A Cinnabar Sky

by Billy Kring

  “What about the other two trucks?”

  “One is stopping at the wreck, the other is coming on, but far behind us.”

  “Let’s see if we can’t lose them.” She drove into a more undulating terrain, with many small hills and ridges, and more vegetation, including ocotillo, cactus and cedar, with some mesquite as well. She maneuvered through it, often turning sharp left or sharp right, and it seemed to pay off. Two hours later, there was no pursuit.

  She slowed a bit, but not much, and worked her way across the country, occasionally finding primitive roads, but more often than not, she followed game trails.

  One game trail led to a more improved road, and from that, an hour later, to an even better road. Hunter stayed on it, and they began to see evidence of cattle and large ranches.

  They came to a small village of about twenty homes, with the small sign naming it Providencia, and Hunter talked to one wary woman on the street near a small store who said it was cartel country, and everyone was either afraid, or employed by the bad ones. Hunter told her they had no money, but were in need. The woman gave them two cokes and a package of cheese crackers. She also gave vague directions to a pass through the mountains that would lead to the Rio Grande. When Hunter asked her exactly where on the Rio Grande, the woman shrugged and said she had never been through the pass.

  Hunter took the road. They drove through the mountains and down the decline to the far area. Hunter thought they were somewhere below the old Woodson’s fishing camp, but she wasn’t exactly sure where. She continued on the road for want of another plan, and it turned more west and north, creeping closer to the river border.

  She spotted several green fields of peppers in the distance that signaled water, and felt her heart buoyed by the sight. Hunter knew that would be the small village of Benito Juarez, and beyond it on the other side of the border was the Castolón Road and Cottonwood Campground situated close to the river.

  The road had been recently re-graded with a maintainer, so was smooth compared to the rough pasture roads. She made good time and drove to a location a quarter-mile west of the campground. The campground was located behind and above the thick brush-line on the riverbank and showed the leafy canopies of the cottonwoods that gave the location its name.

  Adan suddenly yelled, “They’re here!” It startled Hunter, and she jerked her head around to see the gunmen in the pickup fifty yards behind them. It was Ben Zambrano and Anselmo Ancira, coming fast.

  She cut the steering wheel to do a fast turn and speed down to the river bank, where sand and fine gravel spun from under her rear tires. She wallowed a bit, but the pickup lined out with her steering.

  A bullet hit the left front fender and bounced off, leaving a finger-long groove of shiny metal. She glanced back, and saw the men coming at a reckless speed, closing the gap.

  Hunter’s eyes moved to the path, the river, the opposite bank, and behind her, all in rapid succession as she thought about her next move, which depended on the one place on the river bank she watched come into view.

  “Hold on,” She said. She worked the brakes as she cut the wheel to send the pickup into the jade green river, sending up a spray of water. The pickup floated forward and downstream, steadily but slowly sinking. Hunter kept the wheels spinning for whatever traction they could do to push the vehicle across the narrow river.

  The men behind her hit the water too fast and at too pitched an angle, sending their pickup on its side and rolling over so the wheels were up and the cab down as it floated into the water and began sinking. Adan and Hunter spotted one man’s hand break the surface as he struggled to reach air before the hand went under with the sinking vehicle.

  Adan watched the upturned pickup sink lower and lower, finally disappearing when it floated down to the deeper hole of water.

  Hunter turned the steering to use the floating vehicle’s wheels as crude rudders, and they approached the Texas river bank. The left front wheel slid onto a submerged sand bar and moved the pickup in slow motion, like a small anchor, swinging the vehicle around so that both front wheels were on the sandbar.

  As the truck sank lower, the rear wheels contacted the wet sand, and Hunter worked the gas in slight, feathery pulses, easing the vehicle forward out of the water. It seemed to Adan like it took ten minutes, but he knew in reality it was only a minute or two.

  Hunter pressed the gas pedal as lightly as possible, and the pickup crawled out of the water and silt, moving up onto the bank like an old alligator coming up to sun. When she was up far enough that she felt secure, Hunter pushed the gas and they drove out of the Cottonwood Campground so fast the pickup cleared the ground for a few feet as they shot over the metal cattle-guard in the road.

