by Cody Wayne
Pancho left his home and was hiding in the mountains in Northern Mexico
Pancho and his small band of theives awoke in the small mountain dugout they had been hiding in. The storms from the night before had left them ragged and weary. In the night, the winds had blown the thatched roof off of their shelter allowing cold rain and hail stones into their tight quarters. The bright desert sun had come out and began baking everything dry. Their clothes and blankets seemed to smoke as if on fire as the steam and humidity escaped out of the open spaces. Things had begun to smell mildewed and musty.
Pancho's plan for the day was for his men to break camp. They would soon follow the muddy Pecos River southward until it met the Rio Grande. They needed to drive a few stolen ponies and cattle into Ciudad Del Rio, where they hoped they would gain a fair price.
Pancho was busy trying to light a fire, frustration overcame him as he was having trouble with all the wet wood. He supposed the last of his coffee beans would be of no use, without a fire to heat his water.
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