It Ain't Paranoia if... Ch. 02

How it is then, that everything about the woman beside me is like the girl I courted and married? Did we hit a time warp? Is this all subterfuge? Or was the shrew exorcised by their experiences with Robert the dirtbag?

I'm giving myself a headache speculating, so I listen to the conversation with the back seat riders and begin to add details to make the history, geography, and geology they are discussing more kid friendly.

Since it is after 11 when we arrive a Rio Grande Village and Dos is 'starving', we decide to cross into Mexico, shop a little, and eat at one of the small cafés in Villa Boquillas.

The Border Patrol agents assigned to guard the crossing rotate that duty, and today we have Guillermo (Willie), who is a regular at La Kiva.

Actually, they pretty much all are; the Border Patrol agents, I mean. Maybe that's because they like the food and comradery, or maybe because they get a free beer and burger, or maybe because they get thanked for their service when they come.

Regardless, I introduce Grace and Dos as my kids and Kaitlyn as their mother, vouch for their citizenship in lieu of passports, and, after a surprised look, Willie waves us across.

Captain Pablo is waiting in his rowboat for a signal, and 'for two dollars in a weathered hand', as Robert Earl Keene sang in Gringo Honeymoon, he rows us across and helps us choose the best mode of transport into the village. Dos wants to ride the burro, but our ladies prefer the cart. I'm too big for the burros, so I rent a roan horse; we all mount up and proceed to "The best café in Boquillas! I guarantee it! Mi esposa and su mama estan buena concineras!" bragged El Capitan.

Turned out his wife and mother-in-law really were great cooks. We got platters of a variety of dishes they recommended, and loved all of them. We started with caldo de pollo, followed by enchiladas de queso, crispy tacos de rez, carne guisada, rice and beans, and the best tortillas de maiz I've ever eaten. And I've eaten a lot or corn tortillas!

To make it that much harder to walk, they served Tres Leches cake for dessert. I feared my horse would balk at my girth, so we scoured the town for treasures to buy while walking off our gluttony.

There are a lot of things one can buy in Mexico that aren't on the allowed import list for the US, but we bought enough clothes, trinkets, jewelry, and wood crafts that I thought we might need another burro for the return trip.

Captain Pablo looked delighted but concerned when he saw us return with all the loot. I gave him a large gratuity for steering us to his wife's café, and another for making all our loot fit in the boat without overturning.

La Migra met us when we landed on the other side, and graciously assisted the kids and then Kaitlyn from the boat. Kaitlyn gave him a gratuity when she raised her dress to step out, and another with the kiss on the cheek for helping.

"Pendejo! No me ayuda?" I asked indignantly.

"Ah, no Cabron. Me temo que me besaras, como la hermosa!"

"In your dreams, cerdo! I've never been drunk enough to kiss a pig as ugly as you!"

Turning back to Kaitlyn, and completely ignoring the bags of goodies all over the shore, Willie asked, "Madam, young lady and young gentleman, do you have anything to declare?"

Not understanding the game, they just looked at him funny. I interjected, "Sure, that we had a good time in Mejico, ate a great meal, and we thank you for your assistance, officer. Oh, and I did bring back two bottles of Herradura that I need to pay the tax on."

He told me how much I owed, collected it, put a sticker on the tequila, and turned back to Kaitlyn and the kids. "Can't leave this stuff on the river bank, y'all; let me help you stow it in the Jeep."

"Hasta la noche, pendejo!" he said with a grin, a wink, and handshake as he shut the door.

"Esta bien! Cervaza esta en mi, ahora. Muchas gracias."

Assuring him of free beer at La Kiva was hardly a bribe, since he and other law enforcement personnel always got a free beer when off duty. Gotta show appreciation for the people who have to enforce laws meant for crowded cities, while also finding the time and resources to keep us, out here in the middle of nowhere, safe from the truly dangerous.

"Okay, we visited Mexico; who wants to go bathe in the hot springs?" I asked after getting the Jeep back on the highway. The answer was everyone, and the two kids started an excited conversation among themselves about their experiences in 'a foreign country'.

