The humid summer drew to an end followed by a warm dry autumn, the grass on the lawn withering into brown stubs. Winter followed according to the calendar, not that she would ever have guessed the season without it. Apart from not feeling faint due to the heat there was no change. The dry season had arrived, the Almeidas explained. An apt description, she thought grimly as she stared into the dried out stream, Tony in her arms. 'No more water, sweetheart,' she sighed, turning back regretfully.

Walking through a dry field she caught sight of Marco fixing the cellar's roof, hammering a nail with expert precision, a mouthful of extra nails preventing him from yelling a greeting. She waved as she passed, setting Tony down in relief the moment she entered the house. He crawled over to the toys while she rushed upstairs to braid her hair. It appeared lifeless and tangled, the ends split due to the harsh sunshine. Disgruntled she threw the brush on the bed. How much longer can it take to sort out one Green Card? We've been here six months. Six months! Six months of practically no TV, no privacy, no one to speak to who has a clue what you're talking about except for Marco and he's never around anyway, and that bitch Rosa ready to point out your every mistake to the entire gathering every evening. Dammit! The lack of privacy bothered her more than the lack of TV if she was absolutely honest. Seizing the hairbrush and pulling it forcibly through her hair she recalled the previous night in fury. Just as usual Marco had pulled her into his arms, kissing her entire body before spreading her legs. Again and again he had pushed her over the edge, their gasps mercifully unheard by the baby who slept in his crib less than a foot away. They had showered together afterwards, rubbing soap over each other, Marco returning to bed sooner worn out by the day's work. She had lingered another few minutes in the steam, throwing a towel over herself as she opened the door, bumping into Rosa as she entered the hall.

'Busy night!' Rosa remarked, a smirk on her face. Shamed into silence Rita clutched the towel tighter. 'Sounds like my brother can do something right, at any rate! From the way you two carry on, I'll be having another nephew real soon. Goodnight!' She had muttered something incoherent and rushed into the bedroom, burying herself under the covers.

Furiously she pulled the brush through another tangle, dreading the next encounter with her sister-in-law.

Tony's cries caused the hairbrush to fly from her fingers as she rushed to his aid, unsurprised to discover his cousin Pedro, six months his senior tugging a toy from his hands. 'Gently,' she said, longing to slap him. 'He's smaller than you.' Pedro ignored her, yanking a plastic boat from Tony with such force that he fell to the ground.

'Sweetheart,' Rita began, reaching towards him when he sat up alone, rubbing his head. His eyes narrowed in a similar fashion to Marco's, reminding her alarmingly of the night in the park. Forget that, Rita, you're really losing it. You're talking about a seven month old! The next moment her baby set off, crawling determinedly across the tiles to where Pedro appeared engaged in the toy box's remaining contents, sinking his teeth into his cousin's hand.

Rita was unable to mask a grin as she removed him, noting the deep marks dotting the howling Pedro's arm. 'Mustn't bite, sweetheart,' she admonished, returning him to the room's other box. 'Find something to play with in there.' Tony settled down happily, apparently having forgotten about the altercation. A host of toys flew around him as he struggled to his feet, leaning inside. Seeing he was safe enough she hurried outdoors to collect their washing. Tony's renewed howling caused her to leave the basket half full as she rushed back. She found him on the floor beside the box, tears pouring from his eyes as he rubbed his leg. Lifting him into her arms she pried his fingers away, noting a red hand mark. Incensed, she glared at Rosa who held Pedro.

'I can't believe you hit Tony,' she began, so furious her fists clenched.

'He had it coming,' Rosa retorted, hushing Pedro. 'You should teach him not to bite.'

'You should teach Pedro not to push him over all the time,' Rita snapped. 'And don't touch him again! He's my son!' Too angry to say more she carried Tony outside, the washing abandoned as she ran to find Marco.

'You're overreacting, querida,' he told her, attempting to hug her. Glaring at him she thrust Tony into his arms.

