The Maldonado Miracle Read Online Free

sprawled in the sand, beer splattered over his shirt.
    Sanchez was three feet away, barking, demanding to go.
    "Take that insane dog with you," Enrique shouted.
    "I can't. My father would rage."
    "Let him rage," Enrique shouted, and then Jose could hear him laughing.
    "Gutierrez would not take him. Don't you see?"
    "Tell Gutierrez not to art like an old lady. Tell Gutierrez I'll turn him in to the authorities unless he takes Sanchez—after I punch him in the mouth."
    Jose grabbed Sanchez by the loose skin, and began walking back toward the hut, tugging the balking dog.

5
    J OSE WAS SITTING in the front seat with Gutierrez, not saying much. As they turned onto Baja No. 1, across from the cemetery on the hillside where his mother was buried, near Bradey's, he crossed himself, acknowledging her, and then looked into the back seat, where Sanchez was perched triumphantly.
    Gutierrez was still a little angry. He said, "I think that man Enrique is crazy. I don't like people threatening me."
    Jose tried to keep from smiling. "He is not crazy."
    A few minutes later, Gutierrez said, "Well, maybe it is best. If anyone sees you with a dog around the border they'll think you live in Tecate."
    Jose nodded. He had been worrying about what his father might say when he saw Sanchez. It was like a thousand wild boar attacking, sudden as hail, when his father got angry.
    The car moved past San Vicente and the narrow, lazy San Ysidro River, on toward Santo Tomás and Maneadero. It was less than two hours to Ensenada, and the road was very good.
    Jose looked out the window as the barren countryside swept by, wondering when he would see it again. It was almost six o'clock, and the sun was dull gold against the Juárez peaks. Beyond them, the sky was already darkening.
    As near as he could remember, he had been to Ensenada six times, four of them just this winter when his mother was in the hospital. It had always seemed a large place. In comparison to the gas station, store, and cafe at San Vicente, it was as big as Mexico City.
    He'd seen television for the first time in Ensenada when he was ten. Maldonado had gone there on business, taking Jose with him. A TV set had been in the window of a Calle Primera furniture store, and they had stood outside for more than two hours that Saturday morning to watch cartoons. Jose had wondered how it worked. Then this winter, he'd watched again, thinking that some day it might come to Colnett. Ensenada was a remarkable place.
    As they passed the airport the traffic became heavy. He saw the new fried chicken shop, with the picture of the white-bearded
americano
on the big metal barrel. They'd stopped there after his mother died, to buy some chicken to eat while waiting for the bus south. He'd always remember that barrel turning round and round, just after they'd come from the hospital.
    He looked over at Gutierrez. "
Señor,
I want to stop at the church before we go on to Tecate."
    The
pocho
frowned.
    "I'll only stay a moment."
    "You believe in God?" Gutierrez asked.
    "Yes, and the Virgin Mary. They are good to us, my father said. They look over us."
    Gutierrez cleared his throat noisily but took the lane to Avenida Benito Juárez.
    That day last winter they had gone to the church before walking on to the fried chicken shop. It was on a side street, by the market, several blocks past the traffic circle and the General Juárez monument.
    Gutierrez waited in the car as Jose went in. He removed his hat, lit a candle, and prayed. He prayed for his mother, his father, himself, Sanchez, Enrique, and even Gutierrez. The routine was familiar. The Maldonados seldom missed Sunday mass in the small church near San Vicente. They always walked the blacktop and then caught a ride with the Camalu cousin.
    As he was getting back into the car, Jose told Gutierrez, "I said a prayer for you. You, too, Sanchez."
    The
pocho
cleared his throat again and backed out. Benito Juárez was jammed, and all the lights were on.