The Crossroads Page 2

  “I—”

  “Gangs killed Miguel, our own cousin, and then they wanted you to take his place, and Ángela to be their—”

  Jaime did his best not to have to hear Tomás say the words. He knew what would have happened to him. As much as being a drug dealer turned his insides, it would have been a million times worse for Ángela.

  “I don’t want to join the Alphas.” Jaime defended himself as Tomás continued talking about what their parents had gone through to get them here safely. “But I don’t want to be here either.”

  “Well, maybe you’ll get your wish. Do you know what’s going on in the news? Every day it seems like there’s a statement about immigrants and who should be allowed to stay in this country. There’s talk of a massive wall and deporting all of us.”

  “But you have papers. A work visa,” Jaime frowned. He and Ángela didn’t.

  “Do you think that’s going to make a difference? Officials capture first and let lawyers answer later. If you can afford a lawyer, and we can’t. So where does that leave us? Back in Guatemala, me unable to get a job that pays enough to survive, and you and Ángela facing what you ran away from. Making everything we’ve all been through for nothing. Qué maravilla.”

  Jaime ran a hand through his hair he’d gelled perfectly that morning, not looking at his brother. Outside the window, the nothingness of the scarce vegetation seemed to mock him.

  “I know it’s rough to hear the truth, but you’re here to stay. So you. School. Tomorrow.” Tomás left no space for arguing as he popped the emergency brake and pulled the truck back on the road.

  They drove up in front of Ángela’s school and, like Jaime, she came running to them. But unlike Jaime, she not only had her backpack, she also had a huge smile on her face.

  “Guess what!” Ángela jumped into the truck, squashing Jaime, who hadn’t scooted over in time. “You know how I’ve always wanted to do more acting than the nativity play? Well, they’re putting on this play called The Sound of Music, and my English is good enough that the drama teacher said I could be in it! I’ll just be one of the ladies in the crowd, like a nun or partygoer, but I’ll be in a lot of the scenes and there’s a chance I might even be given some lines! Rehearsals are Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, so I’m actually missing today.”

  “Your school is about an hour and a half there and back.” Tomás shook his head no. “I can’t take that much time off work to pick you up from rehearsals three times a week. I’m only doing it today since it’s your first day. Starting tomorrow, you two have to ride the bus.”

  Jaime could feel the blood draining from his face at the mention of the bus. Great, more kids to make fun of him.

  But Ángela either didn’t know bus horror stories or had selective hearing and ignored the bus slip. “I’m sure I can find someone to bring me back to the ranch after practice. One of the boys already said he could after Wednesday’s rehearsal. I just need you to sign the permission form. It is okay, right?”

  “Does it cost anything to be in the play?” Tomás asked.

  “We’re fund-raising to cover the costs.”

  “Pues, sí. If you can find rides and you want to.” Tomás shrugged as if it weren’t his decision to make. Tía, Ángela’s mamá, would have asked a lot more questions and gone to the school to personally meet the drama teacher and the person driving her home, and then would have made Ángela promise that she still had to maintain good grades before letting her be a part of the play. Jaime’s mamá would have done the same.

  “I really, really do.” She reached over Jaime to try and hug Tomás. Her arms just grazed his shoulders, squishing Jaime and his two paper critters in the process.

  “Let us know when the shows are and we’ll come,” Tomás said while taking one hand off the steering wheel to reach over Jaime to pat her knee. “And if they’re going to film it, be sure to put us down for a DVD to send to your parents.”

  Jaime was about to inform Tomás that Ángela’s family sold the TV to help pay for their passage, but Ángela lunged once more to hug Tomás. As she returned to her side, her nose scrunched up. “Why does it smell like pee in here?”

  • • •

  From the main highway, they turned onto a dirt road, went through three cattle guards, and drove for about twenty minutes more. All the land around them belonged to Meester George, from the highway to the mountain in the distance that was once a volcano, and beyond. Jaime hadn’t seen the entire property, but Tomás said it took a few hours by car to get from one end to the other.

