News From Cibolo

A state trooper, wearing a tall hat stiff as cardboard, straightened up from leaning against his car and motioned for me to pull over as I approached. He gazed around the car a moment, unsmiling, and when I rolled down the window he told me to stay put. He whistled between his teeth in the direction of the other vehicles and waved his arm toward someone. I then heard loud barking as a leashed German shepherd came into view, dragging along another patrolman. The first patrolman gestured for me to roll up my window, which I did gladly and quickly, hoping my rental car hadn't survived the creek bed only to be torn up by a seething dog. But the shepherd seemed to know its business, settled down as it approached the car and immediately began to sniff under it and around the wheel wells. The first officer hollered through the window to pop up the trunk, which I did. Satisfied, the second patrolman nodded at the first and tugged at the shepherd, which trotted away more willingly. Again the patrolman whipped his hand in a circular motion and I rolled down the window.

'That's procedure, sir,' said the officer, whose face under the hat was plain, somewhat stolid and I thought at least mildly suspicious. 'We've heard there might be others coming here to join this group and we're not taking anything for granted.'

'What are you looking for?'

'Guns, ammo, dope,' he said. 'We'll also want to have a quick look in your vehicle.'