on the Interstate for the majority of the trip. I agreed to follow her
and we made plans to stop somewhere in Tucson for an early lunch.
The
hour’s drive to Phoenix flew by and as we merged into the heavy traffic on
I-10, I congratulated myself again on my decision to stay in Castle Valley and
not take the job I’d been offered at the Phoenix newspaper. I had to admit
it. I was spoiled now. Spoiled by the exquisite isolation, the friendly
down-home people, unobstructed views of the mountains, fresh unpolluted air.
After years of living in what seemed like little more than a furnished closet
in Philadelphia, my little desert town seemed like a haven from the rush and
crush of people and traffic always associated with large cities. And Phoenix
was no exception. As we headed south, on the now familiar route to Tucson, I
breathed a sigh of relief when we finally got beyond the miles of lookalike
shopping centers, industrial parks and the endless sea of tan and pink stucco
townhouses capped with red-tile roofs. Cookie cutter housing developments,
which seemed to have sprung up overnight, were gobbling up the vacant desert
land at an astounding rate.
Lupe’s car seemed to be straining to maintain freeway speeds. Clouds
of blue-black smoke poured from her rear exhaust pipe and it appeared that any
moment it might burst into flames. I was beginning to have serious doubts as
to whether she would even make it as far as Tucson, so I pulled up even with
her in the middle lane and gestured a questioning thumbs up while mouthing, ‘Is
everything okay?’
She
returned my signal with a self-assured smile so I dropped back behind her.
Apparently she had more confidence in her old car than I did. It was
approaching nine o’clock, so I dialed Walter’s number, hoping I’d given him
enough time to sleep off what was probably a doozy of a hangover.
The line rang and I couldn’t help grinning. Was this great or what? I
was flying down the Interstate at 65 miles per hour, in the middle of nowhere
and was able to conduct business. How had I ever managed without this little
marvel of technology?
“Yellow?” came a sleepy voice.
“Walter?”
“Last
time I looked.”
“Hey,
it’s Kendall. Hope I didn’t wake you.”
Big
yawn. “Well, sorta, but that’s okay. Guess it’s time to haul my butt out of
bed. What’s up?”
“I’m
on the road heading down to your old neck of the woods for a couple of days to
help out a friend, and I was thinking that if I have some time left over I
might follow up on that story you were working on.”
A
lot of throat clearing and then, “Which one?”
“The
one about the UFO sighting.” He’d find out soon enough from Ginger that the
friend was Lupe, but I’d honor my promise as long as I could.
Extended
silence, then a gruff, “Why?”
“Oh,
I don’t know. The premise intrigues me.”
A short hesitation. “Where’d you say you’re going again?”
“Arivaca and Sasabe.”
“I hope you realize that you’re driving right into a powder keg that
could explode at any minute.” His tone sounded ominous.
“What do you mean?”
“The Knights of Right are planning a series of protest rallies in that
area this weekend.”
“I gather they are one of the White power groups you mentioned?” I
asked, tightening my hold on the steering wheel as a strong gust of wind
buffeted the car.
“Yep.”
“What are they protesting?”
“A couple of things. For starters, two years ago, the Feds nabbed
their leader in a sting operation. I think the guy’s name is Arthur Lane, or
Andrew, I forget, anyway last week he was sentenced to eight years in prison.”
“For what?”
“Other members of the group swear it was a trumped up charge of setting
fire to a Hispanic church. Because it was labeled a hate crime, the Feds got
involved. They videotaped a bunch of these guys practicing field maneuvers
and we made plans to stop somewhere in Tucson for an early lunch.
The
hour’s drive to Phoenix flew by and as we merged into the heavy traffic on
I-10, I congratulated myself again on my decision to stay in Castle Valley and
not take the job I’d been offered at the Phoenix newspaper. I had to admit
it. I was spoiled now. Spoiled by the exquisite isolation, the friendly
down-home people, unobstructed views of the mountains, fresh unpolluted air.
After years of living in what seemed like little more than a furnished closet
in Philadelphia, my little desert town seemed like a haven from the rush and
crush of people and traffic always associated with large cities. And Phoenix
was no exception. As we headed south, on the now familiar route to Tucson, I
breathed a sigh of relief when we finally got beyond the miles of lookalike
shopping centers, industrial parks and the endless sea of tan and pink stucco
townhouses capped with red-tile roofs. Cookie cutter housing developments,
which seemed to have sprung up overnight, were gobbling up the vacant desert
land at an astounding rate.
Lupe’s car seemed to be straining to maintain freeway speeds. Clouds
of blue-black smoke poured from her rear exhaust pipe and it appeared that any
moment it might burst into flames. I was beginning to have serious doubts as
to whether she would even make it as far as Tucson, so I pulled up even with
her in the middle lane and gestured a questioning thumbs up while mouthing, ‘Is
everything okay?’
She
returned my signal with a self-assured smile so I dropped back behind her.
Apparently she had more confidence in her old car than I did. It was
approaching nine o’clock, so I dialed Walter’s number, hoping I’d given him
enough time to sleep off what was probably a doozy of a hangover.
The line rang and I couldn’t help grinning. Was this great or what? I
was flying down the Interstate at 65 miles per hour, in the middle of nowhere
and was able to conduct business. How had I ever managed without this little
marvel of technology?
“Yellow?” came a sleepy voice.
“Walter?”
“Last
time I looked.”
“Hey,
it’s Kendall. Hope I didn’t wake you.”
Big
yawn. “Well, sorta, but that’s okay. Guess it’s time to haul my butt out of
bed. What’s up?”
“I’m
on the road heading down to your old neck of the woods for a couple of days to
help out a friend, and I was thinking that if I have some time left over I
might follow up on that story you were working on.”
A
lot of throat clearing and then, “Which one?”
“The
one about the UFO sighting.” He’d find out soon enough from Ginger that the
friend was Lupe, but I’d honor my promise as long as I could.
Extended
silence, then a gruff, “Why?”
“Oh,
I don’t know. The premise intrigues me.”
A short hesitation. “Where’d you say you’re going again?”
“Arivaca and Sasabe.”
“I hope you realize that you’re driving right into a powder keg that
could explode at any minute.” His tone sounded ominous.
“What do you mean?”
“The Knights of Right are planning a series of protest rallies in that
area this weekend.”
“I gather they are one of the White power groups you mentioned?” I
asked, tightening my hold on the steering wheel as a strong gust of wind
buffeted the car.
“Yep.”
“What are they protesting?”
“A couple of things. For starters, two years ago, the Feds nabbed
their leader in a sting operation. I think the guy’s name is Arthur Lane, or
Andrew, I forget, anyway last week he was sentenced to eight years in prison.”
“For what?”
“Other members of the group swear it was a trumped up charge of setting
fire to a Hispanic church. Because it was labeled a hate crime, the Feds got
involved. They videotaped a bunch of these guys practicing field maneuvers
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