"How happy I am."
"How happy I am."
"I love you, Regina."
"I love you, my husband."
"Do I make you happy?"
"Don't ever end; how long it lasts; you fill all of me."
While, out on the street, a pail of water splashed over the dust and wild ducks passed by, quacking over the river, and a whistle announced what no one would be able to stop: boots dragging along, the noise of spurs, hooves echoing again, and the smells of oil and lard seeping through doors and houses. He stretched out his hand and felt for the cigarettes in his shirt pocket. She went over to the window and opened it. She stayed there, breathing deep, with her arms open, standing on tiptoe. The circle of gray mountains came closer to the eyes of the lovers as the sun rose. The aroma of the town bakery wafted up and, from farther off, the savor of myrtles tangled with weeds in the rotten ravines. All he saw was her naked body, her open arms that now wanted to take the day by the shoulders and drag it back to bed.
"Want breakfast?"
"It's too early. Let me finish my cigarette first."
Regina's head rested on his shoulder. His long, sinewy hand stroked her hip. Both smiled.
"When I was a little girl, life was beautiful. There were lots of beautiful times. Vacations, holidays, summer days, games. I don't know why, but when I started growing, I began to long for things. When I was a little girl, I didn't. That's why I started to go to that beach. I said it was better to long. I didn't know why I had changed so much that summer, or that I'd stopped being a little girl."
"You still are, you know."
"With you? After all the things we've done?"
He laughed and kissed her, and she bent her knee, pretending to be a bird with folded wings nestled against his chest. She clung to the man's neck, mixing her laughter with feigned tears.
"What about you?"
"I don't remember anymore. I found you and I love you very much."
"Tell me. Why did I know, the moment I saw you, that nothing else would matter anymore? You know, I told myself at that precise instant that I'd have to make a decision. That if you just went away, I'd be wasting my whole life. Did you feel anything like that?"
"Yes, I did. Didn't you think, though, that I was just another soldier looking for some fun?"
"No, no. I didn't even see your uniform. All I saw were your eyes reflected in the water and then I couldn't see my own reflection anymore without yours next to it."
"Honey, sweetheart, go see if we have any coffee."
When they parted that morning like all the mornings of their seven young months of love, she asked if the troops would be pulling out soon. He said he didn't know what the general had in mind. They might have to go after some pockets of defeated federales still in the area, but at any rate, they'd be keeping their headquarters in town. There was plenty of water and cattle. It was a good place to stay awhile. They were tired after fighting their way south from Sonora and had earned a rest. At eleven they were to report to their commanders at the plaza.
In every town they passed through, the general would investigate working conditions, reduce the workday to eight hours by public decree, and distribute land to the peasants. If there was a hacienda in the area, he would have the company store burned to the ground. If there were loan sharks-and there were always loan sharks, unless they'd fled with the federales-he would rescind all loans. The bad part was that the bulk of the population was under arms and almost all were peasants, so there was no one to enforce the general's decrees. Thus, it was better for them instantly to appropriate the wealth of the rich who remained in each town, and hope the Revolution would triumph, so the land reforms and the eight-hour day would be legalized.
Right now the important thing was to get to Mexico City and depose that drunk Huerta, Don Panchito Madero's assassin. Round and round we go! he murmured as he tucked his khaki shirt into his white trousers. Round and round we go! From Veracruz, where he came from, to Mexico City, and from there north to Sonora, when his teacher Sebastián had asked him to do what the older generation could no longer do: go north, take up arms, and liberate the country. Hadn't even slept with a woman yet, word of honor. But how could he let Sebastián down, the man who had taught him the three things he knew: reading, writing, and hating priests.
He stopped talking when Regina set the coffee down on the table.
"It's boiling hot!"
It was early. They went out on the street with their arms around each other's waists. She wearing her starched skirt, he in his felt hat and white uniform jacket. The cluster of houses where they were living was near a ravine; the morning glories hung over the void, and a rabbit torn apart by the teeth of a coyote was rotting in the underbrush. Deep down, below, a stream ran its course. Regina peered down to find it, as if hoping to find again the reflected image of her fiction. Their hands joined; the road to the town clung to the edge of the canyon, and down from the mountains came the echoes of thrushes calling to each other. No: the noise of light hooves, lost in clouds of dust.
"Lieutenant Cruz! Lieutenant Cruz!"
The perpetually smiling face of Loreto, the general's aide, disappeared behind the sweat and dust coating him, when he reined in his horse in a dry whinny. "Come quickly," he said, panting as he wiped his face with a handkerchief. "There's big news: we're moving out right away. Have you had breakfast? They're serving eggs over at headquarters."
"Eggs? I've already got mine," he joked, patting his crotch.
Regina's embrace was an embrace of dust. Only when Loreto's horse vanished and the dust settled did the whole woman, clinging to the shoulders of her young lover, reemerge.
"Wait for me here."
"What can it be?"
"There must be some federales wandering around somewhere. Nothing serious."
"I should stay here?"
"Yes, Don't move. I'll be back tonight or early tomorrow at the latest."
"Artemio…Think we'll ever return there?"
"Who knows. Who knows how long this'll go on. Don't think about it. You know I love you, right?"
"I love you, too. A lot. Forever."
Out in the stables and in the main patio of the headquarters, the troops had received their orders and were preparing their packs with ritual calm. The cannon rolled along in single file, pulled by white mules with shadows under their eyes; they were followed by ammunition carriages set on rails that ran from the patio to the train station. The cavalry attended to their mounts, removed feed bags, put on bridles, made sure saddles were cinched tightly, and patted the heads of the war horses, so docile and gentle to the men even though they were stained with dust and their stomachs were covered with ticks. Two hundred horses moved slowly past the barracks, spotted, dappled, dusty black. The infantry oiled its rifles and then filed past the smiling dwarf who distributed ammunition. The hats worn by soldiers from the north: gray felt, the brim turned up on one side. Neckerchiefs. Cartridge belts around their waists. Only a few wearing boots: wool trousers, yellow leather shoes or huaraches. Striped shirts, collarless. Here and there-on the streets, in the patios, at the station-Yaqui Indian hats hung with leafy twigs: members of the band carrying their music stands in their hands, their metal instruments on their backs. The last swallows of hot water. Pots filled to the brim with beans. Plates of huevos rancheros. Shouts come from the station: a flatcar of Mayan Indians was pulling in, to an accompaniment of high-pitched drumming and a flutter of colored bows and primitive arrows.