  Adan said, “I saw another vehicle down by the river.”

  “On the Mexican side?”

  “Yes, it looked like it was going to cross to our side.”

  “What kind was it?”

  “I think it was a Suburban.”

  “Did you see how many were in it?”

  “I couldn’t, but there was a rifle pointing out of the passenger window. It had a scope.”

  Hunter’s lips thinned. “Okay, we’re going to go fast.” She hit the gas and they sped along the road, in minutes they were passing the turnoff to the Santa Elena Overlook, and a short time later passed by Luna’s Jacal. In the rearview mirror, far back, was an SUV. “What color was the Suburban?”

  “It was black.”

  Hunter nodded. The one coming behind them was black. She pushed the pickup, even though the gas gauge needle rested on E. When they reached the juncture with highway 118, She took the hard left directly in front of an RV approaching from the right, so close Hunter saw the woman’s silent, open-mouthed scream through their windshield.

  The wheels chirped as the pickup slid sideways until they caught, then she raced ahead on the paved road, going for the Study Butte area. She checked the rearview and didn’t see the black SUV, and thought, maybe she put some distance between them.

  Hunter felt the pickup lurch, and felt sure she was out of gas. Just ahead was the Alon gas station, and she coasted into it to stop at the pumps. No one else was gassing up, but she looked at the store and saw Carlo Diaz and Sam Kinney standing beside Sam’s pickup, parked to face out, looking at her in disbelief.

  She grinned, and Adan said, “I can gas it up if you want.”

  Hunter said, “Thanks. I’ll get some money from them and be right back.”

  She hugged both men, and borrowed Sam’s credit card. She trotted back to the pump and slid the card in the slot, starting the pump. Adan worked the nozzle and pushed it in the tank opening as she headed toward her two friends.

  Carlo said to her, “We were all worried sick about you.”

  “I’m sorry, things were a little hectic.”

  Sam said, “Just glad you’re all right, and that kid, too.”

  “Is Raymond around?”

  “He’s with a dozen of your friends who are down here looking for you. Norma and Lynne are with them.”

  “I’ll apologize to everybody.”

  A sudden roar of an approaching engine snapped her head toward the pumps and Adan. He dropped the nozzle and ran towards Hunter as the black SUV slid to a sideways stop and two men with rifles poured out of it. One snapped a shot at Adan and the bullet grazed his arm, causing the boy to cry out.

  Before she could react, Carlo and Sam opened up on the black vehicle. Carlo worked the shotgun as fast as he could pump the slide, and Sam cut lose with the big BAR, which seemed to materialize from nowhere, sending a full magazine of heavy bullets into the men, followed instantly with another full magazine.

  Two men fell to the ground near the Suburban as windows blew out and holes appeared in the side. Other men inside it yelled in pain and alarm, but bullets continued to come at Sam and Carlo, and many aimed futilely at Adan, who hid behind the suburban’s engine block.

  Heavy rounds from a large-caliber weapon hit Sam’s p
ickup and blew glass out of the store windows behind them.

  Hunter ran towards Adan, who was down on his knees holding his bloody arm. The black vehicle spun in a tight turn around the pumps, still firing out of the windows.

  Adan panicked and sprinted toward the store. One of the men driving the black vehicle sped up, and circled to come on the boy as Sam continued to rain bullets on them. When he drove close to Adan, he opened his door and snatched the boy from the ground like he weighed nothing.

  The Suburban spun gravel and was gone up the road beyond the gas station.

  Hunter stood there.

  Sam’s pickup was shot to pieces, with oil running from underneath and three tires flat. Carlo had bits of glass, like shrapnel, stuck in his face.

  She went to him and picked them out with her fingers. He said, “That jalopy of yours at the pump still run?”

  “Unless it was hit, I think so.”

  “Get on their trail. Sam and I will catch up. We’ll bring Raymond and the others, too.”

  Hunter kissed him on the undamaged cheek, then she gave Sam a quick hug. As she turned to leave, he handed her his Colt Government Model .45. “Noticed you don’t have your usual jewelry on you today.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Go get that boy.”

