In the cemetery Jose stopped at a tombstone, obscured by weeds and tall tufts of grass. He stared silently at the grave before dropping to his knees to clear away the vegetation. Hector helped. Soon the name of Don Luis Padilla appeared. Grandfather ran his fingers across the chiseled letters, a strand of wispy hair falling down his forehead as a light gust of wind rolled across the valley.
Finally, Dr. Jose Luis Padilla rose, smiled at his grandson, and spoke.
"It is a beautiful valley," he said, his eyes fixed on the mountains.
"Yes," Hector responded.
"It is sad to see it abandoned."
Jose looked at the little row of buildings across the road, all in various stages of decay. Someone had nailed chicken wire over the empty doors and windows of the old schoolhouse to protect the structure.
His father's hacienda was gone; only the thick rock foundation marked its location. He took Hector to the site and described the layout of the old hacienda, room by room.
"None of this was given up willingly," Jose remarked.
"After my father's death, the government took much of the land for the national forest. There is a high, wonderful valley where I would tend sheep each summer when I was old enough to be left alone."
"Mexican Hat?" Hector asked.
"It is near the valley. A hidden amphitheater that falls away in heavy timber. Not many people know of it."
"Are you glad you came back?"
"Very glad," Jose answered, as he began to walk to the truck.
"Come. We can unhitch the trailer and leave it behind. This will be a good place to camp tonight. We have time for a drive to Mexican Hat. I will take you on the wagon road my father and his brothers built. It starts behind the school."
"What kind of road?" Hector asked dubiously.
Jose laughed. He was refreshed and enjoying the day. While he would never admit it to his grandson, he was grateful for the early end to yesterday's drive.
"There you go again, jito. Always worrying. It should not be a problem. At first, it will be nothing more than a trail through the rangeland into the foothills. It climbs gently. After that, if I remember correctly, it is a hard rock surface in the mountains.
Let us explore, quo no? As you promised when you forced an end to yesterday's adventures."
"Am I to be constantly reminded of my decision?"
"Only as it becomes necessary."
Hector found the rutted road easy to follow, and the truck, with its high suspension and four-wheel drive, handled the hard-packed terrain without difficulty.
He began to relax and enjoy the excursion. As they entered the foothills, the road changed to a mild incline that snaked over ridge tops. The forest, a dense mixture of pinon, cedar, and pine trees, intruded over the road when they reached the mountains.
Low branches brushed against the windshield and scraped against the sides of the truck. As they climbed, the road got steeper and more narrow.
Hector's uneasiness returned. He wondered how far they must go to find a turnaround. Soon he was driving in low gear up a cutback in the mountain, with a deep drop less than a foot away from the truck tires.
He stopped where the road forked and ran in both directions toward the summit. Here he could turn around.
"Shall we continue?" Hector asked anxiously.
Jose chuckled.
"Had we come here yesterday, this part of our journey would be over. But we stopped and rested, as you desired."
"I see that I need more reminding," Hector noted.
"We're almost there," Jose replied, pointing to the left fork in the road.
Hector nodded, put the truck in gear, and eased it slowly up the road, over jagged rocks that occasionally forced him to weave much too close to the dropoff.
The road seemed to top out up ahead. He glanced at Grandfather, who smiled reassuringly.
"Just a little bit farther," Jose said.
Hector breathed a sigh of relief as he reached the top, then the front suspension of the truck slammed into a deep washout that cut across the road.
"Dios!" he said.
"What happened?" Jose asked, startled.
"I'll check and see."
Hector cursed to himself as he stood at the front of the Ford. The front wheels dangled in the air, and the drive shaft was broken. Even if he could free the truck, he could not drive it. He shook his head and told his grandfather the bad news.
"What do we do now?" he asked.
"I will stay here and you will go for help," Jose said, calming himself.
"There's a horse trail up ahead-a shortcut-that goes back to Mangas.
You should be able to walk out easily."
"I don't want to leave you alone."
"I'll be fine. I have water. The truck heater will keep me warm.
Believe me, I've spent many nights in these mountains in much less comfort than this.
We have no choice," Jose added.
"I do not think it would be wise for me to try to walk out. Here. You take one canteen and I will keep the other."
Hector took the canteen from Jose's hand. At that moment, the sound of a rifle broke the silence.
"Perhaps we are lucky," he said, his spirits lifting.
"Someone is nearby."
"Be careful, jito."
"I'll be back soon," Hector said, smiling with relief.
"Don't worry."
Hector jumped the gully and followed the road around the last bend.
Below him a vast, high valley of grassland stretched fingerlike into the forest. At the top of the next summit he could see a radio tower and the faint outline of a building. He scanned the forest for a road to the peak. There was no discernible access. He saw movement in the tall grass at the center of the meadow. A man stood up and bent back down again, doing something Hector couldn't make out. Too far away to be heard, he squinted against the harsh afternoon light and waved to get the man's attention, but without success.
Relieved that help was close at hand. Hector walked into the meadow until he was within hailing distance. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called out. The man stiffened and turned.
Hector closed the gap with hurried strides until he could see the man's face.
"Hold! My truck is disabled," he said.
"Can you help me, por favor?"
The man nodded and gestured at him to come closer.
Jose rested in the truck, half asleep. The effects of the altitude were wearing, and he was more fatigued than he cared to admit. Some time after Hector's departure, a second gunshot rang out. Perhaps Hector had found the hunter and asked him to signal that everything was all right.
He composed himself on the seat and waited for his grandson's return.
Finally he heard the sound of an engine. Surely now Hector was on his way back. He climbed stiffly out of the truck.
Hector did not come. Jose carefully negotiated the gully and walked slowly up the road. An afternoon breeze blew out of the valley, chilling him slightly as he looked down on the meadow, searching for a sign of his grandson. The wind whisked his hair into his eyes. He caught the distant sound of the engine again. It seemed to be coming from the direction of the horse trail. The two large pine trees that Jose remembered from his boyhood still stood majestically at the edge of the meadow where the trail began. He could not remember seeing the grass so lush and thick. With the sheep gone for so many years, the land had come back richly.
Hector was nowhere to be seen. Jose decided he must walk a little farther and investigate before returning to the truck. Something wasn't right. c clouds filled the sky and ran like waves heading for a distant shore.
Kerney watched them in the predawn light, waiting for rain that didn't come. For once, the ranchers wouldn't mind the absence of moisture. The high country was lush with abundant grass and wildflowers that told of a wet year and plenty of water. Some of the locals were predicting it would be the best rainy season in fifty years.