Big Maria (20 page)

Sitting in the cell with little else to do, she thought of the good times. The picket-turned-riot down by Indian Wells over some forgotten land dispute. She broke two ribs there. It still felt worth it as she vividly remembered that rock hitting that pig’s face. The UFW strikes in the Imperial Valley when Chavez was at his best. It was a shame that nobody hit scabs with bats anymore. Then there was the sit-in to protest breaking ground for the new prison. That was the time the cop tried to fuck her in the back of the wagon but ended up with a ballpoint pen sticking in his left testicle. It went in like a meat thermometer into raw turkey. She almost started celebrating Thanksgiving to annually relive that stabbing, but as a Native American she just couldn’t do it.

B
ernardo and Ramón considered leaving their mother in jail. They discussed it. They even made one of those lists that had the pros on one side and the cons on the other. It was close. The cons actually won, but her being their mother and what she’d do when she eventually got out was like a triple pro. They decided to post bail but weren’t in any hurry to do so.

Less high, they were better prepared to find out what had happened to Papa Frank. Through a best-of-nineteen series of rock-paper-scissors, Ramón was chosen as the spokesman. He sheepishly walked to the nurses’ station, eyes at his feet.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said, just above a whisper. Women made him nervous, and pretty women even more. The nurse at the desk was a stunningly beautiful black woman.

“Take a number and a clipboard. Fill it out front and back. A doctor will see you as soon as possible,” the young nurse said without looking away from her computer screen.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he repeated.

The nurse made a show of it: huge exhale, slow head-turn, dark eyes staring at Ramón, an exhausted “Yes?”

“I do not know if you were here earlier. There was some trouble.”

“I wasn’t here, but I heard. I’m busy.”

“My mother lost her shit. That was my mother. She is in jail now. We are safe.”

The woman stared at him, communicating her complete disinterest.

“This is not about her, my mother. She scares me also. But about my grandfather.”

“Are you anywhere near the point? Or are we going to go through your whole family tree back to Hiawatha?”

“I do not think we are related. My grandfather was the reason for my mother’s explosion. I am not a good explainer. You, the hospital, lost my grandfather. He was here. Now he is not.”

She held her stare and then rolled her eyes. “His name?”

“Frank Pacheco.” Ramón spelled the last name.

The nurse typed into her computer. Her fingers moved so fast on the keyboard that Ramón was pretty sure she typed nonsense. Women always found ways to get rid of him.

“Mr. Pacheco? He never checked out.”

“Yes. He did not check out, but he is also not here.”

“Are you sure he’s not here?”

“Yes. That was the cause of the commotion,” Ramón said.

“Give me one second.” The nurse picked up the phone and punched in two numbers. She gave him the world’s fakest smile and turned away. Ramón looked back at Bernardo, who gave him an approving nod. When he turned back to the nurse, she had completed the call and was hanging up the phone.

The nurse said, “That was the nurse that works the morning desk. She remembered seeing Mr. Pacheco leave.”

“She let him leave?”

“Hospital checkouts are done through billing. She assumed he had taken care of everything. This is not a jail.”

“Where did he go?”

“How should I know? Molly said he left with a fat guy in a leg cast and a bodybuilder-type guy with a weird arm. I don’t know what that means—a weird arm? Said they made a memorable, funky trio.”

“Thank you for your help.”

She shrugged.

“You are very beautiful. I love you,” Ramón awkwardly yelled and sprinted out the door before she could react.

B
ail was set at one thousand dollars. Bernardo and Ramón dumped a pile of crumpled bills on the counter and let the policeman count it. After five minutes of cursing and flattening bills, they were fourteen dollars short. Ramón dropped to the floor, took off his boot, and dug inside. He threw a damp emergency twenty on top of the pile.

The cop took the money and had Bernardo sign some paperwork. He gave him a carbon copy receipt. “You’ll need to bring that to the hearing.”

“You owe six dollars,” Bernardo said.

“What?”

“You needed fourteen more dollars. We added twenty dollars. You owe six dollars.”

The policeman paused for a moment and then smiled. “You’re absolutely right.” He took a five and a one out of the stack of cash. He pointed behind them to the four folding chairs that pretended to be a waiting room. “It’ll take about an hour to process the prisoner out. There used to be magazines, but people stole them.”

