Pedro never missed another day of school, he participated in all his-classes and became a near-perfect student. Never again, did he think bad of school. He graduated with honors and went-on to college at M.I.T. and went to work at a very-large company in Boston, MA. He enjoyed his work and finished much of what he-wanted, in life.
…So now he, Patrice and Pisandro were preparing-for a long-hiatus in discovering the lost-mine of Alfredo… Somewhere in the desert, done some 200-years earlier… Pedro did much research on the subject of Bishop Alfredo, his dealings and his expeditionary-entourage. Caught-up in his deep-study of the historical-data subject. He-crossed and criss-crossed parchments, recordings, official-orders, cultural-evidence, and calculative-information from both-sides of the ocean… He had taken notes, copied incidentals, and aligned judgment-credos to come-up with a fairly, accurate, actual preciseness.
Now he was ready having all his-equipment, verifications, data-measurements; digging-instruments and any needed-devices, readers-implements as a studious-array of exacting-guide. His sister was in-charge of the group. She stayed-in the background, while Pedro and Peedee were her-charges… Knowing they needed looking-after, she shared-in Pedro’s new-adventure. Patrice was told by her-mother to take care of her brother because he was a good-son… Pedro, his sister and his nephew Pisandro Guardino lived together after the death of her-husband. Patrice raised Peedee alone with his uncle’s guidance… He was an Eagle-Scout, played-baseball for a local-Boston boys’ team, and collected-baseball cards. He was a good- student, and an all-around good-boy. His father was a construction-worker on many of Pedro’s work-sites. Coming to know his sister, as a proud &diligent working-class employee-earning Pedro’s respect in his studious-courting and faithfulness, pride, and devotion to family, and job... Though Pedro was lone-guardian of his sister, he’d taken no-less pride in-giving his consent. This was now, all behind them. Dornea Presando Guardino lost his life doing his-duty… He was buried in Mexico, alongside his father and mother and others in his-family, all hard-workers as were mothers and daughters, as expected…
She was very-proud of him. She cooked, kept house and cleaned for the three of them. Pedro was well-fed by her-cooking and her studiousness helped in looking-after them both. Pedro, an excellent civil-engineer accomplished a-lot working for a prestigious-company, had a retirement-plan and saved enough for his next-desires in life. -To uncover an archaeological-dig… After years of work, he was achieving what was his present-position. What interested him now, lay beneath the ground-in New Mexico some 1000-miles away… He decided to take retirement, to go in search of the Alfredo-mine… In his spare-time, working on his-plan and reading-up on archaic American Spanish-life… Now, became his new-occupation. He’d taken studies in excavation, land-surveillance and relic-discover. He wanted to go after what was the very-substance in what was the center of a treasure-hunt, hidden-in a deep-mine of a long since forgotten burial-site.
***Now, 6-years later, the family was committed, in caring-unity. …Pedro, had checked-out his gear and went-over several-times deciding from use-to essential-effectiveness. Peedee often hanged-out, eventually understanding his justified-jargon and even blithely, naming of the equipment. So as Pedro, his-sister Patrice, and her-son packed for the family discoveries-in the adventure into New Mexican wilderness, everyone looked forward to the journey. Pedro, or ‘Doro’ by his-family, had determined the region, area and site from a multitude by diagrams, maps, relic-descriptions, word-of-mouth depictions, and images. He spent a specific-time proving relevance and making decisions in self-effective impact of adept, civil-articulation… …Efficacy, to become a unifying-trait producing itineraries by the rudiments at-access. Pedro found his new-calling, as he was to journey across Appalachian Mountains, into the vallies onto the prairies he was taking his-own venture into life about something he, Patrice, and his-nephew Pisandro not only along-for the ride but a part of his-dream. He realized this, was more than a vacation… They would go-into the grey prairie-lands and into open-desert, white as snow, and finally into the state of New Mexico… It was a long-ride, they decided to look for a hotel. In a small hamlet near the excavation-spot. All this, was before him , Doro loaded the last of the tools, out-door gear, and the three of them went on due-WSW to the interstate…heading along the interchange of soon left-behind New England out-away from the cloister of Concordia into the open-road of the Eastern seaboard-table range and over the Appalachians. It was going to be an experience of a life-time…
It was early Spring, April when the Midwest farmers were plowing their fields and calves were legging their first-steps and early blossoms sprung-up in dazzling hues and birds and prairies yarned with early-Spring growth. Peedee, had taken pix of all that nature had to offer. With his 35 mm camera he earned by doing chores at home in Massachusetts… He was always an honest, obedient and a respectful boy, many times Patrice said he was like his-father… His mother decided to let him come along, both as a growing-experience and to give each a chance to discovering what she wisely, knew would be Doro’s dream… she knew growing-up, he would find, in life, something no one but himself could give him… She watched him grow into a fine-man…
6 p.m., they drove into a gas station. Eight hours of driving, everyone was tired. He decided to find a hotel for the night. “Uhmmh. Are we there, uncle Doro?” Said Peedee.
