Marco and the Devil's Bargain Read Free Page B

elsewhere. Easy to say .
    Maybe it was all those hard years in her aunt and uncle’s house in Santa Fe that made her want to turn away when every woman in the sala looked at her. Whatever confidence Paloma had already earned as the trusted wife of a landowner and officer of the crown seemed to dribble away. She hesitated in the doorway.
    Luisa understood. She simply held out her hand and announced, “Paloma Vega de Mondragón. You all know my sister-in-law.”
    Marco thinks you are brave , she reminded herself, as she gave the medium-sized elegant curtsey that Mama had taught her so long ago.
    â€œ Paloma, the sudden wife,” Maria Teresa Moreno de Castellano said. “My cousin.” She tittered behind her hand.
    Paloma took a shallow breath and held it, afraid to look around. Marco thinks you are brave , she thought again, and looked up.
    What she saw put the heart back into her breast and started it beating again. She saw smiling faces, kind ones, and generous hearts, as the two lovely Borrego sisters rose and each took her by the hand, tugging her over to sit between them. Dazed, she heard other comments: “Oh, now, you must share!” and “We get a turn, too,” and gentle teases: “You Borregos did that because you know the Mondragón wool is the best and you’re going to snitch some,” and “Paloma, how did you snare the man every mother in del Sol sought for her daughter?”
    â€œ I had a yellow dog he wanted,” Paloma teased back, enjoying the laughter that followed. Obviously everyone in Valle del Sol had heard the story of the runt for which the juez de campo paid one whole peso. Rumor flew on mayfly’s wings in eastern New Mexico, apparently.
    Paloma looked around the circle, recognizing the women she saw in church when she and Marco were able to make their way through the snow to la iglesia . Something else became immediately obvious—Maria Teresa sat on the edge of the circle, no one near her. Some odd force was at work here that Paloma didn’t understand, even though she felt grateful for it. She took a deeper breath and smiled.
    â€œ I have not managed a household before the Double Cross, but I have noticed that one of my husband’s stockings always seems to disappear between the bedchamber and the laundry room. Why is this? Is there some diablillo at work in Valle del Sol?”
    The ladies laughed and returned to their knitting. Chaca Borrego declared that she would make three stockings for each match, from now on, because she had the same problem. The others smiled and nodded.
    Her heart easier, Paloma took out her knitting needles and the mohair that she and Sancha had spun into yarn only a week ago. She had noticed that Marco was getting a corn on his little toe. Maybe extra-soft stockings would help, and maybe Maria Teresa would say nothing more.
    When Maria cleared her throat quite loudly, the needles all stopped, then resumed their work as each woman in the circle ignored Paloma’s cousin. What is going on here? Paloma asked herself. She could have told the knitters that her cousin never allowed herself to be ignored. Paloma tensed because she feared what was coming. She would have given the earth to suddenly vanish and find herself back at the Double Cross kitchen.
    Maria Teresa cleared her throat with even more volume. “I hope you all will give me lots of baby advice in the coming months,” she declared, then gave Paloma an arch glance. “Too bad everyone is not as blessed as I am.”
    The knitters stopped again and the silence seemed to circle the room like a bad odor. She made me cry in Santa Fe, but I cannot let her make me cry in Valle del Sol , Paloma thought, wounded in the softest, most vulnerable part of her heart, that place where she had never let Maria Teresa touch her before.
    She could barely bring herself to glance around the circle, but to her relief, she saw only horror followed by a