Читать книгу The Searchers - Kay David - Страница 6

Punto Perdido, Colombia

“YOU GO IN THERE and tell her the child is dead or por Dios, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born yourself!”

An inch away from his wife’s face, Segundo Alvarez jerked his thumb toward the room at the rear of their shack, his voice as sharp as the axe he carried every day to the emerald mines. “Tell her it’s dead then get rid of her. ¿Comprendes?”

Renita darted a look past her husband to the bedroom. Her niece was lying in a bloody mess on the bed, the midwife, Amarilla Rodriguez, still working beside her. Bringing her terrified gaze back to Segundo, Renita knew pleading for mercy was useless but she had to try.

“Segundo, por favor… She’s weak, she’s sick, she just gave birth…” Renita shook her head, her eyes filling before she could stop them. “I can’t throw her out, she’s my only family. And I can’t tell her the baby died! It’s not right to—”

Without any warning, Segundo raised his hand and backhanded her. She fell to the dirt floor with an involuntary cry, biting her lip savagely, the sharp sting of blood and pain flooding her mouth. The taste enraged her, and she glared at her husband, her hand against her face.

“How can you do this?” she screamed. “She’s just a teenager! If they find out, they’ll kill us all!”

“They won’t find out,” he said ominously. “I’m going to take care of everything.” Stepping closer, he swung his hand up and she flinched, but instead of hitting her again, he jabbed a finger toward the bedroom. “Go in there and tell her. Then make her disappear. I won’t have a puta like her under my roof! I’m a God-fearing man.”

To punctuate his order, he kicked her hard, the edge of his cheap leather boot catching her squarely in the chest. Red stars exploded in her vision but Segundo gave her no time to think about her agony. Instead, he yanked her to her feet, his grip on her elbow the single thing holding her up. His words were hot against her face, his breath fetid. “I’m warning you, Renita. You get her out of here, or I will.” His jaw tightened. “¡Esto me molesta!”

“But the baby…” she whimpered.

“I will handle the bastard and his father, too.” He squeezed her arm until his thumb met his fingers, then he shook her as a dog would a rag. “When I get back, she’d better be gone. If she isn’t, I’ll take care of her myself and you’ll like that even less.”

He released her abruptly and she fell to the floor, tiny puffs of dirt rising from his angry footsteps as he stomped out of the house. Stunned with pain and guilt, Renita wrapped her arms around her waist and struggled to recover her breath. Then she lifted her eyes and met the midwife’s gaze. Amarilla’s blank expression reflected none of Renita’s anger and helplessness. She’d seen too much in her lifetime; she knew she couldn’t change what was about to happen.

Renita buried her face in her hands and began to sob. The blood-soaked midwife turned to the bed and gently took the young girl’s hand. Compared to the women whose children she delivered, Amarilla was old, but the week before, for the very first time, she’d given birth herself and had a new daughter. She didn’t have to imagine the pain her words were about to inflict. Her rough voice held sympathy as she leaned over the bed and spoke.

They heard the scream all the way to the square.