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mama ensured me that helping to keep the house
clean was enough.
    About two months after Francisco’s
death, an opportunity came along I couldn’t pass up. My two brothers came over
for dinner with their families. They knew about my money concerns and were both
getting ready to head to Arizona to help with the harvest. Since the Rio Mayo
had been dammed, farming became a big industry in Sonora, which is what my
brothers did, but in America they could get paid three times the amount; enough
to support their families for six months.
    We talked about me
joining them now that Mariella wasn’t breastfeeding, it would be possible. My
mama was worried that the trip and the hard work would be too much. I told her
I was young and strong. Pedro and Enrique assured her they’d watch out for me.
    “But you’re going over
illegally. What if you get caught?”
    “They haven’t caught us
yet,” Enrique said; his confident smile brilliant white against his dark skin.
    “Mama, we’ve done this
before. We know where to go and what to do,” Pedro added.
    “I need to do this…for
Mariella.” I didn’t tell them I had dreams of one day moving to the United
States. That was the one dream Francisco and I had in common. America was the land of opportunity and that’s all I wanted for my niña.
    Laughter from my nieces
and nephews, who were playing outside in the courtyard, drifted in through the
open windows. Mariella sat on my lap and tugged at the braid draped over my
shoulder. Everyone around the table was quiet as we waited for my parents to
agree. They’d have to take care of Mariella the two months I’d be gone.
    “Dios dame fuerza, I
can’t believe I’m allowing this!” my mother said as she threw her hands up
towards the heavens.
    “Really?” I asked,
glancing over at my father.
    “Si, but you need to stay
with your brothers and,” then he turned to face them, “you keep her safe.”

Chapter Eight
     
    Enrique left a week ahead
of us to get us jobs. Pedro and I were busy getting ready for our trip. He
thought it best if I cut my hair as being identifiable as a woman from a
distance could attract trouble. I shuddered at the thought of the “trouble”
Pedro referred to and quickly snipped my braid off.
    When I put Mariella to
bed the night before we left, my tears frightened her and I squeezed her a
little too tight. I decided it was better for me to leave before she woke. Our
Uncle Felipe, my father’s brother, had offered to drive us as close to the
border as possible. The moment the beat up old truck pulled in front of my
parent’s house, I almost changed my mind about the whole trip. Pedro reassured
me everything would be fine and mama hugged me. “Be safe and don’t worry about
Mariella, we’ll take good care of her,” she whispered in my ear.
    The ride was long, bumpy
and hot. The further inland we traveled the humidity that clung to the
coastline gradually faded, replaced with dusty, dry air which made the skin on
my face feel tight. The sun hung low and heavy in the sky, a deep reddish
orange, casting long shadows across the desert when Uncle Felipe pulled onto
the shoulder of the road and turned off the truck.
    “Why are we stopping?” I
asked.
    “We walk from here Juanita,”
Pedro answered. “It’s better to cross at night.” He held his hand out and
helped me down. I followed him to the back where he handed me my bag, which I
slung over my shoulder. Pedro tapped the side of the truck with his hand. The engine
roared to life and Uncle Felipe turned around to head back home. He waved at us
before stepping on the accelerator. I watched him drive away until Pedro tugged
on my sleeve.
    “We need to move,” he
urged and led me into the underbrush. I couldn’t make out a trail, but had
faith that Pedro knew where he was going. The earth was hard under my feet. My
boots, borrowed and a little too big, rubbed against my heels making them burn.
Still I pressed on, silent behind Pedro, crouching