  Carlo gave her a shoo motion with his hand as he talked on his cell. As she drove away, Carlo called out, “We’re all coming, find him and call us.”

  Hunter checked the gauge, saw Adan had managed to put a quarter tank’s worth of gas in before the bad guys arrived. It would be enough, she would make it enough. She pushed the battered pickup to its limit, with the loose front fenders rattling and the shimmying wheels so out of alignment from the rough roads they made her hands vibrate on the wheel. She noticed in the rearview mirror that some dark smoke issued from the tailpipe, so there was engine trouble, too.

  After she was out of sight, Sam said, “Dammit, I forgot to give her my phone.”

  Carlo said, “So did I.”

  She drove in the direction they last went, up highway 118, and she had a hunch she knew where. She kept watch in the distance for any sign of them or the black Suburban. She passed the Christmas Mountains on her right ten minutes later and, just ahead saw the faint dimness of dust in the air. Slowing, she followed the dust trail in the air, laid out like a ghostly finger pointing into the distance. It hovered directly over the road that led to the Hart Ranch Headquarters. She stopped at the gate, and found it locked.

  Hunter backed up and turned to the side, then paralleled the fence to where it crossed a four-foot-deep arroyo. She turned the pickup into it and drove under the wire, scraping the windshield and roof with screeching sounds that made her grit her teeth until she was through. Driving out of the arroyo took a bit of maneuvering. She used the front of the vehicle to cave in the walls so she could reverse gear, then go forward again and drive up the fresh pile of dirt and gravel to come out on top beside the road and inside the ranch fence.

  Thinking about what might be ahead made her nervous. They had the weapons to take her out at eight or nine hundred yards, and probably the shooters to do it, too. She had Sam Kinney’s .45 pistol, which she had never shot.

  She turned off the main road on a rough ranch trail and hoped it would take her through the hills to the back of the mansion, all without being seen. The trick was not to stir up dust, because they would see it and know it wasn’t theirs, so the drive was slow, and that ate at Hunter’s nerves.

  Right before driving behind a small ridgeline, she saw a dust trail far back behind her, on the main ranch road. She stopped and watched. It boiled up a heavy cloud of dust behind it, evidence of the speed it was going. “Oh man,” she said to herself. Bad men in front of her and behind her, and a twelve-year-old boy in the middle of it all, like a fawn surrounded by wolves.

  There wasn’t any time to lose. She sped up, bouncing across terrain and brush before coming finally to the last slope. She didn’t hesitate and drove down it, straight toward the great white mansion.

  Sliding the pickup so the passenger’s side stopped only six inches from the perimeter wall around the backyard let Hunter hopped out from behind the steering wheel, and climbed up on the roof, then over to the top of the wall and down into the large yard.

  She hurried to the back door and slipped inside the home just as a barrage of gunfire began in the front of the house.

  Chapter 19

  Raymond and Norma stopped in front of the mansion and exited as RL and another man stepped from inside the home and said, “Turn around and leave. Now.”

  Raymond stepped clear of the driver’s door to show the BAR. Norma rounded the front of the vehicle with a shotgun, which she racked.

  The man with RL jerked in reaction, raising his AR-15.

  Raymond and Norma opened fire before the man squeezed the trigger. The explosive boomboomboomboomboom of the BAR echoed through the house as both men fell backward to hit the door and slide down to the floor.

  Norma said, “Wait a sec,” and she slid three rounds of buckshot into the shotgun. Raymond hadn’t heard her fire. “Let’s go,” she said.

  They pushed open the doors and entered, ready for anything and looking for Hunter and Adan.

  Ellis stepped from a room with Winston. Ellis also held Adan to his chest by holding a forearm across the boy’s throat. Winston said, “This little bastard has caused us all some grief. If you’ll leave, we can forget this.”

  “Where’s Hunter?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t care. Leave.”

  Mike Hart emerged from another room and he looked ready to cry. “Everybody, please stop. Please. Ellis, let that boy go.”

