In just a minute Luis was headed out on 84 toward Chili. He found the breakdown at the cross road that led east into the Pueblo of Ohkay Owingeh, although he found its old name of San Juan more comfortable. The silver-gray car was an expensive Lexus and the woman standing next to it, looking hot and frustrated, would make any man look twice. She’d done her best to muffle her appearance, wearing scuffed jeans and an oversized tee shirt. Luis made a U-turn and slide off onto the shoulder behind the Lexus.

The woman looked less than pleased to see him approach, although he did so with an air of diffidence. “Oh please,” she rolled her eyes, “you’re the fourth one to stop and offer help to the poor little lady.”

Instinctively, he switched into Spanish, “Can’t they help you at the pueblo? I assume you were coming from there?”

She’d been fiddling with her cell phone and answered almost without thought in English, “They all saw me off and then got in their truck to go to Embudo.” As soon as she replied, she startled and then narrowed her eyes. “Why are you speaking to me in Spanish?”

Luis, embarrassed, lowered his eyes as he spoke. “You looked real familiar. Then I remember I’ve seen you on that Spanish-speaking television station out of Albuquerque.” He didn’t add that the television was about all he’d for company these past few months.

“You recognize me dressed like this?” she asked skeptically, still speaking English.

All of a sudden, Luis stiffened. His premonitions, when he had them, always proved very acute. “Please, miss, I don’t want to be an alarmist but you should know there are some men, bad men, and they were talking at the restaurant down the road about how they’d like to help you. But you don’t want their kind of help . . . ” He let his last words fade off and stared at her hard, hoping his earnest gaze would transmit his sense of urgency.

She studied him for a moment, then reached up and slid her sunglasses down onto her face. “Thank you. Do you know a garage around here where I could get a tow?”

After she locked her vehicle, Luis escorted her to his car, opened the door and watched her slide in. When he was seated and pulling the Chevy onto the road, he said, returning to English, “Yes, my friend Andre has one just outside town on 285.”

“I couldn’t get my roadside service for a while, and then they told me I’d forgotten to pay last month.” She made a face. “One month I slip, and they won’t help?”

Luis’s eyes caught a glimmer of silver down the road. “Miss, please don’t get mad, but can you bend down, lower yourself like you dropped something? Those guys are heading toward us, I don’t want one of them catching a glimpse of you.”

(Continued next week)