Hector Camacho was drunk. His two-room adobe cottage was large compared to the others on the rancho. A candle on the table was the only light, casting dancing shadows on the walls and ceiling. Next to the candle was a brown earthen jug of tequila. In Hector"s hand was a glass of the amber liquid. Hector drained his drink, and then seizing the jug, splashed the empty glass full. Thumping the container back onto the table, he licked the liquid from his hand.
"Diaz," Hector thought, "you son of a b***h, I loved you like a brother! We were ferocious together! Like wolves you and I! The Federalizes tried to catch us, but they never could! We were brothers!" Hector"s head hit the table as his full glass slipped from his hand, the amber liquid soaking into the dirt floor.
Unconscious to the out