'Look at that! She hit him real hard! He's just a baby!'

'I'll talk to her, sweetheart, like I said,' Marco repeated patiently, never having experienced his wife's maternal instincts aroused to such an extent. 'But really, he bit Pedro, and that was wrong. He bit me last night and I can tell you it hurt…'

'He's just getting his teeth, he needs to bite,' Rita snapped, unwilling to listen. 'And he only nipped you yesterday. Pedro had it coming, he pushed him!'

'Querida, like I said…'

'You'll do nothing!' she snapped, startling herself with her renewed rage. 'Well I'm warning you, Marco Almeida, I'm not going to tolerate anyone hurting Tony. If your sister hits him again I'll deal with her myself…'

Marco blinked in bewilderment. 'Princess, I'm going to speak to her right now,' he said soothingly, hating the need to do so. 'And then I was going to have to go to town for some more nails. Why don't we all go, the three of us? We'll have a coffee, maybe get Tony an ice-cream? You get his stroller.'

Mollified, she nodded. The tiny pueblo was hardly an exciting place, but it represented a slight escape from Rosa, a woman she genuinely hated. The coffee they made in the one and only café was excellent and there was a certain cake she was fond of, and all of that paled into insignificance compared to the joy of seeing Tony on his stool, struggling with an ice-cream. 'Have we got enough for all that?' she questioned wearily.

Marco nodded. 'I sold plenty of tequila last week,' he muttered, aware of her dislike of their clandestine activities. 'We got cash.'

Rita refused to reply, frowning at him instead as she collected the stroller and laid it into the back of the pick-up. She placed Tony in the baby swing his doting grandfather had constructed and pushed him singing the ABC song quietly till Marco emerged red-faced. 'Got anywhere?'

'She promised to tell me if Tony was naughty again,' he said, evading her eyes.

'And she said lots of bad stuff about me?' Rita guessed.

Marco sighed as he started the engine. 'Let it go, sweetheart. We're going to have a fantastic morning in town, and next week we'll go collect firewood in the mountains. We'll take Tony, he'll love it.'

Rita grinned, squeezing the baby in her arms. 'Heard that, pet? We're going camping in the mountains. Papa can collect wood and you and I will check out some disgusting insects and pretty birds and take loads of photos!'

The plaza appeared busy as they parked in front of the tiny store. They went inside hand in hand, Marco pushing the stroller. Rita soon tired of admiring various sized nails and found herself a book instead, dropping it into the shopping basket with an innocent grin. 'You do wanna buy me a present, Marco!'

'I do,' he agreed, gravely. 'Looks like I've already chosen one. Let's get our coffees.' He dumped the shopping in the truck and they crossed the square, entering a café situated directly beside a bar. 'You having your usual cream cake?' he inquired and she nodded, dragging over a stool.

'Sit up here, sweetie. Papa will get you an ice-cream.' Both doting parents watched Tony grab his cone, pressing his nose into the vanilla. 'Don't clean him up yet,' Rita begged, laying a restraining hand on Marco's arm. 'He's having such fun.'

'Right, till he wipes it all in me,' he groused, grinning at his son. 'You know something, Rita. We made an incredibly cute child.'

She nodded, kissing Tony's head. 'I know. He's growing too fast though. Yesterday he pulled himself up hanging on the back of a chair. Soon he won't even be a baby anymore.' A sigh escaped her and Marco raised his eyebrows.

'Just lemme know when you think he's ready for a sister,' he told her mischievously.

Rita grinned back surprised by the overwhelming love she felt for him. 'Like your sister said, the way we're going, it shouldn't take too long.'

Marco's cheeks turned crimson as he absentmindedly added a second spoonful of sugar to his coffee. 'She said that? I am so sorry, querida…'

'I called the consulate,' Rita cut in, handing Tony her spoon. 'They said the usual stuff; your application's moving ahead in the line.' They avoided each other's gaze, focusing on their son instead as he clasped the spoon in his fist and drummed on the table.

