by Lynne Hinton
“They’ve accused him of being involved in some Mexican cartel, of running drugs. They even dug up some old outstanding arrest for him that I know happens to be false. Seems like there’s another Frank Twinhorse somewhere in the country who likes to write bad checks. When they found out that bit of information, they claimed they could keep him locked up until they straighten that out.” He blew out a breath. “According to Agent Cochran, who agrees with all of us about Frank’s detainment, if the federal government wants to keep a person jailed, they’ve got about all the power and authority they need. They just use the words ‘a threat to national security’ and they can hold a person for as long as they want.”
“Seems to me somebody over there needs a good butt-whipping.” Oris was listening to the conversation.
“I thought you didn’t want to join us,” Malene noted.
“Well, if you’re going to talk loud enough for everyone to hear, you ought to expect comments.” He still had his back to them while he finished his meal at the counter. He demonstrated his annoyance by noisily folding and slapping the newspaper he was reading.
“Still . . . ,” Malene said, trying to ignore her father but dropping the volume a bit, “there ought to be something you can do.” She studied her husband. “Can’t you talk to Agent Cochran again? Can’t you talk sense into somebody in the agency?”
“I’m afraid not,” he replied. “I’ve shaken every tree I know to shake. They aren’t letting Frank go until they find Raymond.”
“I heard that the gun they found in the Dumpster was his,” Malene said.
Roger seemed surprised, and then he nodded knowingly. “Christine?”
“None other,” Malene responded. “She knows more about crime in Catron County than you. Maybe you should just put her on the payroll.”
Roger laughed. “Danny thinks that telling her stuff about his cases makes him seem more interesting to her.” He shook his head. “Yeah, it was Raymond’s. But that doesn’t mean anything,” he added. “Maybe he just got smart and decided to get rid of it. Although the Dumpster isn’t really the best place for that.”
Bea brought the two plates and set them before her customers. “Two specials,” she announced. “You need anything else?”
The two shook their heads.
Roger took a bite and then asked, “So what do you think Trina will do?”
Malene was adding hot sauce to her dish of chile rellenos. She shook her head. “I don’t know. All she told me was that she needed to talk to Conroe Jasper and that she didn’t think Raymond would care.”
“She didn’t think Raymond would care?” he repeated. “Of course, Raymond will care.”
Malene took a bite and shrugged. “I don’t know, Rog. Even though I tried to talk her out of going, what she said actually made a lot of sense.”
Roger drank a sip of coffee. “What?” he asked. “What did she say?”
Malene recalled her phone conversation with Trina earlier that morning. “Just that she thought that Raymond would be disappointed if she took Alexandria and moved back to Texas, but that he wouldn’t stand in her way. She said that he had told her numerous times since he got home from the hospital that she would be better off without him.”
Roger kept eating. He had heard the same thing from Frank when they had their recent visit.
“She said she figured she would have to fight with George and you and me about her decision to leave Pie Town, if she made that decision, but she knew she would never have to fight with Raymond. She said that he would not stop her from going back to Conroe. And that was the hardest part for her as she tried to make up her mind. In spite of Raymond’s scars and demons, she said that she wanted to know that she and Alexandria were worth a fight, worth a commitment from him to be with them.” Malene took a breath and then finished eating.
Roger understood that, for Trina, not having that fight from Raymond, that drive to keep the relationship alive, that desire to keep her there in Pie Town, to keep her in the relationship with him, would be the single worst loss she could encounter in the man she loved. He knew that in the letters they exchanged when he was overseas, in the calls they made to each other, his love for her had been obvious. Roger knew because Trina had confided in him that Raymond had spoken of his desire to be with her and Alexandria, to build a life with them, to protect them, take care of them. And he also knew that since Raymond had come home hurt and changed and broken, he had told both Trina and his father that he was incapable of loving her the right way, caring for her the best way, protecting or taking care of her and her little girl.
Malene took a swallow of her tea. “She thinks that at least Conroe seems willing to put up a fight for her, that he at least seems devoted enough to make a stand for her. And I suppose that even though it was late in coming, at least she thinks it’s there.”
Bea walked over to the table and refilled their cups. She had been listening. “Well, I think it’s a crying shame if she leaves that boy to go back to that lying dog.”
Malene reached out and patted the woman on the hand. “I know, Bea, but it’s not our decision to make.”
Bea nodded and returned to the kitchen.
“Still, I can’t believe she would just leave like that and go see that man. Didn’t she talk to anyone about her decision?” Roger asked.
“I guess she thought this was one choice she had to make for herself,” Malene replied.
As Roger and Malene finished their lunches, they could hear Bea make an announcement. “Oris, your pie is ready.”
Malene turned to her father.
“You want me to box it up?” Bea then asked.
Malene added sugar to her fresh glass of tea. “Why did you buy a pie?” she asked her father.
“Again, it’s not any of your business, and yet, as usual you just can’t stop yourself worrying about other folks.” He had been eavesdropping. “But if you must know, I ordered it for somebody else,” he explained.
“He got a pie to take to Albuquerque,” Bea answered.
