still have not heard from you. Your refusal to send me a letter only adds to the heaviness that weighs in my heart. It has taken hold of my mind.
I am growing fond of this girl, Pepsi. She is sixteen but already a woman of work, just like the girlsback home. I know you’d like her,
Mãe
, the same way you liked Silvia before she left to go to school in the city. But, there is something about this girl, Pepsi; she makes all of my plans for this new land seem right, even real. I’m capable of taking hold of my dreams and moving on with my
John B. Garvey, Mary Lou Widmer