Part Seven - Pietro and Valencia

Click to go to part one of the story. "Run?  We can't run.  Where would we run to?  Valencia that's just crazy talk.   No, I will figure this out."  Pietro's head lowered to his chest.  Tears ran freely down his cheeks.  He felt helpless and confused and terribly afraid of what would happen to him and his Valencia.
Valencia looked up at Pietro.  She brushed his tears away with her hand.  Pietro looked into her beautiful face.  He saw love and understanding in her eyes.  He wished he had never met her.  At least then she would not be in danger.  Pietro knew that the coyote would not hesitate to take his revenge on Valencia.  Maybe she was right.  Maybe they would have to run.  He had nine hundred dollars and his truck.  Thoughts swirled in his head, but no answers came.
"Pietro.  Pietro, listen to me.  I know this is bad.  The coyote will hurt us both if he catches us.  We can't stay here.  And neither of us can go home.  We must leave.  NOW!  We can go to my cousins house.  She lives in the mountains about 30 miles west of here.  I don't think the coyote will find us there, but we will have to be very careful."  Valencia moved away from Pietro and began to pace around the truck.  Pietro watched her and his heart swelled with love and longing for this woman who was willing to give up her family, friends, everything for him.
"Get in the truck Valencia.  We have no more time to think, we must go."
Valencia climbed into the old truck.  Pietro started the engine and looked at the fuel gauge.  The new owner of the truck must have filled the tank.  The first piece of good luck.  Pietro headed the truck west, the least used road out of their little village.  He drove fast, but carefully, he didn't know how the truck would handle the bumpy dirt road and they needed the truck.
Neither Pietro or Valencia talked for a little while.  Both thinking what this would mean in their young lives, how much would change.
After a little while,, Valencia told Pietro he would have to turn off the road soon,  her cousin lived in the mountains on a road that was little used by anyone but her cousin.  There, she said pointing to a grouping of scrubby trees.  The turnoff is just past those trees.  Pietro turned onto the road, more of a rutted dirt track.  He had to slow the truck to almost a crawl.  Dust rose behind them.  He slowed more, until there was no more dust.  It seemed forever until they came to a small clearing with a small house made of old boards and pieces of tin that looked like they were scavenged from a dump.  Pietro didn't care, he was just glad they had finally reached the place.
Valencia put her hand on Pietro's arm.
"It will be okay, Pietro, my cousin will help us.  She is very wise."  Pietro stopped the truck, Valencia reached for the door handle and stepped outside.  She waited for Pietro to join her and they walked together towards the house.  They hadn't gotten very far when a raspy voice called out to them.
"I have a gun and I will use it.  Get back in your truck and get the hell out of here.  This is my property and no one is welcome here."
The young couple stopped.  Valencia looked up at Pietro, then at the house.
"Estrella, it is me, Valencia, your cousin.  Remember?   This is my friend, Pietro, we need your help."  For a few minutes there was only silence.  Then slowly, a suntanned leathery skinned woman stepped out of the shadows of the porch, a rifle in her arms.
"Valencia.  Of course I remember you.  Your family has been so good to me and who could forget such a pretty face.  You and your friend may come in."  The woman waited for them and as they got closer, she stared hard a Valencia and her young man.  Then she turned and walked into the house.  Pietro and Valencia followed her and soon they were seated at a rough table in the middle of a small room.  Pietro looked around.  It was a poor place, but clean.  He looked at Estrella.  She looked hard and old, but Pietro didn't think she was much older than Valencia.
Estrella put the gun down on the floor.
"Someone is chasing you, aren't they?"  she asked.  "I am glad you came here.  I will help you.  I know these mountains better than anyone."
Pietro asked, "better than the coyote?"
Estrella seemed to draw into herself.
"What is your name, young man? And why is the coyote after you?"
Valencia and Pietro talked about the past few days, Valencia even told Estrella that she might be pregnant.  They left nothing out.  When they were done both felt relieved, like they had handed their problems to someone else.   It was partially true, Estrella was very wise.  She had lived in the mountains with her Father most of her life.  Her Mother, Valencia's Aunt, had died in childbirth when Estrellas' younger brother was born.  Her Father was so crushed he could not handle life, so he took his daughter and baby boy and disappeared into the mountains.  No one knew how he had managed to raise the two young children.  And no one had even known where they were until Estrella's Father had brought her and her brother into the village and to the priest when Estrella was 12, her brother 9.  The years had not been good to him and he knew he was sick and near death.  He had brought his children to the priest in hopes that the church would care for them.  He had not shared his plans with his children.  Estrella would have been horrified.
When they were inside the darkened church they found the priest kneeling in the front pew.  He turned and looked at the man and the two young children.  He saw the dispair in Estrella's Fathers' face.
"How can I help you?"  He asked.
Estrella's Father told his children to sit in the pew and wait for him.  He motioned to the priest to move away from them.  When they were far enough that he didn't think they could be heard he told the priest that he was dying and that he had no one to care for his children.  He did not feel he could burden his dead wifes' sister.  The priest nodded.  This was a common story in the village, death was nearer here than in the cities.
