Fistful of Reefer

Fistful of Reefer: scene 25, 26 & 27

As their first day on the trail dragged into late afternoon, the goats showed signs of weariness and Chancho struggled with disappointment. His harvester had run out of gas an hour earlier, forcing them to abandon it. He patted Sister Espanoza. She also seemed moody about hauling the marihuana wagon that had been pulled by El Chupacabra for the first leg of the journey.

"At least you won't run out of methane." Chancho tried half-heartedly to cheer them both. On cue the horse cut loose a flappy fart. "¡Excelente!" It was a good joke and brightened their mood. His harvester had liberated a field's worth of cáñamo from the earth before the ignorant rinche could stop them, and El Chupacabra would remain where they'd left him until he could return. If he couldn't remain at home, taking it with him was the next best thing. Soon the rinche and the ranchers would leave them alone, and he could go back to living his quiet life.

Minutes later Nena found a dry inlet stemming from the main wash and hidden from the rest of the valley by a forested sandbar. Both sides of the small draw were steep and rocky, creating a perfect pen for containing the goats. While Chancho helped Nena herd them from behind, Muddy pulled the chuck wagon as far into the narrow draw as he could. Taking a bucket of feed, he coaxed them further forward before spreading the feed in four clumps at the head of the inlet. With good shelter, brush for grazing and a small pool where a spring seeped from the hillside, the herd settled happily.

As the goats ate Muddy moved among them counting each head. "Forty-two." Throwing the bucket back into the chuck wagon, he embraced Nena, who had just finished blocking the entrance to the inlet using the other wagons. "They're all here. So far, so good." Dressed in warrior attire complete with crossbow, she had taken several minutes that morning to lace up leather leggings that left only her knees exposed to thorns, snakes or whatever assaults nature or man might throw at her.

"So far." She loosened her crossbow and laid it in the back of the chuck wagon so she could feel the fullness of Muddy's embrace.

"Get a wagon you two." Chancho dropped his saddle on a patch of gravel. "But first, shouldn't we rustle up some supper?"

"We have a wagon." Nena batted her eyes.

"Is that where you're going to sleep?" Muddy indicated Chancho's saddle.

"Sure. Good a spot as any to be blessed with my presence. Maybe I'll even use a rock as a pillow and have visions of angels climbing back and forth on a ladder from heaven."

"Catholics are crazy." Nena lowered the tailgate to the chuck wagon. "Besides, don't angels have wings? Why would they need a ladder?"

Chancho scratched his chin. "You know, that's a good question. I'll have to ask Jacob when I see him."

"Why not ask God?"

"Or Him." Chancho sat in the gravel and leaned back against his saddle. "Should we have a fire and some coffee?" He rubbed his hands together.

Nena frowned and looked at Muddy, who refused to look her in the eyes. "Well," he shuffled his feet. "The wood is dry. It won't smoke much. We could have a fire." He braved a look at Nena through the corner of his eye. "As long as we put it out before dark."

She huffed. "After tonight, no more fires. At least for a few days, until we're sure no one is following us."

"Who would be following us?" Chancho stretched and put his hands behind his head. "Ranchers hunting for El Chupacabra?"

"The rinche." Nena hissed the words.

"Ay, el rinche." Chancho nodded and fell silent.