“Ignacio!” I cried.
“You can’t go back to see. It won’t be pleasant, anyway. Run. They won’t chase us if we get far enough away.”
I tried to stop, but he tugged harder.
“Why did you leave us?” I screamed.
“We would all be dead,” he told me. He paused and looked back. “I am sorry for your friend, but he got you out. I have enough to get us through. I will redeem my cowardice by saving your life.”
“No,” I said. “We must go back for Ignacio.”
“And throw away the chance he gave you? That would be a worse sin. It’s too late for him. Do you want to die out here? It’s a terrible death. You’ll get delirious. You’ll eat sand. The buzzards and the coyotes will pull your body apart, and no one will ever know you died.”
“Oh, Dios mío,” I cried, and started to sob.
“Don’t waste the water and salt in your body, Delia. The desert has no mercy. Come. We’ll find a safe, shady place to wait for nightfall. I think we can get to Sasabe after one night and part of the morning. Come,” he said, tugging me along.
I looked back as I went.
Ignacio, I thought. I was your hope, your angel, and I’m leaving you behind. I am the coward.
We walked so long in the rising heat that I felt my body softening, my throat parching until it felt as if it was made of sandpaper. It wasn’t until Pancho found a place under a jutting rock that he offered me some of his water.
“Drink slowly,” he said, and then he handed me some dried sardines to eat.
“What did they do to Ignacio?” I asked.
“There’s no way of telling, and it is of no value to think about it. Just think about getting across the border and home.”
“Are you going to come back this way?”
“Of course. I will be taking a group of pollos into America.”
“Will you stop to see about Ignacio? If you do, I’ll tell you where to send me word. Please,” I begged.
“I might not be going the same way.”
“But you said this way was your private way. You said it was the best and fastest way. You said…”
“Sleep now, and stop talking. It wastes too much strength,” he said, curled up in as much of the shadow as he could, and closed his eyes.
I sat staring out at the hot desert. It looked blurry in the noon sunlight, but I prayed that I would soon see Ignacio hurrying to catch up to us.
“If you don’t sleep,” I heard Pancho say, “you will not have the strength to walk all night, Delia. I cannot wait. I will have to leave you for the real coyotes.” His tone was very matter-of-fact. “Live or die,” he added. “It’s your choice to make. There is no mercy here.”
I tried to ignore what he said, but I was tired. We were supposed to be sleeping during the morning and the hot daylight hours. Our flight from the bandits cut that time short. I knew he was right. I would not have the strength to walk ten hours on this rough terrain.
Forgive me, Ignacio, I thought, as I looked in the direction from where we had come. Maybe you will see us here, I rationalized, and lowered myself to the dirt floor. At least it was cool.
Despite myself, in moments, I was asleep. I slept right into twilight and woke when I heard Pancho say, “Don’t move. Don’t move a muscle.”
I stared at him. He hovered over me, and then, with a quick sweep of his hand, he swept a scorpion off my upper arm and crushed it with his foot.
“I have had pollos get bitten, get too sick to walk, and have to be left behind.”
“Did they die?”
“Only the desert knows, and she does not tell,” he said. “Have some water.”