This? Mondragón said.
He turned to her and cupped her breasts in his hands and kissed her. Then they were lying naked on the beach, red in the glow of the sunrise or sunset or flames. And I woke with a start.
The desert was on fire with a red dawn. Rainy and Mondragón were in the front seat, talking quietly. I lay for a moment, listening.
“Those of us with dual citizenship, we hope our daughters marry American men, because they’re not so macho and won’t hit our daughters. Our sons, we hope, will marry Mexican girls, because they know how to be good wives.”
“And Consuela, is she a good wife?”
“She is an obedient wife.”
“Do you love her?”
“We have a life together. But I have loved, truly loved, only one woman, querida.”
They were both quiet. I heard the grating caw of a crow in the still of the morning air outside. Then Rainy said, “There’s plenty of light now. We should go.”
I sat up slowly. Both my cut cheek and the cigarette burn on my chest felt on fire. My ribs were tender where I’d been punched. I pulled up my rattlesnake T-shirt.
Rainy turned in the front seat. “Oh, Cork. It looks awful.”
“I’ve hurt worse.” Which even to me sounded way too macho.
“If we were on Crow Point, I’d put together a poultice for that bruise.”
“I’ll take some more ibuprofen.”
I swallowed four tablets and followed them with a lot of water from one of the gallon jugs in back.
“If you’re through with your patient, we should be going,” Mondragón said. “Here.” He handed a GPS device to Rainy. “Cell phone reception out here is pretty iffy. I’ve keyed in the coordinates for the Lulabelle. Should take us right to Peter.”
In a short time, the sun was above the horizon, and for a while we drove with it glaring in our eyes. When we entered the shadow of the Santa Margaritas, Mondragón turned south, following the foothills along the western face of the range. The jeep trail was barely a trail at all, and he took it slow.
After forty minutes, Rainy said, “We’re close.” She pointed toward the mountains. “Up there.”
Mondragón braked to a stop and said, “Let’s take another look at that map.”
We stepped from the SUV. The air hadn’t cooled much in the night, and as the sun climbed, I could feel the day heating up, the blast furnace of the desert being stoked. I unrolled the map and laid it on the vehicle’s hood. I studied the contours, then the mountains themselves. I’ve spent a lifetime in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, reading maps of all kinds, including contour maps, but the shadow of the mountains and the distance and the twisting terrain here made it difficult to locate the fold high up where Jocko and I had seen the mirror flash. The one thing I could tell absolutely was that it was going to be a rugged climb.
“Where is it?” Mondragón said with impatience.
I shrugged. “Hard to say.”
“Un momento.”
He opened the back of the SUV, lifted the panel where he’d hidden the rifles, rummaged for a moment, and returned with field glasses and a satellite phone. He gave me the field glasses, and I studied the mountains.
“There,” I said and pointed. “Beneath the big outcrop that looks like a buffalo head.”
Mondragón took the glasses. He eyed the place, nodded to himself, then handed the glasses to Rainy. He walked away from us, far enough that we couldn’t hear, and made a call on the sat phone.
When he returned, Rainy said something to him in Spanish. He answered tersely, and I could tell that she wasn’t happy with whatever he’d said. But she accepted it.
Mondragón studied the mountains. “I can’t get the SUV up there. We walk from here. Let’s get our things.”
He opened the rear door again and lifted the panel. I stood beside him this time and saw that beneath the panel lay a small arsenal of rifles and handguns.
“What’s that Winchester of yours?” he asked.
“A thirty-thirty.”
He handed me a box of cartridges, pulled out his Weatherby and then another rifle, a fine looking Mauser with a scope, and held it out to Rainy.
“No,” she said.
“It might save Peter’s life, querida.”
“I won’t exchange another life for Peter’s.”
“You’ve killed for our children before.”
“I’m not taking the rifle, Berto. I’ll carry water instead. And the first aid supplies.”
He gave her that hard look, which, I’m sure, wilted the backbone of those who served him, but Rainy stood firm. Mondragón shook his head slowly. He put the Mauser back and produced a backpack, which he handed to Rainy. She loaded it with the water jugs and the supplies we’d purchased at the truck stop. Mondragón added the sat phone. The pack was heavy, and I offered to carry it.
“The shape you’re in, O’Connor, you’ll be lucky to make the climb at all,” Mondragón said.
Rainy said, “I’ll be fine, Cork.”
Mondragón put the compartment cover back in place and locked the SUV. Rainy shouldered the pack, and we began our walk into the desolate hills toward the Lulabelle.
Mondragón took the lead. There was no trail. We wove our way among the cacti and scrub desert growth. The slope steepened. We began to slip on the loose rock and had to go more slowly. The ribs on my left side were throbbing. I could hear Rainy breathing hard above me, occasionally gasping as she made her way over difficult rock outcroppings.
“A rest,” I finally called to Mondragón, who was getting ahead of us.
He paused and waited. We caught up and sat.
I could see the desert spread out below, stretching toward another hump of mountains to the west. The ground between the ranges rolled gently. The soil that covered it was yellow, and against that backdrop, the succulents—chollo, yucca, saguaro, pincushion, and God knows what else—and the mesquite and occasional acacia trees were a rich and striking green. I saw, maybe for the first time, that this land, in its way, was not unlike the Northwoods of Minnesota. What grew in Tamarack County was exactly what should be growing there, the kind of life that could thrive in that soil and that climate. The desert was a forest of a kind, a community of life perfectly suited to its home. I’d viewed it as alien, but that was only because I didn’t understand it. There was danger here, but hell, people got lost and died in the Northwoods, and I still cherished the place. I thought I could understand how someone who knew the desert could love it deeply despite the dangers and the difficulties.
“They come looking for sanctuary,” Rainy said. “And this is what greets them.”
“Unforgiving,” Mondragón said. “Deadly if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Peter knows what he’s doing,” Rainy said.
“We’ll soon see. We need to be going.”
Mondragón stood and began again to lead the difficult climb.