Touch a Wild Heart

by Vella Munn

  Disappointed, Chela shook her head. “He’s gotten away with cheating people before. If we try to tell a judge we’d paid Kohl to bring an illegal into the country, we’re in as much trouble as Kohl is.”

  “That’s where the sting comes in,” Magadan entered the conversation for the first time. “Ortez has a green card. He has every right to come here. We just won’t tell Kohl that. When we go before the courts, we’ll—or you’ll—simply state that you paid Kohl to arrange transportation for Ortez to come see you. There’s nothing unlawful about that. The DA has been putting bits and pieces of cases together for years. If this works out, it’ll simply be the last nail in the coffin. It’ll expose him once and for all.”

  Chela shut her eyes for a moment, focusing her thoughts on what she knew of Kohl. He would do anything for money, and greed would probably get in the way of any caution that would make him suspicious. “I’d have to offer him enough money,” she said softly, “otherwise he won’t take the risk. And I have to have a good reason to want Ortez here. Kohl will be suspicious of everything I tell him.”

  “If he thinks you’re in love with Ortez, he’ll believe what you tell him.”

  Chela opened her eyes to stare at Magadan. Was there anger and tension in his voice? If Magadan was still angry with her for ignoring his words of concern for her safety, she couldn’t help the way she was. She was responding in an all new way toward his concern, but it still didn’t alter her independent approach to life. “Maybe,” she said slowly.

  “Maybe, nothing,” Phillip asserted. “You’re a single young woman. Kohl would be a fool not to believe you were capable of falling in love. And he knows you make a decent living, could have a savings account. It would make sense to use that money to pay to have your lover brought here.”

  My lover? A man I’ve never met? Chela had never thought of herself as an actress, but her pulse quickened at the thought of deceiving Kohl. “How much does Ortez know?” she asked. “What if Kohl gets in touch with him?”

  “Ortez will go along with whatever we decide,” Magadan said. “Like I said, he owes me a favor. He doesn’t have much use for animals who feed on the misery of his countrymen. But do you really think Kohl will contact him? Wouldn’t it be more like him to take your money and run?”

  Chela shook her head. “Kohl knows how I feel about him. He’s not going to take the money if he smells a trap. He won’t take anything I say at face value.”

  “In other words, he doesn’t trust you anymore than you trust him? It could be dangerous.” Anger once again laced Magadan’s voice. “Why the hell didn’t I think about that more?”

  “Because I deliberately left that possibility out of the conversation,” Phillip interjected. “I figured the first time you looked at Chela you’d get all protective. I know because she has the same effect on me. But I’ve known this independent young woman for years. I know what she’s capable of.”

  Chela nodded to acknowledge Philip’s compliment. She’d always had a wary relationship with the older man, but there was a certain respect that existed between the two. “When should I contact Kohl?” she asked.

  “Anytime. Joe will make sure you have cash,” Phillip said. “Kohl won’t take anything but cash. But he isn’t going to jump right away. You’re right, he’s going to sniff this out first.”

  “I don’t want you going out there alone,” Magadan said. He’d been leaning against a paneled wall, but now he pushed his body away from it and took a few steps toward where Chela was sitting. “I’m going along.”

  Chela wanted to laugh at the impossible suggestion, but the narrow slits Magadan’s eyes had become stopped her. “I’m sorry,” she said softly but firmly. “It won’t work unless I’m alone with Kohl. I’m not sure it’s going to work anyway, but this is the only way I’ll do it.”

  “I think she has you over a barrel, Magadan,” Phillip laughed. “I told you she was an independent lady.”

  “Then she’s a fool. She could get herself killed.”

  “That isn’t how Kohl operates,” Chela pointed out, despite the distraction of having Magadan looming over her. “He threatens and cheats and lies, but he isn’t going to kill anyone.”

  “No one has ever tried to double-cross him before,” Phillip pointed out. “I’m with Magadan on this one. You’re going to have to be damn careful.”

