The Maldonado Miracle Read Free Page B

born.
    To the northeast, the Sierra de Juárez towered. Directly opposite Colnett was a smaller range, the Sierra San Pedro Mártir. To the south and east, above San Quintín, was the snow-topped Cerro de la Encantada range—the enchanted mountains. His mother had once said, "This is the good land of the sleeping giants. You must paint it someday."
    Jose noticed again how very beautiful it all was. Harsh, rugged and silent, but very beautiful.
    He reached down, dug his fingers into Sanchez's coarse hairs and said softly, "I want to go very badly, but I will miss this and you."
    He rose when he heard Enrique kill the outboard and went down to the beach.
    In silence Enrique and Jose climbed the short but steep, loose-dirt bank. Jose always marveled that Enrique could climb it so easily with the outboard motor on his back. His legs were powerful, the calves bulging with muscle. His shoulders were wide.
    As he was lowering the oily old two-cylinder engine to the steps, Enrique said, "If I didn't hate cities so much, I'd go with you. But I would not last up there a week My nose would rot or I would get into mischief." He laughed, taking the sopping burlap bag of gutted fish from Jose.
    "I wish you were coming along," Jose said.
    Enrique held up a hand in protest. "I'll get a beer, Jose, and we'll talk. All day, I've tried to think of things to have you tell Maldonado, but there's nothing to tell him except that the fishing is good, the clams are fat, and the game warden is still stupid."
    Enrique stalked into the dark hut, which smelled of sweat and gas and fried fish.
    "Gutierrez came," Jose said.
    "Ah," Enrique said disgustedly, tossing the bag into a corner. "All those men are thieves. The ones who make the arrangements are called 'coyotes.' That's true. Gutierrez will be your coyote. He is also called a 'mule' because he is a driver, too. Down here, we call them 'chicken men.'"
    A pollero,
Jose thought. But he said, "He is a nice man."
    "You hope." Enrique reached over to his battered table for a beer. "But I suppose Maldonado has talked to him. You tell him for me that if anything goes wrong, I'll cut his ears off."
    Jose laughed, thinking it was good to have a friend like Enrique.
    The fisherman popped the cap on the table edge, took a foaming drink of the warm beer and strode out the door. "I mean it," he said.
    Outside, they stood in the coolness on the south side of the shack, shielded from the wind. Enrique asked, "Is there anything else I can do?"
    Jose shook his head. "Just take good care of Sanchez, as you promised." He looked over at the drowsing dog. His father had said Sanchez was probably the ugliest dog on earth. He was surely the smelliest. He was a mixture of twenty breeds.
    "I'll do that," said Enrique seriously. "But he better learn to like fish more than he does now. Else he'll get skinny here."
    Enrique's face was weathered from the blinding summer's sun and the winter winds that managed to dodge around Colnett. Jose had noticed that he seldom frowned. The wrinkles were put there by salt and sun. Keeping his eyes on the dog, Enrique said, "I won't even look when I go past the adobe now."
    Jose knew he couldn't stay here much longer. It was too difficult. He stuck his hand out, but Enrique enclosed him in a fish-scaled bear hug and pounded his back.
    "Go away," he said gruffly.
    Jose went over to Sanchez. The dog came erect, eyes tense. He'd been nervous the past two weeks while the adobe was stripped and the animals sold off.
    "You stay with Enrique and Lick until I come back, Sanchez. All right?"
    The dog whimpered.
    "Stay," Jose said.
    Enrique, his head down, stepped over to grab the dog's scruff.
    "Stay, I said," Jose repeated.
    "You go on, Jose," Enrique snapped.
    Jose whirled around and began walking up the road toward the adobe, setting his teeth tight now, swearing he would not look back He heard low moans behind him; then a curse.
    Jose stopped, knowing what had happened. Enrique was