"Rob, I have a feeling not everyone crossing there gets the treatment we just did," Kaitlyn asked with a puzzled demeanor. "Are we supposed to have passports to cross over? And what was that about 'anything to declare'?"

"Well, hon...Kaitlyn, before 9-11, crossing there, at Terlingua and Lajitas, or pretty much anywhere else on the border in the Bend was uncontrolled. People crossed back and forth daily: to work, to shop, to go eat, or to visit family and friends. Heck, there is even a golf course where a couple of holes were across the river in Mexico!

"After 9-11, in its infinite wisdom, the federal government decided terrorists might cross and wreak havoc, so they shut down all the crossings, depriving the people on both sides of the river of employment and access to family and goods. Had they simply made provisions for those well-known individuals whose daily lives included frequently crossing the river for some legitimate reason or another, it might have been more palatable.

"But when the ladies who cleaned the hotel rooms in Lajitas and Terlingua could no longer cross to do their jobs, the rooms went uncleaned. It isn't like there are bunches of unemployed Americans down here searching for minimum wage jobs, but those same wages work wonders for those who need them across the river.

"Let's just say there was general disobedience, and the law men down here turned a blind eye, or participated. Hell, if a criminal, much less a terrorist, tries to cross, we deal with 'em. I could tell you story after story, but let's just say that, other than park rangers and border patrol, the nearest lawmen are about 90 miles away in Alpine, so we take care of one another.

"Diverting Border Patrol resources to enforce unnecessary and unenforceable regulations against the interconnected citizens of 'La Frontera' left hundreds of miles of the 1000 miles of Texas-Mexico border along the Rio Grande under-secured, offering an opportunity for the criminals, and possibly terrorists, to move about undetected.

"Instead of improving our security, it diminished it!

"There's a part of the second amendment that says 'a well-regulated militia being necessary for the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.' Given our unique circumstances, we maintain such a militia, and, as you saw, we are well armed. We have to be, because the cartels and criminal gangs are, and they would likely try to surreptitiously take over this sparsely settled territory to use as entre to the US if they didn't respect us.

"Guillermo and the other Border Patrolmen who were raised around here, or have been here for a while, know all that, and they support us. The federal regulations are enforced discriminatorily, and I mean 'with discrimination', not anything racial. They aren't going to hassle people they know, like us, for going across and helping the poor people of the villa by spending money they need to survive.

"On the other hand, if a criminal organization or unknown persons try to cross into the US, the same citizens of the villa and surrounding ranches will let them know. The Patrol will intervene, and we will back them to the death. It has happened a few times, and so far we are undefeated and uninjured."

"What do you mean it's happened a few times? Give me an example."

"Kaitlyn, I can't tell you much, but I'll can recount a story Texas Monthly covered, of a bandit who crossed the river and raped a woman. He was arrested in Mexico on another charge, but his family pretty much owned the town and judges, so he was going to get off scot-free. Men dressed in black and wearing Zorro masks appeared at the jail where he was held. They took him from the jailer, who offered a wink and a smile rather than resistance.

A day later, the Brewster County Sheriff received a call that a wanted criminal was in the roadside park outside town.

They found the wanted fugitive chained around a cottonwood tree. He was naked, and he had sustained a number of bruises around his body, including to his genitals.

Mexican authorities made a few hollow threats about the vigilantes who violated their sovereignty, and the Sheriff 'conducted a thorough investigation', but the vigilantes were never identified, and the rapist was convicted and sentenced. When he was released a few years later, he was sent back to Mexico, and it's said that a group of men in black met him soon after he crossed the border at Presidio and impressed upon him the need to never return to Texas."

"Were you one of those dressed in black?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Their identities remain unknown. But remember: I've only been here for five years; much of that story happened before I arrived."

The kids had stopped talking and started listening long ago, so I had tailored my response for little kids with big ears.

"Generally speaking, I...We... don't approve of people taking the law into their own hands. That said, good men can't sit back and let bad men rule, so we do what we must when we must. Ninety-nine percent of the time, the established authorities handle things, but if they need help or can't do something that needs doing, 'the militia' is prepared.

