."
Maria only shudders and shakes her head. Her new friends appear to know nothing of the bottle man. Brujos are always dangerous—more so when they're provoked.
The witch extends a bony finger toward them. "Then leave. I'll keep the box. You have nothing to offer me."
"But we haven't even agreed to a wager yet," Jack says. "Something you could certainly gain from, should you be the victor. What have you to lose?"
The bottle man's face swivels back and forth as he tries to read Jack. It's clear that his interest is piqued. "I don't have all night," he says.
Jack smiles. "Finally, some common ground because neither do we. But let me propose another option that requires neither skill nor wit. Let us pay for the box."
"I have no need for money."
"Did I say money? I thought instead that we could earn your goodwill. Have you some chore that needs doing? At a later date, of course, since we've already agreed that time is pressing for both of us tonight."
The bottle man shakes his head. "A trick if I ever heard one. And who's to say you would keep your end of the bargain?"
Jack stands straighter and places his palm against his own chest.
"Now you wound me," he says. "I may have neither home nor riches, but I have my honour. As a man of my word, I resent any implication to the contrary. You insult my integrity."
"But—"
Jack holds up a hand. "One moment. We cannot continue our earlier business until we address this besmirchment of my good name. I name Ti Jean as my second. You, sir, as the challenged party may choose the weapons and, of course, your own second."
"Wait a minute…"
"Unless," Jack goes on, "you wish to tender something else in exchange for the apology that you now owe me."
" Owe you?"
Jack smiles. "Surely you see my predicament? You are indebted to me for my honour."
The bottle man returns his smile. "What I see is that you think if you talk fancy enough and long enough that I'll give you what you want because I'll be too exasperated to do anything else. It's not going to work."
"Fair enough," Jack tells him. "Since we can't come to a reasonable agreement between the two of us, we'll have to seek council elsewhere. Isn't there a wise woman living here in the barrio?"
The bottle man frowns. "Maybe you didn't notice that I'm not inclined to socialize."
Jack goes on as if the bottle man hasn't spoken. "A Señora Esmeralda? I believe the people call her Abuela." He smiles. "Just as they call you Abuelo. But we both know that women are always more powerful than men—especially when it comes to brujería ."
Maria looks at Jack and wonders where he learned these things.
The bottle man spits again on the dirt. "Don't try my patience," he says, eyes narrowed.
"I don't mean to," Jack assures him. "The sooner we get this settled with an impartial third party, the sooner we can get back to our earlier negotiation. And time is pressing."
The bottle man grunts. "Señora Esmeralda has no business in this."
"So you'd prefer to duel?"
"I'd prefer you to take that damn box and never return to bother me again."
Jack arches his eyebrows. "No strings attached?"
"No strings."
"You are indeed a gentleman," Jack says.
"And you are plainly a cousin of Coyote."
"I will take that as a compliment," Jack tells him.
The bottle man shakes his head and turns away. He walks across the sea of glass pebbles as steadily as he might on solid ground. A few feet from his shack he reaches down into the glass with his fingers. He retrieves the cigarette tin and removes it from its plastic bag, which he stuffs in his pocket. The scowl on his face could sour milk, but he makes his way slowly back across the yard toward the wash.
"Thank you, señor," Jack says, reaching for the box.
But the bottle man shoves it toward Maria instead, grabbing hold of her fingers in the process. His black eyes are narrowed and his rough hand squeezes hers until it hurts.
"Now go away," he says, releasing her fingers." And take these annoying
Maria only shudders and shakes her head. Her new friends appear to know nothing of the bottle man. Brujos are always dangerous—more so when they're provoked.
The witch extends a bony finger toward them. "Then leave. I'll keep the box. You have nothing to offer me."
"But we haven't even agreed to a wager yet," Jack says. "Something you could certainly gain from, should you be the victor. What have you to lose?"
The bottle man's face swivels back and forth as he tries to read Jack. It's clear that his interest is piqued. "I don't have all night," he says.
Jack smiles. "Finally, some common ground because neither do we. But let me propose another option that requires neither skill nor wit. Let us pay for the box."
"I have no need for money."
"Did I say money? I thought instead that we could earn your goodwill. Have you some chore that needs doing? At a later date, of course, since we've already agreed that time is pressing for both of us tonight."
The bottle man shakes his head. "A trick if I ever heard one. And who's to say you would keep your end of the bargain?"
Jack stands straighter and places his palm against his own chest.
"Now you wound me," he says. "I may have neither home nor riches, but I have my honour. As a man of my word, I resent any implication to the contrary. You insult my integrity."
"But—"
Jack holds up a hand. "One moment. We cannot continue our earlier business until we address this besmirchment of my good name. I name Ti Jean as my second. You, sir, as the challenged party may choose the weapons and, of course, your own second."
"Wait a minute…"
"Unless," Jack goes on, "you wish to tender something else in exchange for the apology that you now owe me."
" Owe you?"
Jack smiles. "Surely you see my predicament? You are indebted to me for my honour."
The bottle man returns his smile. "What I see is that you think if you talk fancy enough and long enough that I'll give you what you want because I'll be too exasperated to do anything else. It's not going to work."
"Fair enough," Jack tells him. "Since we can't come to a reasonable agreement between the two of us, we'll have to seek council elsewhere. Isn't there a wise woman living here in the barrio?"
The bottle man frowns. "Maybe you didn't notice that I'm not inclined to socialize."
Jack goes on as if the bottle man hasn't spoken. "A Señora Esmeralda? I believe the people call her Abuela." He smiles. "Just as they call you Abuelo. But we both know that women are always more powerful than men—especially when it comes to brujería ."
Maria looks at Jack and wonders where he learned these things.
The bottle man spits again on the dirt. "Don't try my patience," he says, eyes narrowed.
"I don't mean to," Jack assures him. "The sooner we get this settled with an impartial third party, the sooner we can get back to our earlier negotiation. And time is pressing."
The bottle man grunts. "Señora Esmeralda has no business in this."
"So you'd prefer to duel?"
"I'd prefer you to take that damn box and never return to bother me again."
Jack arches his eyebrows. "No strings attached?"
"No strings."
"You are indeed a gentleman," Jack says.
"And you are plainly a cousin of Coyote."
"I will take that as a compliment," Jack tells him.
The bottle man shakes his head and turns away. He walks across the sea of glass pebbles as steadily as he might on solid ground. A few feet from his shack he reaches down into the glass with his fingers. He retrieves the cigarette tin and removes it from its plastic bag, which he stuffs in his pocket. The scowl on his face could sour milk, but he makes his way slowly back across the yard toward the wash.
"Thank you, señor," Jack says, reaching for the box.
But the bottle man shoves it toward Maria instead, grabbing hold of her fingers in the process. His black eyes are narrowed and his rough hand squeezes hers until it hurts.
"Now go away," he says, releasing her fingers." And take these annoying
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