Chapter 4
December began with a biting wind and a leaden sky. The men glanced anxiously at the lowering clouds as they saddled their mounts for the day’s work. The old horse wrangler also wore an expression of concern. “Mucho nieve,” he muttered. “Los viejos dicen un invierno malo.”
“He says snow’s coming,” Sombra translated. “The old ones—he means the grandfathers and grandmothers living in the village—say it will be a bad winter.”
“Do you agree?”
Sombra shrugged in his habitual way. “Prob’ly. There’s more Indian than Spanish in these vaqueros and some of the elders are brujos and brujas, healers and witches who carry the old knowledge and superstitions. Who’s to say they may not know things we don’t? If they say something is so, I’d likely take it serious.”
Today he sent the men out
