“I didn’t bring an extra pistol.”
Buck said, “I’ve got an old Model 19 Smith. Six inch barrel though.”
“As long as it shoots straight.” Hunter said.
“It does that.”
“Thanks.”
Buck said, “A couple speed loaders okay?”
“Sure.”
“It’s in an adjustable nylon rig, so should fit you fine. I’m hoping you two get in and get out with nothing more than photos and a little dust on you.” He shook his head, “I’ve never heard of anything like this being done before. It’s got me jumpy. Mexico can be quirky, especially when new commandantes are in the area, which is the case right now.”
Hunter said, “If we stop an attack, they’re going to get a lot of credit.”
“Definitely,” Art said.
Buck said, “When do you two want to go over, tonight or in the morning?”
Hunter said, “My vote is tonight. The moon’s full.”
Art said, “Me, too.”
Buck said, “You might want to take a nap before you start.”
Hunter said, “I’ll set the alarm on my phone,” she showed it to Art and Buck, “and we can leave then.”
Buck said, “I’ll have the boat and gear ready and hitched to my pickup.”
Chapter 3
The river glowed like milky jade in the moonlight as Buck pushed the flat-bottomed boat off the bank. He stepped in and used the oars to row them to the Mexican side. The aluminum bottom skidded with a faint, audible hiss across the river silt and gravel where the water grew shallow.
Hunter and Art stepped into the ankle-deep water and carried their bikes to the bank. River cane grew thick both up and downriver from this narrow cleared spot on the Rio Grande. She was glad of the cleared spot, because trying to push through the cane was a nightmare of tripping, pushing, fighting and having thin cuts on exposed skin from the leaves. The white plumed tops moved slightly in the night breeze, making faint sounds. There was no movement on the Mexico side, no lights as far as they could see, only looming mountains and darker or lighter images of foothills and draws in the direction they would go.
Buck said, “you’ve got my number, so get some altitude and call or text me when you’re coming back. If you lose your phone or can’t get high enough for a signal, come back here and light a small fire on the riverbank, and I mean small like you can cup in your hands. I’ll watch for it.”
Hunter said, “If worse comes to worse, we’ll swim across.”
Buck nodded saying, “Buena suerte.” He used the oars against the shallow bottom to push the boat into the deeper part of the stream. He turned the bow with one deep oar stroke that gurgled the water, and paddled to the US side.
Art said to Hunter, “You want to lead off? I’ve never been in this part of the border area.”
“Neither have I, only the US side. But I know the general direction we need to go.”
“Can we use Google Maps?”
“Not down here on the river. We’re too low for a signal.”
“Lead on, I’ll follow.”
She started off on a wide trail that pointed like a pale moonlit finger west between the hills and the river cane lining the Rio Grande. The river provided a snaking guide that the trail paralleled, with an occasional oxbow that went into the US side or deeper into Mexico before realigning for a straighter path.
When the trail became less passable for the bikes, they hid them in a fissure at the base of a sheer-faced ridge of dark volcanic rock. Hunter started upward from there, always going west, but climbing as steadily as they could.
“How much farther?” Art said.