Since Jack joined the Minute Men, he spent every weekend out in the Texan desert with his rifle, binoculars and camping chair to look out for illegal Mexicans crossing over. Of course he went with his forming hunting buddies and took their 6 pack with them. They had not yet caught one immigrant crossing over but they were doing their part to help secure our United States of America Borders.

            Many of the watch sites through the desert belonged to private owners and Jack had to ask the landowners to sign a release form allowing them to be on the land. Most owners agreed that they did not want Mexicans crossing through their land, as they left trash and feces, etc through out and happily signed the papers. Jack was in his mid 40’s and worked as a butcher, and had a personal vendetta against Mexicans. His father was a rancher in the Texan border and was once robbed by a bunch of Mexicans in his own home. Since that fateful night that his father was left terrified in his own home and bound by rope to the washing machine, Jack declared war against all Mexicans. He even declared war on all other “spics” that weren’t Mexican but looked like they could very well be. It made no difference. They were all the same parasites coming to invade the Red White and Blue, uninvited.

            Jack approached the home of Cowboy Jones one July evening. Cowboy Jones was a gray haired man in his 50’s but still looked formidable in his 6 foot 3 inch frame.

            “Afternoon, sir…My name is Jack Hollings and I’m here representin the Minute Men. I wonder if you’ve heard ‘bout us. You know, we kind a protect our American borders out here against invasion by those wet backs. We set up camp during our free time during the weekends helping out the Immigration Officials spot those Spics coming through the border.”

            “Well, nice to meet ya. I’m Cowboy Jones here and this here is my land…so you want to recruit some members or are you Jehova Witness too? What’s your business here today, son?”

            “Now I see here in the Registrar of Deeds that you owned this land that crosses between Mexico and the US of A and I see here that it’s likely that Mexicans can cross over your property to get through. We want to set up a watch site here and make sure they don’t get through your territory.”

            “That’s mighty kind of you, Mr. Hollings, to make such an offer but I got here on my property prime Angus Cattle growing here. Now the thing is, when there are too many folks around my cows, they get kinda nervous and stiff and then when we butcher them up later, they lose their top notch flavor and then I don’t get back any return on my investment….You know what I mean? I can’t allow you to bring folks here to watch for spics when my Cattle need some peace and quiet to fatten up right for the Butcher.”

            “Well Mr. Jones, that is too bad that you ain’t patriotic enough to give us permission to watch over your land….we are doing Americans a great service in protecting our borders but if you ain’t willing to sacrifice with us….Can’t say I didn’t try.”

            Cowboy Jones tipped his cowboy hat and closed the door of his ranch. He sat down on the couch and let the fan air hit him in the face directly while he guzzled down his bottle of beer. When he first started to accept money from coyotes to allow Mexicans to pass by on his land at night, he did feel a twinge of guilt as if he was being anti-American. Of course, this guilt was off set by his anti-bankruptcy feelings when one year -all his cattle were killed by some rare infection (staphalo-aurea-what-chama-call-it coccus). He was desperate for some extra cash that did not involve too high of a risk of incarceration. He could always pretend to be the innocent Cattle breeder who was hard of hearing (he did wear a hearing aid) and thus never knew that immigrants walked through his back yard in the middle of the night. Since then, he had continued his business of casually ignoring the several groups of travelers that came through and sometimes his wife Samantha put a gallon of water back there for the travelers to drink. Samantha was a fervently Southern Baptist woman who believed in giving water to the thirsty as if they were Jesus himself, no matter who they were. She swore that Jesus came disguised in the form of the down-and-out people of the earth who needed a hand, in order to test the goodness of your heart.

            Lying in bed, Cowboy Jones would speak softly to his wife, a rounded out woman in her 50’s with curlers in her blond hair, who was chubby but still had a very sweet face and was overall very lovely. “Look honey, I know it ain’t right we letting these Mexicans through but hell, they’re coming through to find some work to feed their kids in Mexico. I mean, before, I thought I was doing a disservice to the US of A but now that I think about it, I ain’t doing no disservice to my country. Shit, my country needs all those Mexican folks to build buildings and work in factories and pick oranges. My country needs them workers and that’s why they get these jobs here. It’s not just that they come and make us Americans give them work. The work is there and no American wants to do it and so they’re doing it. I don’t see what the bitching is all about…because when I go into town, every single man I see on top of the building rooftops doing the most dangerous construction look Mexican to me. I don’t see much white or black folk up there risking their asses to build up this great nation.”

            “Well, darling. I feel that in my heart of hearts, and according to the Holy Spirit, that we are doing the right thing, darling. There’s a mighty difference between man’s laws and God’s laws, like Jesus says in the Bible. We are giving them a chance to find some honest work here and giving the US of A a chance to keep rolling along. Who would make my Chinese food at the Jumbo buffet place? Anyway, as we Baby Boomer folk get older, whose gonna to all the work around here? I don’t see no old 50 year old white man up on the roof tops putting up the shingles. Anyway, in the eyes of the Lord, we are all the same…sinners saved by the grace of God.”

            Cowboy Jones held his wife closely as he fell asleep. Her hair rollers pressed on his arm and often times left a mark there in the mornings but he stopped caring years ago. He loved all of who she was, with the rollers on, the sweet smile, and with the extra soft and bouncy weight. She was his wife, Samantha.

            Cowboy Jones slept like a baby and when 5 am came along, he got up to dress for his monthly trip to Dallas where he would pick up his cash from Coyote Milagro’s cousin, Rafael.