He offered me the jug. It was very warm, almost nauseating, but I knew I had to have it. He gave me some beef jerky and a piece of bread. We ate, dran
k some more water, and prepared to leave.
“Maybe Ignacio will catch up with us,” I muttered. “Or maybe he’s just ahead of us.”
Pancho started away.
“Stop thinking about Ignacio, and keep up with me,” he ordered. “We have to make the distance to our next rest stop before the sun begins to rise.”
We walked over rocky ground, through long patches of sand, down and up small gullies. Everything in my body ached, especially around the back of my neck. I kept praying he would stop to rest, but whenever he looked as if he was slowing down, he sped up. At one point, I was some distance behind him. I thought he would look back, see, and wait, but he never looked back. I knew if I tripped and fell or stopped to rest, he would just go on. He wasn’t just a guide through the desert; he was the desert, just as unmerciful, as hard and unforgiving. He must have been hatched out there, I thought. What had happened to that redemption he had sworn back at the cave? Was his conscience that short-lived?
It turned out to be my anger that kept me going more than anything. I would not permit him to leave me. I planned to get to someone when we reached Mexico, someone I could tell about Ignacio, someone who might go back to find him.
When Pancho finally stopped to rest, my feet were singing with the pain. I knew I had blisters in places I had never had a scratch or a blemish.
“Drink,” he told me, handing me another jug. I seized it as if it were gold and drank. “Slowly, slowly.”
He gave me some sardines and another piece of bread. I was still standing. I was afraid that if I sat or sprawled out on the ground, I would not be able to rise again.
“You’ve done much better than I thought you would,” he told me. “We will make it to Sasabe tomorrow night. Tell me where your village is.”
I did.
“You will need to take a bus to Mexico City and from there another bus or maybe two. Do you have any money?”
Ignacio had told me to put my dollars in my bra, but I was suddenly afraid to tell Pancho. What if he was asking so he could take it from me?
“I am not a bandit,” he said, when I hesitated. “I do not rob from my pollos. I make a very good living without being a thief. Do you know how many pollos I have brought across just this year alone?”
I was too tired to ask.
“Fifteen hundred,” he said. “Not all of them made it, but I was paid for each. My share. Never mind,” he said, when he saw that I wasn’t going to talk about my money. “We must go on.”
He started away. I closed my eyes, prayed, and started after him. About an hour later, he held up his hand for me to pause and be quiet. I could hear voices off to our left. I drew closer to him and waited.
“It’s all right,” he said after hearing more. “It’s a group heading across to the United States.”
“Maybe we can tell them about Ignacio. Please,” I begged.
“They can’t go out of their way. Listen. Don’t you hear the bebés pequeños? There are families crossing. If they make mistakes because you ask them to look, little children will die. Do you want that?”
“No, but…”
“Walk,” he said, and started ahead.
I listened to the voices. They seemed closer. For a moment, I debated running to them, but then I would lose Pancho for sure, and if I didn’t find them, I would be alone with nothing. I didn’t have the strength to walk all the way back to America, either, even if I did find them, and he had made it sound as if we were not that far from our destination. I hated myself for it, but I rushed after him and not after those who might have looked for Ignacio.
Hours later, Pancho said we were at the rest stop. It was another opening in a hill.
“What if more bandits come?”
“You want to sleep out here in the sun?”
He didn’t wait for my answer. We entered the smaller cave and settled down for another long day’s rest.
“This is the last of the water and food,” he said. “We must make it to Sasabe as soon as we can today after the sun goes down.”
He gave the water to me and more beef jerky. Then he broke the remaining bread in half, and I saw a roll of bills. Slowly, he unraveled them.