Bernardo and Ramón sat down. Waiting was something they were good at.

I
t was a bigger boat than the one they had used for the dive. Ricky took Harry’s word when he said it was a pontoon boat. Sounded right to him, but he didn’t know anything about boats. Ricky wished he knew more things. He didn’t think he was stupid. He knew enough of whatever he was doing to get that thing done, but knowing more would be better.

Frank watched Harry and Ricky load the equipment and provisions. His energy and color were better after his nap, but he decided not to push it.

Harry laid it out. “Okay, Ricky. Here’s how we do it. You’re going to take the boat downriver. We’re going to meet you just past Martinez Lake. Frank and I got to pick up the burros.”

“I ain’t never drove a boat,” Ricky said.

“Just like a car,” Harry said, then remembered Ricky’s thing about driving. “Forget that. Nothing like a car. You’ll love it. You and the river. Like Huck Finn.”

“Never saw that movie.”

“It’s a...never mind. Easiest thing in the world. Left, right. Fast, slow. Follow the flow of the water.”

“Where do I take it?”

“That’s the spirit.” Harry set the last of the beer into the boat. He found his backpack and pulled out a map.

“T
hey built a moat,” Frank said. “A goddamn moat.”

Frank and Harry stood in front of Harry’s car, hands on their hips, staring at Bernardo and Ramón’s new fortification. The moat was six feet wide and ran around the property without
a break. Brown water filled the seemingly bottomless construction, a hose feeding a continual stream of water into the makeshift lagoon. The air was thick with mosquitoes and smelled like a septic tank.

“Didn’t think they would finish it so fast,” Harry said. He kicked a rock into the water. It disappeared in the murk. “Them two braves need to find a couple of squaws.”

He walked to his car, leaned into the open window, and honked the horn for the third time.

“I don’t think no one’s home,” Harry said.

“Where’s the damn drawbridge?” Frank said.

Harry kneeled and examined the ground. “There’s tire tracks going to the edge. Look here. The tracks keep going on the other side. Maybe put boards down and drove on them.”

“I’ll check this side,” Frank said, walking to the edge of the dirt road and scanning the scrub. He kicked at the brush.

Harry searched his side of the road. He yelled back to Frank over his shoulder. “The Gophers going to be pissed we did this without asking? Without them here?”

“Nothing we can do about that. Don’t know why they got them burros anyhow. Never let them out. They like feeding them carrots and apples. But other than that, they don’t use them for nothing.”

“People get attached to their pets.”

“I’ll leave a note. So they don’t think they got stole.”

Harry waved Frank over. “Found ’em. There’re a couple of thick boards. Under some palm fronds. Look heavy as hell.”

“I love my grandsons, but they’re children.”

The two men dragged one of the thick boards to the edge of the moat. Their first effort to slide it to the other side failed miserably. As the board extended farther, they couldn’t handle the weight and the end dropped into the water.

Draining most of their effort, they pulled it back and tried it again. Only faster.

The same result. Only faster. The farther they pushed it out, the heavier it got, and eventually it fell in the water.

“What the hell?” Harry said.

“Maybe one of us has to get in the water. Walk it over.”

“Not happening. They were talking about putting glass and booby traps and poo down there.”

Frank and Harry leaned their butts on the hood of the car and stared at the moat and boards like they were parts of an ancient riddle. Solve the mystic puzzle and the hidden treasure would be yours.

“It’s something simple. Those boys ain’t Einsteins,” Frank said, pushing himself off the hood of the car. “Come over here. Stand the board on its end.”

Harry walked up one of the boards, lifting it until it stood straight in the air. He braced his body against it to keep it from tipping.

“Let it drop. It’s long enough. It’ll land on the other side.”

Harry let go, giving it a soft push in the right direction. The other end of the board landed on the opposite bank of the moat. It bounced but settled, spanning the water. Harry pushed the end of the board until it was straight.

“Nice think-job. Let’s get the other one and get this done,” Harry said.

F
rank leaned in the window of the car. Harry gripped the steering wheel and stared at the moat and the two boards.