“No, Peedee, I am going to find a room for the night, at a nice hotel…”
“Uncle Doro will see after us, Peedee. Are you hungry, my son?” Said Patrice calmingly.
“Yes, Mama”….” “Then, we will see about that, too…” “Hot-dogs and French-fries?” “…You are hungry!” …Doro drove into the El Dorado Inn and settled in a two-room suite. While Patrice and Pisandro slept after a large-meal of hot-dogs and fries. -Doro went to make ready his surveyor-integrated technical devices and establishment site-capacitors for the four-month project.
…A matter of prospective in potent-imagery and imagination, dwelled-upon… In intimate and self-competent outset, on personal-chance and private-responsibility. He was already, confident what he was doing was “worth” its unpredictable-and un-certain purpose. Relying-on skill. Like landing-on the moon, or Columbus, in search of gold. An obvious-void into the unknown, where only the desire to find a ‘goal’ in one‘s own destiny. Pedro was a voyager as he sat-out… Under the stars, in the clear cool-arid air he was parked in the wayward-”Pinta”-alone, in uncharted-waters. He glanced, intricately through the stats, legers, variation-essays, and sequence-statutes... Established, with intellectual-accuracy… Verify-averages, composing integral-stratas;affixing-points, and counterpoints…triangulate the conditional. The command, he held was as the expertise in his learned-years at M.I.T.;the technical-incentive, self-ability, assertion& attaining… These days, he had new-ambitions, aspirations and self-motivations…
***
“Final-embark”, completion of a career… Conclusion-in proven official-terms, atoning-consummation& self-fulfillment... Deep as the “vein” of human-course, so, the personal-ability and resolving-distinction intending in impressive-impact that the ‘promise’-pursuit of a ‘dream’ in higher-order. The impart-of the representative-introspection by-results in deriving, incremental calculi… Established, as resultant-product of mental-provision…. Writing in journals, logs and on chart-planning and mapped-pages. He’d crossed hundreds of miles over several-centuries of unearthed-evidence, and a long forgotten saga of long-since buried-act of privy, prosperity and purpose. The exact-references and dimensions, began to take shape in its dynamic, profiling, and configuration once unknown. Taking-on direct-transcriptions and events.'
Fortune, capability and restrictive-research drawing-closer to being knowledgeable… A coming together, in bits-and-pieces on data looming and festooning, poising as a deeper-understanding…then, breaking-off into the unknown… Exacting, then invisibility taken into account then
path into infinity or oblivion. It was basic, a battle in patience and perseverance. Silent-threads of concentrate and precipitance long-forgotten isles as by ‘realities‘. Taking by intrinsic-virtual. He peered-into silent and ‘cold’ statistics, his-mind actively, given in matters… The beckoning-calls, the whiddling-drive and purifying-engendering, palliated. Assimilating, flourish of supposing and ordinals, which would pass-by the impractical and leviathan… Pedro’s ‘bread and butter‘... His-training and expertise-in amounting and objective, as “consortium”.
