Taking shallow breaths, Dolores entered the dank cell and in the lantern's flickering light saw the two prisoners hunkered against the thick stone wall of the hacienda jail. Above them, four vigas supported the fireproof chipichil roof made of lime, sand and 
gravel. "I've brought some tortillas and water for you to drink, señores." She looked down at the basket hanging in the crook of her arm. She hesitated a moment before inching closer to the men, then stepped forward, crunching pieces of broken plaster and gravel beneath her lace-up, leather shoes.
As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she saw that the men's faces were crusted with dirt and dried blood. The foul odor in the small room seemed to reach up and grab her as she knelt beside the prisoners. She wondered how they could tolerate the stench. Trying her best to disguise her discomfort, she set the kerosene lantern and basket on the stone floor and turned to the jail guard hovering near the entrance of the cell, his rifle pointed at the prisoners. "Gonzalo, why haven't you emptied the chamber pot?"
"Pues, el patrón told me to leave it there, patrona." The jail keeper's pock-marked face reddened.
"Get it out of here."
Gonzalo pointed his rifle at the steely-eyed prisoner. "Hey you, Arango. Bring that pot to me."
The prisoner didn't move, nor did he speak. He glanced at his cell-mate, a dark-complected indio, who immediately scrambled up and moved toward the chamber pot.
"No, not you," the jailer said. "You." He nodded his gun at Arango.
"Por favor, stop this nonsense. Get it out of here." Dolores glanced at the prisoner standing in the shadows at the back of the cell.
The indio picked up the chamber pot and slid past her and the chastened guard. He threw the excrement out the door. It splattered on the packed earth, hitting Gonzalo's legs.
"You did that on purpose, cabrón." He hit the man's shoulder with the butt of his gun.
"That's enough." Dolores gave the guard a malevolent look, moving so that the indio could resume his position next to the man called Arango.
"Now, close the door."
"But, patrona, these are dangerous men."
"Close the door," she commanded.
The guard reluctantly obeyed.
In the darkened room, she spoke in hushed tones as she passed the tortillas and water to the prisoners. "My husband plans to hang both of you tomorrow morning before he leaves for Chihuahua. Maybe you are cattle rustlers. Maybe you're not. Either way, I can't sit by and watch you hang."
"Why are you telling us this, señora?"
She was momentarily startled when she realized that Arango had spoken. He stared back at her, his eyes piercing.
"No one deserves to die like that." She didn't think she could bear to see another hanging. As a warning to his workers, Francisco always ordered that the corpse of a recalcitrant not be taken down until nothing remained but a ghastly skeleton floating in the wind. For days, the stench of decay lingered in the air and the hacienda workers moved about in silent introspection and, she believed, recrimination.
"And so?"
"I want to help you escape," she whispered, glancing furtively at the door.
"I'm listening, señora."
"There's a gun in my basket, as well as rope and handkerchiefs. When Gonzalo opens the door for me, it will be up to you. I know you're both weak from the beatings my husband has given you. Do you think you can overpower the guard and tie us up in here?"
A grin brightened Arango's face. "No problem, señora."
"There are two horses saddled and ready in the corral. Take them." She stood up.
"Why should we believe you?" Arango's solemn expression returned.
Dolores hesitated, looking down at Arango. "Because you have no other choice." She turned. "Gonzalo, open the door and help me with these." She indicated her basket and lantern.
The guard opened the heavy door, stepping inside the cell. Arango moved swiftly, hitting the man on the back of his head with the butt of the gun. Gonzalo fell unconscious against the wall.
"Put the handkerchief around my mouth and tie my hands," Dolores ordered.
Gently, Arango tied the wrists of the mistress of the hacienda. "Don't forget to lock us in here when you leave," she said before he positioned the handkerchief around her mouth.
Arango looked into Dolores' green eyes. "Señora, I will never forget what you have done. Adios." He picked up the guard's rifle and under the cloak of darkness, Doroteo Arango and his compañero stole into the night.
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