'Tony, that's enough,' Marco admonished, removing it. 'Why don't you finish your ice-cream? It's starting to melt.' Tony's eyes widened and he pointed indignantly to the confiscated spoon. 'No m'ijo, you're deafening the other customers. I completed another essay last night,' he said, lifting the baby onto his knees and returning the spoon, whereupon Tony resumed his interrupted drumming. 'I only got three more assignments to complete, so when I reenroll I'll just hand them all in.'

Rita's grin split her face as she bent over Tony to kiss Marco, getting ice-cream on her hair. 'I'm so proud,' she began, raising her voice to yell across the ever more enthusiastic drumming. 'It's gonna work out fine, just…'

Marco removed the spoon, setting the baby on the ground. 'That's enough, Antonio. I'd like a chance to speak to your mommy! What were you saying, princess?'

'I said it seems…' Rita began, cut off by the spine chilling squeak of the stool dragged across the tiles. 'Tony, stop that.'

Tony glanced at his parents for a second before he resumed the music. 'Tony!' they snapped simultaneously. 'Look, why don't you sit on mommy's knee and have some cake,' Rita decided, lifting the wriggling baby. 'Open your mouth, honey.'

Tony tried the cream cake, spitting it directly into her saucer while he pulled a face. 'No.'

'Did you hear that, Marco?' she cried in delight. 'He said something. He said 'no.''

'I heard,' Marco agreed, just as impressed. 'We're overdue for a talk about manners, m'ijo! If you try something, you must swallow it!' He set Tony back on the ground, shaking his head as the baby returned to the stool. 'Oh no.' The squeaking resumed and Rita finished her cake in two bites.

'I'm done. Why don't we go for a walk instead? Tony loves to see the kids at the school.'

Marco nodded and paid while Rita struggled with bundling the outraged Tony into his stroller. 'We're going, honey. You'll get to watch the kids playing ball. I'm amazed no one complained about the noise,' she finished as Marco joined her.

He stared at her in surprise. 'Why would they? They all got kids! There's enough silence in the grave! Right now we're all alive. Which way did you want to walk?' At least we're not afraid to show we're alive.

These people thrive on noise! You grew up convinced your family was loud, well, they'd be among the quietest ones round here!

'And there he is,' a drunken voice booed from the bar interrupting her daydream, and a muscular man staggered out, pointing to Marco. 'Almeida himself!'

'Marco, let's go,' Rita begged, uneasily. The drunk held his ground breathing a mixture of beer and tequila onto them. Marco nodded, starting the stroller.

'I'm surprised to see your face in town, Almeida! Normally we see your sister!' Loud hoots greeted his sentence while a red haze enveloped him.

'You got something to say?' he forced out, his eyes narrowed to tiny slits. Rita grabbed his arm in alarm, noting the muscles were hard as rock.

Oh please let these troublemakers go, she prayed. Don't let them say anything about that bitch or he'll go nuts.

Don't you dare say anymore, or it'll be the last thing you ever say. He waited a second longer before he responded to his wife's frantic tugging on his arm. Chewing his lip he guided the stroller round the drunk.

'We all got something to say!' the man slurred, amid bellowing laughter. 'Everyone knows Rosa, knows her real well. Is there anyone here who doesn't know Rosa? She got real good….'

'Alright, I warned you,' Marco snapped. 'Nobody insults my sister. You're answering for your lies right now!'

'Marco, are you crazy?' Rita groaned in disbelief as her highly educated, reliable husband changed into a character from a third rate movie. 'He's a bastard, but it's probably all true and…'

'Sweetheart, let me go,' he insisted, turning to face her. 'You don't allow this kinda insult to pass unanswered!'

'You're gonna get killed,' she protested, trying in vain to reason with him. 'He's got two guns.'

