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They were all sent to different areas each time it was their turn, and that night was no different. The first time Indio had spent the night out in the open, no rocks, no trees, only a small fire to warm some coffee and his hands as a remarkably cool breeze blew on his bare arms.
That night, there were trees and he sat in front of another fire, keeping alert. Any snapping twig, any footfalls of any kind, he wanted to hear them. The fire was deemed necessary. No one would be out on the ranch alone without one to ward off predators. They had to make it look like it was any other night, and he was a simple sentry.
Not bait.
Not that he minded. He’d rather be out in the woods than cooped up inside a house any day. He enjoyed camping, being outdoors, and had always liked it better where there were no walls.
To Indio, walls were pain made to contain a soul until that soul turned black and shriveled into nothing.
The air on his skin made him feel alive. It was okay to think about the pretty young man out in the woods, where only the dirt and rocks were witness. He could feel a smile as he thought of Selestino, the stubborn set of his jaw, hard eyes that glared like he’d kill a person with a simple look.
Yeah, Indio had a thing for him, that was for sure. As much as he wanted to hate the guy, it was hard when he pushed Indio the way he did. Selestino didn’t like being seen as the rich, spoiled man he was. He wanted to spread his wings and be seen as a full, hard man.
At first, Indio didn’t think Sel was all that tough. He’d thought that Sel would crumble if he felt pain, felt hatred, felt anything except love and protection. When he stomped down those stairs, getting in Indio’s face, well, bigger and harder than he had avoided doing that very thing.
Giving a laugh that was taken on the breeze, he relaxed and leaned back on the log he’d placed near the fire. He sat in the dirt, one boot kicked over the other, thinking about a pretty boy and smiling as the fire crackled and the clouds passed over the stars.
The air brought the scent of the trees, and it reminded him of Christmas. Not any he’d experienced, of course. No Christmas in the Baca house. But in stores, in the homes of a few of his friends, yeah, where the tree sat in the living room with pretty, wrapped gifts underneath and twinkling lights wrapped around the branches.
The phone lit in the darkness, and he looked to see a text from Eight.
You okay mano?
He smiled. Eight even had an accent when he texted.
I’m good, prez.
Cool. Keep your gun handy and your dick hidden. You never know about these white boys and their serial killers. They like eatin dick and not the fun way.
“You’re sick, Eight, Jesus,” he whispered to the phone as he left a laughing emoji.
Checking his pants, he felt the gun in the waistband, and brought it out to hold in his hand. The firelight flickered over it, making it look like it would melt in his hand.
The dull black of the gun’s surface with waves of light moving over it, he remembered a time he’d seen something so similar, when the gun was pointed at him in the fire's light and the house blazed around him…
He picked up his phone to look through it to pass the time and it opened to his texts with Eight. The last one, his laughing emoji, hadn’t sent. The message read, Error, could not send. Try again?
He did, and it just came up with the same message.
Indio had been told that could happen. The reception in certain areas of the ranch were spotty at best, so he figured, great. Not even the internet to pass the time.
For another few minutes, Indio sat in the quiet, enjoying the night. Then the twig snapped, and his body tensed. He got the gun in his hand, ready to confront the person who’d dared to come too close.
If he killed the man, it wouldn’t be the first time. The first time had been hard, gut wrenching, but necessary, as this time would.
He sat up slowly, like he was enjoying the fire, listening intently to his surroundings. When no other sound came, Indio didn’t let down his guard, but he didn’t move any more, didn’t sit back. Just in case.
Sure, it could be an animal. There were plenty around the place. He’d been warned about cougar, bear, deer, elk, and even moose. Those were the big ones. There were any number of smaller animals around the ranch. Still, everything inside of Indio knew it wasn’t any of them. It was human, and it was a threat.
When he finally heard footsteps, they weren’t coming toward him. In fact, they were moving away from him at a rather quick pace, so he got up and started in the direction he’d heard them.
Slowly, carefully, he moved past the stand of trees behind him and up ahead, barely visible with the light of the half-moon. He saw someone moving past a cluster of boulders. Ducking down when the man stopped and turned, Indio watched, and knew it wasn’t anyone that was meant to be on the ranch.
It looked to be a man, thick around the waist, not very tall, wearing a camo suit to better hide in the woods. Indio had good eyes, the only thing he’d gotten from his fucked-up father that was a good quality. His father could spot a fly twenty feet away and throw whatever he had near him, hitting the fly in mid-flight.
When the man ducked out of sight, Indio got up and started after him, checking his phone for service and finding there was none. “Fuck,” he said under his breath.
The gun in his hand, he set his phone in his front pocket, hoping like hell the GPS signal was tracking so they’d know and they’d follow.