"Now, let's change the subject, because here we are! We need to change into our bathing suits. I'll park by the brush; you ladies can change beside the Jeep on that side, and then the boys will."

Dos laughed; as soon as the females got out, he shinnied out of his pants and into his swim trunks. There was no one around, so I got out and did the same behind the back doors. I grabbed a small ice chest with drinks, met them in front of the Jeep, and motioned the kids to lead us down the worn trail along the Rio Grande.

Kaitlyn followed the kids; she had on flip-flops and a terrycloth cover up that left only her legs exposed. I watched those shapely legs flex and relax as she walked, and had flashbacks to times when they were wrapped around my neck, hips, and legs.

She glanced over her shoulder and caught me staring, gave me a grin, and made a production of climbing over a boulder that had recently fallen on the rocky trail.

The main things I learned from her climb were that the bikini bottom she wore was a little less than a mommy two piece; she was still as strong, flexible, and agile as ever; she was going to taunt me every chance she got. We still hadn't had the serious 'sit-down and tell me everything about what happened when you betrayed me and why' talk, or the 'what's been going on with you since I left' talk.

Somehow, we just keep doing stuff and talking about that, and whatever else the kids and Kaitlyn want to talk about. I really ought to make them sit down around a table and come clean, kids included; it's unlikely what they tell me will be worse than what I've imagined this whole time, so it might be cleansing rather than disheartening.

But not today! Today we're having fun and exploring! Maybe tomorrow.

There were only two vehicles at the parking lot; a Nissan SUV and a Cadillac Escalade XL. A young couple was sitting in the springs nearest the old wall that diverted the river away from the springs. They were sitting on a shelf in the foundation of the first bathhouse, and they were so focused on each other I doubted they knew we were there.

There were six men noisily celebrating something in the far corner. They had 32-ounce cups of what could only be booze, given their unanimously brash demeanor and how loudly they spoke and laughed. My senses told me to get the hell out because they were trouble, but they seemed self-absorbed, so I simply directed my little group to a spring inside a foundation near the rock ledge. It's my favorite spot, and also as far from the boisterous bunch as possible.

I sat the drink cooler on the rock shelf and turned to check the group again. They weren't paying us any attention... until Kaitlyn took off the cover up and tossed it by the cooler. The red bikini she wore was far from indecent, but on her perfectly proportioned body, it had the effect of something less modest. As if it were something she wore all the time, her kids ignored her and began hopping around discussing how hot the springs are and wondering why they smell funny.

The six noisy men, however, broke off their celebration and gawked.

I tossed my tee shirt beside her cover and looked at my daughter and her mother with a critical eye. Grace was certainly cut from the same cloth as mom and Granma; she would be a stunner in a few years, and would remain that way for life. I'm basing that projection on Granma Hopkins -- Beverley -- who, at age 52, had the same body shape as her daughter, and practically no signs of facial aging either. Talk about a GMILF!

Oh, there is no question Kaitlyn's lines have softened as she has matured, but the changes only make her look sexier, in my opinion.

She and Grace whispered, then put their hands on their hips and stuck one hip out, "So, do we pass inspection?"

"Uh, yea, you two would stop a runaway train! Now, how about we sink down in these springs right here so the lechers over there can get back to their conversations."

That was a good plan; too bad it didn't work. I would attribute their next moves to alcohol and arrogance, but it could have been pure arrogance.

"Hi, how are y'all doin?" asks a 6'2" mid-thirties male model standing just outside our 'room'. He is accompanied by a preppy-looking six-footer with styled hair; both exude arrogance.

"We're doing well," I replied. Thankfully, Kaitlyn ignored them, kept her body under the not-quite clear water, and continued playing with the kids. "Sounds like you guys are having a lot of fun. Celebrating something, or just enjoying the outing?"

"Oh, we're celebrating all right! We just closed a multi-million dollar deal with TransNational that will take us from rich to filthy rich! Would you and the pretty lady like to come join us?"

"Nah, wouldn't want to interrupt, and we're here with our kids, so, thanks, but no thanks. Y'all have a great time though!"

