Fistful of Reefer

Fistful of Reefer: scene 47 & 48

Muddy, Nena and Chancho reached Brackettville after sunset. They paused on the edge of town to discuss their options one last time.

“We could head for Mexico.” Nena leaned forward in her saddle. “It would be possible to reach the border before sunrise.”

Muddy grunted. “Possible. But difficult. There are many eyes on the border.”

Chancho was too tired to think straight. The desert orchestra of crickets were hypnotic, causing him to sink deeper inside his exhaustion. As if Muddy could sense it, he continued, “Besides, we need to rest. What good will it do to step in a rabbit hole in the dark?”

Nena glowered. “We do not need to rest. Chancho needs to rest.”

The sound of his name snapped him out of his trance. “I’m sorry, mis amigos.” He took a deep breath. “But I do not want to go to Mexico. Not tonight, not tomorrow.”

Nena narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing him through the dim twilight. “Would you mind sharing why you do not want to go to Mexico?”

Chancho sighed. He had no good reason for not wanting to cross the border, yet he had several good reasons he shouldn’t. Trouble was, he hadn’t shared any of them with his closest friends. Without being any closer to understanding why the rinche was tracking them, the only thing for certain was he did not intend to give up easily. Chancho could not risk the loss of human life due to his concealing parts of the story. “I can’t go to Mexico.”

“I have not been honest with you, mis amigos.” Chancho rushed onward without looking Muddy or Nena in the eyes. “I am wanted by the Constitutional Government for destruction of property, theft and murder.” He fetched the gold coin from his pocket. Stretching from his saddle, he handed it to Muddy. “For robbing a very large amount from a very important train for Pancho Villa. Afterwards, when things were at their worst, I abandoned Villa.”

“Why would you be afraid to tell us this?”

Muddy shushed Nena, waiting for Chancho to continue.

“When I finally understood the truth behind war, I panicked. I didn’t want to remember the old Chancho anymore. I didn’t want you to know him either, so I tried to bury the past.” Cricket song throbbed, almost visible in the failing twilight. “And then, after the rinche, I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want to change what we have.”

“What would that be other than a lack of trust?” Nena quipped.

Muddy silenced her with a quick slash of his hand. “More importantly, what is it you still need to tell us?”

“I thought it would go away, that the rinche would stop looking for us. That we could keep everything the way it was.” Chancho rubbed the notch of his earlobe. Now that he spoke the words out loud they felt small and pathetic.

Nena opened her mouth to speak, but caught herself. Muddy remained a statue on Tripalo’s back.

Next Chancho told them about the cantina, about Primitivo, about leaving out the back door just before the shootout. He told them how he thought his problem had resolved itself until he found out about the dead ranger. Finally he concluded, “I honestly don’t know why the sheriff and the rinche chased me.”

Nena could no longer keep quiet. “Why was it easier to blame Muddy’s El Chupacabra?”

“Maybe I didn’t want it to be my fault.”

“You didn’t want to be alone.” Muddy spoke in a somber, even tone. “You feared if it was only you they were after that we would leave.”

“No.” Chancho shook his head.