the migrants—”
“Smugglers,” he corrected.
“No. Migrants. They’re crossing here and they are dying here.”
“Yeah, less security here, no fences. Makes it easier.”
“Easier? To cross a desert in June? Thirteen bodies only last week. One of them was a nine-year-old girl.”
Almost the same age as his sister, he realized. Lea had scored a point and this time it was Kino who glanced away. But her voice followed him.
“Have you ever tried to cross this desert without water?”
No one could. He gave his own water bottle a flick. It was only half-full but they always carried extra in the truck.
“Did you ever think that if there were no water stations, they might not be so willing to take the chance? How many come because they expect to find Oasis and missed your water stations by a few hundred yards?”
She pressed her lips together and the corners of her mouth tugged down. “We save lives.”
“Maybe. But how many have you cost?”
“You don’t care. If you did, you wouldn’t be working for the Feds.” It was an old resentment that went all the way back to Fort Apache. His people had acted as scouts and trackers. His people had worked with the Americans and had helped them find Geronimo. In exchange they had remained on their land instead of being relocated to Oklahoma. But so had hers. So she had no rights to the “us against them” argument.
“I’m working for myself.”
“Shadow Wolf. That’s what you are, right? Special consultant, tracking the ones the Americans can’t find.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Not our business. The Spanish, the Mexicans and then the Americans. They all tried to take this land. It’s ours.”
“So why are you helping the Mexicans?”
“They’re people. Not Mexicans. Not illegals. People. Women, children, desperately poor who have it so bad back there—” she gestured south “—that they’ll take their lives in their hands to cross this. That’s who I am helping.”
“And drug smugglers and the cartel.”
“They have trucks, planes and ATVs.”
Kino pointed at the bodies just past her line of sight. “Not those four. They stopped here, for water. A natural meeting place.”
She stared him down. “And a place for hunters to overtake their prey. Always has been. Isn’t that right?”
Kino glanced down the road to where it disappeared into the scrub and cactus. Where was his brother and the damned truck?
The buzz of insects dragged his attention back to the bodies. The flies had already found them. Buzzards would be next. He had to call it in.
He lifted his radio and relayed to the captain the important details, including their location. These bodies meant that border patrol would have to be called because they were the ones with the body bags and the refrigerated truck to transport them. His captain was thirty minutes out.
“What are you going to do with me?” she asked.
“I’m detaining you for questioning.”
Kino turned to Lea and offered his hand. She took it and slid off the seat, bringing with her a shower of broken glass. Her grip was strong, as if he were all that kept her anchored. He walked her to the rear of the pickup, watching her as she scanned the ground, getting a closer look at the bodies.
“Holy smokes,” she whispered.
“Yeah. You’re a lucky woman. But you should think about carrying a gun. A rifle at least.”
She did not take even an instant to consider it but shook her head.
“A pistol, then. Not just for traffickers. There are rattlers out here. Big ones. And Gila monsters. Though you have to be pretty slow to be bitten by one of those.”
She shivered and folded her arms across her as if that could protect her from bullets. It wouldn’t.
“If I hadn’t stopped him, you’d have joined them. I can get you a rifle, help you pick one out. Teach you how to shoot, if you like.”
“No, thank you.”
“Why not?”
“I’m a pacifist.”
“You’re a what?”
“I don’t believe in violence of any sort. And I don’t believe in shooting at people for any reason.” She stared right at him as she spoke, her words an accusation.
The ungrateful thing, he thought. “So you would have just let him shoot you? Wouldn’t even fight back?”
“That’s right.”
Kino shook his head, still disbelieving. How could anyone just stand there and let someone kill them without making even the most basic attempt to save themselves?
“I don’t understand,” he said.
“Most folks don’t.”
She dusted away the shards of glass still clinging to the folds of her T-shirt. He retrieved a glittering piece from her hair. Then he lowered the truck gate and grasped her lightly around the waist before boosting her to a seat. His hands lingered on her until she glanced at where he held her. Then he pulled away, stepping back. What was wrong with him?
“The water,” she said, looking back at the barrels. “I have to fill them.” The clear plastic water tank that occupied the last third of her truck bed looked as though it held 200 gallons or more and she had additional barrels, a pump, hose and electric hose reel.
“Nice setup.”
She scrambled to her feet to retrieve the hose.
“Lea?”
She paused, yellow hose in hand.
“This is a crime scene. You can’t fill those tanks. Plus, I know from one of the tribal council leaders, Sam Mangan, that the Tohono O’odham requested that all stations on tribal land be removed.”
Her shoulders slumped but she released the hose and returned to him, sitting on the open gate.
“Why did they do that? Some of their tribe lives on the Mexico side.”
In answer he pointed toward the bodies. “The smugglers leave a mess.”
“They’re not all smugglers.”
“I know that. But they’re all uninvited.”
“Like
