It is a feeling I am not yet quite used to. It builds in my chest almost without knowing, I begin to smile and get anxious as I near the Farm.
After so long of paperwork and planning, it is now happening and happening faster than I ever thought it would.
Three Backhoes and two Dozers working; excavation around the old house went quickly, underneath it, more slowly, as braces and supports were needed.
What would have been slow had I been there each day to watch, would be the septic tank drain field to accommodate a thousand people.
It turned out to be larger than three football fields, a hundred fifty by three hundred yards. Constantly checking and rc-checking the slope to insure proper drainage, and plotting the angle and depth of the trenches that would hold the special PVC pipe with holes in it. A lot of work got done when I was not watching.
Today I drove into the working area, waved at Ramos and the men, then headed back to the equipment building to double check what I had and did not have.
What had been a little trail back to the steel building was now a pot holed road with two tire tracks worn deep.
As I approached the building a familiar scent drifted into my face. Damn! I walked a little more towards the building to where a group of five boys were smoking a joint. Forbidden at the job site.
They all looked guilty and ashamed but one. I knew the type, bad boy, what is he doing here?
“I do not permit drugs on my land. Get out of here and don’t come back; all of you.”
A few seconds of silence before the bad boy took a step towards me. “Hey, rich Gringo, all the land is the people’s land, why should you have all this and we have nothing?”
“I theenk we take your land for ourselves and bust you up a leetle, maybe cut you too?”
With that, he pulled a knife, took my eyes and a step towards me. I pulled the .22 pistol from the back of my belt and shot him in the foot.
“Ayeeasss owws…shit…you shot me you son of a bitch!”
“Only in the foot. Drop the knife or I will shoot you again.”
The boy had hatred in his eyes, a lot of it; he drew back to throw the knife and I shot him in his throwing arm, right in the big muscle just below the shoulder.
He screamed in pain and went to his knees. He still clutched the blade in his right hand.
“Lose the knife and move away, or I will shoot you again. Trust me, I will.”
The other boys apparently had enough; they swarmed the boy on the ground, took his knife and pinned him face down.
“Everyone take your clothes off, down to your shorts. Bundle them together in one shirt and do it now.”
“You take the lead, your left hand behind your head. You can limp back to the work area. I still have the gun in my hand.”
Everything stopped as the parade as the parade of near naked boys trailed into the area in back of the house.
The workers and wives gathered around, “I regret if these are your sons; they were using drugs on my land. They no longer work or live here.”
Silence for a moment then a crescendo of Spanish from every direction.
“They are no our sons, none of them! They are friends, some fancy the girls. They said they needed work badly and would obey the rules. They were told.
