I shiver a little in the crisp, pine scented air. It’s cooler again this morning, reminding me that winter is approaching. Otherwise, it’s beautiful. Blotches of bright gold aspen leaves stand out from the lodgepole pines carpeting the mountainsides. But my eyes water when I look around at our camp and consider what my family is enduring. I arrange some of our stockpiled branches and logs in the pit and start a fire from last night’s coals.
Before long, I hear, “Good morning,” and see that Maria is up.
“Good morning Carino,” I respond and then watch her make some adjustments to the fire and start a small ration of coffee.
“It’s getting nippy.”
“Yeah, and it’s troubling. It doesn’t look like the government will be easing up on us any time soon and we won’t be able to stay here much longer.”
“I agree, the last couple of months have been bearable, but we probably can’t wait this out. Not at this place. Camping in these mountains in the winter would be terrible, and things might never get back to normal,” Maria says.
“At least we’re all together. Thankfully, Jack gave us the heads-up about the raid. Who knows where we’d be otherwise, or whether we’d even be together. The girls being US citizens probably doesn’t mean squat.”
“It’s crazy, honest taxpayers for eighteen years and now we’re living in a hovel, hiding out.”
“Yeah, I’m beginning to question whether we should take the one-thousand dollars and self-deport. I wonder whether it’s a thousand each.”
“I really don’t want to do that. English is our language now and we are Americans. The girls don’t even speak Spanish.” She pauses and then says, “But maybe we will have to. If they catch us, we or you could end up somewhere like Somalia or El Salvador.”
“I don’t want to even think about that.”
“Well, the girls will be up soon, and I don’t want them hearing any of this kind of talk. Things are bad enough for them. I’ll get breakfast going and then I need to work on grammar and math with them. Maybe later I should take the car to that store at the fork for a few supplies,” Maria says.
“Be careful if you go. Those license plate readers worry me. And we really need to figure something out soon; before it starts snowing.”
I wander out of our camp and start collecting firewood and searching for mushrooms and berries. When I get back, the girls are up, and breakfast is ready. I add a few wild raspberries I found to the potatoes. With the day so nice, Maria and the girls head to a pretty spot along a stream that has large rocks to sit on. It’s a nicer place to study than the dank, dirt-floor shelter.
Meanwhile, I head up the stream with a fishing pole to catch some trout, but I’m lost in my thoughts and worries. I love my adopted country and Colorado. Our work at the feedlot was good and foreman Jack Barnes treated us well. He said Maria and I could have our jobs back once all this immigration business blows over. And the girls could go right back to school. But what do we do until then? The chances of getting back to Colorado are nil if we leave the country.
Eventually I catch one small trout and head back towards camp. I figure it will at least add flavor to some potato soup. I also pick a few more berries along the way and then get the fire blazing again. Soon Maria and the kids return for a little lunch.
I’m cleaning the fish, and I hear a rustling noise. I look over my shoulder and see a man in a cowboy hat leading a horse. Oh shit. I think he’s the landowner. I see that the others are watching him with concern on their faces.
He takes his time looking around our camp, starting with our dwelling, two adults, and our precious girls. He says, “I’m Lee Houser. You are squatting on my land. I own this whole valley.”
I speak up, “I’m Diego Sanchez, this is my wife Maria, and our kids Mia and Elisa. We are sorry, but we lost our jobs at a feedlot east of Greeley due to the raids and had nowhere else to go.”
Lee Houser appears in thought for a few moments and says, “I’ll tell you what, there’s an empty ranch-hand cabin with heat and electricity towards the end of the valley. My fences could use some repairs, and the cattle and horses need tending. I can’t hire you, but nobody goes out there other than me and my boys. We’ll come by with food and supplies now and then. I expect it’d make a good hideout.”