The double-wide trailer had vinyl siding that buckled and lifted away from the walls at odd points, allowing a joint of Bermuda grass to poke triumphantly out the top. Beside the trailer was the flatbed of an old ford, divorced from the cab and shored up with chicken wire to make a coop. Save for a mess of bleached feathers, the coop was empty.
James took a moment to peer beneath the coop, a space hardly big enough to squeeze a hand through. Only a few fence lizards escaping the heat.
The trailer door hung wide like a broken jaw, displaying the mess of a quick struggle. Someone had put their fist through the paneling a few times. Fixtures were missing, plundered in the time the trailer had sat vulnerable and open. Dishes in the sink grew a thick crop of mold. The trailer clearly had not been lived in for some time.
James rotated in place. The grass along one side of the trailer was flat, pointing towards the lattice that enclosed the trailer bottom elevated by cinderblocks.
James had drawn his sidearm on the walk up to the trailer, now he holstered it. He walked away, deliberately crunching gravel with his steps until he reached the sandy stretch just before the road. He doubled back through the grass, creeping so that the sound of his steps blended into the other incidental noises of the day. Crouching down by the far fender of the coop, James drew his piece again and waited.
Three minutes, not enough time to even boil an egg, there was movement. The lattice pried away from the trailer side and someone came wiggling out of the space. Leonard, his brother Leonard with a camo jacket thrown on over his work shirt, crawled out from under the trailer.
James waited until he was nearly out before rising, training his sights on Leonard’s back. “Hup.”
Leonard thrust his hands up, dropping his stomach to the dirt, before recognizing James. His face relaxed into a comfortable leer.
“Jimmy. Holy hell.”
“Leon. What’re you doing?”
Leonard squinted up at him, sweating on his belly in the dirt. He lowered his hands and pushed up to his knees.
“Sprayin’ for bugs. The hell’s it look like I’m doing?”
“Jess can goddamn well worry, I told her to sit on it until next Monday.” Leonard held out a hand, waiting to be helped up. When no help came, he stood on his own muster. “She whine to the cops?”
“No. Just me.”
“Good.” Leonard swung his hands at his sides, looking at the ground. “S’pose it didn’t take much to find me.”
“Few hours. I asked around: this trailer’s rented out to Ed Brinkley. Ed’s down at his folk’s place for the summer, so I came to poke around and found signs of habitation.”
James drew in breath. “Leon, if I can find you, the cartel’s men can damn well find you.”
“This is just a stopgap, I’ve got a plan.” Leonard studied his brother’s face, attacking the corner of his mouth with his tongue. “Don’t s’pose I can convince you to give me a lift?”
James holstered the pistol. He ran his hand over his hair. “Don’t have much choice, do I?”
“‘Course you do. You always do.” Leonard beat him to the car, opening the passenger side door.
“No. Backseat, there’s a blanket.”
“I can duck.”
“Backseat. I’m not taking chances.”
“Tou-chy,” Leonard said, but obeyed. James made sure to arrange the blanket over him, tucking it in around his ankles.
James piloted the jeep back over the gravel lane to the paved road. A car with two hispanic men, one old and one young, sat on the shoulder of the turn off. James sat, turn signal clicking, sweat plastering his shirt to his neck. He looked. The men in the car looked back. James turned onto the road and drove south. The other car grew small in his rearview mirror. It streaked off just before disappearing from his sight, peeling off in the direction he had just come from.
After a while Leonard said, “pull over.”
“We’ve got a half hour to go.”
“We’re out of the danger zone and I got a cramp. Pull over.”
James turned into a rest stop. Leonard got out and stretched his legs at leisure before getting into the passenger seat.
“Get the blanket.”
“I can duck.”
“Not enough. Get the blanket.”
Leonard retrieved the blanket, folding it neatly before sitting on it with a grin. James stared at him for a good long second before starting the car.
James took the back roads, adding ten minutes on to the journey. Leonard did not even bother sitting low in his seat, pressing his face to the window and squinting.
“We’re going to the train yard, right?”