She's right, Almeida, he's got them both and he's the best shot in town! The last coupla graves contain his victims! He glanced at his distressed wife and squeezed her hand, relived she was unaware of his opponent's reputation. You'd be missing a brain before you could so much as take aim! 'I fight like a man, Diego,' he snapped, fury overcoming his natural disinclination to attack the human gorilla before him. 'I can put you in the grave with my fists alone.'

'Uuuu,' hissed the drunken crowd that had by now abandoned the bar for the plaza, every man present including the bartender who watched the unfolding scene as enthusiastically as his clients. Rita shook her head in despair; uncertain whether she should pray the monster would agree to take her husband apart piece by piece or whether getting shot was the safer option.

'Marco, please come home,' she begged in English, tugging at his t-shirt. 'We got the baby.'

He turned immediately, slipping an arm about her. 'Take Tony to the church and stay there,' he instructed, turning to face the gorilla.

'You wanna get every bone smashed, Almeida, that's fine,' the gorilla agreed in a loud growl. 'On the highway,' he added, nodding his head at the unpaved road that led from the pueblo.

Marco nodded, his heart sinking. Dammit Rosa, why can't you either live like a decent woman or else move to some city better suited to your kinda lifestyle. I'm about to get the crap kicked outa me to protect your non existent reputation and it could be Papa next! Without the slightest trace of fear he followed the drunks from the plaza, the group of old men playing chess under a tree joining them.

Is everyone round here raving mad? Rita wondered, ready to weep in frustration as she pushed the stroller behind the crowd. Where the hell's the policeman? It's too early for siesta time. Her hopes that he would emerge and send the crowd home failed to materialize as the men formed a wide ring round the combatants.

'First man who fails to get to his feet after the count of ten is the loser,' a loud voice informed the frenzied crowd. 'Everyone okay with that?'

Loud yells informed him the rules were acceptable. 'Marco, please don't do this,' Rita begged, joining him. 'Look at that guy; he's twice your size. He…'

'I'm taller than him, honey.'

'Sweetheart, look at his muscles. He could crush you with his bare hands. Please just come home…'

'Querida, I told you to take the baby to the church and wait for me there,' he snapped, annoyed. 'Ladies don't watch this kinda thing, okay. Go now!'

'Well I won't,' she hissed, outraged. 'I don't believe you're into this crazy macho stuff, but I am a nurse and if you're going to get smashed to pieces I'm going to be here to pick you up afterwards.' She rubbed a furious tear from her eyes, her knuckles white on the stroller.

Marco nodded wordless as he removed his t-shirt. 'Take it.'

'He can't even order his wife to leave,' the gorilla hooted, spitting on the ground. 'What kind of man are you, Almeida? A sissy!'

'I don't order my wife around, she's got a hundred times as many brains as you,' Marco replied clearly.

The gorilla turned red as he waded into the fight. Pressing his eyes shut for an instant he ignored the urge to turn and run, taking a step towards him instead. Events moved rapidly from the point of contact with the gorilla's fist which sent him spinning to the ground. As he struggled to his feet he saw Rita at the edge of the crowd, Tony in her arms, her face whiter than after she had given birth. He rolled away from the gorilla and struggled to his feet, dodging the next blow successfully. Before the huge man could change momentum he kicked him, noting him crash to the ground in disbelief.

'Uno, dos tres,' began the loud mouthed man. The gorilla yelled in outrage and stood up, rushing for Marco. 'I'm going to beat your brains out, you bloody rich American! You think you can come back here and insult ME? Someone call the Padre, he's needed to administer the last rites!' Slamming his fist into Marco's cheek he shrieked in triumph as he crumpled to the ground.

'Sí, call the Padre. This guy's going to need him if he wishes to avoid a place in hell,' Marco retorted, rising. Once again he watched the gorilla move towards him through narrowed eyes, tripping him. The monster crashed to the ground which shook under his impact and Marco seized the moment to wipe the blood from his nose.

