Careful not to disturb his two younger boys who shared the lumpy bed with his oldest, Abelardo Santiago Santos whispered, "When you wake up in the morning, I will be well on my way to el Norte, mijito." In an old bed across the tiny room, his three daughters slept soundly. "You are fifteen, eldest of my children, so I trust you to care for la familia... do you promise?"

"Si Papito, I promise," the boy answered. "But I worry about your trip. I have heard Tio Reynaldo tell about being beaten and robbed by coyotes and rateros near the border... and by la migra en Los Estados Unidos. Please, papa, be careful ... may God go with you."

Santiago kissed his son's forehead. "Yes, I will face danger but it will be worth it. Now I must return to my despedida, to say my goodbyes to family and friends. Adios, mijito. Pray for me!"

Music and laughter from the despedida, the customary "going away" party, drifted into the cramped little room from outdoors. Abelardo turned his face to the wall and sobbed quietly. It was to be the first time he'd be separated from his father. "Where are they?" Santiago asked the short, muscular man squatting beside him. "They were just west of Tecate, near the U.S. border - eighteen of them. "Lower your voice!" the man cautioned, "Don't worry, they will come." His name was Guillermo -- 'Memo' for short: and he'd crossed la frontera many times. Since he was the oldest in the group, and the most experienced, the men had elected him their leader.

"How long will it take us to get to Los Angeles?" Santiago asked. "Does the coyote know a safe route? Have you travelled with him before?"

      "Yes, many times," Memo answered. "But he will not transport us. He sends others for that. The time it takes to get to Los Angeles depends upon the vehicle and who is driving. Don't worry. Other then our being cramped, the trip is normally safe. They pack us in like sticks of firewood on a burro's back. I hear la migra has cut off many of the familiar routes, so our ride might be a long one. You just have to put your trust in God and pray we arrive safely."

      A thin boy about sixteen complained, "Well, I wish somebody would get here ... this night air is cold." He wore only a light western shirt, denim jeans, huaraches and a straw cowboy hat. No jacket. Teeth chattering, he said, "Damn, I sure could use something warm to drink."

     "Hah!" Memo snorted. "You can forget eating and drinking ... once we start there are no stops. And be sure to empty your bladders before you get into the vehicle."

      "Don't worry, in the end your suffering will be worth it," Santiago assured the youth. "We will have good paying jobs ... be able to send money to our families."

      Memo snorted again. "What you will get are long hours and hard work," he scoffed. "Remember, I have been at this for many years. We Mejicanos must take jobs the gringos refuse. There was a time I hoped to earn enough to buy a small place near Camargo, south of Chihuahua. A piece of land where I could keep a few chickens, raise a pig or two, grow my own corn and vegetables. Hell ... all I do is work, send money to my wife, and try to save enough from what little I keep to live on to pay for a trip home once a year. After a short visit with my family, I must scrape together enough to pay the coyote-then do it all over again. I tell you ... it is like the dog chasing its tail."

      Santiago grinned. "With me it will be different. My brother has a good job waiting: washing dishes in a fine restaurant. I will live with him, keep very little for myself, and send the rest to my beautiful wife, Teresa-she knows how to handle money. Instead of wasting it travelling back and forth, I intend to stay in Calitornia until Teresa has saved enough for a piece of land. Then I will build a bouse with my own two hands, raise food for my family. The soil around Lake Chapala is rich and fertile, anything you plant will sprout and grow quickly."

      Memo chuckled. "Dream if you must, compadre. But while you are at it, make sure your accounts with God are in order. Believe me, you will need plenty of His help. I swear, at times I think He has forgotten los pobres. In California, I have seen those damn gringos throw away enough food and clothing to sustain my family for days... weeks even!"

      "Quiet!" a man whispered. "There's a light headed this way."

      Memo grunted. "That will be our contact's flashlight, everybody on your feet! And when we move out, keep up,...los coyotes wait for no man. When we reach our transportation, they will want the money... have it ready. And if you don't have the full amount, plan on staying behind."

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