  All that land for a few thousand head of cattle, and a few humans. It was like living in a Western movie, and any minute Zorro or Pancho Villa would come riding through.

  Coming down a small hill, a gust of desert wind blew a huge cloud of dust, temporarily blocking the big house from view. Jaime still hadn’t even met this Meester George, who was away with his wife visiting their new grandchild. From what Tomás said, Meester George was a strict but fair man. He let Tomás drive his old truck and live rent-free in one of the trailers near the big house. And even then, he paid Tomás an honest wage. But in exchange, Meester George expected hard work and dedication.

  They drove up to their trailer just as another cloud of dust rose from the west. Jaime squinted into the sun to watch the cattle coming closer. A lone cowboy rode his gray Appaloosa behind them and four dogs helped herd the cattle into the large corral. Well, three dogs herded the cattle, while the fourth created her own dust ball dashing to the truck.

  “Vida!” Jaime greeted their one-eared brown and white mutt, who returned the salutation with kisses as if she hadn’t known whether she would ever see them again. Jaime knew how she felt. After Ángela’s boyfriend had found the dog half drowned and torn apart from a dogfight ring in México, Ángela had literally stitched her back to life. Now Ángela’s boyfriend was gone and Vida was all they had left of those friends they made along their journey. It had been hard to leave her behind that morning, but the cowboy, Don Vicente, promised he would take good care of her. And it looked like he had.

  The ranch hand, Quinto, latched the corral shut once Don Vicente ensured the last cow was secure. The older man said a few words to the ranch hand before turning his Appaloosa on his hindquarters and trotting over to Jaime and his family in front of their trailer. According to Tomás, Don Vicente had worked here since before Jesús, and knew the ranch better than anyone. Don Vicente’s wife, Doña Cici, had been Meester George’s nanny when the owner was little, and now Meester George had grandkids of his own.

  “Storm’s coming,” Don Vicente said in his way of barely moving his lips. He was a desert man from Chihuahua, México, with a face so worn and darkened by the sun, Jaime wondered if it had stiffened like old leather and too many expressions could cause it to crack. If the old cowboy ever had the time to sit for a portrait (on his horse, of course), Jaime would love to sketch out his face in charcoals (not that he had charcoals, but still) and capture the depth on the page.

  “Tonight?” Tomás looked at the blue sky. Not a cloud in sight.

  Don Vicente shifted his worn straw cowboy hat and grunted his response.

  Tomás looked back at the brown cows with white faces in the corral. Most were hanging around, waiting to see if they would get fed, while a few were checking out their three-sided shelter. “Is that all of them?”

  “Last of the cows. Til the calves come.”

  Tomás swore and headed to the corral. Don Vicente watched him for a second but didn’t urge his gelding to follow.

  “Why’s Tomás upset? Aren’t calves a good thing?” Ángela asked.

  Don Vicente took his time to turn back to them. “I bet we’ll have at least four cows in labor tonight, right in the middle of the storm. They always pick the worst weather to calve. It’s a survival thing. Fewer predators out when the weather’s bad.”

  “Are you sure it’ll be bad?” Jaime looked again at the sky. He still couldn’t get over how blue it was out here. No po
llution, no smoke. It was like someone spilled the blue paint bucket and forgot to mop it up.

  “I’m guessing about a foot of snow.”

  “Snow? In April?” Both Jaime and Ángela squealed. “¿De verdad?”

  “Yeah, weather here in Nuevo México always does what it wants,” Don Vicente said with a groan. “Tomás and I will be up all night tending to the cows delivering in the freezing weather. Last year we lost three calves and one cow during a spring storm, and Mr. George will be upset if it happens again.” This time Don Vicente did nudge his gelding toward the barn near the corral. From over his shoulder he called out. “That’s a nice dog you got there. Quick to learn.”

  Jaime smiled as he scratched Vida’s one ear and got a kiss back. Finally some good news for the day. Snow!

  CHAPTER THREE

  The intense glare of the sun reflecting off the white snow woke Jaime up. From the bed he shared with Tomás, he pressed his nose against the window, unable to believe it. He could see to the end of the earth, all white and magical against the intense blue sky.

