Laced & Leather Chaos

Determined

Imelda hated the sense of Déjà vu that settled as Pepita also did and everyone not tied down hopped off to investigate what she'd found. She breathed on a familiar set of foot prints, just Miguel's, no sign of his friend, but that was to be expected if Ernesto had him trapped and Miguel hadn't found him yet. That was why he took off, everyone knew.

"Good work, Pepita", Imelda pat her spirit guide, walking on and following where the prints lead while her alebrije waited with their prisoner.

Héctor side glanced over to where Ernesto was still tied to the jaguar alebrije's tail, refusing to cooperate and tell where his house was, even at the threat of staying on the tail, or Pepita eating him. He knew the latter wouldn't work, alebrijes didn't technically eat and therefore couldn't technically hold onto something like that. As for being dropped off cliffs, and other threats, the defamed singer declared he couldn't hit any lower bottom.

"You baby", Héctor narrowed his eyes at his once friend, "you still haven't experienced anything like what you condemned me to...", he said, since he could clearly see Ernesto lamenting his 'poor luck' in his still stubborn and spoiled features.

"I do not feel like discussing creative differences", Ernesto said simply, dismissively, "and you all are the ones making this difficult, my request is simple".

"Creative...! Simple...!", Héctor looked about to beat the skeleton, and he probably was.

"Héctor! Get over here and stop letting him ramble", Imelda gave a simple solution, one Héctor took to after a while.

"I was trying to get him to tell us where his house is", he explained.

Imelda shook her head, "It's useless, we'll just ask the neighbors until we get close, after or as we find Miguel". She glanced to the sky, it was still dark but she didn't like the color it was gaining. Oh, why did the boy do this to her?!

Then...because they needed more problems...

Ernesto had apparently (and not too surprisingly) been working at his shoe lace bonds whenever attention wasn't on him. The first everyone noticed was a roar from Pepita, whether of any pain or just anger, none could tell, but Ernesto's sprinting form mobilized all of them!

Antonio almost had him, diving but catching only air, not cloth, and Julio did his best, but insult was added to injury as Ernesto all but leapt over him and kept on. The squat skeleton glowered after as most all took chase, and with another roar, Pepita lifted to the sky for what she felt would be an easy catch...only her tiny prey wasn't below her as she scanned for it!

The Riveras and Perez' noticed the same as they fanned out about the neighborhood they were in, searching. Héctor muttered something Imelda and even Coco wouldn't have been proud of, but given the circumstances, and slammed his hat to the ground in his frustration...and fear.

Now what? He could get at both Miguel and his amigo and they wouldn't even know it for a while.

"A living boy?", he heard someone say and turning, along with a lot of the others as they also heard it, he saw Coco asking a skeleton who was scratching at his chin, "Yeah, old Kit Larson picked up one around the campfire a bit back, said he was looking for an amigo of his".

The poor informative skeleton was rushed upon by nine others.

"Did you see where they went?"

"Larson? Like his relative?"

"Did you see them again?"

"Are those really what you call shoes, because we can...", this last was Oscar, and Imelda nudged him to shut him up and get back to important matters.

"Which way?", she concise all the questions. The skeleton pointed and was thanked, the group beginning off again.

"That's my girl, keeps her head on her shoulders even when we all don't", Héctor praised, then realized he was close to a mistake as Imelda frowned. "Or just me", he grinned.

"They were asking about de la Cruz' house", the skeleton added, causing a skidding pause of the group, "and while I'm not sure myself, I think he lives off Corner Street now, that's the name". He was thanked again and the group rushed off with further resolve, Imelda whistling to get Pepita again.

***

Trent Larson realized he had not given his own famous relative all the credit he deserved. As he let him speak and explain about where he'd been and the business. Christopher Larson had come over with his spinster aunt, to help her, from Sweden at Fourteen. Four years later and his English was good and after his aunt passed and he was left to figure out what his path was, he took up with a group of cowboys, gaining and driving his own herd and paying people for leather until he got sick of that last part and fenced in his herd on his own farm in Texas, also doing the dirty work of making the leather and, despite this, becoming respected for his hard work and selling off of what meat he didn't himself use. Good beef and good leather.

"And it was the same farm, up until we moved", Trent said when his ancestor was done, "back to my mom's dad's old town in Santa Cecilia, Mexico", he sounded...worried if Kit would mind they sold off the farm, but the cowboy laughed.

"Well, I kept it pretty good shape, but never meant it to have to survive that long, tell your pa I'm sorry".

Trent grinned. The trio were following the alebrijes back to now re-track the Riveras and find the group again, with everything seeming settled.

"But you don't like it?", Kit asked, and guessed, "all the...messy side?", and he didn't sound criticizing, but still Trent ducked his head a bit and kicked at a spot of dirt as they walked.

"N-no Sir...but Uncle Grant does, you don't have to worry...I...", he glanced to Miguel, "Miguel and I...are gonna...start up a mariachi band. Music's my...trail blazing I guess", and he liked the sound of his comparison. He smiled up to his family's business founder, then it fell a bit as he met Kit's unreadable dead pan expression.

Kit's own softened a bit, and the cowboy sighed, "Boy I'm from another world, as I said, I...in my day, to say what you just said...making a living off a trumpet and a few guitars...there was folks what did it, of course, but...a troubadour weren't a compliment" he ended on explaining. "'Course neither was cowboy" he added.

Still, he could tell he'd put a boot heel to a pair of dreams a bit, or...Trent minded as both boys with him glanced down a bit. "But what do I know", he ended with trying to amend a bit. He place a strong hand to Trent's shoulder, trying to reassure and waited until the boy and his friend smiled.

***

Ernesto didn't really have a Plan C...

And he knew it, but he also knew he could not give up yet. Neither of those boys would probably be back after the new one had now learned his mistake. Even if he threatened either family...how would they know, and Ernesto was focusing on the Land of the Living for his fixed reputation. It mattered the most.

He also knew he wasted time going back to check his house. The Chihuahuas were locked in his bed room, the closet door broken and open, the kid gone, and some of his bottles got into!

Ernesto didn't even waste time clenching his fists in anger as he surveyed, he just glanced about stoically. Thinking.

The chihuahuas got a berating lecture about alebrije's One Purpose before Ernesto gave them one more shot. "There were other alebrijes in here I know; find them!", he pointed out the open front door and the chihuahuas whimpered and took off.