  How do you think I’ve survived so far? Chela thought, but she kept that to herself. The two men didn’t need to hear about the tightrope she walked between two cultures. It wasn’t easy to win the trust of migrants even if she had much in common with them, and it wasn’t natural for her to walk in Anglo society, but she could do that, too, when necessary. “I’ll be careful.” Chela waited for a minute and then continued. “Kohl stays out of sight much of the time. I don’t know where he is. I’ll have to let it be known that I’m looking for him and wait for him to get in touch with me.”

  “You are one stubborn female.” Magadan’s fists were clenched, and he was staring even closer than he’d been before. “You keep me informed of everything that’s going on. I’m going to give you my phone number. I want yours. I don’t want to be out of touch with you at any time.”

  Giving Magadan her phone number wasn’t something Chela did freely, but her survival instinct knew that denying him that request could place her in more danger than either Phillip or the mysterious Magadan knew. The orchardist thought he knew Kohl, but he couldn’t know everything the man was capable of. Phillip was an influential orchardist, not a migrant worker.

  She was taking chances. It would help tip things in her direction if she knew Magadan could get in touch with her at any time. She nodded and then asked for more information about her mythical Mexican lover. She would have to be able to describe Ortez, tell Kohl where he lived, be able to make up some story about how they’d met and fallen in love. She’d have to explain that love was worth the depletion of her savings account. Magadan supplied the answers she needed, but there was no ignoring the anger she sensed simmering in him. He didn’t want her doing this.

  It had been his idea in the first place. Chela didn’t understand why he was backing off now, showing a personal concern for her safety. All she knew was that she was responding to that caring quality in him. She questioned what she was doing several times, but just before she stood up, she gave Magadan her address. “You might need it,” was all she would say.

  As she turned to leave, Magadan moved with her and walked out to her Jeep. It wasn’t until she was sitting behind the wheel with his hand resting on the rear-view mirror that he spoke. “If you get a bad feeling about this, I want you to tell me. Nothing is worth risking your safety.”

  Chela turned toward him. “Magadan, this was your idea in the first place. Don’t ever forget that.”

  “I can’t. I just never thought— The sheriff didn’t tell me much about you.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “That you were competent. That when you sank your teeth into something you stuck with it. I thought that was enough for what I had in mind.” His hand left the rearview mirror and gently touched the length of hair trailing by her cheek. “Haven’t you ever had a man want to take care of you?”

  “I don’t need a man to take care of me.” She should be turning her head to break the contact, but she didn’t.

  “That’s not what I mean,” Magadan groaned. “I can’t believe you’ve gone this far in life without meeting a man who wants to be part of your life, to step in when you need a buffer.”

  Chela blinked her eyes against something vulnerable his words touched. “No one lives in a castle with a moat around it anymore, Magadan, but we all go it alone.”

  His fingers were playing with her hair, rolling the thick strands together and sliding down the length. “Not everyone does, Chela. A lot of women, the majority in fact, look for someone to share their lives with. It isn’t a sign of weakness; it’s because they want to belong.”

  “What about you, Magadan
?” she asked, turning the question around. “Why aren’t you married?”

  Eyes met eyes across the distance framed by a Jeep. “I haven’t found the right woman.”

  Reckless questioning put Chela’s thoughts into words. “What is the right woman? What are you looking for?”

  “I don’t know,” he laughed harshly. “Do any of us until we find that special someone? Don’t you have any family? Are you really all alone?”

  “I told you my mother’s dead.”

  “What about your father? Why isn’t he part of your life?”

  Chela turned away, the sudden jerk of her head stretching the hairs Magadan held in his fingers. Slowly, coldly, Chela spoke. “I don’t ever want to talk about my father. Do you understand that? That’s one question I’m never going to answer.”

