The Hunted by Gloria Skurzynski Page A

Mexico and got all the way to Montana,” she encouraged.
    Grinning, he answered, “I ride the rails.”
    â€œHe hopped a train, Jack. Can you believe it? He said he sneaks onto trains all by himself. He’s done it a lot—that’s how he learned English, ’cause usually the trains took him to Texas or California, and when he’d get there he’d hang out with a bunch of other homeless people till he got caught. But it hasn’t always been good. One time some hobos stole his shoes.”
    â€œSí. My shoes got swipe,” Miguel said, wiggling his toes. When he noticed Jack staring at the toenails protruding through the holes in the dirty canvas, Miguel added, “These I find in garbage can in San Diego.”
    â€œAnd each time the immigration officials caught him, they sent him right back. I think it’s wrong that the U.S. does that to him, don’t you? Miguel’s just trying to help his family, but nobody cares, so they make him go home to his paper house in Nogales.”
    â€œThen he’s been caught—”
    â€œTwo times—once in Sacramento, California, and once in Salt Lake City. But this time he’s made it all the way to Montana. He’s been sneaking into trucks, and when one of them stopped at Ulm Pishkun, he got out. Then he saw a man in uniform and thought it was a policeman—it was probably a park ranger—so he opened the bottom part of our trailer door and ducked inside. Before he could get out, we started driving.”
    Miguel sat there nodding, although he probably couldn’t follow much of what Ashley was saying.
    â€œHe’s lucky we were heading west,” she added. “He’s been trying every way he could to make it to Seattle.”
    â€œSí. To find Señora Álvarez,” Miguel said.
    Ashley questioned Jack with her dark eyes. “Are you going to tell Mom and Dad?”
    â€œI—I don’t know.”
    â€œJack! You promised! You said I could trust you. If you tell, they’ll have to call the police. Immigration officers will take him, after he’s made it all this way. They’ll send him back to Nogales. Is that what you want? Do you want him to live where there’s no electricity and not enough food?”
    Jack could answer this one honestly. “No,” he said, “I don’t want that at all.” Still, he didn’t like the idea of lying to his parents, and they’d have to do a lot of lying to keep Miguel a secret. He studied the boy, who had once again picked up the plastic bowl. “Just what do you want to do with him, Ashley? We can’t keep him here. He’s not a pet.”
    â€œDon’t you think I know that?”
    â€œThen what’s your plan?”
    â€œI haven’t gotten that far yet,” she admitted, “to have a plan.” Fanning her face with her hand, she added, “Oooh, it’s hot in here.” Her skin was flushed, and Jack could see bits of perspiration glistening where her hair framed her face. Jumping to her feet, she flung open the door of the trailer as far as it would go, then stood next to Jack. Bending close, using an exaggerated whisper, she said, “For starters, maybe it would be a good idea to give him a bath. He kind of…smells.”
    â€œSmell?” Miguel asked before he tipped the bowl and drained the last drops of milk.
    â€œSí, poco,” Ashley answered, smiling apologetically at Miguel. “Let’s grab some shampoo and head to the creek. While we’re scrubbing, maybe we can figure out what to do next. Jack, do you have any extra clothes that will fit him?”
    â€œNothing his size. He’s littler than you. What do you have?”
    â€œA Utah Jazz T-shirt, which I love, but I guess it’ll have to do, since everything else I packed would look too girly on him.” Sighing, she rummaged through her duffel bag and brought out a faded purple