The House of the Scorpion (45 page)

Deer Matt
, he read.
I’m a lousy writer so this wont be long. El Patron says I have to go with him. I can’t do anything about it. I put supplise in this chest plus books. Yu never know when yu mite need things. Yor frend Tam Lin
.

Matt folded it and put it into his pocket, along with a flashlight for when it got dark. He made a fire and warmed his hands as he listened to the sounds of the oasis. It was too cold to swim.

He would dig up the poppy fields and put in normal crops. Once the eejits were cured, Matt would give them the choice of returning home or of working for him. He would help them find their children.

Matt sat up straight. Of course! Chacho, Fidelito, and Ton-Ton! He could invite them to live with him. He could imagine Fidelito’s wide-eyed astonishment.
This is really yours?
the little boy would cry.
You’re not making it up?

It’s all right
, Chacho would say, refusing to be impressed. Matt could give him his old guitar. Mr. Ortega could teach him music. Ton-Ton could have his own machine shop. He could maintain the equipment Matt needed to create his new farms.

He could invite María to stay—and hope that Esperanza was busy somewhere else. María would love reuniting the eejits with their children. And they could have picnics and ride horses, and she could keep as many three-legged cats as she liked.

Matt looked up at the sky. Sunset wasn’t far off. The light was turning gold, and sunlight shone through a gap in the mountains and made a bar of radiance on a wall of rock just beyond the oasis. Matt saw something dazzle.

He jumped up and ran to the spot before the radiance slipped behind the mountains. When he arrived, shadow had almost hidden the mark, but he saw, in the red light of the setting sun, a shining scorpion. He pressed his hand against it.

Slowly, silently, a door opened in the cliff. Matt felt the rock. It wasn’t stone after all, but a clever imitation. The door revealed a dark passage going down into the earth. Matt shone the flashlight inside.

The floor glittered with gold coins. Farther on were weird statues that might have been Egyptian gods. Matt lay back against the cliff, breathing hard. It was part of El Patróns dragon hoard. It was the first of the underground chambers that stretched all the way to El Patrón’s coffin and his attendants.

Around the old man were bodyguards to protect him in the shadowy world of the dead. There were doctors to attend to his health. Mr. Alacrán could entertain him with matters of business, and Steven could offer opinions about the farming of poppies. There would certainly be an opium farm in El Patrón’s version of heaven. Felicia, Fani, and Emilia could admire him from tables covered with moro crabs and caramel puddings.

And Tam Lin? Matt took out the note again:
El Patrón says I have to go with him. I can’t do anything about it
.

“You could have done something about it,” Matt whispered. “You could have said no.” He stepped away, and the door slid shut again. He ran his fingers over the surface. He couldn’t tell where the opening had been, but he could find it again with red light.

Late that night Matt sat by the fire and smelled the good mesquite smoke as it spiraled up into the starry sky. Tomorrow he would begin the task of breaking down the empire of Opium. It was a huge and terrifying job, but he wasn’t alone. He had Chacho, Fidelito, and Ton-Ton to cheer him on. He had Celia and Daft Donald to advise him and María to be everyone’s conscience. He also had Esperanza, but he couldn’t see a way out of that.

With everyone’s help, it would get done.

You can do it
, said Tam Lin from the darkness on the other side of the fire.

“I know I can,” said Matt, smiling back.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Nancy Farmer has written two Newbery Honor Books,
The Ear, the Eye and the Arm
and
A Girl Named Disaster
. Other books include
Do You Know Me, The Warm Place
, and three young picture books for young children.

She grew up on the Arizona-Mexico border in the landscape she evokes so strongly in this novel. She lives with her family in Menlo Park, California.