Turning to Kaitlyn as if I had not just answered, Prince Arrogance asked, "How about you pretty lady? Could we interest you in a good time? Your buddy may be a spoilsport, but you look like someone who likes a good party!"

Kaitlyn turned her head, frowned at him, and rose out of the water like Phoebe Cates in Fast Times at Ridgemont High. I didn't hear music, and the water didn't shake off her in slow motion, but the effect on the interlopers and their buddies was equivalent - until she spoke up rather loudly.

"I'm not sure what makes you think a mom playing with her kids, who is here with her husband, 'looks like someone who likes to party', but let me assure you the answer to your invitation is an unequivocal NO! Now, if you will please go rejoin your pack, we will return to enjoying ourselves."

The crowd he came from roared in laughter, and the one with greying hair led them over beside the chastened pretty boys. "Sorry about that! DJ thinks he's God's gift to women, and he was certain the pretty lady would tumble for him. I'll admit we challenged him to try, but only for the entertainment value.

"He owes me a hundred, because I saw the way you look at your husband, mam, and knew his fate, so when he wanted to bet, I did. Again, I apologize for disrupting your family time for our entertainment. We're leaving, and wish you a fun afternoon."

When they had waded out and were on the trail back, Rob told Kaitlyn, "You were brutal, lady! Don't you know rejection like that could damage DJ's fragile ego?"

"A nuclear bomb couldn't damage the egos of anyone in that whole group!" she snorted. "They are in the car right now saying I wanted all six of them but was too embarrassed to leave my kids and husband!"

"But they were celebrating making millions and moving from rich to filthy rich! Surely you wouldn't turn down the opportunity to catch a young millionaire like that?" I teased.

She looked me up and down with a smirky smile. "I have my sights set a bit higher; my game is a hundred-millionaire, or so says my ex-neighbor who stalks him when she's down here."

"Gee, those are high sights; not many in that strata. I'm certainly not there, although the TransNational deal they were crowing about might put me there some day. It won't do much for them, though; poorly devised and badly worded with terribly optimistic projections on their part, but who am I to complain?"

We spent the better part of an hour splashing and talking about the history of this place, including the somewhat-intact remains of the store and the rooms where visitors stayed, then got out and dried off. We walked up the trail, but turned off to view each ruin before returning to the Jeep.

We turned north for the long drive back to my house. I told them stories of the various ghost towns in the area and of the cinnabar mines that drew people to this "isolated and god-forsaken country," as one writer of the era before roads and automobiles proclaimed.

"You've probably never heard of cinnabar, but the ore is refined into mercury, which was and is widely used.

"In the past, it was used in making scientific equipment, recovering gold and silver, manufacturing fulminate and vermilion, and felt-making. Not surprisingly, people who wore felt hats back in those days frequently experienced brain disease and dementia because mercury is toxic.

"Today it's used primarily in the refining of industrial chemicals, and in electronic applications, which is a good reason to not take electronics apart to see what's in them" I warned.

"There are also uranium mines, but they are recent and not a part of the historic lore."

Changing my voice to that of a storyteller, I began, "The remote location and forbidding landscape in this part of the Chihuahuan Desert has long been associated with mystery and hardship. You see, the early pioneers often died or disappeared in its arid, inhospitable, and sometimes impassable mountains. Others were killed by the Apache or Comanche Indians who called it home. Others encountered Mexican raiders or dangerous outlaws that hid within its steep canyons, succumbed to the venom of a poisonous snake, encountered a panther of bear on the rampage, or simply got lost and perished within these vast desert mountains."

There were engrossed eyes watching me from the back seat, and from the passenger seat, as I told the story of the Lost Bill Kelley Mine.

"We all like stories about lost treasure, right? Well, lying somewhere in this remote country, the Bill Kelley Mine was said to have been one of the richest in all of North America... but it also was said to be cursed, because those who claimed to have found the gold or said they were close to discovering the location, died a violent death.

"Down close to what is now Rio Grande Village, Kelly met up with a family of ranchers named Reagan, who laughed at his claim of having found a gold mine - even after he produced a fist-size piece of quartz laced with gold flakes.