town every few nights. Lots of the villages around here have young men who work there. Some come home, others don’t. Are they all right? Who knows?”
“I’m sorry,” said Remi. “Maybe we can talk to the authorities in Guatemala City and pass on the story. Sometimes outsiders can seem more objective to the police.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Dr. Huerta. “If the drug people saw you and shot at you, they might be searching for you even now. Just to be safe, we ought to get you out of here. I’ve got a car and I’ll be driving to the next town this morning. I’ll take you with me and put you on a bus to Guatemala City.”
“Thank you,” Sam said. “We would appreciate it very much.”
“Yes, we would,” said Remi. “Doesn’t the bus stop here?”
“Not anymore,” said the priest. “Santa Maria de los Montanas isn’t big enough. There are only two hundred souls, and few have any business elsewhere.”
Dr. Huerta said, “Let’s give it another half hour, just to be sure the drug trucks have passed, before we get on the road.”
“While you’re waiting, I’ll show you our church,” said Father Gomez. “It was made by the first generation of converts in the sixteenth century, under the direction of the Dominicans.”
“We’d love to see it,” Remi said.
They walked to the church with the priest. The front had a pair of low bell towers with a flat facade between them. There was a large pair of wooden doors, opening on a little plaza that ended at the road. It occurred to Remi that the style was similar to some of the smaller California missions. Inside were carved statues of Mary and baby Jesus above the altar, flanked by angels with shields and spears.
“The statues were imported from Spain in the eighteenth century,” said Father Gomez. “These pews were made by parishioners about that time.” He sat in the front row and the Fargos joined him. “And now all that history culminates in the town turning into a drug traffickers’ paradise.”
“You should try again for help,” said Sam. “The national police in Guatemala City might be more interested in this. As Remi said, we can tell them what we saw.”
“If you could get a message through to Sarah Allersby, the woman who owns the Estancia Guerrero, it might help even more. The doctor and I have hopes that she’s like a lot of absentee landlords. She doesn’t pay much attention, but when she learns what’s been happening on her land, she’ll react.”
Remi sighed. “We can try.”
“You seem doubtful. Why?”
“We met her recently, and I think she might take a letter or a call from us. But our personal impression, and what we’ve heard about her, tells us that she won’t help anyone unless she gets some personal advantage out of it.”
“You think she’s aware of the drug smuggling?”
“We can’t say that,” said Remi. “Just because someone makes a bad impression on us doesn’t mean she’s a criminal. But she struck us as a very spoiled and selfish young woman who didn’t care much about rules.”
“I see,” said Father Gomez. “Well, please try. Having these bandits patrolling the area is a terrible thing. If the drugs disappeared, so would they.”
“We’ll try to talk to her,” said Sam.
“Thank you. We’d better get you to Dr. Huerta. He has patients waiting in the next town.” They got up and strolled down the aisle of the church behind Father Gomez. He opened one of the big doors a couple of inches, then said, “Wait.”
Sam and Remi followed his gaze and saw a small squad of heavily armed policemen had arrived in a personnel carrier. They had stopped Dr. Huerta’s car on the street, and their sergeant was talking to him. He said little and seemed to be annoyed by the intrusion. Finally, he got out of his car, walked across the street with the sergeant, and opened a storefront door, then stepped aside.
The sergeant and two of his men went inside and looked around and then came out. The doctor locked the door again. Then he walked back to the car with the sergeant, who directed him to open the trunk. He opened it, they looked inside, and he closed it. The sergeant nodded to the doctor, and got into the passenger seat of the personnel carrier. His men climbed aboard, and, at his signal, they drove off in the direction of the Estancia Guerrero.
Huerta walked into the church. “That was the same squad of police who came after we wrote to Miss Allersby about what’s happening on her land.”
Father Gomez said, “What did they want with you?”
“Today they’re looking for two people they say are involved in drug smuggling — two strangers, who may be Americans, a man and a woman. They were seen a few miles from here, and when the police raided their camp, they found a large amount of cocaine in their backpacks.”
Sam looked at Remi. “That’s quite a story.”
“I think we’ve got to get you out of here,” said Father Gomez.
“Yes,” said Dr. Huerta. “Come, I’ll take you now.”
Remi said, “We don’t want to endanger you. If they’ll frame us, they’ll frame other people too — maybe you.”
“They’ve given me their message and that will be enough for now. And the sergeant knows even with his friends the drug men, he might be the one who needs a doctor someday. I’m the only one for many miles.”
Remi said, “Father Gomez, we’ll try to let you know how our talk with Sarah Allersby works out.”
“I hope it does. God bless you in your travels.”
They got into the doctor’s car, and he drove them in the direction the trucks had traveled in the night. Almost as soon as the car reached the end of the short main street, the pavement gave way to gravel again. The road wound down and away from the town into a forested valley.
Huerta said, “The town of Santa Maria de los Montanas was a late Mayan settlement. It was built a couple of hundred years after the great cities were abandoned. As you can see, it’s high up, approachable only by one steep road on each side. It was probably a place of refuge after the collapse of the larger society.”
“It must have been a tough place for the Spanish to conquer.”
“They couldn’t do it,” said Dr. Huerta. “The Indians in the area were very warlike. What happened was that Dominican missionaries, friars led by Las Casas, came and converted the Indians peacefully.”
“Bartolome de Las Casas?” asked Remi.
“Yes,” said Huerta. “He’s a national hero. He founded a mission at Rabinal, pacified the Indians, and baptized them one by one. That’s why this region is called Las Verapaces. It means ‘Lands of True Peace.’”
Sam noticed the doctor’s expression as he drove on. “Is something wrong?”
Dr. Huerta shook his head. “I’m sorry, I was thinking sad thoughts about Las Casas. His dream of a Guatemala where the Mayans had equal rights never came true, even now. The Mayan people have suffered a very long time. And during civil wars in any country, the ones who suffer most are the poorest.”
Remi said, “Is that why you practice medicine way up here?”
He shrugged. “Logic would dictate that I work with the people who need me the most. Whenever I want to leave, I think of that.”
“What’s that up ahead?” said Remi. “It looks like one of the marijuana trucks.”
“Get your heads down,” said Dr. Huerta. “I’ll try to get rid of them.”
Sam and Remi ducked down in the backseat. Sam lay on his side on the floor, Remi lay on the seat and covered him and herself with the blanket Dr. Huerta had on the seat so it looked as though she were sick and the only passenger.
Dr. Huerta drove ahead. The truck was stopped in the middle of the road, and the driver and the guard were out of the cab, waving Huerta’s approaching car to a stop. “It looks like they have engine trouble. They want me to stop,” Dr. Huerta said to Sam and Remi.
“You don’t have much choice,” said Sam. “Do it.”
Dr. Huerta stopped behind the truck, and the driver walked up to his window. He addressed the doctor in Spanish, and the doctor replied, waving his arm in the direction of Remi lying on the backseat. The man quickly stepped back two steps from the car and gestured to the doctor to keep going. Dr. Huerta drove on.
Remi had been listening. “What is
“It’s a common viral illness. In English, it’s called mumps. I told him you had a case at its most contagious
