Cowboy Lies

by Lynde Lakes

  “Oh, please. Don’t separate us. She’s so frightened.”

  Del Fuego waved Dañoso away, and she quickly disappeared into the house with the baby.

  “Take this gringa to my den,” he told Claudio in Spanish.

  Claudio yanked Molly from the Jeep so hard that, for a moment, she thought he’d dislocated her shoulder. He gripped her arm and hustled her into the house.

  The peeling, rust-smeared walls smelled like a slaughter house. She shivered. Maybe that red stuff wasn’t rust. Sagging wood floors creaked and threatened to collapse with each step. Claudio shoved her into the den with such force she fell to her knees.

  Molly struggled to her feet. Del Fuego’s shadow fell across her. He kicked out and knocked her to her knees again. “My patience has ended,” he said. “Tell me exactly where my coins are. And if they are not where you say, you will die.”

  “Wh…what about my baby?”

  Del Fuego glanced at his expensive wristwatch. “In about an hour, Claudio and Dañoso will board the plane again and take her far away to her new parents. People who want her so much they are willing to pay two hundred thousand American dollars for her.”

  Molly’s heart tightened with fear. “You want money? I’ll get it for you.” Matt, they’re going to sell our baby.

  “I want my coins.” His voice was flat, deadly.

  There was no more stalling. She had to make up something. Quick.

  ****

  Matt sat in the chopper’s copilot seat next to Ramon and, studying the map, tried to decide where to land. He’d contacted FBI headquarters for approval and support, and then called the Laughlin Air Force Base commander. Once the commander understood that Molly was a key federal witness, he had agreed to provide backup. Waiting for his signal, three military helicopters flew formation behind him.

  Hang on, Molly, hang on.

  Ramon raised his voice. “Need a decision. Soon.”

  “I need a crystal ball.” Matt had to shout over the engine noise and thrashing air to make himself heard.

  “I was stationed at Laughlin,” Ramon said. “Traveled back and forth across the line regularly. I know the area between the borders well. I think I know which ranch Santina was talking about. It a dilapidated rancho that deceptively looks abandoned. If I’m right, I can tell you where to land unseen.”

  “Good,” Matt said. “Where?”

  Ramon pointed to the map. “It’s about in this area,” he said, making a circle with his index finger, “and a grove of mesquite trees here, then some sand dunes. We can set down on the southern side of those dunes.”

  “Is that the only ranch in the area?”

  “No,” Ramon said. “But it’s the closest to the city of Del Rio. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “Maybe.” Matt jabbed a spot about twenty-five miles southwest. “Santina claimed it was closer to this location.” Matt rose from his seat. “I’ll see what he has to say.”

  Ramon shouted over his shoulder. “What makes you think he won’t lie?”

  “Because he’s still not sure if I’ll really throw him out the door.”

  Ramon frowned. “We’re almost there—I need a decision in the next few minutes.”

  “Don’t do anything until I tell you,” Matt said.

  Matt talked to Santina, and he swore he hadn’t lied. Matt’s pulse pounded in his ears with the steady rhythm of a ticking clock. Who was wrong—Santina or Ramon? It had been years since Ramon was stationed at Laughlin.

  Matt slid back into the copilot’s seat.

  “Which is it?” Ramon asked.

  Matt rubbed his jaw and studied the map again. He could hit both places. But if the first one was the wrong one, the time lost could make the difference between life and death for Molly and Sara Jane.

  ****

  From the desk, Del Fuego picked up a letter opener designed like a dagger. It was the only thing in the house that looked shiny and well cared for. The cast iron handle, embedded with ornate gold threads, narrowed to a sterling silver blade that glistened menacingly in the morning light. He touched the tip to Molly’s chin. The metal was cold. She tried not to flinch as the point pricked her flesh.

  He brought the blade close to her eyes to show her the bead of blood. “I’m waiting,” he said.

  Stomach tied in knots, Molly conjured up the first thing that came to mind. “They’re in the lining of my packed suitcase.”

  “Packed suitcase?”

  “We were going away before…before you messed up our plans.”

  He arched a black eyebrow. “And exactly where is this suitcase?”

  “With the other bags in the nursery.” She looked directly, unflinchingly, into Del Fuego’s dark eyes—eyes as deadly as a pit of rattlesnakes. “Mine is the smallest one.”

  “It will not take long to verify this,” he said, placing the letter opener back on the desk.

  Molly knew that. If he really had an inside man at the ranch, a phone call would end her bluff.

  Del Fuego shoved her into a leather swivel chair by the desk and tied her hands behind the back of the chair. Her arms didn’t reach around to the back, so he was forced to leave a wide length of rope between her wrists. He tied her ankles together, and then stared at her for a moment. “I shall return soon, señorita. Count on it.”

  Molly heard the click of the lock as he left the den. How long did she have—seconds, minutes, an hour at the most? All this trouble because she’d made one gigantic mistake—the secret phone call in Matt’s barn office. But she couldn’t keep berating herself for that. It was a mistake, yes, but what was done was done. Nothing could turn back the clock now. She just had to forgive herself and not give up hope.

  She studied her surroundings. The den, with its sagging wood floors and dirty, faded yellow walls, was decorated in discarded military surplus. The olive green metal desk and matching filing cabinet were rusty and scarred. An open double-hung window led to the inner courtyard.

