He, his older brother, his oldest brother, and the old man, had to put their collective minds to the problem, which eventually succeeded at getting them further down the trail, but also made them aware that the old man was slipping away.
The trip and the story end in the flat bed of a pickup rumbling west on highway 62 toward El Paso, with the Mexican family crammed in the cab and looking back at the three boys and the padre hunkered down in the back against the cold wind. The old man had taken a shirt out of his pack and wrapped it around his head, perhaps to retain the thoughts he still had, yet making him more closely resemble a Sherpa, then the thoughtful, intelligent man the boys had known up until that moment.
That first night in town needed a fast start, at least in the mind of the oldest brother. He persisted in rustling us over the bridge and into the dark and seedy Mexican town. It was late and it was a Sunday night, making the four gringos stand out pretty clearly.
Driving deep beyond the tourist fringe on dark dusty streets in an old Chevy Nova with a gregarious Mexican driver the oldest had befriended, he could not help but see concerned contortions on the old man’s face. The oldest just kept laughing from the front seat and in his broken Spanish was encouraging the driver to take us to a good cantina. The driver though seemed convinced that what we really wanted was to “see some whores.” Perhaps.
When the Nova came to a halt in an alley he looked across to his older brother who simply said “be ready for anything.” But true to his word, the driver had brought us to a cantina alright, red lights and all. Belly up has always been the best course in unfamiliar territory. And so they did.
After a swig or two of Tecate, he began to notice the peculiar environs. All the woman sat in chairs against the wall. They range in age from 15- 60, and their weight covered the spectrum of the scale. The Madre approached us first to access our needs. She was a large woman with a mark of distinction, influence, a colorful shawl, and a missing front tooth. She spoke first and foremost to the old man. We sat and watched, albeit tentatively, to see how our old man would engage this unique situation.
Never one to let us down and certainly aided by the high respect the Madre gave the old man once she discovered our bloodlines, the old man relieved the early awkwardness with a rousing round of laughter and more beer. The brothers looked back and forth at each other smiling and the evening was “game on.”
To be continued.......
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