Pop! Pop!

My kid, on his fortieth birthday, shows up on the rancho. His first time here. He answers to Dave...er Davy. And, yeah, he'd heard some about some of our adventures, us out here hidden away in the way-out back. Jokingly we told him to watch his step, his activities, 'cause ya never know when the cops er Immigrations 'er the Federalies are gonna spring inta the scene. We all shared a laugh about this around martini-time fire.

It wasn't more than three nights later, again we're around warming glow, maybe halfway into our glasses, when the dogs, in unison, started sounding alarm that something was approaching camp. They were zeroed in on the trail that runs from our place to Chayo and Maria's casa. It wasn't long before we hear Chayo trying to calm them. Visits from him almost any time of day are in no way surprising. Marcia got up and walked to where she could see the gate and beckon him in, Dave and me just set there around coals talkin'.

There are dogs barking and Marcia hollering and Chayo's voice all mixed together, and then other strange voices and it's just really starting to pull my full attentions in that general directions when I hear Marcia's intonations go from a welcoming to on guard. "David," she hollers to me, "this looks serious. You'd better come here."

With the light of dusk, just barely, I could see multiple figures just on other side of shielding Una de Gato tree. As I closed I couldn't help but notice that some of these figures were dressed all in black. Ugh. Here that's not a normal color...er a good one.

There's four male bodies. Chayo and Jose Luis are two of 'em and they're standing, almost like shielding Marcia from two, there in black. These back two are armed. Pistols that are holstered but obvious. They've got official insignia's on their caps and their upper sleeves. Yeah. Again, real live federalies, and right there in the yard.

The lead guy, the seemingly higher ranking, he's got papers in his hand! He's direct, almost courteous as he explains that he's just there doing his job...which is serving me with a citation to appear at the Procuraduria General De Justicia Del Estado De Baja California Sur to answer to rather lengthy complaints being directed against me. This is like a Thursday and I'm supposta appear in Loreto on Monday. (Whew! I was glad to see it was there and not LaPaz.) This gentleman asks me if, considering the difficulty of getting there, I can make it by 1 P.M.

Yeah. Sure. I could do that. He pens that in and points to where I should sign and I did. Not the first time I've signed such a thing on the hood of pickup truck here. Job done. They made motions toward clearing the area.

Like I said, I was like half way through my glass already. My mood was loose, jocular, almost to relaxed. The second guy, he was tall and lean and a real stern, serious lookin' fella. I approached him in manner of keen inspector, especially of his face. I asked him if I didn't know him from some place. This obviously puzzles him. I persisted that his face looked awful familiar. "Weren't we in the joint together?" I asked in straight-faced fashion. Ya shoulda seen his mug before all of us broke out in laughter. He sorta looked embarrassed but Chayo and Jose Luis got a real big kick outta this.

Well, shit. We'd just come back from town and I was hoping to set here on the rancho for a long string of days, spend some extra time with my kid, get some shell work done....

Back around fire we joked about this being a set up, paid actors just fer my kids benefit. Anything to give him an extra thrill here on the Baja.

Chayo lingers with us there, giving us a blow by blow of how events prior to the making our place had unfolded. These guys had walked into his yard all bristled up, looking fer someone to jump on about locked gate. They'd tried to get a key at Alejo's place but Guadalupe steadfastly refused to give it to 'em. The tall serious one was her nephew which no doubt emboldens her. Prior to that, because they had no idea where we lived, they'd driven to Agua Verde, then up to the new road scaling these rugged mountains that links there with San Jose De La Noria, the ejido's home base. Considerably, this had chewed up their day; and perhaps their patience.

This was just another easily-proven false accusation by the ejido directed at me and rancho gate; the legal follow through of their newspaper attacks. After thinking about it some both Marcia and I figured that a call to Sr. Yee would most likely save us a trip. Next morning I call him, gave him the citation number and told him I'd check back late that afternoon.

When I do call back I'm a little disappointed that it's a matter that I'll have to come in for. O.K. We made arrangements to meet.

Monday morning, Chayo, Marcia and me, we make our way to Loreto with plenty of time to spare. We huddle with Yee and make plans to be at correct location, maybe a half-hour early. Siesta time, sharp, didn't seem like a good idea to any of us. Half past noon, Chayo, Yee and me, in we go to this office together.

I'm surprised to see the gentleman who'd served me settin' behind the main-man's desk. He's all starch and polish there and not at all the seeming-hassled dud that made it to our camp. That he and Yee know each other, are on good terms and that Yee has prepped him are pretty obvious. A pleasant looking guy in his mid thirties, he looks relaxed, not at all like he's out ta get me. He jokes about his trip to serve me. Never had he gone to such extremes in fulfilling his obligations.

From a stack of folders he pulls out the one pertaining to complaints against me. Yee flips through this pointing out the plaintiffs names and the offenses, this all taking up at lest ten sheets of paper. Gutierraz, the wild parcel buyer and Chayo's brother, the ejido commissioner were the instigators. There was verbiage in there about my insulting, lack of respect for this ejido-chief clown; something I was truly guilty of.

My defense is easy. I don't have a locked gate. The rancho is in name of Dr. Ernesto Gonzalez. Chayo hands over his credentials, issued by Ernesto, to be re-examined in glaring mid daylight. I can't resist building my case and give this fella copy of the signed agreement where by the ejido pledged to respect Historic Carrizalito. I also show the inspection report issued by PROFEPA. Had more but didn't need it. Yee and I are asked to write up an official response. It's just about 1 P.M. and I can see this guy wants to split, be done with this. He hands us over to a secretary, an older, plump woman who apparently works through these crucial hours. It doesn't take her long to get her computer humming.

Yee constructs the sentences, asks me after each paragraph if that's the way I want it. Maybe the response is like a page and a half, a good part of it legal boiler plate. I request that it be entered into the record that there are no legitimate parcels on El Carrizalito, we enter in also that signed ejido agreement and that PROFEPA report. Maybe another half hour is expended before she's got all this stuff in no less than six copies, all of which I have to sign . We even get a copy.

A little hassle, yeah. But, again, just another POP-GUN attack.

Email: david@dondavidonbaja.com