  Mist formed on the window from his breath, clouding his sight. What was he doing looking through the window when he could see it for real?

  He slid on his shoes, no time for socks, and tiptoed to the other side of the trailer where Ángela slept, which during the day converted to a table and seating cushions. Vida jumped off Ángela’s bed and greeted Jaime with a wag of her tail.

  “What’s going on?” Ángela asked half asleep.

  “Snow. Or something like it.”

  Ángela turned toward her window and pushed aside the curtain. She jerked back from the glare, but with each blink her eyes widened for a second longer. An instant later, her shoes were on, she grabbed the blanket from her bed, and burst out of the trailer after Jaime.

  The snow buried Vida completely and she had to jump from one place to the next. Their feet sank into the snow to almost knee height. With the sun causing every flake to glisten and shine, the view was even more mystical than it had been from the window.

  “It’s incredible, isn’t it?” Ángela said as they stood there, mesmerized.

  “Yeah.”

  “Miguel would have loved it.”

  They both looked up at the sky. Jaime would never forgive the Alphas for what they had done to Miguel. If it hadn’t been for them, Jaime would still have his best friend. If it hadn’t been for them, Jaime would still be with his family at home.

  “I felt the same way when I first saw snow.” Tomás came up behind them and put an arm around their shoulders. His cheeks were rough with stubble and his eyes were red from not having slept, but still he seemed relaxed and happy.

  “Is it always this magical?” Jaime asked.

  “Yes, until it melts and mixes with the dirt and muck, and then it’s just a mess.”

  Jaime couldn’t take his eyes off it, afraid he’d turn away and it would return to brown dust. “How long will it last?”

  “A few days, maybe less.”

  “Can we play in it?”

  “Knock yourself out. I’m going to bed.”

  “What about school?” Ángela asked. Jaime turned to glare at her. Why did she have to ruin a great day by mentioning the dreaded S word?

  “Cancelled,” Tomás yawned. “There aren’t enough plows to clear the roads in time.”

  “¡Así se hace!” Jaime jumped in the air and cheered. Now there was no doubt. Snow was definitely the best thing ever.

  Except that Tomás was staring at him as if he’d said a bad word.

  “Are you two wearing your sneakers? And no coats? Are you crazy? Get inside before Abuela finds a way to teleport over here and scold me for letting you get sick.”

  Inside, Tomás threw them each a towel and made them strip from their soaked pajamas. Then he dug under his bed and came up with a couple of pairs of waterproof pants, a few hats and scarves that Jaime was sure Abuela had knitted before her arthritis got too bad, four individual mismatched gloves, and some thick sweaters. For shoes he told Jaime to wear the work boots he just took off and for Ángela he handed over his knee-high rubber mucking boots.

  “With some thick socks they should be fine.”

  Jaime didn’t know about Ángela, but by the time he was completely dressed, he felt like a giant, waddling coconut. Still, he couldn’t keep from smiling as Tomás took photos of them in the snow with his phone to print and send home.

  “Alright, you guys have fun and don’t wake me up unless the world’s on fire.” Tomás waved from the trailer’s door.

  “Wait,” Jaime said, looking over at the corral where the ground was already brown with mud and muck. “How are the cows?”

  Tomás smiled as he rubbed his eyes. “We’ve got five new calves and the moms are all fine. We’ll go see them when I wake up.”

  • • •

  With their mismatched gloves, they scooped up the snow and tasted it. Jaime could only describe it like cold airy water, but still very satisfying. The snow didn’t pack very well into balls but that didn’t stop them from throwing it at each other and at Vida. The dog tried to catch the snow in her mouth and then seemed to be surprised that it disintegrated. Jaime got Ángela good in the back of her head in an explosion of snow that made her black hair look like she had a major case of dandruff. She got him back though with snow down his shirt. The cold stung his skin and made him squirm, but that didn’t stop the fight.

