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Anda was frustrated at the pace, too often having to slow her speed. The two older women struggled and panted while climbing the thorn and rock covered slopes, and the oldest one stopped every five minutes, like now, to rest.
Anda stood beside her as the older woman sat on a boulder and took deep breaths. Anda asked, “How are you called?”
“Maria Isabella de…Rodriguez.”
“Maria, listen to me. I want you to leave everything here that has weight, that is slowing you.”
“What, you mean my clothes?”
“Whatever has weight.”
“I will not go naked.”
“You are carrying more than clothes. You can leave whatever it is, or I will leave you. The choice is yours.”
Maria nervously rubbed her hands together, “It is all I have. My husband gave it to me as he was dying. He said I could sell it in The North for much money.”
“Leave it.”
Maria sighed and stood up. She hiked her long skirt and took off a bulky girdle that had large pockets sown inside and out. There were ten wrapped packages in the pockets.
Anda said, “What do you carry?”
“Cocaine. Ten kilos,” she looked at Anda, “I have nothing else. No husband, no family, no home, no future. Not one centavo.”
Anda looked at the woman a long moment, then kneeled by the girdle and laid out her shawl. She placed the kilo bags in two groups of five, folded them up in the shawl and draped the shawl over her so the load rested half in front, half on her back. Anda took the ends of the shawl and tied the cocaine to her so it would ride against her body and not shift or sway. It left her center of balance in her body, making it easier to climb - or run. She turned to the other woman and asked, “Your name, how are you called?”
“Alicia Campos de Urritia.”
“Well, Alicia, do as much as you can to help Maria. And Maria,” Anda looked at the sitting woman glaring at her, “You keep up with us, or I leave you.”
“I see. That is what you want, uh? To make it easier to steal my cocaine. Then what, kill this poor one?” Maria pointed at Alicia.
Anda started u
p the mountain, “The choices are yours, stay or follow. But make up your minds. The Barbosas are coming.”
***
Jesse had his shirt wrapped around his head like a turban to keep the sun and wind off the burned spot. Man, he thought, it felt like a spear being stuck in there when the sun hit it. He was a little queasy, and he borrowed the tequila from Johnny every minute or so, taking long swigs, which seemed to help.
Johnny led them up the mountain shoulder, even once seeing the women, like three tiny specks much higher up. He took a swig as Jesse handed it back, then said, “I think we’ll catch ‘em by nightfall.”
“Damn bitches,” said Jesse, “Specially that little one. I’m gonna stake her to an anthill, peel her skin off slow with my knife.”
“We’re gonna make ‘em pay, I know that.”
“I’m gonna get that damn Bobby Mata, too, when we get back to town.”
“Yeah, stomp a mud hole in his ass.”
“Uh-huh, work him over good. Drag him around by that ponytail of his, have his neck all twisted up, an’ him beggin’ us to stop.”
“The woman that was with him, teach her a lesson, too.”
“Yeah, laughin’ at us like she was. Lookin’ down her nose. We’ll take our time with her, leave her somewhere so she can tell everybody that you don’t mess with the Barbosas.”
“Yeah,” Johnny stopped for a moment and tried to shade the scorched part of his face from the sun by holding his hand like a low salute above his half-eyebrow and red, swollen skin. “Damn! The sun hits my head, it feels like somebody hit me with a hatchet.” He took another drink, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and handed the canteen to Jesse.
