The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya

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The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya 32the back of the truck instead of on the back of a horse. The lieutenant himself sat down in the cab nextto the driver.The truck again clattered out past the wagons, but this time the driver had passengers and amore serious intent. The headlights made a cone of light in front of the truck as it headed out into thedesert. The truck itself was little more than a flatbed with a canvas roof, and from the back Jose hadhis choice of where to turn his attention. He couldn't decide if he wanted to watch where he was goingor where he had been. He watched the lights and the wagons and the men at the assembly point getsmaller and smaller through the dust spun up by the truck, until at last he couldn't see them any longer.He turned his attention to the cone of light in front of the truck, but found there was a tangiblesameness to the small slice of the desert that he could see. He struggled hard to stay awake.At last, at some order from the lieutenant, the driver halted the truck and killed the engine. Thelieutenant got down and ordered the troopers out of the truck. Each man was to go out five hundredyards in a different direction and take up a post. Jose grabbed El Flaco and headed out. The only noisewas that of a faint breeze caressing the desert, and the scuffle of the troopers' boots as they walked outin their own chosen directions. By the time Jose felt he had walked five hundred yards, even the noisefrom the other troopers had vanished. He found a rock that was big enough to lean against as he sat onthe ground, and he started to listen.Here and there he could hear slight rustlings begin as the true citizens of the desert, the smallanimals who fought out a day-by-day existence here, forgot his still presence and started to move again.He listened to their comings and goings, moments of motion and moments of waiting, until even hisbreathing seemed in time with the rhythms of the night. He was content to stay that way, certain thatno human could come up on him without being out of synch with the night. That was when he heardthe laughter.It came from somewhere in front of him, where no one should have been. It was a low
The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya 33chuckling sound. Did hares make that sound in the night, when no one was around? He wasn't sure.Maybe the rattle of a snake, answering to a threat? He wasn't sure about that, either, but he didn't thinkso. It sounded human. Feeling both his duty as a sentry and a natural curiosity, he decided that he hadto investigate.Silently he leaned forward from his sitting position and lowered himself prone like he had beentrained, cradling El Flaco across his arms. He started a slow crawl in the direction of the laughter,making his movements a part of the desert night: Move. Wait. Move. Wait. It seemed to Jose that hepersisted in this crawl for a long time, but he could not say how long. The laughter continued, guidinghim on his crawl through the night. At last he came to the bottom of a small rise, and the laughterseemed to be just beyond it. Slowly up the rise he went, until at last he could raise his eyes over thecrest and see what lay beyond.What in fact lay beyond caused him to pause for a moment, and then sent him scrambling to hisfeet. The source of the laughter was Grayley, ghostly and shining in the desert night. He appeared tobe having a good time, laughing as he sat on the ground with the ghost of Ned Skelly. They wereplaying cards. Jose scrambling to his feet disturbed the sounds of the night, and Grayley and Skellyboth turned to look at Jose as he stood. Grayley started laughing even harder. Skelly eyed Jose withthe same frozen look of surprise that he had worn at the moment of his death. Jose, his face a picture ofsurprise all its own, walked down to join the pair.Jose was unsure what to make of the scene in which he found himself. As ghostly as Skelly andGrayley were, their current presence here in the desert was undeniable. His mind turned over options.Perhaps he was dreaming, but perhaps he was not. In either case, he thought, if there were ghosts here,perhaps La Catrina would not be far behind. The thought made his pulse quicken and his stomachflutter. Awake or not, he settled down to join the pair. With a giggle, Grayley dealt him in.The three played through the night, Jose lingering on every sound that might be the chatter of
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The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya

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