The sun-warmed the grey-sand, and winds cooled to the mid-80s, by midday. The station-wagon was open-windowed on the last-leg of the route. “Okay, Patrice there’s Mrs.Contrilas’s stucco… She’s given me the keys”. -”Make yourself at home…“ “I have asked her to give use of utilities, supplies and give a list-of instructions, and details.” “Peedee, will help fix things-up, while I-plan to spot and set-up in the Corales range…” “Yes, Doro.” “I’ll send Peedee along, before long…” Before Doro left, they made a list-of directions. The Guerrara-family did this when important-events happened like set-backs at work, staying-at a friend’s and shopping… Like a pager-system, it was a family-method to leave it where it would be found… Pedro-checked his trailer for the travel 26-miles away, and for the return…
Before cars, roads and even the assurance of being easily rescued:water, food, shelter were ‘chance’-possibilities… The same hot-sun and blowing-winds, rocky-range, dry-climate was, in impact, the same. Pedro knew this was not an inference… Part of this chosen endeavor, a “place” of barrenness and its historic-extrinsics that as the sands’ winds-blew, and the silent dance of lonesome-spirits played and danced, in a solitude… He inhaled and poured a tumbler-full of a 50-gallon tanker of pure water, quenching his two-hour-ride’s thirstiness. Pedro had picked this-site, zeroed-in from achieved ‘stats’ and past territorial-structures… He’d used GPS, interpretation cross-lines, aged cartographics and seismology… It was his educated-guess, “location”. …Leading him to sit-in the ‘no-where’, to himself…His Eminence Executors of Her Majesty, under the Order of Francescan, an honored-individual with a capacity to forward the Proclamation of responsibility… Probably, as winds blew-off the blue-Pacific ocean, Her proctor was planning what would come of the Order why he was picked and under what circumstances it would be done… Within two weeks, the entire North American Spanish occupation left in mass-exodus. Pedro had found this out while visiting Spain at the Espanol de Librairies a Norte America, at the Madrid University established 1842...
He-went through the musty-halls, the hot-summers, several-summers there-on hiatus from his job. He-had made his-way there, all on his-own time alone but with his-mind full-of-imagination, insightful-ideas and resourceful-interests protocol… It was his-advantage to be self-requited, to what Arch-Bishop Alfredo was thinking… He pieced-it together in his-mind. Arriving at what was pure-speculation and adamant guess-work. Pedro’s meticulous-mind working with architecture put him-in good-stead with the framing-situation of the 18th century loyalist-commisioner, high-officer and guard of Her Majesty’s American territory… When Spain owned her, it was a place of riches, adventure and governing-ship. Pedro put this together in separate, but corroborating-edition… If this man-of-power was similar to himself, he felt grabbed by the saga of centuries’ old-sentiment.
In order-of-withdrawal and retreat, in stipulation as much to riches be taken and hidden until ‘better-times’, hoped for by its “Royal Eminence” would be returned to its ‘rightful’-owner. But events, were irreversible… The last of the empire was noted, exclaimed in 1751, when all Spain’s subjects were summoned home immediately upon ‘turn-over’ to the new possessor: France and Great Britain. The territory-hungry, advancing occupants were moving-in, a 10 to 18 month period by hidden, locales were escavated…
As declared by VisGovernor, his territorial-elite and the proclaimer to landed-monasteries devoted to Spain’s reign. Some made there, were from 13 to 28 different-plotted burial-sites most 50-225 meters-deep. Each precise-position was personally, known-by the ‘final’ Proviseur by accounting and land cartography… Upon final embarking, it was understood the minion, would be secretly retrieved as a passage Charter-of-interest. One that interest Pedro was set-out from Suala Caspenda in late-Fall of 1752...
A large horde-of bounty was systematicly, rendered and divided. The last-placement, was left to monks and pious-natives… A Francescan monk Arch-Bishop Fernando Antone Alfredo intrigued, and with factors-involved… Archbishop was the last in control, in the name of Spain. The Alfredo escavation was planned, diagrammed and prepared 6-months in-advance. The Archbishop-assumed and assured full-responsibility to a “finessed”, outcome... Like many men of Catholic overseership, he-proved his authoritarianism-simply to express his devotion to Her-Majesty. ‘Holy-Haut’, had a zest of self-duty…from July until August he and seven compatriots-faithfully, searched and spread-out. Pedro-found his 18th century-dwellers parchment… They arose from documents with the Holy Seal of Rome…order of Courier of the Sovereign of Spain… Recovered-hold of scrolled ‘Mateo-of-Spanish’ records scanned and fisched-by the Libre Politico de Veri-Gratis. He had authenticity to examine them through the society-of Spanish Historical remnants and Studies on International Symposium… Pedro H. Guerrera permitted-by Spain’s heritage-commission with specification-further Spanish knowledge be shared with the world. Not size, plausalship, or significance-of importance as by small-incidentals and captions of “timing”, “glints”-of perception and events, an appellation left to be anagrammed… In lexical-Spanish conventional that ‘sang’-segmental into fine-ears and “victors”, vector-provisions and private-motives entered delicately, penned lattice-work by impingent and poignant-resonances… Pedro, studied-as much data-registries and archival-resources, over a 5-year span given of diligent free-time.
