Ah, Maria, I know a procrastinator when I see one. Now, go. If he is worth a centavo he will know what is good for him, go.

George Yepes Then, finally, on a clear Thursday morning, she awoke to find Alanza tacked up and tied to the hitching rail outside her bedroom door, standing quietly in the veranda’s shade. Uncle Alejandro was waiting for her. He smiled and nodded at Maria’s pony. “Time to go north, little one.”
She looked at him and her stomach fluttered. She took a deep breath. “After breakfast, Uncle.”
“It is made, it is in a sack hanging on the saddle horn, child.” He handed her a tin cup of coffee. “You can drink it as you ride.”
There was nothing for it now. She had to go. Uncle would not let her dally any longer. She smiled and saw his eyes get all teary, like a proud father handing his daughter over to her new husband. “You go. You are getting too old for this wandering, Maria. Soon, you will be too old to have babies and every young woman should have the gift of babies. It is the way.”
He grabbed her in his great arms and hugged her and kissed her on the top of the head. “You go. Go to him and then bring him to me. I have to make a good speech to him and tell him how precious you are. I must tell him how he has to be good to you for the rest of his days.”
He was becoming overwhelmed at his own sentimentality. Uncle Alejandro, despite his toughness, was a romantic at heart. He moved her, physically, to Alanza, nearly picked her up and placed her on the saddle. She was suddenly looking down on the man. He looked smaller to her, old and frail, and she did not want to make him unhappy. She gave him a weak smile. “Okay, Uncle, but you did not have to push the bird from the nest. You could have just told me to go.”
“Ah, Maria, I know a procrastinator when I see one. Now, go. If he is worth a centavo he will know what is good for him, go.” He pointed a big finger north. “Go.” Maria's Trail.