She continued past the canyon and crept around the back of the hill. Hugo was there. He didn’t have the rifle yet, but he was heading toward it. His eyes lit up when he saw her. She ran forward and hugged him tight, overwhelmed with emotion. He made a sound of pain, so she let go and studied his arm. It looked broken. Blood streaked down his hand and dripped from his fingertips.
“Did they shoot you?”
“I’m okay,” he said, spitting in the dirt. He had a bloody lip too.
She urged him to sit down. He was pale and shaky, despite his assertion that he was okay. She was afraid he might pass out. She glanced at the rifle on the hilltop, conflicted. Should she try to help Ian and Sarai? Or save herself and her brother?
“Get the rifle,” Hugo said, following her gaze.
“I can’t shoot it.”
“I can.”
“Your arm is broken.”
He stared at his right hand, as if willing it to work. The best he could do was bend his fingers. They were swollen and stiff. “I’ll use my left.”
She dismissed this idea as teen-boy foolishness and looked around for a miracle. To her astonishment, she found one. There was a man standing underneath a gnarled smoke tree about fifty yards away. He was wearing jeans and a suit jacket with no shirt. Though his face was in shadow, she’d recognize it anywhere.
Armando Villarreal.
She’d bet her last peso that he could shoot the tail off a lizard with that rifle. It was lying on the hilltop, easy to grab.
“Wait here,” she told Hugo, and went for it.
She dashed up the hill, her heart pounding with adrenaline. She didn’t like guns. She’d rather pick up a rattlesnake than a rifle. But she grabbed it all the same. Her head and shoulders were exposed for a split second before she ducked down again. As she navigated the rocky slope, descending quickly, she heard the telltale sound of rocks shifting behind her.
Uh-oh.
Hugo shouted a warning. She didn’t turn to see who was coming after her. She just started running down the hill. She almost lost her footing at the edge of the slope. Catching herself, she hit the flat ground and headed right, toward the smoke tree and away from Hugo. Armando ducked behind the tree trunk, vanishing as if he’d never been there. She felt the ground thunder as her pursuer closed in. The tree wavered like a mirage on the horizon.
She wasn’t going to make it.
¡Chingado!She shouldn’t have gone for the rifle. She should have listened to Ian. She should have stayed with Hugo.
Before she reached the tree, she got caught by the hair and yanked off her feet. Her head snapped backward and her arms flew out. She couldn’t hang on to the rifle. It slipped from her hands as she hit the ground. The impact knocked the wind from her lungs.
Crack!
The man chasing her went down too. He released his grip on her hair as he fell. She sat up, gasping for breath.
Armando loomed over her with a grapefruit-sized rock. He tossed the blunt weapon aside casually. She stared at him with a mixture of gratitude and fear. He stared back at her in his usual fashion. No emotion, no expression.
She’d described him once to Kari ascara de cuero,or leather face. This was not a flattering comment, but it fit. He was weathered and unmoving.
“Where’s my daughter?”
She gestured over the hill with a shaking hand.
“Is she hurt?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Who’s that?” Armando asked, glancing at Hugo. He was walking toward them slowly. He stopped to rest, wincing in pain.
“My brother.”
“How many men are guarding Sarai?”