"There is a school that your son could go to", the priest said.  "He would be taught to love God and learn how to serve him.  If it is his calling he could become a man of God.  Would that be acceptable?"
Estrellas Father nodded.  His son was a quiet boy.  This might be very good for him.  But what about his daughter?  Did the priest have a place for her?
The priest didn't but he would not tell that to this poor and tired man.  "Yes.  I am in need of a housekeeper here.  If your daughter is willing she could live here and would even get a small wage.  It is not much, but she would not starve and she would get to meet many people."
Estrella's Father turned and looked at his daughter.  She looked small and vulnerable, but he knew she was not.  She was strong and proud and capable.  She could do this.  If she would.  He told the priest he would speak with his children.
Estrella had watched her Father and the priest talking.  She knew they were talking about her and her brother.  She didn't understand why, although she suspected her Father was very ill, she had seen him throwing up in the bushes behind the house and had seen him wipe away the blood from his mouth.  But she had not let herself think about what that meant.
When her Father and the priest finished talking and walked towards them, Estrella noticed that her Father seemed to have shrunk.  His shoulders were slumped and his back curved.  His face was grayer than she had ever seen it.  She stood up in fear.
Estrella's Father told his children what he and the priest had talked about.  He also told them that he was dying.  His son cried and hugged his fathers legs, kneeling on the wood floor, unable to accept what he had been told.  Estrella did not cry.  She was angry.  Not only had her Father not told her how ill he was, but now he had made decisions for her that she would hate.  Estrella opened her mouth to tell her Father how she felt, but stopped herself.  It would do her Father no good to hear her fears.  She would deal with the situation later.
The priest led them all to the small rooms that he lived in behind the church.  He fed them soup and bread and explained in detail the school for Estrellas' brother and what would be expected of Estrella.  Her brother cried but he agreed to go to the school.  He loved God and felt a closeness to him that was unusual for someone so young.  Estrella was quiet.  Her Father began coughing again, this time he did not have time to go outside and the blood, with it's smell of iron,  spilled down his chin and onto his shirt.  He tried to wipe it away with a rag from his pocket, but it was too late, they had all seen.  The priest put him to bed in the small room that eventually would be Estrellas'.  Estrella and her brother slept in the front room on blankets on the floor.
Estrellas' Father died four days later.  The priest left Estrella at the house while he took her brother to the school.  He told her he would be gone overnight and gave her instructions about what she was to do while he was gone.  He was not unkind, but Estrella could hardly wait until he left to leave herself.  She would not stay and keep his house, she was going back to the only place that was home to her, the mountains.  She took some cheese and bread and a jug of water and began the long trek home.  It took her all day and late into the night before she reached the house.
No one came to look for her.
She managed to care for the small garden and the goat that wandered around the yard.  She hunted, thankful that her Father had taught her how to use the rifle that hung over the fireplace.  She saw no one for over two years, when she had no more bullets for the gun and decided she would have to go into the village.  Her clothes did not fit properly, but she was clean.  She took the money that her Father had kept in a tin can behind a stone in the fireplace.  She had watched him put it there and wondered why he had not taken it with him when they left to see the priest.  She wondered if somehow he knew that she would come back here.
She picked the very best of her vegetables and gathered the few clothes that her Father had left.  She would sell the food and clothing.  She would buy more bullets and maybe some cloth to make herself more clothing.  The walk into town was not hard on her, she was very fit.  When she had sold her vegetables at the market and her fathers old clothes, she had gone into the tienda.  She bought bullets and a partial bolt of a blue fabric, some candles, and a new pair of boots.  Her mouth drooled at the candy and she decided there was enough money left for a small treat.  While she was picking out the candy, Valencia's Mother came into the store.  She looked at the scruffy young girl and saw the same face that was her sister's.
"Estrella?"  She asked.  "Is it really you?  I heard about your Father and the priest talked about how you ran away.  We tried to find you, but no one knew where you had gone.  We feared you were dead."
Estrella stood frozen.  What should she do?  Run?  Then her Aunt touched her arm and smiled at her.
"Come home with me and share our supper.  I want you to meet my family.  It will be a good thing."  Estrella felt like her heart would stop.  She was torn.  This women was so kind, it was so tempting.  To sit and eat with a family, her relatives.  She looked down at her clothes, they seemed so shabby compared to her Aunts.  "I...... " she stopped,  "I...... "
"Don't worry Estrella, you are fine.  Now come with me, you'll see, it will be okay."
Estrellea gathered her possessions and followed the woman out of the store and down the dusty streets to a house surrounded by an iron fence.  This was not a poor house, not a rich house either, but it was obvious to Estrella that it was a comfortable place.