  When Magadan released her hair, Chela started the engine and drove away. She should be thinking about Kohl and how she was going to get in touch with him, but she wasn’t. She wasn’t even thinking about her father. Instead Chela’s thoughts were divided between the task of driving and emotions Magadan had stirred inside her. The man was as much an unknown now as he’d been the first day she saw him. Now, however, her life had been complicated by his presence. He’d stirred up memories she thought she’d buried about her father, but more than that, Magadan was bringing to life strange emotions and longings, such as those that touched her when she saw couples walking together, absorbed in each other.

  It all boiled down to a simple fact: Chela didn’t want to go home tonight. She didn’t want to unlock her door and walk into an empty house. She didn’t want to climb into an empty bed.

  But Chela slept alone that night as she had most of the nights of her life. In the morning she dressed, had breakfast, and drove to one of the more distant barrios where she’d promised to work with a group of preschoolers. Later in the day she used the excuse of interpreting some English document to go to one of the migrant labor hiring centers. She started slowly, almost tentatively laying the groundwork for the eventual contact with Kohl. She spoke of taking a trip to Mexico several months earlier and falling head over heels in love with a man there. She didn’t want to move to Mexico to be with him because she couldn’t earn a living there. He wanted to join her in the United States because he’d been able to find only sporadic work with an American business operating in Mexico since the oil industry in Mexico died a sudden death. What distressed Chela the most was Ortez’s inability to gain the necessary papers to allow him to cross the border legally. “I have to find a way,” Chela finished up to the half-dozen listening men. “I have the money, but I’m afraid to try to get him here myself. I’m afraid we’ll be stopped. I don’t know how to do these things.”

  Those listening nodded in understanding, but said little. That didn’t bother Chela. She was ready to wait until word spread through the underground network of communication that existed in the migrant world. She repeated her story twice more that day and then settled back to wait.

  The wait lasted three days. In that time Chela divided her time between the barrios and orchards and assisted in another soccer game. She kept looking around during the game, hoping to see the sturdy frame of the man who’d started her on this adventure, but Magadan didn’t show himself. She was home and getting ready for bed Thursday night when he called her.

  Chela had been startled to hear her phone ring, but the deep tones on the other end, instead of easing her, only increased her sense of alertness. “I didn’t think it would be too wise for me to be seen around you while you’re trying to get in touch with Kohl,” Magadan explained. “Have you had any luck?”

  Chela related her efforts in trying to reach the elusive coyote. “I’m not even sure he’s in the valley now. He goes to Mexico whenever there’s a need for more workers or the immigration officers have conducted a raid.” Chela’s voice revealed her bitterness as she continued. “Rob the orchardists of their labor force, and they put out the call for replacements.”

  “I want you to get in touch with me as soon as he contacts you,” Magadan insisted.

  “There won’t be anything to tell,” Chela replied, her lips set against the anger she’d heard in his voice. “He’s going to move slowly. He’ll want to know a great deal more before he agrees to take my money.”

  “Does he always work that slowly? That isn’t the impression I get of the man.”

  “That’s how he’ll be with me. He has no reason to trust me. You know that. He’s going to be suspicious.” Chela laughed at an ironic thought. ”But he’s more greedy than he is suspicious. He’ll respond to money waved under his nose.”

  “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “You thought I did when you approached me,” Chela pointed out, relieved that she didn’t have to face Magadan right now. “What changed your mind?”

  “I didn’t know you when I got into this. I do now.”

  “And what have you learned about me, Magadan?” Chela challenged. “Don’t you think I’m enough of a woman to do the job?”

  Magadan’s voice had taken on a slightly husky quality. “You’re enough of a woman all right, Chela. But you weren’t wearing an old shirt and jeans the other night. I have to think about the feminine side of your nature.”

  Chela would have laughed except that in a way she barely understood, Magadan had reached a certain nerve that warmed at the thought that he saw her as a woman. “I promise I won’t wear a dress again. Will that help?”

  “Hardly. Look, I have some things to do before I can go to bed. Just be sure you call me the minute that snake gets in touch with you.”

