by Sharon Sala
Montoya nodded. “Lieutenant Dominguez from Casa Rojo said as much.”
The padre frowned. “If you already knew this, why did you bother to come all this way to ask about her?”
“What was your impression of the woman?” Montoya asked.
“That she had courage and a tender heart. She kept a little baby from being lost in the government’s welfare system, and went out of her way to make sure that the body of the baby’s mother could be laid to rest in a proper manner.”
“So you admire this woman?”
“Very much,” Padre Francisco said.
“After she left here, did you ever see her again?”
“Yes. In fact, we followed her back to Casa Rojo. I brought the grandparents of the baby with me. We parted company in Casa Rojo, after the baby and her grandparents were reunited. Then we brought the baby’s mother back for burial. I never saw her again, but I will not soon forget her.”
Montoya frowned. “Did the American woman ever say what she was doing in Mexico, or where she was going?”
The priest shrugged. “Not that I remember. But we were so wrapped up in the sadness of the situation, we didn’t really talk.”
Montoya nodded. “I understand.”
Padre Francisco stood up and began clearing the small table. Then he returned the decanter to the cupboard.
Montoya knew he’d been dismissed, and truth was, he was of the opinion that this had been a wild-goose chase. But it was his job to follow the leads, even the ones that went nowhere.
“I thank you for the food and wine and conversation,” he said, as he gathered up his papers and returned them to the file. Almost as an afterthought, he took a handful of bills from his pocket and laid them on the table.
“An offering for your church, Padre.”
The priest nodded. “Appreciated and accepted, Detective. As you can see, we are a very poor community.”
“I’ll be going now. It was a pleasure to meet you,” Montoya said, and before the priest could stop him, he moved toward the back door. “I’ll just go out this way. A little walk back to my car will be welcome. I have far to go before I sleep tonight.”
Padre Francisco started to call out, but it was too late. Montoya was outside and already staring at the obviously opulent SUV parked at the back of the church.
Montoya stared for a few moments, then turned around.
“Considering the poverty of your church and community, I have to say that’s a surprisingly nice car you have, Padre.”
“It was a donation, of course,” Padre Francisco said, silently asking forgiveness for failing to keep Cat Dupree’s secret.
“Ah. From whom?”
“Why, from the American woman. When she realized we were in need, she made it her business to help. A very Christian thing to do.”
Montoya circled the vehicle. He peered inside, then frowned. There was a dark stain in the back and a couple of small ones on the front seat.
“There are some stains on the seat.”
The padre frowned. The detective’s questions were beginning to sound like accusations.
“Yes. I know. Bloodstains don’t come out easily.”
Montoya was surprised by the admission. He’d expected the old man to skirt the truth as far as he could.
“Why were there bloodstains?” he asked.
The priest arched an eyebrow, then gestured grandly, as if the detective must surely be senile for not coming to the understanding on his own.
“The little mother, of course. She was dead when Señorita Dupree found her, remember? I don’t know if Dominguez gave you the details, but the coyotes—the animals, not the human animals,” he said in disgust, “had been at her. She scared them off, rescued the baby, and also carried the body to the vehicle all on her own. There was blood on her and on the baby, as well as on the body.”
Montoya felt like a fool. Of course there would have been blood.
“I’m sorry. I forgot about—”
Padre Francisco shrugged. “If you’d seen it—and her—you would not have forgotten any of it. It was terrible. If she hadn’t come along when she did, the baby would have been food for the animals, as well.”
“But if she drove away in this car, how did you come by it later?”
Padre Francisco mentally sifted through the facts and decided that the detective from Chihuahua didn’t need to know that this very vehicle had been parked at the Chihuahuan airport when he’d gone to claim it.
“It was a miracle. One day it was here, complete with title, keys and money for the gas to drive it. She is a saint, that woman. There should be more like her in this world.”
Montoya eyed the car one last time, then nodded and waved goodbye. He circled the church in haste, suddenly anxious to be gone. It was a long way to Nuevo Laredo.
Padre Francisco watched until the dust had settled, and then he went back into the church, walked to the front of the altar and dropped to his knees. He made the sign of the cross, bowed his head and began to pray for Cat Dupree, who was unaware that the Mexican police were on her trail.
Then, when he was through, he prayed yet again, but this time for the sins of his omissions.
A couple of days had passed since Cat’s revelation and there were things to be done toward ending one way of life before another could begin.
It had been simple for Wilson and Cat to convince Carter and Dorothy that they needed to drive back to Dallas to check on their apartments, pay some bills and go by Wilson’s bail bond business.
Wilson knew he wasn’t strong enough yet to run down bail jumpers, and being on the streets while Jimmy Franks was still on the loose wasn’t smart, either. Franks could lie in wait in any alley and take Wilson out from almost any direction without Wilson being able to see it coming. And after finding out he was going to be a father, dying wasn’t an option.
As for Cat, she’d been anxious to confirm her test results with a doctor’s opinion, and to reassure herself that the baby was still okay.
A few days later, they’d left Austin before daybreak, arriving in Dallas in plenty of time for her doctor’s appointment. Wilson had gone as far as the waiting room with her, then stayed behind as the doctor examined her. Half an hour later, the nurse came out and ushered him back to the room where Cat was waiting for the results.
