1889
Sunday dismounts into the deserted streets of Los Rios. A door on an adobe hangs off its hinges. She pushes on it, revealing a bed where an hombre once slept, an hombre who later traveled north and got hung up on the gallows by the man who called himself her father. There’s the crib where a madre lay her nina – both left to die in the desert by that same man.
The identical story is repeated all down the street. Los Rios is a ghost town.
And Arango is a ghost. He sits outside his sun-bleached hacienda with the caved-in roof, looking just as collapsed and drained of color.
He unfolds himself and stands. He shrugs and beckons the girl inside. As he leads her to a chair and brings her a warm glass of milk, he passes a mirror and catches his reflection for the first time in…how long? A long time.
So his first question surprises her. “When did I get so old?”
----------Tim Kirk---------- 