“Now, nobody asked for you to be a part of this conversation,” Oris said, sounding irritated at Bea.
She just shrugged and walked behind the counter.
Malene was surprised. “Who are you taking a pie to in Albuquerque?” She remembered that his neighbor Millie Watson had been in the hospital, but Millie was home now. Malene knew that because the older woman was receiving rehabilitation over at Carebridge.
“I think it’s for the FBI agents,” Bea said. She was cleaning up the plates on the counter and grinned at Oris. “It’s a new recipe for Francine.”
Malene waited.
“Mud pie,” she said with a smile. She clucked her tongue. “You can say a lot about your daddy, but he does have a sense of humor.”
Malene glanced at Roger, who was laughing. “What?” she asked.
“I haven’t said a word,” he replied. He took a sip of coffee. “But mud pie, after they got stuck out there chasing Trina? You do have to admit that’s kind of funny.”
“Hilarious,” Malene commented. She turned in her seat to look at Oris. “Daddy, you can’t take that pie to Albuquerque to those agents. You’ll just make them mad.” She waited for him to turn to face her. “You’ll just make things worse for Frank.”
Oris finished his lunch, wiped his mouth, slid off his stool, placed some bills at his plate, and waited for Bea to finish bussing the counter and bring the pie box from the kitchen. When he got it, he walked over to where Malene and Roger were sitting.
“Last time I checked, giving a pie was a nicety.” He smiled. “I just wanted to show our appreciation for the entertainment we’ve enjoyed, compliments of our government officials.”
Malene turned to her husband. She was hoping Roger would say something to Oris. They just stared at each other. Roger only shrugged. He wasn’t getting into this conversation. He knew when to leave his father-in-law alone.
“Exactly who are you giving the pie to?” Malene asked. She wiped her mouth, d
abbed on some lipstick.
“Well now, that is a bit of a problem since I don’t know the names of those fine officers who got lost on our fair county roads, but I figure I can just leave this mud pie at the front desk with a note of apology from the good folks of Pie Town and somebody will figure it out.” Oris had a twinkle in his eye.
Roger finally spoke up. “I thought it was a thank you-gesture.”
“Thank you, apology. . . . I don’t really think my note will matter all that much.” Oris opened the box and peered in at the dessert. “I’ve always heard that a good slice of pie is worth a thousand words.” He closed the box. “This will say it all.” He turned to walk out of the diner.
“Tell Francine thank you,” he called out to Bea. He turned to his daughter. “I’ll be home by supper.” And he was gone.
Malene was going to try to talk her father out of his silly prank, but she knew he had already made up his mind. She turned around, shaking her head.
“Well, it looks like you might have to make another trip to the detention center in Albuquerque, only this time it won’t be for Frank.”
Roger agreed. “I suppose bailing your dad out of prison is just part of our marriage contract.” He took a last sip of coffee, and the two of them slid out of their booth to return to work.
THIRTY-SIX
Father George parked at the north end of Bernie King’s ranch. He reached behind him and pulled out the supplies he had packed earlier that morning before his pastoral visits and before the morning mass. He had been called to the nursing home for a death before he left and was still wearing his collar, his short-sleeved black shirt, and his black dress pants.
He worried that he was not where he should be. He didn’t know what was going on in Pie Town since he had come home from Ramah, and he wondered whether or not Trina was okay. He felt somewhat guilty for being unavailable during what he was sure had to be a difficult time for his friend. He hadn’t contacted Roger since seeing him at Trina’s, and Malene hadn’t been at Carebridge when he was there. He figured the FBI agents in Ramah had informed the two men in charge of his whereabouts, but whether or not they were still searching for him, George wasn’t sure.
He got out and checked the car, then realized he had kept a pair of hiking shoes in the back of the station wagon. He changed shoes and wished he had thought to bring something more comfortable to wear but soon realized that he was just going to have to head out into the desert in his priestly attire. Stepping away from the car, he laughed when he remembered how he had come to Pie Town with only black pants, shirts, and dress shoes—only the orthodox clothing. It was Trina who had told him that he shouldn’t wear black in the desert and that he needed boots, and it was Oris who had bought him his first pair. Once he returned to Pie Town and started building the new church, he wore the collar and the black attire only on Sundays or during pastoral emergencies, as he had done that day. Most of the time he dressed like everyone else. He knew that the priest in Quemado didn’t care for his casual ways, but the people in his parish didn’t seem to mind at all.
George glanced down at himself and thought that even though at the moment he looked exactly as he did when he first arrived in Catron County, he was nowhere close to being the same man. He grabbed his small pack, the bottles of water, and a pair of binoculars and locked up his car. He was confident that he had parked in a remote and safe location; the only person who might notice his vehicle, he figured, would be Bernie King. But George knew that Bernie and Francine, having offered their full support for Raymond, wouldn’t care if he was on their property searching for the young man. He didn’t think anyone else would be driving out past the ranch. It was well after lunchtime, and he knew that hikers and hunters would have come and gone by this late hour. Taking a deep breath, he headed up the path that led to Techado Mountain and out past Adams Diggings.