  Magadan hung up without giving Chela time to respond. She held the receiver away from her and stared at the silent instrument. When she first heard Magadan’s voice, she’d acknowledged a rush of warmth that spread quickly through her body, but now she only felt confused and a little hurt. What possessed the man to go from giving her a compliment to being abrupt in the space of a single breath? If he was regretting the necessity of their having to deal with each other, Chela was sorry, but it was too late. Now that she knew she had the backing of McAndrews and Magadan, she was determined to snare Kohl in the trap they’d set for him. She’d cut her teeth on rising to challenges, succeeding despite practically having to raise herself. As Chela replaced the receiver, she couldn’t help asking if she’d enjoy becoming a secret agent. Hardly, she admitted. There was a much deeper satisfaction in exposing migrant children to an education, improving the lives of their parents. But a little adventure slipped into one’s life did add a certain spice to it.

  At least that was the way she could feel now since she hadn’t actually had to come face-to-face with Kohl.

  For the third night in a row, Chela’s sleep was filled with disturbing dreams that eluded her in the morning. All she knew was that she rose feeling vaguely discontented and aching for something that had yet to touch her life. She tried to tell herself that her mood came from not knowing when, if at all, she would hear from Kohl. But as she faced herself in the bathroom mirror, her tired eyes told her that wasn’t what made sleep elusive.

  By the time she’d finished working that day and pulled back into her driveway, Chela felt as tired as she knew her eyes looked. The temperature had reached more than one hundred degrees, sapping her mind and body. She’d managed to keep alive the story of her Mexican lover but wasn’t sure how convincing her story was. Chela had never had what she could call a lover. She didn’t know what words women used when they spoke of men who brought them to life, who ruled their hearts and thoughts and bodies. She wondered if hers lacked a ring of conviction and if Kohl would be able to see through her ruse. And why did she find herself thinking of Magadan during the odd moments when she didn’t have to concentrate on a child’s English?

  There was no denying it. Until Chela managed to get a decent night’s sleep, she wasn’t going to be able to take an objective look at her performance. She was almost too tired to prepare dinner and settle
d for a bowl of soup. Even a bath seemed too much of an effort. She was settled on a couch with the evening paper, wearing nothing but a cool, summery bathrobe, when someone knocked at her front door.

  For a moment she didn’t move. Some instinct warned her that the time for action had come. At length, despite the tension that had surged through her at the knock, Chela stood up and walked to the door.

  Ray Kohl stood just outside.

  Chela clamped down hard on her lower lip to stifle the gasp that rose in her throat. She also forced her hands to remain on the door and not clutch her bathrobe. “What are you doing here?” was the best she could manage.

  “Talk, Chela. You and I have things to talk about.”

  Slowly, deliberately, Chela backed up and let Kohl in. Any hesitancy, any show of fear on her part now could destroy what she was trying to accomplish. She had to act as if she wanted to talk to Kohl. She nodded toward the couch she’d vacated and waited for the hard-eyed man to sit down. She chose her favorite chair near the wood stove and sat down herself, taking comfort in the fact that her robe was made of an opaque fabric that hid the fact that she wore nothing under it. She pushed her hair back from her face and waited for Kohl to make the first move.

  Kohl’s eyes were roaming slowly and yet intensely around the room. Sitting, he didn’t seem to be large enough to wield the power she knew he was capable of. But his hands and feet were massive in comparison to the rest of his wiry frame, and that lent credibility to his reputation. His dark hair looked as if it hadn’t been washed in weeks, and yet his clothes were so new that they probably hadn’t been laundered yet. His face showed the effects of both exposure to hours of sunlight and nights spent in smoke-filled bars.

  “So Chela Reola has a love.”

  Chapter Five

  Chela took several deep breaths to calm herself before speaking. She wasn’t physically afraid of Kohl. That wasn’t the way the man operated, at least not with people who might charge him with anything that could stick. But Kohl hadn’t lasted in his career as long as he had without being a cagey judge of character. The slightest slip, the most minute uncertainty on Chela’s part, and he would see through her.