“You stay there, sister-in-law!” Vicente shouted from the edge. “Mateo was an idiot for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, and you’re just as stupid!”
Elena loaded the shotgun, aimed at the illuminated wellhead, and pulled the trigger. The 12-gauge shot echoed in the barrel like a deafening thunderclap. The pellets shattered the stone bank, sending splinters flying that made one of the men cry out in pain. Panic gripped the attackers. Not knowing how many weapons were below or if Elena was alone, the thugs ran toward the trucks. Vicente swore before speeding off, leaving a cloud of dust and the ranch ablaze in his wake.
When silence returned, broken only by the dying flames of the house, Elena climbed out of the pit covered in soot, coughing, but clutching the metal package to her chest. She spent the night awake, hidden among the canyon rocks, illuminated by the desert moon. Her hands still trembling, she opened the box.
Inside there was no money. There was one ledger, fifteen land deeds, and one letter written in her husband’s cramped handwriting. Elena turned on a small flashlight and began to read. What she discovered took her breath away, turning her fear into an icy, absolute rage.
The notebook was a detailed record of Don Arturo Garza’s crimes.
For 12 years, the local strongman had stolen property from farmers and widows, forging signatures with the help of corrupt notaries to build his agave empire. But that wasn’t the worst of it. In the final pages, Mateo had documented how the federal government had allocated millions of dollars for the construction of a dam and irrigation systems, money that Garza had diverted to shell accounts.
