"You have to slow down and speak English," Dylan soothed as he shifted in his seat to avoid any potential powder burns. "You know we passed that English Only law a few years back, don't make me turn you in."

Paco sobered almost immediately, taking a half step back in respect of the man whose father now owned the land Paco's people had lived on and worked for thousands of years. "Sir," he began with his eyes respectfully downcast, "there is a problem in the goat pen. One of them is dead."

"Was it sick?" Dylan asked. "We just checked them last week!"

"No sir," Paco answered, becoming excited again, reaching through the window and clutching at the younger man. "Not sickness, señor. The goat has been bled dry! It has had its life sucked out by El Chupacabra!"

Dylan shifted his grip and took hold of the babbling man by the scruff of the neck. "Hey! Start making sense or you will find your butt on the other side of the gate."

"Come see for yourself, señor," Paco said as he backed away from the pickup. "Come and see, it is El Chupacabra, the goat sucker. El Chupacabra has come to this farm.