"Why?!", was about the only thing Imelda wanted to know as the entire family (plus Antonio and Daisy!) were squished onto Pepita, who was taking to her duty very well, and Ernesto strapped as tightly as possible to her tail with shoe laces. As ineffectual as this last sounded, the Riveras had had a lot and so he was bound quite well.

The matriarch, and her pet, and everyone but Ernesto scanned the streets below their flying path for Miguel. "Does he think chasing him down now helps us?", Imelda wondered aloud.

"He's worried, for his amigo, and probably thought...", Héctor couldn't really say what Miguel probably thought, and so cut off.

Imelda sighed again but didn't comment, still scanning. She wasn't honestly surprised, given last year, and knew Héctor was right. Miguel was also antsy, or could be, and had probably tired of what he saw as the adult's ineffectual plans. She had noted the alebrijes were gone, but didn't truly imagine up the role they had played in all this (thankfully for little Wild Fire!). She actually imagined they followed Miguel no doubt!

With a growl of seeming to notice something, Pepita flew down lower.

***

"...and so...Wild Fire brought me to you and...I think you're supposed to help", Miguel finished telling Kit Larson all about what had happened.

"Why that no good sidewinder! I mean I knew from what I saw last year but...", he shook his head. Then glanced to the alebrijes they were following and back to the boy, "Say shouldn't yer family be here and know you snuck off?".

"Well...uh...", Miguel tried to find an answer to that, "maybe that's where they're taking us also!", he then guessed. Kit looked doubtful but let it drop, especially as he spotted two further skeletons crossing the street ahead. If he had known this would be where the living boy's story would end, he would have asked his fire side companions, but these two would work too.

"Well, with two guesses, I'd say del al Cruz' house itself would be a good target range of where he's got this descendant of mine; I don't figure I guy like that thinks very much", Kit said, next rapidly walking towards the two skeletons, one of which was an elderly woman but in 1950's sort of garb. Clearly young the way the cowboy would think of it, but still he whipped off his hat and greeted her like he would the mayor's own wife. Miguel sidled behind him, not sure if he should be spotted.

"Beg yer pardon there ma'am, but I was wondering if you or your companion there knew where Ernesto de la Cruz was stayin'? His house if he's got one?", Kit asked. The man with the woman frowned, "de la Cruz? What do you want with him, after what I heard he did...".

"Yes sir, and I agree, is why I was gonna go sneak him into buying snake oil. I...don't got much else to do", Kit grinned.

Both skeletons laughed and the man gladly pointed up the street, "It's the third one down. We were thinking of moving it's so close, even if we're just around the block".

"Much obliged", Kit replaced his hat after a bow further towards the lady, who he heard titter that the older ones just still had such manners and cordiality about them. Thankfully the skeleton with her was her brother, though Kit doubted anyone that young would mistake his cordial intents. Thankfully neither saw Miguel.

The boy came out once they were gone, and the street clear again. "Third one down, and you're right he probably is there!", Miguel was off again before Kit could stop him.

"H-hold up there, we don't know...", Kit took off, catching up, and gripped his shoulder, "just let me walk in first in case he's got traps" he said, continuing his way down the street with Miguel walking beside once more.

"So...", Miguel's mind worked onto other things now that they possibly knew where to find Trent, or he spoke what had occurred to him when hearing who Kit Larson was. "you're the one who started the Larson's farm? And the tannery?".

"That I am", the cowboy chuckled, "and apparently saying that without even knowing my name is enough to keep me around...I honestly feel I should have faded years back". Miguel said nothing because he wouldn't agree with something like that, no one should fade like that.

The two reached the third one down and Kit placed his hand back on Miguel's shoulder to pause the boy while he went inside. He tried the handle and surprisingly found it turned. Miguel peered after him as the cowboy disappeared inside. There were a series of yips, Miguel instantly recalling the chihuahua alebrijes, and then Kit Larson peeked his head back out. "Alright, got the guard dogs taken care of and that seems all the security there is" he waved Miguel inside.

The other living boy to have come here that night stepped through the shabby doorway and glanced about at Ernesto de la Cruz' pathetic collection of vanity. "Wow..." all he said in a soft voice, but whatever he thought of the desperation, his attention was quickly to scanning for any sign of his friend.

"Ernesto said he had gas and...there!", the heater looking thing had to be it, and it was shoved beside the closet facing the wrong way. Kit kicked it aside and off, Miguel and him covering their faces with their elbows just in case, but the cowboy then nodded it seemed fine. Not dangerous in this big a room and with it now off. He then tried the handle of the closet, finding that of course locked.

"Stand back, boy", he waved Miguel back a few paces and then brought his boot down solidly on the door handle until it gave way. Miguel looked like he was watching something from a real western...since he sort of was! Kit held another hand out as he went into the closet and soon came out with Trent cradled, breathing and alright, but out.

The cowboy placed him in a chair and Miguel rushed to the other side of it. "Trent...", he gave his friend's shoulders a light shake, just to see if it would have any effect. It of course didn't. But it was just sleeping gas... Miguel thought through what else he could try even as Kit stood and walked to the kitchen.

Memory jogging... Miguel thought, it was...sort of the same...maybe...but he didn't know anything too personal to gain Trent's even subconscious attention like Mama Coco's lullaby. Would their playing antics thus far work?

"Trent...we got your abuelo, he's here...well not here here...not now, I ran off, but...one of them...sort of...your great-great-great grandfather maybe?", Miguel tried to keep himself from getting distracted, "I found the one who started up your farm. He's a real cowboy Trent!".

Miguel bit his lip, alright, song try time.

"Remember last month, we helped Señora Garcia by playing in front of her churro stand, and she gave us free ones? Pround Corizon? Which I had not even finished fully tweaking but we...come on, amigo, I already did it once, you gotta do it with me too", Miguel had no guitar, but hopped up on a nearby foot stool (ignoring the fact and thought that Ernesto's stinky feet had been on it) and began acoustic singing the upbeat part of the song he'd just also sang alone earlier that night. Not that he minded, but he was trying to spark something. Anything.

Kit Larson came back out of the kitchen to find Miguel doing his finale on the foot stool, though he'd heard all the yelling anyway, and just quirked an eyebrow as he walked over with a glass. Miguel had already told him about his and Trent's playing together, but still. The fact that the cowboy hadn't said anything about the mariachi path plan sort of told Miguel he maybe didn't want to hear what the pragmatic herder thought of it.

Miguel came back over as the cowboy bent down to his descendant. "Alright, now don't go telling the boy's grandmother, or yours, but this is...Frontier Pick Me up. It's harmless, but I'm still not gonna tell you what's in it".

"Ok...", Miguel didn't sound convinced he shouldn't tell, but just watched as Kit dropped a bit in, making sure Trent swallowed properly before stepping back. It only took a few seconds.

"No let me out you...", Trent jerked awake, all but. He still blinked groggily, but soon focused on his friend. "M-Miguel...?".

"Trent! You alright?", Miguel asked.

"Y-yeah...", Trent blinked a bit more, but looked finally awake and sat up, rubbing at his head, "I...oh Miguel I'm sorry, I didn't believe him!" he said, and Miguel instantly understood.

"Well of course you didn't, Ernesto tried to actually kill me last year!".

"I'll believe it!", Trent went on before his gaze focused on the cowboy.

"Trent, this is the guy who started your farm and he's a real cowboy! Kit Larson!", Miguel supplied again in a still awed voice.

"Woah!", Trent picked up the tone.

Kit laughed, "How ya doing there boy?", he held out a hand and Trent shook it with a grin.