The Iguana Tree. Michel Stone

there on the man’s shoes.”

      “I got lucky. But you know I did as the coyote said. I looked the officer in the eye like I had nothing to hide. Plus, my identification is a decent likeness.” Miguel tossed the card across the seat to Héctor.

      Héctor studied it, and in an instant noticed the striking resemblance. “You just walk through life as one lucky bastard, don’t you, Miguel?” Héctor pulled his own South Carolina driver’s license from his pocket. “Look at mine.”

      “This cat looks some like you,” Miguel said before he jutted the card into Pablo’s field of vision.

      “Not bad,” Pablo said, passing the card back to Héctor. “This is passable. If you had not eaten in days.”

      “And you grew your hair,” Miguel added.

      “And slid your left eye over just the slightest bit toward your right one,” Pablo said, laughing.

      “And flattened your nose. Not much, you understand. I could give you a good, quick pop and fix that, no problem.” Miguel laughed now, too.

      Pablo lowered his window and pulled on to a wide highway.

      Hot breeze blew Héctor’s face. “Thanks,” he shouted over the rushing wind. “You fellows comfort me. Truly you do. I’ll be most confident if an American lawman ever asks to see my identification.”

      The highway sliced through a mat of dry, brown grass as far as Héctor could see, and a brief twinge of longing for his lush village struck him.

      Miguel turned in his seat, smiling. “I cannot believe we are here, Héctor.”

      Héctor reached to his friend, clasping his hand across the seat. “We are here,” he said.

      Héctor shoved his identification into his pocket and watched the passing landscape, considering his good fortune to have hooked up with Miguel.

      PABLO SAID, “You need to understand the mentality here, not so much among the folks you’ll meet on Edisto Island, but among others. The politicians and the city dwellers. And those who work for the government.”

      Pablo had driven all night and much of this day, with only three brief stops, unwilling to let Héctor or Miguel take a shift. They traveled through the states of Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia, though darkness had cloaked much of their passage through Louisiana and all of their travels through Mississippi and Alabama. Perhaps Héctor could one day return to those pretty-sounding places to view them in daylight.

      With his right hand on the wheel and his left elbow propped in the open window, and a gift for easy conversation, Pablo conveyed a confidence and wisdom that comforted Héctor.