It was the second time in a week that he had been hiking near the King ranch, and he remembered how incredible he had thought the area was. Before that week, Bernie King had often tried to get George to walk his property, bragging about how beautiful the ranch was and especially how popular that northern area had become. George knew that Adams Diggings was a favorite destination for folks coming to Catron County. For years rumors had swirled that a miner named Adams had found gold on Techado Mountain and that before he cashed in his findings he buried his gold somewhere in the area but then died before being able to retrieve it or tell anyone the exact location. The whereabouts of the treasure remained a mystery.
Lots of people brought shovels and picks and dug everywhere around the vicinity for the buried treasure. People in Pie Town had confessed to him that they had gone up to the diggings more than once. He had heard about people’s dreams and premonitions telling them, they believed, the location of the gold. He had even been asked to bless some tools for digging, but to date, no one had admitted to finding anything more than fossils and old bones.
He walked the path along the desert floor, and as the sun was creeping west, he began to realize he was heading up an incline, that the path was climbing, twisting and turning up the mountain. He paused for a moment, looked at his watch, and realized he had hiked for an hour. He kept going along the same path he had walked earlier in the week, but not at all sure he was in exactly the right place to find Raymond. He did know that once he arrived at the summit of Techado, he would have a great view of the entire area. Even if he wasn’t on the right path, perhaps he would still be able to see a tent or small fire that might point him to where Raymond had camped. He was hopeful, like the gold-seekers at Adams Diggings, that this time he would find his treasure.
As George walked, he felt his body relax. His thoughts turned to Trina, and as his concern about her rose, he said a prayer for her. He thought again about Raymond and the possibility that the FBI agents were right: maybe he was hiding out somewhere because he was guilty, maybe he was not just troubled or wounded but a thief and a drug dealer.
George thought about Trina and the day she had explained to him why she fell in love with Frank’s son. The two young lovers had not actually spent much time together before he was deployed to Afghanistan. She had gone with Frank to Raymond’s boot camp graduation, enjoyed a few meals with the young soldier, and spent only a couple of evenings alone with him. George knew they couldn’t have spent too much time together because it wasn’t too many days after the graduation that Trina and Frank were back in Pie Town and Raymond was on his way to war.
Over the year or more that they spent apart, she had confessed, they wrote hundreds of letters, talked on the phone at least once a week, and used computers to communicate. It had been, she had told the priest, a very different way to learn about and love a person. Father George had asked her later what she meant when she said that. How had she learned about and come to love Raymond even though they were thousands of miles and more than a few lifetimes apart?
She had just put down Alexandria for a nap when he posed the question. It was after the explosion, and he had stopped by to find out from Trina the latest news on Raymond, when he was coming home, how he was doing with his surgeries and rehabilitation. She had walked back into the room, sat down, and seemed to be thinking about his question. George had waited for her to respond.
“It’s easy to fall in love when a person is doing his best to impress you. You get all dressed up and you go to some fancy restaurant, and you watch how easy it is for the guy to order wine or how vulnerable he is because he’s never done it before, and either way you’re charmed by what he’s gone through to capture your attention. And you’re making sure you don’t show the wrong parts of yourself too quickly, and both of you are somehow pretending to be something you’re not.”
George stopped walking, leaned against a large rock, drank some water, and thought about that afternoon when Trina had taught the priest what she knew about romantic love.
“And by the time you’ve fallen in love, you aren’t sure who you are or who the other person is, but
it’s too late, your heart is already convinced that this is the one. And by that point in the relationship, you’ve invested so much time and energy in making sure that he’s pleased with you that you don’t want to throw it all away even if you find out that he’s not the person you believed him to be. And so, even if it doesn’t feel natural, you make yourself fit into his ideal of you, and you pretend that he fits into your ideal of him.”
George recalled being somewhat confused by the young woman’s ideas of romance. He had asked her, “But if it’s easy to keep from revealing yourself when you’re with a person every day, seeing them, being with them, isn’t it even easier not to reveal yourself when you’re only exchanging letters and emails? Can’t you be even more careful about your words and how you appear?”
Trina had agreed that was a reasonable question, but then explained, “Yeah, but in all my letters and phone calls and videos, the emails, I haven’t tried to be anything I’m not. I figure it’s a real gamble anyway that anything will work out for us, so why not just be myself when we talk or when I write?”
George had then pushed her farther. “So you fell in love with Raymond because you can be yourself around him?”
And he remembered how she smiled, how serene she was when she said, “I fell in love with Raymond because we met each other when he was going to war and I was going to have a baby. What we shared in our letters and in our phone calls was about these things we’re both dealing with, these new and hard and unpredictable and scary things. And he’s not trying to win me like a prize, and I’m not trying to convince him that I’m anything other than what I am. As weird as it sounds, the not being together while we were facing the things we’ve had to face has somehow allowed us what we need to be completely honest.”
George stood up from his resting position and started walking north. He knew he wasn’t far from the summit, but he was concerned about the late hour. The sun would soon be setting, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be out on the path when night fell. He might have a couple of hours of daylight left, and this was the time when he needed to start heading back down to his car. He wasn’t sure he could make it to the crest of Techado after all.
