Eldon was exhausted, as was his family. The covered wagon bounced and jerked sideways. His kids cried. His wife was a pillar of strength, which kept him going.
He had the paperwork giving him a stake, a piece of land he could farm. His cousin Josepi was already established out west with a pizza parlor. Business was popping, although he had to make his own cheese.
His son asked about Indians and Eldon could not betray his own concern. Day after day they trudged on through freezing cold and wind. One day it rained hard, causing serious mud, which the horses got bogged down in. They were stranded. Off in the distance they heard music growing closer.
Out of the rain and fog emerged a mariachi band. They were lost, looking for Mexico.
Eldon pointed south and told them to keep going in that direction. In return, the band offered a maracas player. Cannibalism crossed Eldon's mind for a moment. He shook his head. Even here in the middle of nowhere, a man must keep his principles. Eating one of the horses was not off the table however.
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