Look at the state of her. She’ll surely die, then where will we be?

Maria Sanchez ~ Loca Maria dreamed of the Indios and the red rocks and of Alanza whinnying at her. She dreamed that a dog was pushing her with its nose and then the dog became Alanza. She was hot and soaking wet with sweat and blood. At one point she felt beneath her head and thought she was resting on a comfortable pillow like at the lady fence’s house. It was a big goose down pillow and she put her hands up to feel it, fluff it a little, enjoy the coolness of the underside with her hot hands and her pillow was now little Rosario and her baby was hungry. She put her to her breast, the one that was shot and it hurt, ached all around her breast like when the German infant was nursing on it.
Then she sat up, too close to a fire ring. Juana and Ulla and Bronagh were all at the fire, but Juana was ten years old again. She was eating and Ulla pointed at Maria, signaling to everyone that she was finally awake. Bronagh chastised them, “Now, don’t be gettin’ on your high horse. She needed to go a wanderin’, it was in her blood.”
Juana pointed at Maria with a drumstick. “Look at the state of her. She’ll surely die, then where will we be?”
Ulla reached out with an ointment and now she was the yellow-haired whore from Nuevo Casas Grandes, “Put this on your nipples, Maria, it soothes them.”
She sat up, leaning on an elbow and looked at the fire. She was too sleepy to speak or take the ointment and soon dropped back down. She could no longer find the pillow or Rosario but she was just too tired to care. She turned to face away from the fire and felt liquid hitting her face. The man, the shop owner, the dirty bastard Sanchez was there with the coal oil and was splashing her all over with it. He’d come back to burn her up. She sat up sputtering and felt the coolness of the rain. She was awake now and getting cold; the rain was coming down hard and lightning bolts were illuminating the sky. She had to get off the mesa. Maria's Trail
Image Source ~ Maria Sanchez