Even an old rifle, an ancient thing, leaning against a mesquite. Chayo knew nothing about guns, but took it anyway, using a strip of his shirt to hold it together.

They found a thousand forgotten things, seemingly cast up and left behind by the river itself, instead of by those who’d crossed it.

Neva found a doll with a melted face. It looked as if it had been set on fire or had burned in the sun.

It was only two hours after they’d crossed the river into the United States, when the men found them.

FORTY-ONE

Are you out of your mind?” Mel asked him, loud enough to get Rocky up off the kitchen floor. The dog barked once, joining her, as if he was mad, too.

So far, this conversation hadn’t gone well at all.

Chris set aside his coffee mug and folded his arms, leaning against the counter. Mel was sitting at the table with Jack in his booster, and like last night in the high school gym, everyone—Mel, Jack, Rocky the dog—was staring at him.

He hadn’t slept much. He hadn’t started this conversation last night because he knew it might get ugly, but given how he’d tossed and turned anyway, troubled by vague, gray dreams—as heavy and ominous as stacked clouds threatening rain—he should have bitten the bullet and talked to Mel then. The new day had done nothing to make it any easier. He turned and looked for a moment out the window, where real rain clouds loomed over the Far Six. They towered like the mesas themselves, striated in white and gray and as solid and immutable as granite, mirroring the ground below. The storm they heralded might blow over, or it might not.

Not like the storm in his kitchen, which was only gathering strength.

He turned back to Mel, who hadn’t moved, still waiting for his answer. She was wearing one of his old Baylor T-shirts, and it was too big for her, as it was for him. It was hard to remember himself at that size. He’d changed so much outwardly since college, but in so many ways, Mel looked the same. Beautiful, even when she was mad.

“I don’t think you understand,” he tried, before she cut him off again.

“Really? Let me explain what I understand . . . what I can’t believe I just heard you say.” Mel was leaning over Jack, who was sitting upright in the Fisher-Price booster Amé had bought for them. Jack was still too young for solids, but Mel liked to prop him up in it when they had breakfast together.