“I know what Quint could do,” Daisy said, leaning her elbows on the table. Her reading glasses dangled from a beaded chain around her neck. “He could pierce his ears with an obsidian blade and shove long strips of bark paper with sonnets written on them through the holes.”
Quint winced. “Bark paper? The Maya did that?”
Nodding, Daisy explained, “Not the sonnet part, of course. But I saw some examples of this practice on a vase from the Late Classic period. The rough bark paper could be used later for bloodletting, which could be romantic in the right context.”
Quint closed his field notebook. “Daisy 8-Ball, you and I clearly have different levels of pain endurance when it comes to wooing a lover.”
Angélica looked from Quint to Daisy. What was with that nickname?
Before she could ask, Pedro spoke up. “So, they’d pull the paper from their ears and then make themselves bleed all over it with the help of a stingray spine?”
Quint grimaced. “Just thinking of the potential paper cuts makes me cringe.”
“A stingray spine or an obsidian blade,” Angélica said, lightly touching his earlobe. “You do have very nice lobes, Parker. How about we get you drunk later and pierce them?”
He leaned away from her. “Leave my lobes be, woman.”
“They’d bleed onto the paper and then burn it,” Daisy continued. “It was actually part of a penance ritual. Although if you were a captive, you might be forced to wear bark paper earrings as a humiliation tactic prior to being sacrificed.”
“Ay chihuahua.” Pedro rubbed his earlobe. “I thought they stretched their ears just to wear fancy jade jewelry.”
“That, too.” Angélica took a sip of the tea María kept out for the workers,agua de jamaica, made from water, a dash of sugar, and hibiscus. She’d passed on coffee, wanting to get to sleep early tonight, if her brain would participate and take a breather from spinning its wheels on what-ifs.
“I have a better idea for Junior Mint,” her father said. “Less painful.”
“I’m all ears and earlobes,” Quint shot back.
“We could paint you black and red.”
Daisy’s forehead lined as she stared at Quint, as if trying to picture the scene. “On his face or all over?”
“Head to toe,” Angélica answered for her dad. To Quint, she clarified, “Red and black showed fierceness and courage. It’s believed that warriors painted themselves in these colors before going into battle.”
“Nope. Too messy,” Quint said. “Besides, it will be impossible to get those stains out of my loincloth. How about I just chop down a tree and impress you with my big blue ox?”
“Your big blue ox?” Juan grinned. “Is that the nickname you kids are calling a Speedo burrito these days?”
Pedro squawked and then snorted, while Quint covered his face and laughed into his palm.
Angélica coughed in surprise, stuck between laughing and recoiling. “Dad! No!”
Daisy hooted even harder at Angélica’s scolding.
“Sorry,gatita, but that was one of your mother’s sayings, bless her wonderfully foul mouth.” He chuckled. “I couldn’t resist, especially since we’re amongst family.” He patted Daisy on the arm. “And good friends.”
Daisy’s smile shined brighter. “Thank you for including me, Juan,” she said, blushing slightly.
“Why blue?” Pedro asked after wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. He apparently hadn’t heard about the giant folk hero north of the U.S. border before.
“The reference to the big blue ox is from a tall tale back home about a lumberjack named Paul Bunyan,” Quint explained.
As the chatter and laughs continued around the table, Angélica glanced outside through the mesh tent flap.
Twilight under the jungle canopy looked about the same as straight-up night thanks to the thick, ever-present shadows. The soundtrack had changed, however. The tweets and screeches from the birds had subsided, replaced by the incessant chirps and trills and high-pitched buzzing of a myriad of insects. Some monkeys quieted, while others barked and howled long into the morning hours. As her mother had often said, if she’d wanted a peaceful night’s sleep while on the job, she would have been an astronaut.
Where in the hell was Dr. Fernel? Angélica tapped her fingers on the table, wondering if he’d managed to get lost on his way back to the mess tent. Maybe she should have sent someone along with him.
Their small crew had been dismissed after supper to do whatever they pleased for the evening, except for Bronko, KuTu, and Raul, who were still doing watch shift rotations throughout the night. While they had more warm bodies now in camp, the dangers lurking under the canopy hadn’t changed.
