It crosses my mind that these people saved a stranger from the desert without so much as a a question. Well, the stranger climbed over their wall. And, if they were trying to ask any questions it's not like I can understand them. Not that wandering the desert and crashing somebody's house was part of the plan. If the car had just been waiting for me after the prison break ... well.
One night I almost walk in on some kind of religious gig. Instead of interrupting them I listen in from around the corner. Who knows what they're saying—the last week of banter with Rosario hasn't rubbed off. On the other hand, she's a quick study. My Ingles words are coming to her more and more naturally. Her voice is in there, chanting along with the others. There's somebody called a despojo, like a priest or
