“Right.”
He didn’t want to mention that there were a lot of things more dangerous than rattlesnakes that close to the border.
When they finally stepped onto the paved road, Bud said, “Yay. We made it. Which way?”
Cann just pointed east and started walking. He had to constantly remind himself to slow his pace because his legs were so much longer than hers.
There were no cars. Just miles of blacktop, scrub brush, sand, and hills. The ground wouldn’t grow crops or even enough edible flora to feed goats. It was a part of the country that many Texans called God-forsaken.
Fifteen minutes after they’d been on the road, a red pickup approached going west. Cann eased the backpack off, unzipped it and slid his hand inside until the pistol filled his palm and his finger was on the safety. The truck slowed and two guys took a long look at them, but didn’t stop. No doubt two gringos walking on 16 was a sight to see. The guys in the truck would be telling that story for years and people would laugh and say they’d had too much tequila, that such a thing simply would not, could not, did not happen.
The second vehicle that slowed was their guy.
Through the open window of an ancient Toyota that had badly needed paint years before, the driver said, “Sanchuery Jahns.”
Cann nodded. To Bud, he said, “I’m gettin’ in the front passenger seat. You get in back but not until after I’m in the car.”
She nodded.
Once they were both in the car, the driver made a call and handed the phone to Cann.
“Yeah?” Cann said.
It was Brant. “There’s a hotel in Ojinaga. Stay there tonight. Tomorrow morning somebody’ll come get you and drive you to Del Rio. We have friends there. They’ll take care of you till birthday Friday. I’ll let you know what to do when you get there.”
“All right. And, Prez…”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“No need to thank me, fuckup. I’m gonna take this outta your hide in good time.”
The Ojinaga Hotel wasn’t half bad for thirty seven dollars a night. The clerk gave them both looks related to having jeans that were wet from the waist down in Bud’s case, thigh down in Cann’s. Cann got a room for the two of them with two double beds. It had weird murals of a cityscape on one wall and the silhouette of a long haired dancing woman on another, but it appeared to be reasonably clean.
“Hey. This is a lot better than the place where you picked me up,” Bud said.
“I did not pick you up.”
“Well, what would you call it?”
“I did pick you up, but when you say it like that…” He looked away. “Never mind.”
“I can’t wait to take a real shower. Even if I don’t have any clean clothes to put on. You think our boots will dry out by tomorrow?”
“Doubt it.”
“I don’t want you to freak out, but I need to hang these wet clothes up. So I’m going to put a towel on.”
“Why would I freak out?”
“Because you’ve made it so clear you’re not interested in me.”
“I’m not going to freak out at the sight of you in a towel, sugar. But I’ve got a better idea.”
“What?”
“There’s a supermercado a couple of blocks away. If you’re up for a walk, we can go get some dry clothes and some stuff to eat.”