(2/3) The Teeth of the Gale Read Online Free Page B

exclaimed with annoyance.
    "How could I have been such a dolt as not to notice that when I bought the beast? It was that cunning Granada gypsy who distracted me, when I began to inspect the harness, with a long tale about the beast's pedigree—"
    "Never mind," I said. "The bellyband can be replaced. All we need is a saddler."
    "And where are we likely to find one open at this hour?"
    However—having ordered a meal—we walked toward the market square, which lies to the east of the town, and were lucky enough to come upon a harness-maker's shop still open for business. The master of the establishment was attending to another late customer, but his boy came to serve us; Pedro, who had brought along his saddle, showed the rotted girth strap and the boy went off to find a replacement. Meanwhile I amused myself by watching the other customer's child, a petulant-looking little girl of perhaps four or five, with black hair plaited up on top of her head, fastened with red ribbons. She had a pert, pale, self-willed little face, its elfin prettiness quite spoiled by her expression. When, after listening with a sharp intelligence quite in advance of her age, she suddenly realized that the fat customer was purchasing a saddle with a
pillion,
she at once burst into ear-splitting shrieks of disgust and fury.
    "No—and no—and
no
!" she yelled. "I will not! I will
not
! I will
not
ride behind you like a gypsy's child! I wish to ride in a carriage. I want it very much.
Very much!
"
    The fat customer appeared almost out of his wits at having to deal with her temper and her tantrum.
    "But
hija,
you cannot!
Querida,
I fear it is impossible. Do not scold poor Papa!"
    "You are not my papa! I want my proper papa."
    "Indeed,
hija,
I am your proper papa. You know how much I love you."
    "I want him. I want him very much!" she cried, ignoring the fat man's remonstrances.
    "But that man is not your real papa—"
    "I want him!"
    "Well—we'll see—if you are a good girl," he told her rather hopelessly. "You shall have all the treats you want at the end of the journey, I promise! Sugar plums! And a new dress to wear—"
    "And a fan as big as Mama's?"
    "A fan—if you wish—and shoes of the best red leather—"
    "But I wish to ride in a carriage!" she stormed. "Not on a nasty hard pillion!"
    "But
chica,
we cannot!"
    "Why not? We rode here in a carriage."
    "But that was along an easy road from Salamanca. Now we must cross mountains—where there may be no carriage road."
    Idly watching this scene, I had been plaiting together some scraps of broken leather thong that lay scattered over the floor—a skill picked up from sailors on the tiny Biscay hooker that had brought me from England to Spain five years ago. Now, threading over these a large blue bead, fallen from my mule's brow band, which came from my pocket, I tied the thong ends together and dropped the whole circlet over the child's head. She whirled around to stare at me, widened, clutching the leather necklace in astonishment—in her absorption over the affair of the pillion, she had not noticed me before.
    "Why did you do that?" she hissed, scowling up at me.
    "To put a spell on you," I suggested.
    "What do you mean?" She stuck out her lower lip, frowning down at the plaited necklace, pulling it up so as to study the blue bead. "What is this? It is like the beads that oxen wear—to protect them from the Evil Eye."
    "Well," I said, "perhaps it will protect you likewise. Or perhaps it will help you to enjoy riding on that pillion!"
    Then, seeing that Pedro had completed his purchase, I joined him among the dangling saddles at the shop entrance as the child still stared after me—meanwhile, I noticed her father hastily handing over silver coins for his pillion saddle. Flustered, sweating, and anxious, he had never even noticed my conversation with his child. Glancing back, I saw her quickly push the blue bead out of sight, under her tucker.
    "Good, that was a piece of luck," said Pedro with