strode purposefully over to where Jaime was helping load a mule with the things we had brought with us. “Jaime,” she said, “I have a very important job that I want to entrust to you. I want you to take this envelope to Chetumal, to my mother. This is not something that can wait.”
“But I am to go with you, with you and Arnulfo and the guys,” Jaime said, shocked.
“I know that was the plan,” Lucy replied, “and we will miss you, but this is way more important. And I want you to stay there for now. We have reason to believe that there are some bad people who might try to harm my mother and father to get to me. You know what they did to Gonzalo. I want you there to keep an eye on them and an eye out for any kind of trouble. You will have to be very brave. You will be the Security Agent.”
Jaime looked stricken with disappointment. His first big adventure was dissolving before his eyes. He couldn’t very well say no when it was put to him that way but he sure didn’t want to say yes.
“And María Elena is in Chetumal, isn’t she?” Lucy smiled “That will make it a little better, won’t it? Maybe more than a little?”
Jaime had to admit to that, and produced a little smile.
Is there any truth to any of that? I asked Lucy later. Or are you playing protective aunt and amateur cupid? “Cállate,” she suggested, “be quiet. And stay that way.” I didn’t say another word.
Chapter Seven / Capítulo Siete
EL PETÉN
LUCY
It was good to see Nelda again. She is, without doubt, the best horse I’ve ever had, and a good friend. Much as had I loved them all, from my pony, Linda, on, Nelda was the best.
We spent a little time getting reacquainted, and then packed up to move out. I saw that Carlos and Jeb were both mounted and ready to go.
As planned, we didn’t travel far that day. The day was almost over when we started, but we wanted to get out of sight and this was the best way to do so.
Arnulfo called a halt just before dusk, which was fine with me. I planned let him call the shots on anything to do with the actual traveling. He knew what he was doing. Much as I loved the forest, I had spent too much time away from it the last few years. I hoped I wasn’t becoming a city person.
Since it was closer, we decided to head first to Kanan Ka’a, and from there to one of the others. At Kanan Ka’a we might get information as to where the Pol was.
The ancient pyramids used to protect the Pol didn’t really have names. They were referred to as Guardian One, Two and Three—Kanan Han, Ka’a and Óox in the Mayan language.
CARLOS
We finished packing up the horses and mules. I was glad to see that we all had some lightweight rifles and pistols. Even though I don’t really like guns, I know how to use them and, in this case, they gave me a warm and cuddly feeling. I did some spot-checking. It looked like Arnulfo and Arnoldo, or whoever put this together, had done an admirable job. Besides the guns, we had a good supply of machetes, knives, hatchets and even some bows and arrows. The food supply looked adequate, I didn’t expect gourmet.
My horse was a gray mare, but definitely not the proverbial old one. She was a sleek animal that looked capable of a good run. I was told her name was Mirabal.
Mirabal and I spent a little time getting acquainted. I found some horse munchies among the provisions and there’s nothing like a little bribe to start off a good relationship. Mirabal seemed to appreciate it. I rubbed her behind the ears, talked to her for a while. We seemed to get along.
Then it was time to saddle up and move out.
“We won’t get far today, we’ll make camp in a couple of hours,” said Arnulfo, “but we want to be on our way and, especially, we want to get out of sight. This place might look deserted to you city folks, but there are too many eyes and ears for my taste.”
I didn’t think we were exactly city folks, but his point was taken. We traveled for two or three hours through a varied terrain, mostly quite pleasant. We made fairly good time since, for the most part, the underbrush was minimal. Numerous fallen tree trunks caused continual minor detours and uneven terrain covered with leaf debris was a hazard to the horses, although the mules didn’t even seem to notice.
The canopy of trees above kept us in a pleasant twilight and had prevented thick underbrush from forming by stealing most of the sunlight. It was certainly not cool, but it was way cooler than traveling in the direct sunshine. That would have been deadly. The atmosphere was still and humid, with drops of water falling from the treetops overhead. But it was not still to the ear. There were constant bird and animal calls and screeches and chattering, including some really impressive hooting and hollering by the saraguatos, the howler monkeys.
We were constantly inundated not only with sights and sounds, but also aromas. The overall fragrance could be called ‘deep jungle’: a blanket of decaying vegetation accompanied by a melody of other smells, mostly unidentifiable. The result was, except for a false note here and there, a rather agreeable background potpourri.
We three ‘city folks’ went single file in the center while the rest spread out ahead and behind, to the right and left, but never out of earshot. We each had our own bird or animal call to identify us and we would sound it out every now and again as an all-clear signal. I had chosen the easiest, a parrot call. Lucy had a very good spider monkey repertoire and Jeb had invented a sort of cough that wasn’t going to fool anybody. The rest had a variety of calls, just different enough from the real bird or animal to be identifiable. No one chose the howler monkey.
Not long before dusk Arnulfo called a halt to make camp. Instead of tents, we each tied our hammock between trees wherever we could find a good spot. We then hung mosquito netting over it, propping it with sticks to provide room enough for sleeping, and laying a tarp over that to deflect the dripping water and any potential bird or monkey droppings, not to mention falling critters like scorpions. The mosquito netting had to be tied just right around the hammock ropes, otherwise undesirables like those scorpions would crawl up the rope and right on in to disturb our slumbers in nasty ways. We drew straws for guard duty. Naturally, I got one of the short ones, which meant I was going to be up and around from midnight to about three AM.
Since we didn’t believe we were in any immediate danger, Arnulfo permitted us a small cooking fire. “Keep it small and hot,” he said, “the hotter it is, the less smoke and the faster it cooks.” Most of the food we brought with us was deliberately the non-cooking type: jerky, hard sausages, dried fruits and vegetables, cooked grains. Fresh fruit and other edible plants we could find as we traveled. Even meat if someone wanted to operate a bow and arrow but we weren’t going to be announcing our presence by shooting off guns.
That first evening and night was actually fun, kind of like a very humid beach picnic. I felt like singing Kumbaya, toasting marshmallows and making out, but didn’t think I could talk Lucy into it. Besides we were supposed to be reasonably quiet and those activities wouldn’t qualify. Well, the marshmallows wouldn’t be too noisy.
We updated our immediate plans. Of the three possible sites we chose to head toward Number Two, Kanan Ka’a. It was a little closer, and Arnulfo knew about where it was. We knew exactly where Number One, Kanan Hun was, too, somewhat farther off, but the location of Number Three,