'Uno, dos, tres, cuatro,' the referee counted.

The gorilla rose and let out a string of the foulest oaths Rita had ever heard in the Spanish language as he physically knocked Marco to the ground, kneeling over him to pound his head into the hard surface.

'Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco,' the man began.

Marco rolled away, alarmed to note a flash of steel in the gorilla's hands. He's got a knife, Almeida. Watch out, he's determined to kill you! The crowd's disapproving hiss reached his ears as the knife was lowered, slashing his thigh.

The world spun as he ignored the sharp pain, kicking the gorilla between the legs. A second hiss followed, turning to yells of disbelief as the gorilla sank to the floor.

'You're a dead man, Almeida,' he cursed, the knife tight in his hand. 'I'm gonna cut off your balls and hand them over to that pretty wife of yours…'

Marco blinked the pain from his pounding skull and rolled away from the lowered blade, staggering to his knees. The gorilla rose to face him, beckoning. 'Come on, Almeida. Your sister is a whore, a good one! You nephew Jose is a bastard! Your…'

'Where's the policeman?' Rita groaned, unable to watch any further. Tony had stopped struggling and watched the carnage with large eyes.

'Someone called for a policeman?' the loudmouthed man yelled, moving to her side. 'What happened, senora? Did you lose your handbag?'

'You're the policeman?' she gasped in disbelief.

'Sí, senora, that's me! We must talk later, there's a fight on!'

'Wait a minute,' she insisted, grabbing his shirt. 'Aren't you going to stop it?'

'Senora, they wouldn't stop whatever I would say. Some lady was insulted, there has to be an answer to that! It won't last much longer. Why don't you go home?'

Good idea, Rita thought savagely as she watched Marco take a fist in his stomach, his eyes clouding in pain. Why don't I go home? What the hell am I doing here in the middle of a desert watching a fight? What kinda mother am I, allowing my baby to watch his father beaten up?

Marco sank to the ground, the gorilla kicking his head with his boot. Rita hissed in horror and pushed her way into the circle, only to have her arms restrained by the policeman. 'You can't interfere, senora, it's not over yet,' he insisted.

Seeing her kick the policeman in the shins gave him the necessary strength to roll aside for the final time, slamming his fist in the gorilla's throat the way he had been taught in the army. The monster sank to the ground on top of him squeezing the breath out of him as he was unable to move his weight. 'Uno, dos tres,' the policeman counted, ignored by Rita who rushed to his aid, struggling to roll the unconscious giant off him.

'Almeida,' yelled the policeman as joyously as though he had rooted for him all along. 'We have a victor! Rosa Almeida's reputation has been restored! I am not prepared to tolerate any further insults against that lady's honor! Everybody get lost!'

'Marco, are you still alive?' she whispered, unsure whether to kiss him or yell at him for his stupidity.

'Sí, I don't know, maybe not…' he gasped as he collapsed on the ground.

The policeman pulled himself together, marshalling two of the most sober men to carry him to the surgery. Rita followed, pushing Tony across the ill repaired road until they reached the building located beside the police station. The drunks deposited him on an examination table and left. Rubbing her eyes she faced a geriatric who staggered over to them.

'What have we here?' he rasped, blinking uncertainly at Rita.

'He's hurt real bad. Could you please let me know where the doctor is?' Rita begged, ready to weep in terror.

'I am the doctor, young lady! I've been the doctor in this town for seventy years!' the centenarian assured her. 'They can't find a replacement! Now what's wrong with that boy? Was he shot?'

Rita took the flashlight from his hands, peeling back an eyelid. 'He got kicked in the head,' she cried. 'He might have concussion.'

'Ah, concussion. Not good, that,' the old man decided, flashing his light in Marco's other eye. 'Sí, you're right. He's unconscious and he has a concussion. Ah, look, his leg needs stitching as well. It's pouring blood.'

