Even as a kid, Juan does what he needs to do to survive. He believes in the rule of law, more or less, but crime is a part of his life. “Juan’s Path to Justice” tells about his life growing up in a rough desert town. Juan begins a journey where loyalty serves him well and takes him from the streets of Mexico to the mountains of Wyoming.

Although “Juan’s Path to Justice” is an introduction to “Deadly Repercussions,” it’s a complete tale, and doesn’t end with a cliffhanger! The first chapter is below, and followed by links to major retailers where you can download the rest of the short book for free.

I hope you enjoy it.

JUAN’S PATH TO JUSTICE

Santiago’s Refugio was always open. For that reason, Jorge claimed a corner table as his own. Pine that had darkened over the years lined the walls of the century-old tavern and the aged wood absorbed the sunlight that shined through the windows in the dimly lit space. Facing the door with their backs to the wall, two soldiers from Jorge’s gang sat at his table.

“Another tequila and a Corona,” one man hollered. “My bottle is almost empty!”

A young girl scurried to the bar to get the drinks.

“Jorge thinks Alejandro has become a problem,” the man declared.

“His talent for repairing guns and his knowledge of the Chihuahuan Desert spread his name for years,” the other replied. “Now, his refusal to pledge to the Malevolent Disciples has gotten attention. Alejandro’s esteem is raised among the smaller bands. If he collects a following among them, we can be challenged.”

As the two men continued their conversation, they paid no attention to Manuel Velasquez, when he quickly finished his beer, then ambled toward the front door.

Manuel strolled casually through the parking lot, past his truck and around to the back of Santiago’s. Then he ran.

Short of breath from his quarter-mile run, Manuel pounded on his brother’s front door. “Alejandro! Trouble is coming!”

“How long do we have?” Alejandro opened the door for Manuel and then barricaded it behind him.

“It is Jorge. He is not far behind me,” Manuel panted.

Fourteen-year-old Juan climbed down the ladder from the loft where he had been sleeping. “Hi, Uncle Manny. What’s going on, Papa?”

“Trouble might be coming.”

Manuel helped Juan’s father lift the kitchen table, move it three feet to the side and raise the trapdoor that was almost invisible in the center of the wooden floor. Alejandro dashed to his bed, grabbed the quilt, and shoved it into Juan’s arms.

“Down you go,” he directed. “Don’t make a sound. No matter what you hear, stay there until Uncle Manny or I come to get you.”

As Juan climbed down the steep steps to the small enclosure, Alejandro pulled a wedge of cheese and a container of orange juice from the refrigerator and grabbed the bread from the counter. He handed them down to his son, along with three bottles of water and a flashlight.

“Take this. It might be a day or even two before it is safe for you to come out.”

“I can fight,” Juan said.

“Not yet, my young warrior. There is no more time for talking.”

 “Are they coming to kill you, Papa?”

“No. I think they are coming to recruit me, or maybe to try to frighten me. Now climb inside and be silent.”

Alejandro slipped a revolver into his belt behind his back and pointed to the loft. “Go up and wait. It is better if Jorge thinks I am alone.”

Manuel climbed the ladder, as Alejandro turned off the lights and went into the bedroom to wait.

Only minutes later, Juan felt the vibration from the thud of the front door slamming against the wall. Followed by two men, Jorge strode inside and in a hoarse voice hollered, “Amigo, it is Jorge! We need to talk!”

When Alejandro walked from the bedroom to greet his uninvited guests, he was met with an explosion of gunfire. Juan closed his eyes and pressed his hands to his ears. He was afraid that this time, his father would not lift the cover to his sanctuary.

The smell of smoke and gunpowder seeped into the enclosure where Juan was crouched in the corner on the stone floor of the wooden compound. He listened to the men talking in muffled tones and the shuffling of their footsteps until there was no sound. He waited.

A husky voice said, “Let’s get him outside and load him on the truck. We can drop him in the desert outside of town. Grab his shoulders and I’ll get …”

Before the sentence was finished, there was another eruption of gunfire, accompanied by a scream that sounded like the devil himself. A thud was followed by the creek of the floorboard near the ladder to his loft. Again, everything became quiet. Afraid to breathe, Juan stayed immobile while he listened for any noises above him.

A loud, gravelly moan filled the silence before Juan heard the rage in the voice of his uncle. “When you killed my brother, you signed your death warrant, Jorge.”

“Wait!” Jorge’s hoarse command was followed by a single gunshot.

Manuel crossed the kitchen to the door to the outside. Less than a minute passed, and footsteps signaled Manuel’s return.

“Stay where you are, Juan,” Manuel called. “I will come back for you when I know it is safe.”

Tears trickled from Juan’s eyes and dripped untouched to the stone floor. His father was dead.

Manuel lifted Alejandro and carried him to the bed where he gently placed his brother’s body before he dragged Jorge and the two others outside and heaved them up into the bed of the pickup truck. He tossed their weapons alongside them, went back into the house, dragged the table from above the hideaway, and pulled the door open.

“I am so sorry, Juan. Your father was a good man. They killed him before he had any chance to talk, but they will never kill again. Tomorrow, we will have a funeral for Alejandro. Tonight, you will have a lesson on the consequences of pledging to a street gang.”

Manuel covered the hideaway and Juan helped him lift the kitchen table back over it before he went to his father’s side. He stroked Alejandro’s cheek and whispered, “I will remember what you taught me. And I will fight for justice, no matter what.”

