by Lynne Hinton
He kept moving forward, hoping to find a place where he could get a good look at the valley below him and at least feel like he had conducted a worthy search. George wasn’t sure when he could make another trip out to the area, and he worried that this was his one chance to find Raymond before the young man returned on his own to Pie Town, before he faced the FBI agents.
Thinking about what had happened since Raymond left town—the night lightning striking the transformer, shutting off the power in Pie Town, Trina’s accident, the robbery at Datil—he realized that it had been exactly seven days since Frank had admitted to George and Trina that he had found his son and that Raymond had said he needed one week alone in the wilderness and then would return to Pie Town. George thought about Maria and her idea that her grandson would be ready to go home and face whatever he had to face, that he was better now and could handle whatever was happening in Catron County. He could only hope that she was right.
George soon came upon a resting place, a place with a view, and he stopped. He slid the backpack off and pulled out his binoculars to take a look around. He moved his eyes from left to right, seeing the plains, the vast desert. He could even see as far as the lava beds and Cebollita Mesa. He could make out a small herd of antelope, a couple of ravens circling above, miles of empty washes snaking across the land below him, the sunlight streaking across the sky, but he saw no sign of human life. No tent, no campfire, no man walking toward town.
Looking down, he could see the path he had taken, and he remembered walking past Adams Diggings and the miner’s loot that had been buried there somewhere.
“The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field,” he said, quoting from the New Testament. He pulled the binoculars away from his face and dropped his hands to his sides.
“Some search for gold while others search for lost soldiers,” he said aloud. Sighing, he began packing up the binoculars and turning to walk back to his car.
“And which is worth more?”
The voice and the question startled the priest so completely that he turned around too quickly and almost tripped and fell. He could hardly believe his eyes, and he had to blink a few times to make sure what he was seeing was real.
“What are you doing out here, Father George, and why are you wearing your uniform?”
The priest smiled because it was real. Standing right in front of him was Raymond Twinhorse.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Trina glanced over at the letter on the passenger’s seat in the truck. The envelope was opened, but the one piece of paper was still folded and stuffed inside. She didn’t have to take it out to read it again. She knew what it said, knew who wrote it, and knew what it meant.
“Come to Texas,” he had written. Nothing more. No explanation. No pleading. No apology. Just those three words.
He had left the note in the front door sometime after he had been to visit. She wasn’t sure when he had stopped back. She didn’t know if he left it while she was home and inside with Alexandria or when she was away, at work or at the diner visiting with friends, over at Malene’s or the church. She didn’t know if he was hoping she was there and planned to ask her in person to come to Texas, or if he had decided to leave the invitation written in a note, not to make his plea in person. She didn’t know when he left it or what he was thinking when he did. She only knew that it had been enough.
She had read it, put it away, pulled it out, and read it again. And she had done that a hundred times. And then, after that one hundredth time, she had made a few phone calls, arranged to leave Alexandria with Frieda, packed a few things, read the note again, and was planning to leave when Francine arrived at her front door, all excited about the town’s plans to free Frank and get Raymond pardoned.
Trina reached over for Conroe’s note and stuffed it in her front pocket. As she drove east, she kept thinking about her conversation with Francine, how it was to see her friend, see her disappointment, experience her disapproval. Trina sped up as she passed the diner, hoping no one was seeing her drive away, and recalled what Francine had told her about some church meeting she had just attended, a meeting in which the people of Pie Town had made some decisions about how they intended to support Raymond. Francine had been the only person she had seen before leaving town.
The people of Pie Town were rallying together, Trina realized, and organizing themselves on Raymond’s behalf. She knew that one impromptu meeting had been held just as Francine and Bernie returned from Phoenix, but the older woman had explained to Trina that it was more of a pep rally than a strategic planning session. At this meeting, which was supposed to be the worship committee meeting to discuss the church calendar and was supposed to include Father George, real plans had been made. Tasks were assigned. Roles were given. And everyone present decided that how Pie Town handled the FBI’s treatment of the father-and-son duo, Frank and Raymond, was going to change.
Trina smiled when she thought about what Francine had told her. Oris was planning to collect money to pay Gilbert back whatever had been stolen from him and to urge him—and this was the part that made her smile—as delicately as possible to withdraw his robbery charges against Raymond. Francine had told Trina that a petition was floating around Catron County that was a sort of protest against the Silver Spur, and the plan was for Oris to tell Gilbert that a boycott of the bar would go into effect if he refused the money and refused to drop the charges.
Bernie was organizing a group to go to the detention center in Albuquerque where Frank was being held. He was planning a peaceful protest and getting together a list of everyone willing to ride over there and gather in the parking lot. He was collecting food and bedding and urging everyone who intended to go to prepare to stay at least one or two nights. He was trying to contact the news stations as well as a freelance videographer because he wanted to make sure he had media coverage of the protest. Members from the Ramah reservation as well as Navajo supporters from Big Rock had been contacted and were also planning to attend. It was going to be a big rally of support for Frank and for Raymond.
