Twisted Cross

Sal threw a wild punch. Blas made a quick move to protect himself. “Cállate, shut your mouth. Enough of this,” Sal said. “Tell Brother David…,”

   “Tell your own lies,” Blas said. He held his ground. “Okay, you’re the hero. Bueno, go ahead and find the silver.”

   “I found it already,” Sal said. They both stopped to look into the crowd of shoppers. “See the chica, that girl over there?” Sal pointed to a young woman in the market with a basket of flowers on her head—her two silver earrings flashed in the sunlight. “Remember when Brother David told us to stay away from the Indians who work the silver mines, ¿y por qué, why? He wants all this for himself,” Sal jumped off the wagon.

   “You are shameless,” Blas said. He grabbed for Sal’s sleeve to hold him back. “You know, I would have done anything to go on a pilgrimage when we were boys. They say your Mamà took you to protect you from your father’s drinking and womanizing.”

   Those words hurt Sal even though he thought all the pain had faded long ago. “And you’re perfect?” Sal said. He struggled to get away, but Blas grabbed him. “You told lies to the soldiers about magical swords and shields. You lied about us being blacksmiths.”

   “Dìos gave me those stories,” Blas said. They wrestled under the wagon. “It got us in our blacksmith jobs with Brother David, didn’t it?”

   “God gave you the stories? You’re as crazy as Brother David,” Sal said. Did Blas really believe all this?

   “Sure, loco enough to stick with you,” Blas said. “Admit it; Brother David is the most kindhearted man we’ve known. I’m not going to lie to him anymore. And I’m not going to cover for you.” He called out as Sal disappeared into the crowd.