The helicopter lifted and Miguel watched it disappear into the night. He sagged against a rock and checked the wound in the trapezius muscle. A small hole was in the front, an inch above his collarbone, and a crater-shaped exit wound the size of a grape was on the back of the trapezius, but lower down because of the angle of the shot. Both wounds were swollen and the edges puckered outward like bruised lips.
They also leaked blood. A steady, throbbing ache ran from his shoulder to the nape of his neck and down through the shoulder-blade area. The headache pounded so strongly he could hear his heartbeat, like water squishing through a hose.
Miguel took off his mochila and rummaged through the few items to find a green, six-inch leaf of aloe vera. He took a sharp stone and split the leaf longwise so that both halves had slick pulp on them. He put a half on each wound, pulp side to the hole, then tore his one remaining shirt into strips and tied the aloe vera in place. It was awkward going, and the ache caused by moving was strong, but he felt the bandage would hold. Resting for a minute, Miguel thought about what he must do, and he wondered why the men wanted him dead. His head throbbed much too hard to think about any of it.
He pulled out the jar of water and drank the last of it, spitting out the grit and fibers after he sucked them dry of moisture. Miguel stood and slipped on the pack, grimacing as one canvas strap pulled on the wound, then he checked the stars for direction. He knew he had to reach Sam Kinney’s ranch by sunrise, or he would be dead. There was no sense in thinking more about it. Miguel crawled from the rocks and started walking.
***
Sam Kinney sat on the porch of the rambling old ranch house, drinking coffee and waiting for the sunrise. “You feeling all right this morning, Chula?” He said as he scratched the ears of his grey-muzzled Australian Cattle Dog and watched as the land around the ranch lightened to pewter, then began taking on subtle colors as the eastern horizon turned apricot.
Chula’s ears perked up and she stood, looking at something. Sam squinted into the pre-morning light and recognized Miguel immediately, and he knew the old Mexican was injured. Sam and Chula hurried out to meet him. Sam said, “Here, lean on me. Let’s get you to the house.”
He helped Miguel sit at the kitchen table and brought him a glass and a large pitcher of water. Miguel was so tired he couldn’t pick up the pitcher, so Sam poured the glass full.
Sam asked, “What happened? Did you fall?”
“They shot me.”
“Who?” The only people that Sam could think of at that moment was the Border Patrol, because they were always armed. “La Patrulla?”
“No. Men in a helicopter.”
“Why would they shoot you?”
“It is what I would like to know. I came as always, and never saw anyone. Except the man who fell from the sky.”
“What? Where was that?”
“About thirty miles back.”
“You crossed that way again? Jesus Christ, Miguel.” The old Mexican drank all the water in his glass and Sam refilled it. “What about this falling man?”
Miguel told him.
Sam said, “Let’s get you in the truck and take you in to the hospital.”
“No. Those men will find me if you do.”
“They won’t know where you are.”
“Please, amigo. No hospital.”
“Well, do you want me to call the Sheriff?”
“No. Will you tend to my wound, Sam? That will be enough.”
Sam brought his medicine kit and a .22 rifle cleaning kit to the table. He checked Miguel’s wound. “I could bring you some tequila and get you ready. I need to sew the front hole closed, but leave the back one open enough so I can put in a cloth shunt for draining.”
“What kind of tequila do you have?”
“You must be feeling better, even though you don’t look it. It’s Dulce Vida, a very good one.”
“Okay.”
Sam brought the tequila and two glasses.
The bottle was a third down when Miguel said, “I am ready.” As he and Miguel continued to sip the tequila, Sam cleaned and disinfected the wound. Miguel hissed when Sam used the aluminum .22 caliber cleaning rod to ease a white cotton patch dripping with hydrogen peroxide through the wound three separate times, then followed it with a final patch coated in Neosporin.