As in his first-inspiration:Mr.Hernandez, as at the local p.s. high-school; wondrous, moving and valued by aspects, discovered. Spanish-explorers, after-war in Europe, the land had been sold to the United States for moneys to fund their part-in the conflict… Pedro from these examination of old-parchments, declarations and correspondence came to realize the man, though a cleric, he was astutely instructed by his King.
1756 or sooner, a last-excursion in the desert at night-fall taking the riches to sequestor until they could return secretly, to recover from deep-mines where hidden in some two-dozen sites… Alfredo mines hidden, in the New Mexico desert, away for Spain. A central-hub, the last jump-off to garrison-parrish Indian-slave community established by pious-friars and those-out to discover their own Spanish-lore. Pedro had went-over them many times making accurate estimations and garnered what was the thinking-of-times 200+ years earlier, when Spain held and horded its riches and was a wealthy and powerful-dominion.
…How the bishop went-on this final-adventure, was a matter of cleverness highly, devoted and competent-duty… The first few-months, after the order of leaving, the decision-was made as His Majesty requested to make plan-of his duty.
***
What was an appreciative, beginning-was soon to change… Patrice, had fixed a dinner of rice, pork and bell-peppers, Doro’s favorite. She was wondering where Pedro was, it was already nightfall. She figured he was caught-up in his-work. She decided to send Peedee to the site by motor-bike which Peedee had been bought for his birthday… Peedee was smart, he knew his uncle was a hard-worker at anything he-did. He pondered precociously that he was there concentrating on his excavation. “Okay, Momma I’ll bring him home.” The night had fell and Pedro was emerging from his dig. He drank water and peered-into to the clear-night sky.
Peedee arrived at site to find Pedro putting his equipment away, having began the dig and was several meters underground-stabilizing what he’d begun. The horn of the motor-bike got Pedro’s attention. “Peedee, Iye, I’m late for Momma’s cooking…” “Yes, unc
le Doro she’s waiting and I don’t think she’ll…” “I know you’re right.” “Look.” A station-wagon pulled-up and stopped. “Pedro, Peedee come-home, you’ve missed my good-supper…” As Pedro and Patrice conversed, a strange set of lights from out of the darkness was approaching-fast… The lights drew closer, Pedro-told Patrice that if there was any sign-of danger to start the car and take-off. They came closer until it was upon-him…
4-hours later, the state-patrol, Sheriff’s department and troopers-had populated the area searching for evidence. An APB was sent out over police-radio… Lights, patrol-man and dogs and missing person’s unit-patrol had surrounded the area copters-flew overhead and cars flashed-lights and search-lights. Missing, was a Mexican-American named Pedro Hernandez Guerrara last seen being approached by a black-Bronco. Patrice and Pisandro-were being questioned and gave their-witness to the crime.
~~An SUV was riding down Interstate-41, when hearing the call... …He had just come from a long meeting as legal-attache’ investigator for a strung-out case. It had lasted 6-hours, a female-defendant on charges of embezzlement and racketeering, a general-case, complicated yet stroked with superlative-unknowns. They finally, set-it aside until further-furbishment, he decided to take a short respid to ride through the countryside breathing the fresh car blown air while thinking over the next-steps, in his case… -He’d been classified a legal-detective three years earlier, after suffering set-backs… He was once a police detective, had his gold-shield, highly thought of then one day, his life fell-apart… He was a respectable investigator about to be considered for administration, in the big city of Dallas when one disastrous-night he had a call while at work, his wife since starting his career and stood by him, wanted a divorce. …He started-drinking, showing-up late and letting himself go…-
The Continuing tales of Bo Jon Littlehorse, P.I. Page 9