by Janet Leigh
~
Down about a quarter mile, we passed a small wooden sign that read, “Welcome to Presidio, Texas.” I racked my brain to recall Texas geography. Where was Presidio?
Gertie piped up. “Some secret—the sign reads Presidio. Are we down by the Mexican border?”
“Aye,” he grumbled. “We are in 1915.”
Since Gertie was a history major, I imagined the wheels started turning inside her head.
“Isn’t there some kind of trouble between Mexico and the United States in 1915?” she asked, cocking her head to the side like she was reading off an imaginary chalkboard. “I think I remember something about raids on the American people.” She put her hands on her hips. “Isn’t that right?”
Caiyan stopped walking and looked her straight in the eye. “You ask a lot of questions.”
Gertie paused her inquiry for the moment, and we continued walking.