Even Fedora Snow had gotten involved by finding a screen printing company in Las Cruces to make T-shirts. SEE FRANK TWINHORSE was printed across the fronts and backs of three hundred shirts, more than enough to clothe all the residents of Pie Town. Fred and Bea had agreed to pay the costs and had only noticed the mistake—the slogan should have been FREE FRANK TWINHORSE—when they were giving the shirts away to everyone who came by the diner. This had caused a bit of embarrassment for Francine, although she didn’t elaborate while talking to Trina, only promised that the mixup would be fixed by the time of the rally. Trina had not asked any questions. She was in kind of a hurry to leave. But Francine still had more to say.
According to her friend, the entire town, the entire county, was supporting the plan to get the FBI to leave Frank and Raymond alone. Every citizen of Pie Town and beyond was doing something to promote this endeavor to get Frank released and all charges dropped against Raymond.
Trina switched on the vent in the truck. It was warming up in the cab. She thought about how excited Francine was when she was telling Trina the news. The older woman was shouting the information, talking about how much they all owed Raymond and how much they were going to do for him. She was so glad that she had returned from Phoenix, so glad that she was doing the right thing, and she apologized again for her departure.
Francine had gone on and on about how proud she was of the residents of Pie Town, proud of their support for Raymond. In her excitement, she kept talking for more than fifteen minutes about the rally in Albuquerque and the T-shirts and the phone calls and the pies she was baking for all the protesters before finally noticing Trina’s suitcases packed and sitting by the front door.
The older woman had turned to her young friend at that point. She had stopped talking and just stared at Trina. “You going somewhere?”
Trina rolled down her window, checked the clock on the dashboard, and realized she wouldn’t get
to Abilene until after dark. She thought about Francine, how disappointed she had seemed when Trina explained that she was going to Texas for a few days, that she needed to work through some things while Raymond was gone.
“I heard he was here,” Francine had said, taking a seat on Trina’s sofa even though there had been no invitation. Bea had told her that Conroe stopped in town after she figured out the identity of the trucker who came by the diner for pie.
“This isn’t about him,” Trina had responded, and she felt Francine’s eyes on her.
“Then who is it about?” Francine wanted to know.
“Me, I guess,” Trina said.
There had been a long and uncomfortable pause in the conversation. It was as if the two friends had nothing more to say to each other. Before too long, Francine had left. She had appeared dejected and very saddened by the news of Trina’s plans, but she hadn’t tried to change her young friend’s mind.
“You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do” had been all she said.
Trina knew there was a lot more that Francine wanted to say. She could see it as Francine stood at the door, trying not to leave. There were all kinds of reasons she could give Trina for staying, but she knew that Trina understood them all already. Trina had already told herself every one of them.
She had already asked herself every possible question about her loyalty, her commitment to Raymond, her faith in the man she claimed to love. But in the end, she just felt like she had to see Conroe again. She couldn’t sort through everything just by being back in Texas, but she needed to talk to her baby’s father, give him a chance to know he had a daughter, give him a chance to say what he wanted to say about the two of them getting back together. She thought that since he had found her, looked her up, and sought her out, since he had taken the time to come by the house again and leave that note, she at least owed him that.
Francine didn’t have to say anything because Trina had already said it all to herself. And even though she felt like she was abandoning Raymond—which she didn’t think she was going to do—and even though she felt like she was letting everyone in Pie Town down by driving away at the very moment they were deciding to put themselves on the line for Raymond, she just had to go to Conroe. She had to talk to him, hear what he had to say, give him a chance with Alexandria. Still, Trina realized, while the others were gathering and organizing support for Raymond and Frank, coming together on their behalf, she was turning aside and walking away.
She glanced at herself in the rearview mirror and quickly looked away. It was not her finest moment.
THIRTY-EIGHT
I don’t understand these messages.” Raymond replaced the receiver in the cradle and turned to Father George. They were at Frank’s trailer, and Raymond had picked up the phone to call Roger when he heard the beeps that signaled there were messages. He thought he would listen to them to see if his father or Trina had made a call, perhaps trying to reach him. Even though he lived in town with Trina, he still often picked up messages from his father’s place.
George and Raymond had driven over to Frank’s trailer. Raymond wanted a shower and a change of clothes before turning himself in to the sheriff. He had agreed to drive Raymond over to Frank’s, hoping that the FBI agents he had seen parked there earlier in the week had left that original post to go to Ramah. George was satisfied that no one had followed him as they left Bernie’s ranch, but he took the back roads just to be sure as he drove to the small trailer several miles out of town.
He had driven around the property a couple of times, making Raymond hide in the back of the station wagon, before finally parking behind a grove of cottonwoods near the trailer, where the car was hidden from the main road by the trees. Raymond had a key to his father’s place and had gone inside to change clothes and get something to eat. After finding a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, he had gotten some crackers from the cabinet and a soda from the refrigerator. He had offered food and drink to George, but the priest had refused. He waited outside for Raymond, trying to figure out the best place to go to find Roger and avoid the FBI and how much more he needed to tell Raymond before taking him to town. He was too nervous to eat.
