After America Read Online Free PDF

lips, something between a groan and a strangled squeak. His vision grayed out to the edge, and dark blossoms of poison night flowers bloomed in front of him. He swayed and very nearly passed out.
    The guns fell quiet and silence filled the atmosphere, broken only by the cackles and shouts of the road agents. He scanned the landscape for some forlorn hope that one of his sons or Mariela’s brothers had made it to cover, waiting with their own weapons to back him.
    Sofia was suddenly by his side. She took the binoculars from him and surveyed the scene herself.
    “No,” she whispered. “No, please.”
    “It changes nothing,” Miguel hissed, his head clearing. “Wait here.”
    Sofia reached over and took the reins of her father’s horse in her hand. He turned on her with a look that caused her to flinch away. She drew back a bit but did not drop the reins, however, keeping them firmly in her hands.
    “Sofia.” His tone was low and even. “Give me the reins.”
    “No, Papa, please. Don’t leave me up here alone. Don’t go down there. They will kill you, and I will have no one.”
    His daughter’s face, a contorted mess of terror and pain, began blurring and running in front of him as tears filled his eyes. Miguel had trouble speaking. “Sofia, you may think you are too old for a whipping,” he choked out, “but I will give you one if you do not hand me the reins.”
    “I will gladly suffer that if it keeps you alive,” she said.
“Pleeease.”
    Miguel felt as though he might die. Whole continents of loss, huge tectonic slabs of grief and rage, were breaking up and grinding around inside his body. It was entirely possible, that his heart might explode. Through it all only one thing grounded him and kept him tethered to reality: Sofia’s small pale hand gripping his arm, stopping him from rushing headlong into violence and annihilation.
    As tremors racked his upper body, she stood in the saddle and examined the property with his binoculars. Engines turned over amid shouts of pleasure and curses of aggravation. A few random shots pierced the air, but none in their direction.
    “They are leaving,” Sofia said. “They have not seen us.”
    Miguel reached for the binoculars, causing Sofia to pull back farther, taking Miguel’s horse with her.
    “Please,” Miguel said. “The binoculars.” He did not wish her to see any more.
    She handed them over.
    The road agents pulled away from the hacienda, taking a few potshots at the windows. One of the vehicles stopped by the chicken coop. It was a faded sky-blue Ford F-150, an older model, rusty in places and in need of a muffler. A driver remained at the wheel while the other men went for the chickens. The birds, already spooked by the gunfire and screaming, took fright and scattered in all directions as the main body of the agents’ convoy rounded a bend in the road and disappeared from sight. The stragglers made no move to join them. Instead, the driver of the truck climbed out of the cabin to join his comrades in chasing the chickens. He was carrying a small cooler, from which he took a can of beer.
    Miguel’s eyes narrowed.
    Three to one was much better odds than twenty to one, he thought silently. This would be a start.
    “Here.” He tossed the binoculars at his daughter’s face. “Catch.”
    He heard her yelp as he swiped the reins from her hands and rode off.
    “Stay here,” he ordered, from the crest of the hill. “I mean it, Sofia. I will call you down when it is safe.”
    He didn’t look to see if she obeyed. The lack of hoofbeats behind him told him she was staying in place. Miguel drew his Winchester again and levered a round into the breach. The reins he laid lightly in his lap, controlling the horse with his knees and occasional shifts of body weight. This was not Hollywood. He did not charge down the slope or scream his vengeance to the skies. He rode slowly at first, increasing his pace to a canter as he drew within range. The three road