One Grave Less

carried her to the cab of the truck and put her inside, climbed in after her, closed the door, and rolled up the window. She sat tapping the steering wheel with her index finger.
    “Maybe I can get a loop around it, tie the other end to a tree and ease forward, and she will slide out,” she said, mostly to herself.
    “You going to get back there and put a rope around it?” asked Rosetta, who had turned around and was watching the snake.
    Maria turned and looked out the back glass.
    “It’s unlikely,” she said.
    “You could offer it something to eat,” said Rosetta.
    “Like what?”
    “I know they like birds, and fish, and deer.”
    “Don’t have any of those,” said Maria. “Oh, well, what the heck.”
    She opened the door and jumped out of the cab of the truck.
    “Stay here. I mean it.”
    She walked softly to the back of the truck, opened the tailgate, and ran back to the cab, jumped in, and slammed the door shut. She let herself have one good shiver and started the truck.
    “Get down on the floor,” she told Rosetta.
    Rosetta slid off the seat and squatted, hugging her backpack.
    “What are you going to do?” She looked at Maria, wide-eyed.
    Maria didn’t answer. She moved the truck forward and stopped abruptly, then did the same thing in reverse several times.
    “You are going to make her sick or mad,” said Rosetta.
    Maria stopped and put her head down on her arms.
    “I really don’t like snakes,” she said. “I’m going to dream about this the rest of my life.”
    “Mama isn’t afraid of snakes,” said Rosetta, climbing back onto the seat.
    Maria raised her head and smiled at the little girl. “What would she do?”
    Rosetta shrugged again. “I don’t know. I guess she would just say, well, we have a snake.”
    “It appears that we do,” said Maria. “I suppose it will leave sooner or later. It isn’t going to want to live in the back of our truck. I hope.”
    Maria checked the gas gauge. They had a little over a quarter of a tank. The truck was equipped with spare tanks on the side of the bed for extra gas. A necessity when gas stations were rare. The tanks were full. Lucky , Maria thought, more than once. She could keep driving now, but soon she was going to have to put more gas in the main tank. And that would require working around the snake if it didn’t move on.
    “Isn’t it funny that, just a little while ago, you were telling me about the snake in the Harry Potter story?” said Rosetta.
    “Yes, very funny,” said Maria as she navigated the truck along the primitive road.
    “Wouldn’t it be fun if we could understand her language?” Rosetta said. She had turned in the seat and was now on her knees looking at the anaconda.
    “It would. Then I could politely ask her to leave,” said Maria.
    “Tell me some more of the story,” said Rosetta, settling back into her seat.
    Talking wasn’t helping Maria’s voice any, but it was helping Rosetta, so Maria picked up on the story where Rosetta said she last remembered. As the story unfolded, Maria kept one eye on the gas gauge and the other on the animal trail that passed for the road they were traveling on . . . with quick glances into the rearview mirror to watch for any movement of their new passenger.
    When the needle on the gauge got into the red, Maria stopped the truck and looked out the back window. They still had their ride-along. Maria turned to Rosetta.
    “The truck needs gas. I need to put some in the tank before it gets too dark.”
    “The snake won’t eat you. You’re too big,” said Rosetta. “I don’t think it will.”
    Small comfort.
    “You could try talking to her,” said Rosetta.
    “I’ll give it a try,” said Maria.
    She got out of the truck and walked over to the nearest spare gas tank. She peeked in the back of the truck. Partially under the snake, who had curled up in apparent comfort, there was a hose that Maria guessed was used to siphon the gas.
    “Don’t you need to be near water?” Maria said to the snake.
    The snake paid no attention to her.
    Maria spotted Rosetta in the rear window. Her lips were moving, but Maria couldn’t hear her. She wasn’t sure, but she thought the little girl was saying Hail Marys.
    Maria watched the snake as she moved her hand toward a part of the hose that was clear. She grasped the hose and gently began to pull. The snake moved her head around and flicked her wet, glistening tongue toward Maria.
    “Oh, shit,” said Maria. “Look, snake,