Twisted Cross

Ever since he met Jimenez, Sal knew he liked to tell stories and brag about his family’s business in Spain. Sal heated a crude mallet to pound the wagon’s cracked axle. “This is going to take all night.”

“Did I tell you how mi abuelo, my grandpa, arranged everything? He fixed it for me to join the military as an officer,” Jimenez said. Sal heard this story before. “He wanted me in this Nuevo Mundo, a chance to get the family some free land.”

“Your own grandfather put you here just to make your family even richer?” Sal said. It reminded him of how his own Papá tried to put he and Blas to work. “Just think of your family, a long way from you now.”

Sal bent near Jimenez, clutching the red-hot axle. Sal could not help but notice how close to his own age, height and weight Jimenez appeared. “So much influence, and there’s nothing they can do to help us.” Sal envied Jimenez. They shared the same color skin, eyes and hair. “Y ahora, and now it’s just you and me.” His imagination worked overtime. Now that they were outside the control of the Presidio, what if Sal could somehow trade places with a guy like this?

“Can we get some sleep? It’s been a long day,” Jimenez said. He pushed the sandy soil into mounds and unrolled two thick blankets from his bedroll. Sal watched him from the corner of his eye. “Here, this one is for you.” Jimenez laid under one blanket and tossed the other toward Sal. Jimenez relaxed as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

The Devil taunted Sal during a sleepless night. He heard the breeze fluttering in the bushes, then he clearly heard someone speak his darkest thoughts. “How much easier do you want me to make it for you?” the Devil said. “This man sleeps right here next to you. Use the mallet, finish him off; take his identity and start a new life.”

“It’s too easy. It would never work,” Sal said. He tried to imagine how Brother David would advise him. He would be proud of how Sal fixed the wagon, but ashamed of his murderous thoughts about Jimenez.

“You idiot! If you don’t listen to me, there will be no second chance,” the Devil said. He sounded like a bully trying to frighten a boy.

“I’m not so sure I want to listen to you anymore. I can handle this myself,” Sal said. He spoke out loud in anger, wrestling with his demon.

“Handle what?” Jimenez said. His groggy words startled Sal.

“This axle. I handled the axle. It ought to be alright now,” Sal said. As the dawn broke, he resisted the Devil and stood, proud of his repair work.

“You fixed the wagon?” Jimenez said. There was a note of surprise and admiration in his voice. Sal took it as a compliment. He would continue the journey for Blas’s sake. He needed to take charge and let the Devil, and Jimenez, know it.