She met her uncle and her two cousins, the girl, Valencia was beautiful.  Her hair was curled softly around her face and her skin looked soft, very unlike Estrella's.  Valencia was a few years younger then Estrella, but they were close to the same size.  She was invited to Valencia's room and her cousin pulled some clothing from behind a curtain where many dresses hung.  Estrella had never seen such lovely things.  Valencia was generous with her belongings and insisted that Estrella try on everything and gave her many of her clothes.
When Estrella hesitated to accept the things, Valencia told her that her Father would buy her more dresses and she really wanted Estrella to have the things.
They ate at a large table in the main room of the house, the food better than any Estrella had eaten.  But she was not comfortable.  This was a life she was not prepared for.  Everything was unfamiliar.  She wanted to go home.  Her Aunt tried to get her to stay with them.  She told Estrella that she was welcome to come and live with them, but she accepted that Estrella was different from other people.  She told her that she should stay the night and her husband would drive Estrella home in the morning.  Estrella agreed.
The next morning her uncle drove the long route to Estrellas, house.  Valencia rode along with them.  It did not take very long, at least, not compared to how long it took to walk from the village to her house.  She wished she had a car like her uncle.  It would make her life a little easier.  Valencia and her Father walked around the small house, amazed at the things Estrellas' Father had built.  They examined the inside and complimented Estrella on how clean and neat everything was.  Not that there was much there.    A table and three chairs, well made, but rustic.  There was the fireplace made of stone with two iron pots hanging from an iron rod.  In one corner of the room there was a bed curtained off.  There were several hooks for hanging clothes, but what hung there was old and very worn.  Valencia was glad she had given Estrella so many new things, she had so little.  Estrellas Uncle was impressed that the garden was growing so well and told Estrella she could make money selling her vegetables at the market.  And he told her the goats milk could be made into cheese and explained the process.  They spent most of the day helping Estrella with projects and teaching her new skills.  It was hard when they left.  Estrella cried.  She had not known how much she missed talking, laughing with others.  After a while she stopped her crying and thought about her life in the mountains.  She had choices now, she could move to the village and live with her Aunt, but this was her home.  She was at ease here.  She loved the mountains and felt good about her hunting and gardening skills.  She would make the garden bigger and grow more vegetables.  She would try to make the goat cheese.  Then she could go to the village and sell her products and she could visit her Aunt and her family.  That would make life better.  She once again wished for a car or a truck like her Uncles.  When she finally fell asleep, she was content.
Estrella's life went on much the same as before, she did learn to make the goat cheese and enlarged her garden.  She made good money when she went to market and she visited her Aunt, but going to town very often was not possible, it was too far.
When Estrella was 18 her Uncle arrived at her little house in the mountains with a battered old jeep.  He told Estrella it was hers.  He had bought it very cheap, he said, and fixed it up so now it ran good.  He also brought her a barrell of gas and showed her how to fill the tank.  He gave her lessons and she quickly learned how to shift the gears.  When he left she drove the jeep up and down the road to practice.  It was not many weeks before she was confident in her ability to drive her most prized possession.  Now she went to the village more often, but she did not mix with any of the villagers except her Aunt and her family.  And she told no one where she lived.  She liked being by herself.  Over the years she explored most of the mountain, even the other villages.  she was completely at home living her solitary life.
When Valencia and Pietro arrived Estrella was 22 years old.  At first she was shocked and scared at their arrival.  A few others had straggled up the road, but she had always scared them away with her rifle.  When she recognized Valencia and heard their story she knew that her years of living in the mountains had given her skills that would help her cousin and her friend escape the coyotes greed.  She told Pietro to drive his truck behind the house, she would move further away it later.  She prepared a meal for them and after they had eaten she told them to stay in the house, she had a few things to do.  She loaded a few supplies in the jeep and drove the long rutted track down to where it joined the main road.  She took out the bushy branch she had brought and brushed the dirt until there were no more tracks.  She drug a large broken branch partially onto the road and rolled two good sized boulders alongside.  It now looked like the small track was unused.  As she walked back to where she had left her jeep, she threw a few more branches and rocks along the road.   She was pleased.  It was almost dark by the time she got back to the house.  She insisted that Valencia and Pietro sleep in her bed, she would sleep on a pallet on the floor that once was the bed she and her brother had slept on.  After protesting unsuccessfully, Valencia and Pietro went to sleep in the bed, exhausted but relieved.
Estrella thought about what they should do and where they could go.  She felt sad that they would not see their families for a long time, maybe never, but at least they had each other.  She felt good that she could help part of the family that had helped her so much.   In the darkness of the small room a smile settled on her face.  She had no trouble falling asleep.

