Land-thief gunmen threaten pueblo peacefulness, church-goers, hooker’s exceptional gift, mar kind memories

A North American couple was visiting me just as I was finishing fitting the cochera door of my new house in Nextipac.  They walked past Elario Medina, a Mexican friend testing the door’s hefty lock.  Joan Palnor asked, ”Somebody fire a gun as we came up your road?” 

“Not here,” I politely lied.  “Probably farther up the mountainside.  Lots of wolves, coyotes, small bears, eight-foot cascabeles – rattlers - uphill.”

“That is wild life,” said her husband, Tom. “Better be careful.  Is your friend prepared for that stuff?”     

I smiled.  Like many country Mexicans, Lario Medina seemed to have been born prepared.  He also carried fairly concealed, but accessible, pistols.  

He didn’t speak.  Being Mexican excused him from dealing with things North American.  

“Does he speak English?” Tom whispered.

“He doesn’t speak much of anything.  Thinks there’s too much prattle in the world.  Much of it gringo.”  I grinned at Lario. 

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