Twisted Cross

Brother David stood at the top of the riverbank and gazed down toward Sal. “Did you bring the tools this time? You could have waited until daylight.”

Sal kept his head turned away. The monk didn’t give any sign he recognized him. Many years had passed since they worked side by side at the Mission in México. The native men approached the dinghy, their angry faces turned on Sal.

“You are here to help, ¿deveras? Right?” Brother David said. He spoke in a calm tone.

“Si, gracias, hermano, yes, thanks, brother,” Sal said. He hid Jacques’ gun behind his back. The dinghy shifted in the water, but Sal stood so the natives could see him as a strong man. Let them try to overtake him. He positioned himself ready to use the revolver.

“Sit, soldier, as a sign to my friends that you mean us no harm.” Brother David didn’t recognize Sal or know why he approached them at night, but, he was sharp enough to spot the gun. “Throw the pistola behind your back in the river—we don’t want it in the wrong hands.” Sal slipped the gun under his coat.