  Ellis said, “Screw you, Mike.”

  Winston said, “Go back in your room, Michael. You’re in the way.”

  “Dad, I–”

  “Get away, you worthless shit!” Winston yelled.

  Mike blinked, and he stepped back as Ellis said, “You’re no help, Mike. Get lost. This is serious stuff here.”

  Raymond looked at Norma, then back at the men with the boy. “Let Adan go.”

  Ellis said, “No can do. He can’t have a claim to the Hart fortune, no way.”

  Winston said, “Because he’s Mexican.” Winston looked at Raymond and a tiny smile showed, “You understand that, of course.”

  A voice came from behind them, “He’s a Hart, you sonofabitch.” It was Hunter.

  Mike turned and looked at her. “He’s what?”

  “That boy is your nephew, Mike. He’s Vincent’s son.”

  Mike’s eyes widened.

  Hunter said, “Adan, show him.”

  The boy pulled out the photo and the marriage certificate from his pocket, holding it out to Mike.

  Ellis slapped his arm down so hard it sounded like a pistol firing. The papers hit the floor and Adan yelped in pain.

  Mike jumped beside Adan and knelt to pick up the photo and documents. He glared at his father and Ellis as he did.

  Mike read them, and studied the photo. He said, “This is Vincent’s marriage document and a photo of him and his wife.” He looked hard at his father, “Did you know about this?”

  “It means nothing.”

  “Uh-huh. It does to me.”

  Ellis said, “It doesn’t mean this boy is related.”

  Hunter moved on silent feet and stopped five feet behind Mike Hart so she was out of the path of fire if Raymond and Norma started shooting, and the position left her with a clear shot at Ellis. The .45, was in her hand, safety off, and finger on the trigger. She was so ready. Hunter said, “We did a DNA test on him. You should check it out before you mouth off, Ellis.”

  Mike said, “Let the boy go, Ellis.”

  “Not on your life.”

  Mike turned to his father, “Dad, make him turn the boy loose.”

  Winston said, “That Mexican is going to disappear. He’s no relation to us.” He studied Mike, “And you’re a huge disappointment to me, Michael, siding wi
th him over us.”

  Anguish and growing anger showed on Mike’s face, “I’m not siding with anyone. But I do want to know the truth, and the whole story. Vincent was my brother, and I loved him.”

  Ellis said, “Boo-hoo. Poor little rich boy loved his brother. Too bad, you worthless piece of shit.” He moved closer to Winston.

  Before anyone else could talk, Winston said to his son, “You are, you know. A piece of shit. We’re related by blood, and I wish we weren’t. Even so, you are nothing in this home, in this family. Ellis is more of a son to me than you.”

  Hunter saw Mike Hart’s shoulders sag.

  Raymond thought he had had about enough of the talking, especially with Adan still being held. He raised the BAR and sighted on Ellis’ face, right between the eyes. “Let the boy go.” They weren’t fifteen feet apart.

  Norma moved several steps to the side, “Mister, he means it. Let the boy go.”

  Winston stepped in front of Raymond. “Here now, there is no need for weapons.”

  Ellis shoved Winston from behind and the elderly man fell into Raymond, sending them both falling to the floor. Norma raced to help Raymond as Ellis spun fast, swinging Adan’s feet off the floor while still holding him by his neck.

  Hunter tried to duck but was struck by Adan’s legs. She also went sprawling on the floor as Ellis sprinted away, still using Adan as a shield.

  Mike Hart reached down to help Hunter from the floor and said, “We have to get him!”

  Hunter asked Raymond and Norma, “You two all right?”

  “Go get that guy.” Norma said, and tossed Hunter her phone. “For the light,” she said. They wrestled with Winston, as Hunter and Mike departed. Winston proved to be surprisingly strong.

  Hunter and Mike trotted down the hall to the open door where Ellis had entered. It was the room where the big fans pushed air from the caves into the home. The grate over the fans had been flung open, and the fans turned off. Hunter saw a set of footprints going into the cave.

  Mike said, “There’s no exit from these.”

  “The air has to come from somewhere.”