“Who left them?” the priest asked, coming inside after Raymond told him about the phone calls. He wondered if the calls were from FBI agents to Frank’s phone in the hopes of having Raymond answer.
“Francine,” he replied. He held out the phone so that George could listen.
“Whoever is there, if you get this message, you’ve got to call me. I’ve got to talk to somebody about Trina. I really need to talk to Frank or Raymond. She’s making a very bad decision.” Francine sounded more and more upset with every message she left.
George listened to the time of the calls and realized that the last one had been made just after noon that day. He glanced at the clock on the wall. More than six hours had passed.
He hung up the phone and wondered if the FBI had bugged it, if they had heard what he had just listened to and were somewhere around the trailer, ready to take some action.
“What is she talking about?” Raymond asked. “I thought you said Trina was okay. What bad decision is she making?”
Father George wasn’t sure he knew the answer. He had not talked to Francine either. He had not talked to anyone about Trina since he had returned from Ramah. He didn’t know what the messages meant, but he did know that he hadn’t told Raymond everything as they made their way to Frank’s.
“Sit down, Raymond. I need to tell you a little more about what has happened since you left.” George waited while the young man took a seat on the sofa, then sat down in a chair across from him.
During their walk down the mountain and on the drive to Frank’s, Father George had already explained about the robbery and why the FBI had been searching for Raymond since the night he left. He had also explained about the FBI’s suspicions that he was a drug dealer. He had told Raymond that Frank was arrested after he returned from finding him a week ago and that now the agents were searching the area around Ramah because they were convinced that was where Raymond was hiding.
“Father George, I didn’t steal anything from Gilbert, and I have never dealt any drugs. When I get to town, I plan to set that right with Roger. I left the Silver Spur, threw my gun in the Dumpster, and drove down to Apache Creek and then to the ranch.” Raymond had shaken his head. “I don’t know anything about a robbery at that bar.”
George had believed the young man. He just didn’t think Raymond should show up in Pie Town right away. He didn’t know how he could contact Roger without the FBI agents finding out. And George had known that he needed to tell the young man about Conroe showing up in town to see Trina, but he hadn’t had a chance. He wasn’t sure what the phone messages meant, or why they were left at Frank’s, but he knew he needed to tell Raymond about Trina. He couldn’t keep that information away from the young man any longer.
“I don’t know what those calls are about.” George thought he would start with that. He took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Raymond, something has come up for Trina.”
Raymond jumped from the sofa. “What? Is it what I did to her?” he asked. “Did I hurt her really bad? I got to get to her.” And he started heading for the door.
George stood up and grabbed him by the shoulder, stopping him. “Wait, Raymond, sit down a minute. This isn’t about the accident. She was burned that night, but she’s okay.”
Raymond sat down. The relief showed, but so did worry. “Then what?” he asked, glancing up at George. “What happened to her?”
“This guy stopped in town a couple of days ago at the diner.” George smiled nervously. “You know, for pie?”
Raymond waited. He shook his head, not understanding.
“While he was there, somehow Trina’s name was mentioned. I don’t really know that part,” he explained. “But anyway, this guy knew her. And it turns out, he came back later to see her.” Father George waited.
“Who is he?” Raymond
wanted to know.
There was a pause before the answer.
“Conroe Jasper,” George said.
Raymond turned away. He knew the name well. Trina had spent a lot of time explaining to him who Alexandria’s father was, how they had met and fallen in love, and then why she had left him. He knew that Trina had been very wounded by the relationship and Conroe Jasper’s lies. She had also told Raymond that she had not been sure for many months that she would ever be able to trust any man again. And he had explained that he would wait for that trust from her. He would prove himself to her and wait.
Raymond rubbed his eyes, trying to take in all the information that had come to him since running into the priest while he was returning to Pie Town. He was a suspect in a robbery. His father had been arrested for refusing to tell anybody where he was. His grandmother and the people in Ramah were being watched and harassed, and now he was hearing the news that Trina was in contact with her former lover, the father of her baby.
“Do you think she’s gone back to him?” Raymond asked, glancing at the phone. “Is that what Francine was trying to tell me?”
George shook his head. “I don’t know.” He stopped.
Raymond didn’t ask another question.
Father George thought about the suggestion. He recalled again the messages he had heard. It did make sense. Trina had seemed unraveled by Conroe’s appearance. She had seemed to be very unsure of herself.
“She may have made a decision to go see him again,” George agreed.
“Then I guess there’s nothing I can do,” Raymond responded. “If that’s her choice, and I certainly don’t blame her for that,” he added, “then I have to let her go.”
“That’s it?” George asked, appearing surprised. “You have to let her go?” He shook his head. “First of all, you don’t even know what these messages are about, and second, that’s it?”
