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across the border with the hope of being able to make enough to feed themselves and their families, and being murdered by some vigilante who felt he had the right to take the law into his own hands. It was so easy to feel self-righteous and superior when you had a comfortable home, a safe place to live and a full stomach. “What, exactly, do you expect me to do?”
    â€œAccording to Jorge, you’ve got the skills to help. If you want to.”
    â€œI’ll have to thank Jorge next time we talk.”
    His father ignored the sarcasm. “You won’t believe this, but I’m proud of you.”
    â€œLike you were proud of me when I was cutting lettuce in your fields and you’d come by and completely ignore me?”
    Bruce didn’t respond to the jab, but the tenor of his voice changed, grew softer. “You could make a difference to what’s happening here. I know it.”
    â€œSince when did you start caring about Mexicans?”
    â€œI’ve been a member of this community all my life.Do you think I want to see senseless hate crimes tear it apart? I’m not a monster, Rod. I may not be happy about droves of people entering this country illegally, but that doesn’t mean I want to see them murdered.”
    â€œYeah, where would you be if you had to pay for white labor?”
    â€œI’m good to my workers.”
    It was true that he’d been more generous than some farmers. That was another reason his mother had stayed. She interpreted this generosity to mean more than it really did. But Rod didn’t want to give him even that much. Besides, what was happening in Bordertown wasn’t Rod’s problem. He’d finally escaped. No way was he willing to let this draw him back. “I live in California now, Mr. Dunlap. Since my mother died, there’s nothing left for me in Arizona.” Except Jorge. But speaking to him on the phone and sending the occasional package was enough.
    â€œI’ll pay you,” Bruce offered.
    â€œAbsolutely not.” He rubbed his temple to relieve the beginnings of a headache. “I don’t want your money.”
    â€œYou took it readily enough when your mother died!”
    Clenching his jaw, Roderick spoke through gritted teeth. “Are you kidding me? I was sixteen years old and had just lost the only person I had in the world. I couldn’t have paid for a decent burial without that money, and you know it.” That was the only reason he’d taken it. He would never have accepted it if it hadn’t been for her. “Besides, I paid you back. I made a payment every month afterward, even if it meant I went hungry.” He’d had a hard time surviving the next two years. He’d mostly drifted, taken odd jobs as a dishwasher or a field hand or a painter. He’d probably still be rambling around without tether or anchorif not for a certain navy recruiter who’d worked down the street from an office he’d been painting. After badgering him for weeks, Linus Coleman had talked him into getting his G.E.D. and joining the navy. Rod had signed on the dotted line mostly because he’d been promised a free college education. But his commitment to the armed forces had quickly evolved into much more than that. In the navy, he’d found a home, friends who were more like brothers, purpose in what he did, some self-esteem. But it hadn’t been an easy road.
    â€œI never cashed those checks, Rod,” his father said. “That’s your problem. They were money orders. It’s not as if you were doing me any favors by not cashing them.”
    â€œI thought there might come a time when you’d actually include a return address on the envelope so I could send them back. I brought them with me to your BUD/S graduation, but…you didn’t give me the chance to pull you aside long enough to speak privately. I never begrudged you a cent of that