Juan pulled the sheet over his father and followed his uncle to the truck.

After an hour’s drive, they were outside of the ambient lights from the scattered homes of the small town. Off the roadway and into the darkness and the solitude of the desert, Manuel drove to a spot where it was unlikely for people to wander.

“You can help me, or stay in the truck,” Manuel said, when he turned off the engine.

Without a second thought, Juan hopped out of the cab and walked to the back of the pickup. Before Manuel directed him, Juan reached for the leg of one of his father’s murderers, as his uncle grabbed the other. The two of them dragged Jorge’s body from the truck bed and let it drop to the sandy ground. They did the same with the other two killers.

A shallow grave would do little to protect the bodies from the rapid deterioration that the sun would encourage, or to shield them from the feast that the mountain lions or coyotes would find. For that reason, Manuel didn’t bother to bury them. He closed the tailgate and he and his nephew turned toward home.

About ten miles from the road, Manuel stopped the truck. He removed the license plate and heaved it as far as he could, then set the vehicle on fire.

 “We have a three-hour walk ahead of us,” he said to Juan, “and a lot to talk about. You will come to live with me. Your father would have wanted that.”

“I will stay in my home,” Juan countered. “My father would understand. I am ahead in my classes. In two years, maybe less, I will finish high school.”

“You are only fourteen, Juan. You can’t hold down a job and go to school. How will you pay for food and electricity?”

“I have a job,” Juan said stubbornly. “And I have money.”

“What job and what money?”

“For a long time, Papa has hidden money under the stones of the escape room. He said it was for my college. But if I don’t finish high school, college won’t matter, and so that money will buy food and pay bills until I get a paying job.”

“You said that you have a job,” Manuel said. “Is it a job for no pay?”

“There is a border agent who allows me to cross and sometimes asks what I have seen. I will talk to him. I will ask him if I can look more closely and get money for the information.”

“Is that border agent named Diego?” Manuel asked.

“I will not tell you his name. We have an agreement not to speak of our arrangement.”

With a sigh and a nod of his head, Manuel accepted Juan’s response. Loyalty was a family trait.

His nephew knew the mountains and the desert better than most of the border agents who patrolled it. And they knew Juan. They called him Chameleon because of the way he could disappear right before their eyes.

Not happy that his young nephew was practically working as an informant, Manuel knew Juan was wise beyond his years. In school, he was lucky enough to have gotten the attention of a teacher, who encouraged his fascination with education. She pushed him to excel, and he did.

“Besides, I cannot leave Marissa,” Juan continued. “I help her and her mother with some chores.”

“Tell me about Marissa.”

“She is my girlfriend. Marissa and her mother live very close to my house. Marissa and I are going to be married.”

“Aren’t you a bit young to be thinking of marriage?” Despite the circumstances, Manuel grinned.

“You know Papa married when he was sixteen. In eighteen months, I will be sixteen.”

Manuel understood that relocating Juan was going to be difficult and maybe impossible. Without the boy’s agreement to stay with him, his uncle did not doubt that Juan would keep leaving Manuel’s home and returning to Mexico. He was his father’s son.

“Tomorrow, I will meet Marissa and her mother. If her mother agrees to watch over you, I will agree that you can stay in your home. But you must stay in close touch with me and go to school every single day.”

“I will agree,” Juan said. He stopped walking and offered his hand to Manuel.

His uncle clasped Juan’s hand, surprised at the youngster’s sturdy grip.

“We have a contract,” Juan said, his jaw set with determination.

For the next hour, they alternated between a slow jog and a fast pace and covered the ground quickly. When they got within sight of his brother’s house, Manuel said, “Wait here. Stay out of sight until I signal you.”

Juan waited by a wooden fence and crouched in the shadows. He watched his uncle make a wide circle around the yard and approach his house from the back side. It wasn’t more than a minute before Manuel opened the front door and gave his nephew the all-clear sign.

“Do you think more will come?” Juan asked.

“No. Jorge is the only one who had a vendetta against your papa and unfortunately for his two friends, they followed him blindly. If we did our job right, it will be days before others even know they are missing.”

“What will we tell the police about Papa?”

“We will tell them that intruders broke in and your Papa confronted them. Before he could defend himself, they shot him. We will tell them I was up in the loft with you when it happened. I fired back at them and hit one or maybe two of them and they ran out. I will give descriptions of the intruders. You were behind me and couldn’t get a good look. Can you stick to that story?”

“I can, Uncle Manny.”

“Now it is time to call the police. I will stay with you for two days. Tomorrow morning, you will take me to meet Marissa and explain what happened. We will plan the funeral service for the day after.”

If the police suspected that Manuel’s story was not accurate, they gave no indication.

Alejandro and Juan lived in a rough area. Gang violence was not uncommon in the nearby town and occasionally it overflowed into the homes that were situated on the outskirts. Their assumption was that Alejandro’s death was one of those occasions.

Three Years Later

Juan was in Mexico, but just barely. It was late afternoon, and he was on his way home from Texas when he heard a familiar voice.

“Hold up there, son.” Juan stopped and turned toward the sound. He recognized the voice. The man who called to him must be hidden behind the cactus or hunkered down in the gully.

***

The following links will take you to the entire short story. It’s a free download.

Amazon: https://amzn.to/42dty0l

Other major retailers, including, Apple, Kobo and Barnes & Noble: https://books2read.com/u/3J6k9e

_{Now, I’m off to find something to interest you in March!}