27. Lawmen

The road climbed rapidly. A few miles out of Coyame, it also began to wind and undulate radically. There were long stretches where the narrow road did not afford much of a shoulder to re-negotiate any driving error. The Kodiak responded faithfully to Ervey’s driving. 

The sharp curves on the road at the top of the sierra caused Ervey to slow down. At the summit, he caught a glimpse of the yawning Cañon del Pegüis, where the Conchos River cuts through the Sierra Matasaguas before it opens up to the Rio Grande River Valley. The descent is steep and starts immediately beyond this point, and the twists and turns grow tighter. Ervey kept shifting until he reached the lowest possible gear and let the truck coast with gravity, stepping on the brakes every now and then to make the turns. All along the decline, he saw breaks in the guardrail where somebody had failed to make a turn. Carcasses of past mishaps were strewn on the mountainside: pieces of pickups, charred remains of a fuel tanker, a twisted heavy flatbed trailer. Then with every turn, the panorama of the river valley emerged without horizon. Far off in the distance, the ancient settlement known for most of its history as La Junta came into view. The long, flat bottom of the valley hides the actual junction of the two rivers, but from the sierra the river banks stand out as green swirling ribbons in a sea of shifting tans and grays.

“Finally,” said Ervey.

“Sí,” said Lilo.

“So can you see El Mulato from here?” asked Ervey.

“No, but it would be at the far end of what you can see of the valley from here,” said Lilo,  “it’s somewhat of a junta like in Ojinaga, except there it’s to arroyos joining with the Rio Grande River instead of the Conchos River.” 

“Why do they call it El Mulato?” said Ervey, “lot’s of black people there?”

“No negros that I know of. There’s lots of stories about it’s name. One is that a mulato used to live there. Another is that it takes it’s name from a nearby dark-colored mountain  known as Cerro El Mulato,” said Lilo.

“You have a lot of relatives there,” said Ervey.

“Many,” said Lilo, “on top of that everybody calls each other cousin.”

“Sounds like it’s a pretty united community,” said Ervey.

“Not really. Mulateños can be very violent with each other, but they will always support each other against those from the outside,” said Lilo, “we’re quite famous for it in Ojinaga and even in across the border.”

“Ojinagenses are not like that, too?” asked Ervey, “my wife’s family’s pretty regionalistic about Cuchillo Parado.”

“Not nearly as much as among Mulateños,” said Lilo, adding, “it’s said that even the law on the other side of the river draw their guns when hear they’re dealing with Mulateños.” 

Ervey looked far off into the distance a long time. 

“Atención, güey,” said Lilo.

“What?” said Ervey, turning to him.

“There’s a roadblock up ahead,” said Lilo.

“What? Where?” said Ervey, in disbelief.

“There they are,” said Lilo, when the roadblock came into clear view.