Rita's eyes widened as he struggled to thread a needle before she took it from him. 'Lemme do that, senor. I can fix his leg.'

'You cannot! I haven't forgotten how to repair knife wounds,' he told her, wagging a finger at her. Without further ado he set about closing the wound.

'Wait a moment,' she insisted, horrified. 'Aren't you going to give him something for the pain?'

'He's unconscious, senorita,' the doctor replied, apparently having failed to notice the presence of either the ring or the child. 'Anyway, I haven't got anymore anesthetic, we ran out last week. The truck will bring it when it arrives! Hey hey,' he muttered as Marco stirred, the pain drawing him back to the present. 'Lie still, muchacho, I'm sewing!'

'Marco, sweetheart, he's fixing your leg. You gotta lie still,' Rita begged, allowing her tears out.

'Senorita, either leave or hold him down,' the geriatric snapped, leaving the room. Rita moved to lie across Marco's stomach, stroking his face.

'You gotta be brave, sweetheart. What's that?'

'Tequila,' the doctor responded, pouring half a bottle down Marco's throat. 'It dulls the pain. Quit interfering, the pair of you and let me close that wound.' He resumed sewing, Marco's hand gripping her own each time the needle pierced his skin. Sweat poured down his face as he chewed his lip to prevent yelling.

'How much more?' he breathed, five minutes later, uncertain whether he could tolerate it for much longer.

'It's half done. Lie still,' the geriatric snapped. 'Boys who are stupid enough to get into fights have to deal with the consequences afterwards. You think I got a wand to wave over that wound? Now hold your tongue, you're not a woman!'

Rita's eyes flashed in indignation as he resumed his task and she pressed Marco against the table. 'Don't move, sweetheart, it's nearly done,' she encouraged.

'It's just over half done. I don't believe in glossing over the truth,' the doctor contradicted.

Tony's terrified sobs added to the confusion. Rita moved to comfort him, assuring him his father was fine and they would go home soon.

Dear God let this be over soon, Marco prayed, wishing he could sink into oblivion. The longest five minutes of his life played out second by second, a needle prick at a time. The agony in his leg added to his severe headache, his entire skull pounding in tandem with his heartbeats. Before the doctor was done his stomach heaved and returned the tequila, coffee and cake.

'For a man unable to walk past a fight you're a real coward,' the irate doctor assured him as he wiped the vomit off his gown. 'Now lie still!'

Rita helped him remove his clothes and washed him with a cloth once the doctor finished, settling him into a chair. 'He's real bad, senor,' she said worriedly. 'Where's the hospital bed?'

'What bed?' the doctor replied querulously.

'The bed for patients who've had surgery,' she pressed. 'He's supposed to stay overnight for observation and to rest in absolute silence.'

'That bed is not for the living,' the centenarian explained, nodding his head at the room's only bed. 'Take him home while he is alive and nurse him there. Keep him quiet.'

Rita shook her head unable to believe her ears. Instead of the quiet hospital bed he required she was forced to drive the truck over to the door and drag him out, pushing him into the seat and watch him bounce around as she hit the myriad potholes. Nor was there any silence once she reached the house. Marco was bundled upstairs with the help of his dismayed father and tucked into his bed, a cold cloth was placed over his head and they left.

'His application has moved along in the line,' the official assured her as she glared at the phone an hour later struggling against hysteria. 'It shouldn't be long now. You'll both be required to have separate interviews and…'

'And I'm bringing him in next week. Ask us whatever idiotic questions you must but you WILL issue him a Green Card because I assure you my sanity is also on the line and I'm gonna strangle someone real soon,' Rita yelled, smashing the phone down. 'I won't allow them to put us on hold any longer,' she told Tony, undressing him for his bath. 'We're going down there the moment Papa is able to drive and we're gonna camp out there till they sort out his paperwork. I've had ENOUGH!'