Wilson followed the nurse to find Cat sitting on the side of the examining table, chewing on a hangnail. As the nurse closed the door behind him, he pulled her thumb out from between her teeth and kissed her.
The moment their lips met, all the tension she was feeling disappeared. She sighed, then wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into the kiss.
“You okay?” Wilson asked, as he scooted her over and sat down on the examining table beside her.
Cat nodded.
“What did he say about the bruises? Did he think there was any need for concern?”
“He told me he’d seen the footage on the news and didn’t even realize who I was until a couple of days later, when he happened to catch my name as they were airing it again. He said I was one lucky woman.”
“What did you say?”
“I reminded him that cats have nine lives.”
Wilson grinned, then gave her another quick kiss just as the doorknob turned. By the time the door opened, they were sitting politely side by side, smiling at the doctor who entered.
“So this is the lucky fellow,” the doctor said.
Wilson’s smile widened. “Do we have a due date?” he asked.
Cat blinked. That was something she hadn’t even thought of.
The doctor nodded. “It’s a calculated guess, but I’m pretty good at stuff like this, and I think you’re going to like it.”
“Like what?” Cat asked.
“The due date. How do you feel about February fourteenth?”
Wilson’s eyes widened. “Valentine’s Day! Man. That’s a birthday you can’t forget.”
Cat grinned in spite of herself. A
Valentine baby.
“Am I all right?” she asked.
The doctor nodded. “Considering what you’ve gone through, I’d say you’re amazingly all right. Are you still living in Dallas?”
Cat looked at Wilson, who squeezed her hand and answered for her.
“We’re going to be moving to Austin,” he said. “I think the bounty hunting business has become a little risky for the both of us, since we’re going to be parents. I’m going to work the family ranch with my dad, so we’ll be living there.”
“I know a good ob-gyn in Austin. I’d be happy to refer you.”
Cat nodded. “Please.”
“I’ll have my nurse make your first appointment for you. Then the rest is up to you. You can pick up the information before you leave today.”
“Thank you,” Cat said. “In the meantime, is there anything I should be doing?”
“And shouldn’t be doing?” Wilson added.
Cat ignored him.
“I’m going to give you a prescription for prenatal vitamins. Other than that, eat healthy, get exercise and no more riding tornadoes. That should do it.”
“That, I can promise,” Cat said. “The next time I even see a dark cloud, I’ll be the first one in the cellar.”
Both men laughed, and a short while later, they were on their way to Cat’s apartment.
“I need to talk to the manager, pick up a change of address to mail to the post office, and find a mover who’ll pack up my stuff and put it in storage until we have a place of our own,” she said. “Also, there are some summer clothes I want to take with us.”
“Same here,” Wilson said. “And I want to go by the office and talk to LaQueen and John Tiger. It seems like forever since I’ve been there.”
“Are you going to be sorry you’re not doing this anymore?” Cat asked.
“No,” Wilson said, absently rubbing at the bullet scar on his chest as they waited for a red light to change. “I don’t want our children to ever be in danger from something I do for a living, even if the chance is remote. Before, I never gave the danger much thought, but I’m proof it can happen.”
“Are you going to sell the business?”
The light changed, and they drove through the intersection. It was a few moments before he answered.
“I’m still not sure. Keeping it would bring in extra income for us, and the ranch can always use that. However, I’d still be connected, if only long distance, and I’m not really comfortable with that anymore. Between the two of us, we’ve racked up some enemies, and I’d rather not have them come looking for us.”
“I feel the same way,” Cat said. “I’ve known all along that I didn’t want to chase bail jumpers for Art anymore, but once I found out I was pregnant, there was no way.”
“Have you told Art?”
“Yeah, more or less. I’ll call him while we’re here and make it official.”
Then Wilson changed the subject with a grin.
“Are you still okay with getting married in a judge’s chambers instead of having a big whoop-de-doo at a church? I had to pull in a favor to get the seventy-two-hour waiting period waived, but it’s done.”
Cat sighed. “Wilson, the last time I was in a church was in Adobe Blanco, and I was looking for a dead woman’s family to come claim a baby. Before that, not in years. It seems a bit hypocritical to get married in one when I’ve been boycotting God for all these years for taking my parents away from me.”
A wave of empathy for what she’d endured during her lifetime swept through him so quickly his vision blurred.
“Oh, honey, it wasn’t a boycott. You were just lost and didn’t know how to find your way back.”
“Until you found me,” Cat said.
Now Wilson really was in tears. He braked again for another red light, then looked at her.
Cat was stunned that someone could weep for her in a way she’d been unable to weep for herself. She squeezed his hand, then gave him a shaky grin.
“You do know I love you madly, right?”
“It took you long enough,” he said softly.
She laughed, and then they were moving again. A short while later, they arrived at Wilson’s office.
His secretary, LaQueen, saw them from the window before they could get out of the car, and came out squealing and waving her arms in delight. Her dark brown eyes and café au lait skin were a perfect accompaniment to the gold-and-brown print dress she was wearing. Her thick dark curls were loose about her face and bounced when she walked. Before Wilson knew it, she had her arms locked around his neck and was kissing him soundly on the cheek.