“You know everything, don’t you?” Leonard dug in a pocket of his camo jacket, peeling the foil off a strip of nicotine gum.
“That’s where you put the money.”
“I can spring for gas, if that’s pressin’ on your bladder.”
James said nothing, clicking on his turn signal.
“S’pose I ask why you needed to scratch a cartel man for cash,” he said at length. “You could have come to me if you had money troubles.”
Leonard laughed. “You, baby brother? I make two more decimals than you, and I’m supposed to drop by, hat in hand?” He stretched out. “It’s not about ‘need’ anyway. You’ll understand someday. I grew that money. That money’s going to keep paying dividends—”
“While the cartel’s shaking down your family?”
Silence in the car.
“They’ll leave Jess alone. She had nothing to do with anything.”
“They won’t care. The wives never know anything. But they’ll do things to her, Leon. They’ll do things to her and Janey.”
Leonard laughed again. “What, you her new daddy or somethin’? You have my blessing, if that’s what you’re angling for.”
James navigated a stretch of broken pavement, wheeling out to the opposite lane and pulling back in just as a truck came by. Leonard didn’t bother to turn his face away from the other driver.
“S’pose you might want to visit Jess after I’m gone. Don’t blame you. You got my blessing. I could never make her happy, she wanted some nine-to-five goon. It ain’t me, babe.” Leonard rooted around in the glove box. James pretended to adjust a mirror and watched him slip a registration card into his pocket. He would probably call in the plates to the cops to create a diversion.
“Train yard’s coming up,” James said, “you’ll have to tell me where to go.”
Leonard peered at him from half-lidded eyes. “Just hit the end of the lane and keep going. I’ll tell you where to stop.”
The asphalt ended suddenly, turning into rutted clay and jimpson grass. James guided the jeep over the ruts, worn shocks screeching in protest at every new bump.
“There.” Leonard pointed suddenly to a gap between disused boxcars. James braked, too late.
“Go back around.”
James engaged the parking brake and got out, matching stares with Leonard. He got out of the passenger’s side, breaking into a brisk walk and shooting a glance behind him every other step. James followed at a distance.
“I can pay for your troubles, don’t worry.”
“Not worried. How you getting out of here?”
“You need to run the bills by Benny, he’ll swap ‘em out for you.”
“I got a plan. How you getting out of here?”
Leonard chewed his bottom lip a bit. “…I got a boat down at the marina. Got a little place south of Mazatlán to go to.”
“Fleeing south o’ the border to escape a cartel? Must be the dumbest gringo around.” James smiled at Leonard. The uneasy laugh they shared was like a breeze in a stagnant room, gone altogether too quickly to be true relief.
A square hole had been dug between the rotted slats of a bit of old railway, into this space had been flung a canvas bag. Nothing, not even a branch to disguise the shape. Leonard jumped into the hole, deliberately keeping the bag beneath him as he counted out bills.
“You know it’s not too late.” James mopped at the sweat on his neck. The gun hung heavy at his belt.
Leonard did not react, coming up with a small wad of bills and pressing it forward. James pushed it back, shaking his head. Leonard smiled sickly. He did not press it, but stashed the bills in a front pocket.
“Can’t thank you enough, lI’l bro.” Leonard turned back to the hole.
“Don’t thank me, we ain’t got out yet.” James paused to listen. Was that the sound of an idling engine? “It’s not too late,” he said again.
This time Leonard really did laugh, a nice deep chortle that was infectious as an itch.
“I can’t worry about that right now.” Leonard rummaged around in a bag. “I got shit on my mind. You can drop me behind the feed store, I’ll leg it from there.”
“You’ll be seen.” James wiped his cheek on his sleeve. “What about pops?”
“Look, just drop me a quarter mile from there, then. Pops is old, they won’t press an old gummer like that.”
“They will after they run through Jess. They won’t stop until they get a body. You have a choice, Leon.”
Leonard was scooping something into the bag. “No anymore, Jimmy. I made it already.”
James sighed. He unholstered the pistol, wiping his hands before doing so. He sighted his brother’s back.
“Yeah,” he said, “I guess so.”