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of Undocumented Aliens were soon due through La Entrada to meet their Americanside coyote and get trucked out on the nearby interstate to parts unknown around the USA. That was why the man and his dog had risen before the sun to set supplies in the shallow cave in the landmark gap in the mountains. The day had turned from tolerable to hot. Anyone walking in that heat would suffer, so Rodeo was glad to see that no one obvious traversed the steepsided valley.
    To reorient himself Rodeo looked toward his own property. A vehicular dust cloud moved from Agua Seco Road down Elm Street and toward his homeplace. Rodeo watched the dark SUV until it stopped abruptly near his isolated casita. The dust the vehicle had raised swirled over it and rolled past the casita to dive into the empty swimming pool. Only after the dust had fully settled did the driver exit the vehicle.
    Rodeo refocused his Leicas. The visitor was dressed in khaki slacks and a dark T-shirt, wore Aviator sunglasses under a gimme cap. The visitor walked to the house and knocked, waited and then peered through the available windows, then went to Rodeo’s truck and looked into the cab and into the bed, tested the locks on the lockbox. He then walked the ten yards to the storage shed and disappeared into that space for several minutes then exited the shed and continued a slow circuit around the house until he stopped again at the side door of the casita where a crooked R EAL E STATE sign still hung.
    When Rodeo shifted his position his binocular lens flared and the visitor stopped and looked up the hill, returned to his SUV, leaned past the open door, pulled out his own pair of binoculars and aimed them at Rodeo. When the driver waved his gimme cap broadly from side to side, Rodeo recognized State Highway Trooper Ted Anderton and walked down the hill until he stopped several yards from Anderson’s SUV.
    *   *   *
    This is not official business, Mr. Garnet, the state cop said. It’s my day off from Traffic and I was just touring around the area.
    Why?
    The cop thought for a moment. I like the desert. This simple statement he delivered as if profound.
    Rodeo turned away from the cop and waited for a minute for his dog to catch up to him, bent and scratched the dog’s ears.
    You are a real trooper, aren’t you, boy? Rodeo asked.
    Yessir.
    I was talking to the dog, Mr. Anderton.
    Rodeo stood. His dog whined. Rodeo turned to the state policeman. You running a rogue investigation, Mr. Anderton? Rodeo asked. That what you’re really doing out here in the middle of noplace? You think Sheriff Molina’s not doing something he ought to be doing?
    I didn’t say anything against Sheriff Molina, said Anderton.
    You here for some specific reason then?
    I want you to take a look at something, Mr. Garnet. The cop reached into his vehicle and pulled a manila folder from the dash.
    Rodeo opened the screen door of his casita and followed his dog inside and left the door open for the state trooper. The cop entered the little house and moved around the central room, peering where he could until Rodeo motioned him into a straightbacked chair at the table. Rodeo put fresh water in the dog’s bowl and tipped what was left of a twenty-pound bag of generic dog food in the dog’s dish. The dog sniffed at the powdery food but didn’t eat any of it, only lapped wearily at the bowlwater and then looked up at Rodeo and whined. Rodeo pulled a fifth of Green Label Jack Daniel’s from a cabinet and tipped a taste of the light liquor into the dog’s water then recapped the bottle and put it away without offering it around.
    You give your dog liquor? asked Anderton.
    They say it’s bad to drink alone, Rodeo said.
    The dog drank for a while then walked under the kitchen table, circled three times, lay down and went almost immediately to sleep on the floor. Rodeo lit a propane burner with a wood match and watched the cowboy coffee pot. He slid the .357 magnum out of the leather holster on