Dark Moon Crossing by Sylvia Nobel

anything….”
    “That guy just came at me out of nowhere,” she cut in through clenched
    teeth. “If you’d been here with me this wouldn’t have happened.” She clapped
    her hands alongside her head and collapsed to the ground as if her legs would
    no longer support her. “Holy Mother of God,” she murmured in a quaking voice,
“I was afraid of this. Do you know how close that was?‌”
    Stung
    by her accusation, my face warmed with guilty embarrassment. “Lupe, I’m really
    sorry. I got here as soon as I could but you see this bull wouldn’t let me get
    past…” The excuse sounded so silly, I halted my explanation and fired a
    question at her. “What reason did he give for stopping you?‌”
    She
    looked up at me ever so slowly. “Reason?‌ What reason would he need other than
    the fact that I’m Mexican?‌”
    I
    knelt beside her. “Okay, Lupe, calm down. Fortunately, nothing happened.
    You’re gonna be okay. I’m going to be with you the rest of the trip.”
    “What
    about when I go home tomorrow night?‌ If we had come in the same car, he
    probably would not have stopped me.”
    I
    put out a hand to help her up. “You don’t know that for sure. Be realistic.
    With the situation down here as volatile as it is, you might get pulled over
    again whether I’m here or not. Anyway, you seemed to have your ducks all in a
    row or he wouldn’t have dropped it.”
    She
    took my hand and clambered to her feet. “I did do pretty good, didn’t I?‌” she
    said, a faint grin brightening her grim features.
    “Your acting skills are to be commended,” I agreed
    dryly, but the heavy weight in my gut reminded me of how tenuous her situation
    was and could be again any time in the future.
    I helped her get her things back into the car and I led
    the way this time. On the outskirts of town, I noticed a Border Patrol vehicle
    parked behind a clump of mesquite on a dirt side road. As we drove past, I
    glanced at the occupant and a feeling of apprehension pooled in my belly.
    Agent Breslow was sitting inside with his field glasses trained on us. Was he
    spying on us, making sure our alibi was accurate?‌ I suppressed an impish
    desire to wave at him, instead refocusing my attention on the road. It would
    not be wise to piss this guy off.
    It was almost one o’clock by the time we pulled into
    what I’m sure was normally the sleepy little town of Arivaca. But, not today.
    Among the rows of cars, pickups and motorcycles parked along the main street,
    vehicles from the Pima County sheriff’s department stood out prominently.
    Uniformed deputies were out in full force, and only blocks ahead I could hear
    angry shouts from a sizeable crowd gathered in front of the La Gitana Saloon to
    my left. They waved placards that read TACO BENDERS GO HOME! THE KNIGHTS OF
    RIGHT ARE PREPARED TO FIGHT! BEANERS STEAL AMERICAN JOBS! THE ONLY SOLUTION
    IS WHITE REVOLUTION! On the opposite side, a smaller contingency of counter
    demonstrators screamed back while brandishing their own signs—AMNESTY FOR
    ALL! DOWN WITH WHITE RANCHER BIGOTS! DISCRIMINATION IS THE REAL CRIMINAL! A
    news crew with microphones in hand stood beside a white van sporting call
    letters from a Tucson television station. Nobody looked very happy.
    I glanced in the rearview mirror at the look of fear
    plastered on Lupe’s face. While the situation presented an enticing story
    angle for me, I could only imagine what she must be thinking in light of her
    close call with the Border Patrol. Now she would have to endure the hateful
    slurs and degradation of her heritage just to get through town. Even with the
    umbrella of protection afforded by sheriff’s deputies, it did not seem like a
    great idea. Why hadn’t I thought this out ahead of time?‌ Even though our trip
    would have taken longer, we could have traveled state route 286 directly to
    Sasabe and avoided this messy situation. No wonder she’d been so
    apprehensive. She knew what the score