Part Six, Pietro and Valencia

click to go to part one Valencia woke before light and arose from the bed. She turned to Pietro, still sleeping. She said quietly, “You have much on your mind, mi mano; I know how long you tossed and turned last night. Well, sleep now my love. I will be with you again soon.”

She left Pietro’s home.

When Pietro awoke panic swept over him but it was not Valencia’s absence that panicked him, it was the coyote. “What was I thinking? The church cannot help me, the coyote will kill me!”

He had not told Valencia everything. He owed the coyote the remainder of the $2000, after the $500 he gave him yesterday. And his pickup was gone, the money for that, $700, and the $200.  he had not given the Coyote, was in the pocket of his jeans. He’d agreed to be a mule for part of the balance. He had to get out of this deal. Last night he and Valencia made a pact, even if neither of them spoke it: they would face the future, whatever it was, together. Now he could not go north alone. Jesus Madre, what a fix!
________________________________________

Pietro stood in the open doorway of the little shack on the corner of the used car lot. His truck was not parked where he left it yesterday on the side of the lot.

“Manuel, I cannot sell the truck. I need it. Here is your money.”

He held out the $700.

The fat albino Mexican looked up from his desk.

“Sheet Pietro, the truck is already sold. Anyhow, you can’t get out now. Get the money over to el Diablo; he’s looking for you.”

“But… But, I did not tell you about the coyote. How do you know?”

“Pietro, don’t be a fucking fool. I know about it all, the drugs you are going to take north, everything. Everyone knows except you and your little puta. Now be a man and get the money to el Diablo today and maybe he will simply ship you north and let you live. You don’t fuck with el Diablo.”

Pietro stood there for a moment longer. What was happening to him? He had only talked to the coyote two days before, and given him the deposit, and the coyote told him he would give him a packet to carry and the money would be less and Pietro was to leave last night, now Manuel said the coyote was looking for him. OK, he was supposed to bring the balance yesterday and he didn’t. In fact he didn’t even have it all yet, but surely the coyote would understand his predicament.

Manuel was not paying any attention to Pietro. He was talking on his phone.

Pietro turned and walked away, despair filling his heart.

At the corner he saw his truck. It was parked behind the panadería. We walked up to the truck, unsure of what he should do next. He had a spare key in his wallet. He took it out and unlocked the door. Nobody was on the street. He opened the door and jumped in. He kicked the throttle once and turned the key. The old Chevy V-8 started and Pietro yanked the gear shift into drive and floored the truck. The back door of the bakery flew open and a grey haired man ran out.

“Los Bastardo! Stop. Fuck!” The man threw his hat into the street as Pietro tore around the corner, dirt flying from the pickup’s rear wheels.

Pietro’s heart was pounding. He looked in the rear view mirror. What was he doing? Now he’d have the coyote and Manuel and whomever that man was all looking for him. He drove like a madman straight to Valencia’s house.

Valencia was standing on the porch with her mother when Pietro’s truck slid to a stop in front of her house. They had been talking.

Pietro was stopped at the gate. The dust from his truck swirled about him and settled. The world seemed to stop as Pietro stared from the shade of the cab of his pickup at the two women on the porch. The two women looked dumbfounded back at him.

Valencia turned back to her mother and the two of them looked into each other’s eyes for a moment. Valencia’s mother put her hand on Valencia's arm and reached into her apron pocket.  She pulled out a small roll of bills, handed them to Valencia and gave a little nod.  Valencia's hand closed around the money, tears falling from her eyes.  She quickly hugged this woman who had given her everything her entire life, then she spun and ran towards the truck. She flew out of the gate and yanked open the door of the truck.

“Pietro, what is going on?” She landed on the seat and pulled the door shut just as Pietro hit the gas and the truck swerved back onto the street.

As he drove at high speed through town toward the highway Pietro told Valencia everything. The money, the truck, the drug deal he had agreed to with the coyote and was about to break. It didn’t take long. Valencia listened without so much as a word. By the time Pietro had stopped talking she had turned in her seat and was facing him, searching his face for an answer to this unanticipated turn of events.

“We have to run” she said.
Click here to go to part seven.