“Damn straight, compadre!”
“So, what is it?”
“What’s what, compadre?” El Chino shot back.
“Why now? Why that ranch?”
“Hell if I know, hijos de la puta grande . . . I’m gonna . . .”
“The bridge.” El Chotay poked his head into the tiny office.
“What?” El Chino whirled around.
“There’s a plan to build a bridge for tractor-trailers. Some say it’ll be on the river near Las Lomas and El Pedregal. They have El Pedregal, which has highway access but no river frontage. They want Las Lomas to reach the river. They’ll build a connecting road on the land, lease the road to the government, and sell the land to industrial developers. They’ll make a fortune.”
Fulgencio’s eyes twinkled. He had taught El Chotay well. Funny how a guy who barely finished grade school could see so much.
“There you have it, Chino,” Fulgencio smiled. “There’s your reason.”
“I don’t want reasons,” El Chino slammed his fist on the desk. “I want solutions!”
“Well, let’s hit them where it’ll hurt them the most then,” Fulgencio strategized, pouring three more tequilas.
“The balls?” El Chino asked eagerly. “That’s not like you, Fulgencio, to hit below the belt.”
“No, compadre.” Fulgencio shook his head. “We’ll pretend to take what the Guerreros already believe to be theirs. We’ll strike where they feel most safe: El Pedregal. Your land would be worthless to them without El Pedregal’s highway frontage, and their plan would be shot.”
El Chino’s eyes widened. In slow motion he whispered, “El Pe-dre-gal.” The glimmer of understanding radiated from his face through the dimly lit room, illuminating them all in its warm, golden glow.
Fulgencio had never been one for chess, but a land dispute, now that he could sink his teeth into. He sketched a rough map of the area on a prescription pad and snapped like Brother William used to when the chips were down and time was running out: “Okay. Expecting you to come in full force, they’ll be overcommitted to Las Lomas. Where do you think they’d hole up? The old ranch house? The barn?”
“Well,” El Chino said, “they’d probably have two guards at the gate. Someone patrolling the fence. And the rest at the ranch house. They like their cards, booze, and women way too much to stay in that barn. It’s not very comfortable, even for the cows.”
“So, they probably will have left El Pedregal unprotected. Who lives out there? Anyone special? Doesn’t their grandmother still live there?”
“Yes . . . yes . . . I do think so,” El Chino pondered.
“So, here’s what we do . . .” Fulgencio started.
“We kill the grandmother and send them her toes!” El Chino exclaimed like a schoolboy guessing wildly on an oral pop quiz.
“Nooo,” Fulgencio drawled slowly. “We gather a decoy posse to go in and simulate that we’ve taken El Pedregal. They won’t even have to fight for it. The ranch will be left so unprotected that, most likely, they’ll have someone guarding la abuela at the house, but no one on the fences or gates. So, we post our men at the gates and fences. Soon enough, passersby will notice and take the news to the brothers that we’ve commandeered their ranch.”
“Yes,” El Chino said, “go on.”
“The brothers and their men will overreact, fearing for their grandmother’s life. They’ll abandon Las Lomas in a heartbeat, leaving your workers and their wives and families safe and sound. We’ll post a sentinel on the caliche road that leads to El Pedregal, and he’ll radio ahead to our decoy posse to scatter when they’re coming. By the time the Guerrero brothers get to their ranch and figure out they’ve been duped, we’ll be the ones dug into the superior defensive position at Las Lomas. You’ll beef up your defenses, and they won’t be so quick to try again now that you’re on the lookout.”
“Brilliant, compadre! ¡Eso!” El Chino exclaimed. “But no one dies,” he lamented.
“Precisely,” Fulgencio said.
He slumped in his chair. “I don’t know, compadre. I don’t think this will increase my legend.”
“People will think you’re smart.”
“Something they may not have thought before,” El Chotay quipped, dodging the daggers that flew from El Chino’s eyes.
“They’ll fear you even more,” El Chotay said. “A man with a gun is to be feared. A wise man with a gun is to be respected.”
El Chino was sold. He shook his head emphatically. “Fine, let’s do it then. Besides, I can’t afford to get killed yet. El Chinito hasn’t even hit high school. I have to see him through at least that. And that sister of his, Elsa. Dios mio. I have to keep an eye on her too. Men are after her like moscas a un panal de rica miel.”
That night the men gathered at El Dos de Copas and laid out the plan before both the real posse and the decoy one. Beneath the cover of night, illuminated by the campfire in front of the hut, they plotted, the smell of roasted cabrito wafting in the Gulf breeze.
La Virgencita approved of the plan, commending its designed lack of bloodshed.
Fulgencio’s grandfather, Fernando Cisneros, always the card player, appreciated its gambling nature. “They’re gonna buy your bluff and end up folding ’em. It’s a winner!” He exclaimed from his table beyond the arched door.
Brother William welcomed any possibility of taking the next step in overcoming la maldición. “Remember,” he grabbed Fulgencio’s elbow as he left, pulling him back from the group. “Practically everyone out here is related to you in some way or another, and to Soledad Cisneros and her mother, La Bruja.”
When the decoy posse found El Pedregal’s fences and gates unguarded, they posted themselves visibly, creating the outward illusion that the ranch had fallen into El Chino’s hands. Meanwhile, the men primed to retake Las Lomas awaited the radio signal, huddled in their pickups, their breath steaming up the cabins in the winter chill.
No one was more surprised than La Abuela Guerrero as her three ogreish grandsons burst through her door, beams of wood and splinters flying everywhere.
While El Chino regained control of his ranch without firing a single bullet, Fulgencio was disappointed to learn that his plan had yielded no progress against la maldición. A quick survey of the handful of women who had been held hostage at Las Lomas revealed that they had all come to the borderlands from the interior of Mexico. They were in no way related to the Cisneros clan.
To make matters worse, the success of the endeavor resulted in an unexpected backlash, as rumors spread quickly through the area that the Guerrero brothers had been badly duped by El Chino.