Lone Star Legend

Lone Star Legend by Gwendolyn Zepeda Page B

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Authors: Gwendolyn Zepeda
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through the screen door,
     tail wagging and a dog smile on his face as if he were listening and enjoying his master’s remarks. She panned back to Tío
     Jaime’s face as he expounded, “No one pays me any mind out here. I could work all day, or I could keel over and die, for all
     anybody cared. I don’t ask anyone for anything and nobody offers. But if I were to skip paying my property taxes
one time
, then the government would scream bloody murder, as if I was a monster stealing their goats in the middle of the night.”
     He laughed grimly at his own idea and paused to take a sip of his lemonade. “They found a goat half eaten, half a mile away.
     Nobody knew whose it was or where it came from. Then someone said it must have been a chupacabra, and now we have the news
     out here. Well, I’ll tell you… last time a goat came up missing, it belonged to one of the white ranchers out here, and the
     first person he suspected was me. I was the damned chupacabra that time, and the news came out here looking to do stories
     about illegal aliens hiding out in the sticks. I was the big monster—the evil mojado.”
    “Did they do a story about you?
Are
you an illegal alien?” Sandy asked.
    “Nope. I got amnesty way back, twenty, thirty years ago. I took it when they offered it and became a U.S. citizen. I figured
     it was the least they could do for me, after all the years I worked here for less than minimum wage. I thought of it as a
     bonus, you know? A Christmas bonus for thirty years of faithful service. They came out here to find the evil goat-stealing
     chupacabra, but I had shifted my shape, and all they found was a harmless old man with his papers all in order.”
    Cano barked again and Sandy turned the camera again, wishing she could catch him in the act. Tío Jaime sipped his drink and
     fell into silence. Sandy prompted him, “Was it worth it, then?”
    He took a moment to consider. “I guess so. In the end, it was. I have my land. I have my place here, whether people think
     I deserve it or not. I have a couple of spoiled nephews and nieces who live in the suburbs and play video games all day and
     wouldn’t know hard work if it bit them on their soft behinds. I guess it’s worth it, then, huh? That’s the American dream
     they keep telling us about, right?” He looked right at the camera then, as if remembering it was there, and laughed. Sandy
     had to laugh along with him.
    A N HOUR LATER , after Sandy had turned off her camera, she remembered her duty and pulled a fresh, blank release form from her bag.
    “Tío Jaime, would you mind signing this?”
    He took the piece of paper from her and held it at arm’s length, squinting as if farsighted. “What is it?”
    “A release form,” Sandy said. “It’s a document that you sign, showing that you give permission for me to use this film of
     you on our Web site.” She reached into her bag again for a pen. The old man peered at the form and Sandy wondered if she should
     go over its clauses with him one by one. She didn’t want to insult him by assuming that he couldn’t read and understand them
     for himself. But before she could risk doing that, he handed the paper back to her.
    “It’s okay. You have my permission.”
    Sandy smiled. “Thank you. But, if you could just sign…”
    Tío Jaime shook his head. “I don’t need to sign. I trust you. You’re going to put this stuff on your Web site. I don’t know
     who’d want to look at it, but you can go ahead.”
    “But Tío Jaime, it’s a little more than that. The form has a few details about you granting us the rights to use your image,
     and I need you to sign it before I can turn in my footage.” Sandy handed it back to him hopefully.
    The old man took it but, instead of signing, folded it in half and tucked it under his lemonade glass. “Well, I’ll look at
     it, then. It’s kind of hard for me to read it right now. If I decide to sign it, I can give it to you next time you

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