Harry said, “I’m not feeling good about this. They couldn’t’ve invested in some wider boards? No wiggle room. I go in the water, I’m going to freak out. The smell is bad enough.”

“You’re not going in the water. You told me yourself. This gold is your destiny or fate or whatever the hell. This is another test to see if you turn back, but we’re only going forward. So quit your menstruating and pull the tampon out. I’ll guide you across.”

Frank walked across one of the boards to the other side. He gestured for Harry to drive forward.

Harry hit the gas lightly. Frank waved, a little to the left. Harry made the adjustment. Frank gestured forward. The front tires hit the boards. Harry’s balls retracted into his body. Frank kept waving him forward. The old man crouched low, hands on knees, looking at the back tires. Harry’s car crawled forward.

When the back tires climbed onto the board, he felt the dip of the wood. Inching over the moat, Harry glanced down at the water. He could just make out the sharpened sticks through the swampy water. He could taste the thick stench in his mouth.

After what seemed like forever, Harry felt the back tires drop off the board. He was across. He took a deep breath, having forgotten to breathe on the short drive.

“What’d I tell you?” Frank gave Harry a light punch in the arm through the open window.

“It’s going to be a hell of a lot trickier with a horse trailer hitched to the back.”

“We’ll cross that moat when we get to it,” Frank said, walking toward the main house.

C
ooker heard the car engine. And then voices. And then footsteps. It didn’t sound like the Indians. Had someone come to rescue him? He had been in the room for days with the three dogs. Cooker was starting to wonder if the big Indians had abandoned him now that the work on their moat was complete.

They had worked him like a Mexican. Fourteen-hour days. His hands and feet were blistered and his skin cracked from the sun. He never wanted to see another shovel, taco, or dog again.

The door swung open and an old man walked in. The dogs turned but didn’t get up. Cooker spoke through the dry gravel in his throat. “Be careful. These dogs are fucking vicious. One of them bit my leg just because. You got a gun? You may need to shoot them to get me out of here.”

The old man ignored him. One of the dogs ambled over to the old man. Frank petted its head and said, “Good boy, Tuco.”

“Fuck,” Cooker said. “I’m still fucked, aren’t I?”

Frank turned to him. “You’re lucky, son. Burying you in the desert would’ve been easier.”

“Go to hell, old man.”

“On my way. Tell the boys I took their two burros and horse trailer. Bring them back in a week, give or take. You got that?”

“I’m not your message boy. Why should I help you?”

Frank leaned down and whispered something into Tuco’s dog ear. Tuco turned to Cooker, a growl rising from deep within.

Cooker’s leg started shaking without his say-so.

“Will you please deliver my message?” Frank asked calmly.

“You’re taking their burros. Be like a week or so. Got it.”

Frank took a key off a hook and walked out. The dogs turned their attention back to Cooker. Tuco lifted his leg and pissed on the corner of Cooker’s mattress.

R
icky turned off the engine and let the boat coast. The current was slow where the Colorado River widened to lake width. It was a beautiful day and with the engine off, the only sound was the lapping of water against the side of the boat. Ricky closed his eyes and felt the heat of the sun on his face. Peace. Quiet. Nothingness.

He was tempted to forget the gold. Forget everything and take the boat south to Mexico and the Gulf of California and right out to the wide-open Pacific. The idea sounded nice at first, pure escape. But the more he thought about it, the less he wanted isolation. He’d had his share. His life was empty without Flavia and Rosie. He was on the road back to his family, even if it was a crazy, winding road.

Ricky opened his eyes and focused on the river. According to the GPS unit, his destination was ten miles away. He turned the engine back on and guided the craft forward, edging closer to the west bank.

M
ercedes said nothing in the police station. She didn’t say a word on the walk to the truck or the drive through town. Her silence made Bernardo and Ramón increasingly uncomfortable. They knew it wouldn’t last. It would turn into something wrong. Just because you couldn’t hear the ticking didn’t mean the bomb wouldn’t explode.

It wasn’t until they were on the road to Poston that she finally spoke. Sitting between her two sons, Mercedes’s voice was even
but strained. “Thank you for bailing out your mother. I will return the money.”