~
I was dreaming Mr. Sexy was nuzzling my neck. A little kiss on the back of the ear, another on the curve of my jaw, and—wait, he was licking my face. That wasn’t right. I opened my eyes and was staring face-to-face at beady black eyes surrounded by white-and-black fur. The animal was standing on my chest. At first I thought, What a cute cat, and then I suddenly remembered where I was sleeping. The fire had gone down, and I could see my cute cat well in the afterglow. I let out a blood-curdling scream, which made Gertie jump up, grab the gun, and start shooting in all directions. The skunk turned, stuck its butt in the air, and ran, promptly spraying everything in its path.
“It’s a skunk, it’s a skunk,” I yelled out, covering my head like that would protect me from the bullets. “Gertie, stop shooting!”
Gertie stopped and looked around. The animal was long gone, but we smelled like skunk spew.
“What’s that smell?” she asked.
“I imagine it’s that huge skunk you shot at, along with every tree and bush within a mile, not including me!”
“I hate skunks. The smell takes forever to go away.”
“You mean ‘forever’ like a couple of hours or forever like ever and ever?”
“When Mamma Bea’s poodle got sprayed, it took two weeks.”
My eyes started to tear up. “Two weeks?” I stomped around, flapping my arms in despair. “I have to go to work on Monday. I can’t work smelling like skunk.”
“Well, we could always get some tomato juice. It takes the smell out, a little.”
I was wondering when tomato juice was invented. I was pretty sure we were not going to walk into town for a glass of V8. “How far was the town?”
“A few miles, I think.” Just as we were contemplating the long walk, I heard a sound like a horse coming through the trees. Good, the boys are back, or so I thought. A big black horse came slowly down the path. The rider looked Mexican. He had a vest made of bullets that crossed in front of his shirt. He wore a big round hat and held a shotgun aimed at my chest.
“Hola, senoritas, what are you doing out here shooting a gun all by your lonesome?” he asked with a thick accent.
I looked for the gun. Gertie had thrown it down after the skunk sprayed. It lay out of reach next to her bedroll.
“We were, um, l-l-l-lost,” I stuttered. “We made camp until morning so we could find our way.” I looked at Gertie, then eyeballed the gun.
Gertie made a slow move toward the edge of her bedroll.
“Don’t even think about it, chiquita,” the man said. “I doubt you could hit me, but I am not going to let you try tonight.” He moved closer on his horse. I thought maybe a little friendly small talk might make him put down his gun.
“So, what brings you here to the, um, woods?” I asked.
Gertie rolled her eyes and whispered, “What are you trying to do, ask him out?”
I gave her a helpless shrug.
“I am on a mission for my people,” he replied.
I heard more hoofbeats in the distance, and I knew we were about to be rescued. My hopes were deflated as more Mexican men on horseback came into view.
One of the men came up beside the first, gun drawn, of course, and said something in Spanish. They had a short conversation, keeping their guns on us. The second man shook his head as if in disagreement and rode his horse over to me. He had on a vest of bullets that crossed in the front, like the first man, and a big sombrero. One of his eyes wandered off in a different direction, so I couldn’t tell if he was really looking at me.
“Ayayayay,” he said and held his nose, “mofeta.”
“Looks like the senoritas will be walking,” said the first man.
“I don’t think I can walk very far in these grandma shoes,” Gertie said.
He cocked his rifle. Gertie and I both moved closer to each other.
“Wow, he looks just like Pancho Villa,” Gertie said when she was near me.
“So you have heard of me?” the man said, sitting up straight on his mount.
Holy crap! Gertie and I looked at each other.
“Yes,” she said, “hasn’t everyone heard of the great revolutionary leader Pancho Villa?”
“Are you a friend of my cause?” he asked.
“My dad’s cousin Jorge was a Mexican. He said Texas should be given back to the Mexicans because they had it in the first place. I think they are already on the takeover because there are so many of them moving in.”
This caused the Pancho man to scratch his head, then he told the man on the horse next to him something in Spanish, and he rode over to me. He held his hand out and said, “Up!”
I shook my head back and forth. “No.”
The man cocked his gun. I understood, and so I climbed up behind him, hoping an escape route would present itself later.
“You will ride with Paco,” Mr. Villa explained. “I would not try to escape; Paco has not been with a woman in a very long time. Please do not give him a reason to end his abstinence.”
The hair on my arms stood at attention.
Another man got off his horse and picked up our gun. He gave it a look and said something in Spanish to the other men. Everyone laughed except Gertie and me. He put the gun in his pack and kicked dirt on our fire. He pointed at Gertie to get on the horse. Then he made a sour face and held his nose. More laughter. He and Gert mounted his horse and proceeded on down the path.
Villa led the way. My ride was second, followed by Gertie, and all the remaining bad guys followed after us. I had a feeling this was not part of Caiyan’s plan.
After what felt like an hour, but was really only about twenty minutes, my ass was getting numb. I started to wiggle a little to wake it up, and the guy in front of me said, “Si, senorita,” then made a sound like “mmm, good.” Oh, gross! Maybe some other time, buster. I sat very still for the rest of the trip.
The sun was illuminating the horizon, and I wondered if Caiyan and Brodie had discovered we were missing. My surroundings were coming to life as a small gray squirrel skirted in front of our path, barely missed the trotting hooves of my horse. The hills around us were beautiful colors of orange and green mixed in with large boulders that seemed to pop up from the ground.
We rode through a heavy patch of cypress trees and crossed a small brook. The horses stopped for a drink, and we were allowed to get off and stretch our legs. Gertie had to pee, but unfortunately we’d left out toilet paper back at the camp. We asked Mr. Villa if he had any, but he laughed and said to use nature. Did poison ivy have three or four leaves? I knew I should have paid attention in Mrs. Dunham’s biology class, but Jake and I always sat at the back and wrote notes to each other. Damn. I missed Jake, even if he did do the nasty with a girl named Bambi.