Читать книгу Demon Dancer - Alexander Valdez - Страница 16

Chapter 11

Hermosillo

My friends George and Albert greeted me with big grins and made me feel instantly welcome. They were practically in hysterics later when they found out about their Uncle Alberto and the flight from Arizona. They, too, felt him to be a giant pain, and they knew his delicate foo-foo mannerisms oh too well.

We got to George’s house, and I was blown away at how luxurious it was. I can still conjure up the aromas that permeated the house from the exotic woods throughout. First stop was my Uncle Jorge’s man cave, where there in his refrigerator was an endless supply of Cokes and beers.

After a tour of the digs, we were whisked out the back door to where the help resided. I met them all and treated them as my equals, which really surprised them. George instructed an older woman to fix us up a mess of vittles because we were hungry. Given the delicateness of my stomach, I wasn’t so sure about eating even though my stomach was starting to growl something fierce. That was probably the clue that inspired George to summon up some chow.

Was it good, you ask? I still, to this day, cannot recall better flavors from Mexican cuisine than what this old woman put together. I treated her like a queen thereafter, fussing about her and calling her nana. That made her day, although my friends did tell me to cool it a bit and to not elevate them above their stations.

This trip was going to be the best four days of my life for a very long time.

No sooner and once my luggage was set down in the bedroom, George hurried me along to the outside where two saddled horses were waiting for us. I had never ridden before, but George assured me that it wouldn’t take long for me to get the hang of it.

George let me ride his horse Triumfeño, which, I was told, nobody was ever allowed to ride. George rode his brother Albert’s horse Alazan.

We started out walking through the neighborhoods to the outskirts of town, all the while George instructing me about my getting the commands down on how to operate this new machine.

Once we were out in the country, the horses cut loose, and I was at a full gallop like the Lone Ranger, not a care in the world as we went through dry riverbeds and open desert land. Thinking back, if either one of us had fallen off and broken something, we would have been up a creek without a paddle. We were out in the woods, and nobody would hear the girlish screams I would have undoubtedly shrieked out. Not a chance though, as we continued on our way out to the coast where we ran the horses along the empty beach. We stopped and dismounted for a quick run into the cool surf, cooling off and having the best time ever. I will never forget that day as long as I live.

We mounted up and headed back inland a few kilometers to the family ranchito. Nothing super luxurious but still well-appointed with all the simple amenities. The different members of the Gutierrez families had an escape to the country and beach whenever they needed a break from counting their money or when they got tired of the rest of the world.

The ranch hands that kept watch on the property gathered up the horses as we sat down to another great eating experience. It was becoming quite clear to me that I didn’t want to go back to the States. I had found my roots, and it was then that I finally grew to love the fact that I was a Mexican.

After the good meal, we got into a jeep and were driven back to the house for a nice air-conditioned nap. Excuse me, siesta. My Spanish was getting better as the days wore on. After the evening meal, George, Albert, and I made it out into the streets where a multitude of urchins were starting to assemble as darkness covered the scene. I soon learned that nighttime play was the same for kids in any country on earth. I met so many of George and Albert’s friends I couldn’t believe it. Many of the kids were from homes of much lower stations, but it made no difference at all. Just like my group back home, all that was required was a willingness to belong and be a friend.

You would have thought I was Elvis Presley the way these kids introduced themselves to me. Apparently, George and Albert had regaled them with stories of their visit to Tucson and about this new phenomenal friend they now had.

Well, I was there, and I was fixing to introduce them to a new kind of hell.