Dodge was a teamster. a good teamster. he liked being a teamster. he drove a four up to a mud wagon coach between the pima villages at Sacaton to Gila Bend with a stop at Maricopa wells.  The stop at Maricopa wells was a long, adobe room with a brush arbor ramada along the front.  in the middle of june it was a scorching 110 degrees under that ramada. Dodge wheeled the four up of spanish mules into the yard  in front of the building bringing the fagged out mules to a dusty stop, with the fine dust settling over the coach and mules and driver in a powder like film. Mike, the station keeper, stepped out of the door and hollered to get down and have a drink. When Dodge reached the ground he stepped to a olla hanging from a cross beam under the ramada and lifted the tin , long handled dipper with cool water and drank heavily.
    Two indian men, naked to the waist was un hitching the mules, leading them to water and a little grain and hay. Dodge looked at the empty corral and then back to Mike. " Wheres the fresh teams ?" he asked. Mike looked  off across the desert and the shimmering heat waves and the estella mountains and mumbled" aint here"   
    "what the hell am i supposed to do , drive a give out team on to the end of my run?" Dodge asked
" the east bound aint made it in 3 days Dodge, youll have to rest yer mules tonite and start off in the mornin. ya got no passengers, just mail so if your a lttle late nobody cares."  Mike was standing there with his hands on his hips.
 Dodge scuffed his boot on the dust, spit , and looked around like he needed help. with a helpless wave of his hands he dipped another cup of water and poured it over his head.   sputterin he looked at the station man and asked what was for supper.
"chili and tortillas, like always"Mike responded   Dodge walked over to the back of the ramada, took a old wooden chair and leaned it against the wall. sitting down he pulled his pant leg up and exposed the top of his boot. stuck in the boot top with the neck showing was a pint bottle. he pulled it out and pulled the cork. the sweet, tangy smell of the mescal escaped and filled the evening air. he took a long pull of the clear liquid then handed the bottle to Mike as he slid down the wall to sit with his back to the wall. for a hour the friends sat and sipped the last of the mescal. a pima woman came to the door and quietly murmmered that supper was ready, " youll like this chili, we just got some chilis from texas and this is the first time we got to use them". Mike said as they went inside.
Dodge picked up a fresh, hot tortilla and laid it in his hand formming a little canoe. then dipping into the pot with a big spoon brought out the red concoction with chuncks of jerked meat swimming in the red sauce, and put the spoon full in the tortilla.  folding and rolling the tortilla into a burro he walked out side into the fading light.  one of the pima men was lighting a lantern and hanging it on nail in the remada.  after a couple of bites the sweat began to run down Dodges face. he could feel the heat building in the back of his neck and spreading onto his face. after a couple more bites he had lost the feeling in his mouth and tounge and water didnt seem to make a lot of difference.  the fire in his stomach was creeping up his gullet with the fire in his mouth starting down. the two met at a point in the middle of his chest. he had never had chili this hot, NEVER.
     Mike offer more but Dodge shook his head and gulped another cup of water. " ill put a cot in the room for ya to sleep on then" MIke said
 " dont bother" Dodge said " ive slept in your scorpion hotel before, ill sleep on the coach."  Mike shrugged, said good nite and turned inside the adobe. the chili was still burning a raging fire in Dodges belly, he gulped more water and it helped a little. the sweat still rolled off his head but the feeling was comming back to his mouth.  climbing into the coach he settled down for the nite.  along about midnite he awoke,  his bowel was grumbling, rolling and twisting. he was in agony.  slipping out of the coach in the moon light he headed for the little out house behind the adobe. it was a three sided afair with out a roof. as he got closer his gut started working harder, the cramps more violent. slipping the suspenders off his shoulders he barely sat down when his bowel turned loose. the relief was instatainious. then the fire hit!! his rectum was burnning like kerosene was poured on it and lit!! a muffled moan escaped Dodges lips and he bite the lowerlip in pure misery.
 the next morning in the dark the pima boys were hitching the mules, Mike came out of the adobe with a cup of coffee and handed it to Dodge. he sipped the black , steaming  coffee. looking out of the corner of his eye he  asked MIKE the name of the chili he had used in the stew. "JABANERO" was the response. nodding Dodge craweled up on the coach, gathered up the lines and looked down at Mike. 
" if you use those chilies on anything you feed me again ill kill you" with that he stirred up the mules and headed out on the road to Gila Bend. mike thought it was awfull funny Dodge was sitten almost side ways and the water olla was on the seat next to him!