“Lord have mercy, I didn’t think I was going to see you two again,” she said, as she turned him loose and gave Cat a similar greeting.
Wilson blushed. Cat grinned. Then John Tiger came out. He hadn’t changed since the last time Cat had seen him. He was still the tall, solemn Indian with short, spiky hair, just like Wilson’s. John started to shake Wilson’s hand, then hugged him instead.
“I’m glad to see you up and walking, my brother.”
“So am I,” Wilson said, then poked John lightly in the belly. “Are you getting fat?”
John grinned and pointed to LaQueen. “She’s too good a cook.”
LaQueen beamed. “I like my men with a little meat on them.”
Cat’s smile widened. “So you two are officially a couple?”
LaQueen lifted her chin, her dark eyes flashing. “We aren’t officially anything…yet.”
John put his arm around her and gave her a quick hug.
“Oh, yes we are, woman. So stop fussing.”
“Until there’s a ring on my finger, there’s nothing official,” she muttered.
Wilson knew when to change the subject, and he knew how to do it.
“Is there anything crucial pending this afternoon?”
“No,” John said.
“Just paperwork,” LaQueen answered. “Why?”
“We need a couple of witnesses.”
“To what?” John asked.
“To our wedding,” Cat said.
LaQueen’s mouth dropped, and then she squealed again.
“You’re getting married! Oh lordy! I am so happy for the both of you. Wait! You need—”
Wilson held up his hand. “I know what’s needed. I’ve been on the phone for the past three days calling in every favor owed. It’s okay. Trust me.”
John shook his hand and then clapped him on the shoulder. “We would be honored,” he said, then added, “You do know that you’ve gone and set the bar pretty high for me, here. I’ll never hear the end of it now.”
LaQueen held up her hand to stop the conversation.
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but Cat and I are going shopping.”
Cat’s mouth dropped, but it was Wilson who asked, “For what?”
LaQueen drew herself up to her near-six-foot height and got that stubborn look that always made Wilson nervous.
“For a wedding dress, mister. That’s what for. What time you gonna be at the judge’s chambers?”
Wilson looked a little nervous. “I told him we’d be there by four.”
LaQueen glanced at the clock. “Fine. That leaves us about three hours. We’ll see you there.” Then she pointed at John.
“Make sure he wears something besides a pair of jeans and that darned black leather jacket, will you?”
“I have suits,” Wilson muttered.
Cat grinned. She’d never seen Wilson cowed. She thought it was funny, and then her smile faded.
“Now that I think about it, I don’t have any dresses.”
LaQueen’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Not even one?”
Cat shrugged. “Where would I have worn it? Kind of hard to run down a perp in high heels.”
LaQueen was shaking her head and muttering to herself as she took her purse from the desk drawer.
“Good thing we’re going shopping, then.” She turned to the two men. “We’ll see yo
u at the courthouse. Cat, you’re coming with me.”
Cat shrugged, then waved at Wilson. “See you later.”
He frowned. “This isn’t going exactly like I’d planned.”
“Then you shouldn’t have included me in your ceremony, because I’m not having this pretty woman married in blue jeans, and that’s a fact,” LaQueen said.
The door slammed shut behind them.
Eight
Cat and LaQueen were in a small room off the judge’s chambers, waiting for court to end so he could perform the wedding.
But the past three hours had not been wasted. Once they’d left Wilson’s office, LaQueen had made one call to John, warned him to get Wilson to the courthouse on time and not to expect to see Cat again before the ceremony, and then they’d headed for the Galleria.
The Galleria was a huge, multi-storied mall that Cat generally tried not to frequent, but this time it felt different. Once they’d gotten into the rhythm of the place, she’d alternated between feeling silly and having a growing sense of excitement as she’d tried on dress after dress. She’d never had much use for them, so she was surprised by how feminine she felt every time she put one on.
The one she finally settled on wasn’t traditional, but then neither was she. It was, however, definitely in keeping with the pink butterfly tattoo on her hip. The dress was a pale rose-colored fabric, mid-calf length, with a plunging neckline bordered with a soft flounce of the same fabric. It didn’t hide her fading bruises, but it made her feel pretty. The silver high-heeled sandals she picked out added almost three inches to her height, but that wouldn’t matter. Wilson would still tower over her.
Once the shopping was behind them, LaQueen swept Cat off to a beauty shop and coerced one of the stylists into taking her on the spot. Under LaQueen’s guidance, the stylist turned Cat’s no-nonsense hair into a sexy do to suit the pink dress. She gathered the long dark strands at the crown of Cat’s head, curled the loose ends, then let them fall in loose abandon.
“I look like I stuck my finger in a light socket,” Cat muttered.
“You look amazing,” LaQueen countered.
She looked and felt like a stranger, Cat thought, but in a way, it seemed fitting. The old Cat Dupree would never have stood for any of this, but that Cat was gone. This Cat was a woman who had learned how to trust and how to love, and she was marrying the man who’d taught her.