  From the big house, Doña Cici waved them over. One of the biggest houses Jaime had ever seen, it was made from thick logs, had three chimneys, and enough space to hold Jaime and Ángela’s entire family in Guatemala, including all their distant cousins. Only Meester George and his wife lived in the main part, except when their children and grandchildren came to visit. Even with them away from the ranch, Doña Cici kept up with her job of cleaning the big house and cooking.

  “I figured you might be hungry, and sopapillas are best eaten hot.” She handed them poofed-up squares of bread dripping in honey butter.

  “Do we have to go in to eat them?” Jaime asked, feeling his stomach pulling him in two. The sopapillas smelled heavenly and they hadn’t eaten breakfast. But on the other hand, he knew the snow wouldn’t last forever.

  Doña Cici, small and squat with short dyed black hair and a wrinkled face, handed them each an extra one, and a crunchy dog biscuit for Vida. “The gloves can be washed. Come back for more if you’d like.” She retreated into the elaborate kitchen, which, according to Tomás, really was large enough to cook for fifteen hungry ranch hands.

  They had barely finished the sopapillas when Don Vicente came out of the annex that had been added to the big house. It was where he and Doña Cici lived. He couldn’t have slept for more than an hour after staying up all night with the cows, but he didn’t seem the least bit tired. Meanwhile, Tomás’s snores could almost be heard from the trailer a hundred meters away.

  “I got an idea,” the old rancher said.

  They followed him to the barn, where he tacked up his gelding, Pimiento, and strapped a harness onto the horse. Then he attached an old leather hide to the harness so the horse could drag it along behind him in the snow. Excitement sizzled through his veins and Jaime hoped he wasn’t wrong about what he thought would happen next.

  Don Vicente gripped the saddle horn and swung a leg gracefully over his horse’s back without using the stirrup. “Hop on the hide.”

  Jaime and Ángela piled on and grasped the edges as Don Vicente urged Pimiento to a walk.

  “Faster!” Ángela called out.

  “Hold on.” Don Vicente nudged Pimiento into a trot. The hide slid over the snow, swinging from one side to the other with Vida following their trail. Don Vicente rode them along the dirt driveway, the only section of the ranch guaranteed to be clear of cacti and other obstacles, but not clear of bumps. A rut caught Jaime off guard and sent him rolling into the fresh snow.

  “Wait for me!” He ran in the clunky boots to catch up and dove headfirst back on
the moving sleigh.

  “¡Oye!” Ángela squealed as Jaime’s impact caused the hide to skid sideways and spray her in the face with snow.

  “You two had enough?” Don Vicente called over his shoulder as Pimiento continued trotting in the snow.

  “¡No!” they both shouted. Don Vicente grunted, or maybe that’s how he laughed.

  Back in the barn later, they helped Don Vicente remove the hide and harness from Pimiento. Don Vicente couldn’t have been off the horse for more than a minute before he remounted and leaned over the gelding to brush the snow off the top of Jaime and Ángela’s heads. “I better check on the newborns and then go out to the rest of the herd. When you get tired of the cold, Cici will make you some hot chocolate with cajeta. Almost worth getting chilled just to have some.”

  They watched Don Vicente weave through the deep snow as if he knew where the cacti stood hiding. Jaime waited until he was out of earshot before turning to his cousin. “What’s cajeta?”

  Ángela motioned her head to the big house where smoke rose from one of the chimneys. “Should we find out?”

  “We have to make a snowman first,” Jaime insisted. “It’s like a snow requirement.”

  “But how do you make one?” Ángela asked.

  Good point. He got on his hands and knees and pushed the snow into a pile. He pushed more and more until the mound was huge, but it wouldn’t shape into anything that looked like anything. More like a blob. When he tried to put in two stones for eyes, they fell right through. Still, he managed to stick a twig in the side and place his hat on top of the pile.

  “Look, it’s me with a paintbrush!” He stood in his bulky clothes next to the snowblob so Ángela could notice the similarities.

  “Wait, let me get Tomás’s phone to take a picture.”

  “Don’t wake him up.”

  Jaime found another twig and experimented holding it the way the snowblob held it, and then like a real paintbrush. Then he tried carving a face onto the snowblob with his twig, but that just caused its face to fall. Literally.