Free El Paso Way by Steven Law

cloud of dust trailing behind the band.
    â€œWho do you reckon it is?” Jackson said.
    Dutton pulled a brass telescope out of his saddlebag and peered off toward the riders.
    â€œIt’s Deputy Bain,” Dutton said.
    â€œBain? What’s he doin’?”
    Dutton pushed the telescope closed and stuffed it back in the bag. “I don’t know, but they seem to be in a hurry. Jackson, you come with me. The rest of you hold up here for a bit.”
    Dutton and Jackson rode down the slope to meet Bain and the other riders. The large band slowed as they approached, and the dust cloud spread and rose all around them.
    â€œOur prisoner escaped, Sheriff,” Deputy Bain said.
    â€œPrisoner?”
    â€œThe Chinaman, sir. They threw piss in my face and—”
    â€œYou left your post and formed this posse to go after one harmless Chinaman?”
    â€œBut, sir—”
    â€œBain, I want you to head back to town, right now! You forget about that Chinaman and sit tight in that jail until I get back, you hear?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œThe rest of you, join up with us if you want. We have a vicious murderer to apprehend.”
    * * *
    It was almost dark when Enrique rode into the mission on his donkey, riding double with the Chinaman. Enrique hadn’t gotten much out of him on the trip. In fact, Enrique had done most of the talking. It wasn’t that he blabbed about this and that as though he had the gift of gab, but more that he was trying to get the Chinaman to respond relative to what he was saying. He was sure that Pang was in some kind of trouble, but all he really wanted to know was if he appeared to be at fault, or if it was like most cases with the Chinese, that he was facing a typical act of discrimination.
    â€œI was born and raised in this land,” Enrique had said. “My mother was born in Hermosillo and had twelve brothers and sisters. Her father brought her family to Nogales after the Mexican War, and they had a
rancho
there. Have you ever been to a real
rancho
?”
    â€œNo,” Pang said.
    â€œMy grandfather was the son of a Spaniard, and all their lives they had worked as
vaqueros
. One day a handsome young Tohono O’odham Indian came to my grandfather’s ranch to trade for beef, and my mother said that she fell in love with him instantly. So I am a half-breed, but for some reason my grandfather always called me a
Criollo
. I never asked him why. Do you know your family history?”
    â€œSome of it,” Pang said.
    But the Chinaman didn’t elaborate as Enrique had wanted him to; therefore the trip back to the mission was mostly a one-sided conversation.
    The priest didn’t say much as the two men dismounted from the donkey, and after Enrique introduced the Chinaman to him, all he said was “Welcome,” but he did look on with a questioning, curious stare.
    Enrique showed Father Gaeta the snake skin, but the priest’s eyes grew wider when he showed him the meat.
    â€œAh, I was wondering what I’d make for supper!” the priest said.
    Enrique grinned as he stuffed the meat back into the cotton sack and tossed it to the priest. “Enjoy your feast, Father. I will be content with a jerky meal tonight.”
    â€œHow about you, Pang?” the priest said. “Would you care for some of my scrumptious rattlesnake stew?”
    â€œNo, thank you. I am not hungry.”
    Pang’s response softened the mood, and Enrique thought it best to unpack from his hunt and prepare for supper.
    â€œWell then,” the priest said, “anyway, I do hope you’ll make yourself at home.”
    Enrique knew that the priest carried on like he wasn’t concerned because that was his way; they both knew that the only reason a Chinaman would come in out of the desert was because he was in trouble. It was the level of his trouble that neither of them knew.
    Pang sat at the entrance of the mission while the