The truck slowed down before it came to a stop in front of the gate. Pancho cut the engine. We sat in silence, listening and watching the buildings at the end of the driveway. Just as I was about to say something, Pancho looked at me, reached under his seat, and drew a large silver pistola.
Waving it above my lap, he said, “Stay here. If someone approaches… handle it.”
“What do you mean, handle it?”
He gestured again. The pistola wagged over my lap like the tail of a chihuahua.
I reluctantly gripped the pistola, never taking my eyes off it.
“I mean, you will know what to do.”
I will know what to do?
It was heavier than it looked but balanced perfectly in my hand.
Pancho looked at Claudia. “Claudia, vámonos.”
Both doors opened. Claudia and Pancho quietly got out and walked to the gate. Pancho worked the latch until it opened.
“I’m not going to wait in the truck,” I said to myself as I slid out, watching the dust trace their footsteps down the driveway.
Okay, I have a pistola but no sombrero. Think. How is this getting you any closer to Santa Cruz, Pip?
Before I had time to answer my own question, I heard another truck approaching and tightened my grip on the pistola.
As the truck crept to a stop, I looked at the driver and immediately recognized him.
It was Carlos.
He stepped out of the truck with a suspicious grin. “Hola, Pip. What are you doing here and why are you carrying a pistola, amigo? Is everything okay?”
We stood eye to eye.
“Pancho told me to wait here. I see you have one too. Hey, how about some target practice?”
Carlos’s suspicious grin turned genuine. “Do you even know how to use that thing?”
Without hesitating, I raised the gun and took aim at a cactus.
Direct hit.
“Haha, not bad, amigo. Here, let me show you.”
Carlos fired off six shots and cut the cactus perfectly in half.
The suspicious grin returned, more suspicion than grin this time.
“Now tell me, what are you doing here?”
There was no longer any trace of a grin.
“Well, you see…”
We heard boots scuffing along the driveway and turned.