  The clock was ticking. Think! If only she could get her bindings up over the back of the chair. She bent forward as far as possible while lifting her arms. She got hung up on the chair’s arms. Damn.

  She tried again. Sweat dripped from her brow and into her eyes. For Sara Jane—lift! Her arms ached, her shoulders felt as if they’d dislocate any second now, and the skin on her wrists was being rubbed raw, but there was no time to think of herself. Soon, Sara Jane would be gone. Tears of frustration and pain mixed with the perspiration. Almost there…just a little higher…

  Molly sighed in relief as her arms cleared the back of the chair. Her gaze swept the desk. The letter opener lay on the far side. She knew how sharp the tip was, but would it cut rope?

  Molly struggled to her feet and hoisted her hips onto the desk. Wriggling, she scooted toward the gleaming blade. An empty metal in-basket fell to the floor with a clang. She froze and prayed no one had heard the noise. After a moment, she continued her journey. She captured the letter opener in her fingers. Bending her wrists, she sawed at the ropes.

  Slowly, the rope began to shred. Thank God, the rope was as old as the desk. She sliced away at the cord until it gave enough to slip her wrists out. She untied her feet. Now what? She slipped the letter opener and a length of rope into her pocket. It would be nice to have a plan, but she’d have to play this one moment at a time.

  Molly slipped out the open window and dropped silently into the courtyard. Hugging the outside wall of the house, she passed beneath the shade of the twisted elm tree and stepped over cracked and broken adobe tiles. Now, to find her baby.

  Voices of men speaking in Spanish came from the front of the house. She peered around a corner. A group of Del Fuego’s men was on the front porch drinking beer. She didn’t see Claudio. Was he guarding her baby? And where was Del Fuego?

  She peered into windows until she found the kitchen. Through the open window, she saw her baby in a high chair. Dañoso sat next to Sara Jane feeding her applesauce from a jar. The woman was singi
ng the sentimental song “Estoy Sentado” along with the radio. Her melancholy voice didn’t match her tough demeanor. Claudio’s whereabouts still bothered Molly—she’d bet he was nearby. Her baby would be gone in an hour. She had to chance a rescue.

  With men on the porch, and Claudio’s and Del Fuego’s whereabouts unknown, there was just one way in—through the window. There was no margin for error.

  Molly inhaled deeply to calm herself. The woman wouldn’t cooperate. She’d have to go in hard and fast with a minimum of noise.

  She grabbed up a loose adobe tile and threw it at Dañosa’s head, a direct hit. The radio drowned out Dañosa’s gasp. A stain of blood appeared on her forehead. Her eyes widened, and she touched her head. Molly charged through the window before the woman could recover. She thrust the letter opener to the woman’s neck. “Silencia,” she growled.

  She stuffed a dishcloth into Dañosa’s mouth. A fine stream of blood from the gash trickled down the side of the woman’s face. “Hands behind your back.” Dañosa obeyed. Molly bound Dañosa with the length of rope she’d brought with her.

  She glanced into the diaper bag on the table and found what she expected—food, water, diapers. She slung the bag over her shoulder, grabbed her baby from the high chair, and climbed back through the open window. Behind her, she heard the door to the kitchen open and Claudio shout an alarm.

  Chapter Twelve

  Damn. Why did Claudio have to show up just then? She needed a head start on those men. Carrying the extra burden of the bag and her child, they’d catch her in no time.

  Holding her baby close, Molly headed for the open wrought iron gates leading from the courtyard. Even as she ran, her thoughts raced ahead. She’d never be able to outrun them. She must find a place to hide and lie low until dark.

  Molly glanced down. Sara Jane hadn’t let out a peep. Had they drugged her baby? Or was she scared silent? “Good baby,” Molly whispered.

  She left the courtyard full of hope. Her plan had sounded workable in theory, but beyond the house on the unguarded side there were no buildings, no trees, just open pasture. Her heart sank. If she headed toward the vehicles and barns, the guards would see her. She had to flee through the pasture.

  The bright sun beat down on the open land. Where could she hide? In the distance, there was an abandoned barn. But how far away? Half a mile? More? She needed something closer, even a dip in the land, something deep enough to hide them, like a drainage ditch.

  Her muscles burned and her breath came in ragged gasps, but at least she was putting some distance between herself and the ranch house. She tripped over stones and into small holes, but she didn’t fall. She had to keep going.

  Sara Jane’s silence felt odd, eerie. Behind her, she heard the faraway thud of booted footsteps on the dry packed earth and heard Claudio’s distant, sing-song shout, “There’s no place to hide, señorita.”

  “Eat my dust,” she said under her breath. Claudio and the six armed men with him couldn’t hear her tough words, but their strength fueled her determination.

  She ran as fast as she could, but her lead on them was shrinking. Carrying both Sara Jane and the bag strained her back and slowed her, but her baby would need food and water.

  A motor revved to life. Oh, God. Others were joining the chase. Would they drive out into the pasture, or follow the road? It didn’t matter. There was no escape. If only she could have waited for nightfall to get away, but by then, her baby would have been gone.

  It took every ounce of Molly’s strength to put one foot in front of the other, but she kept going. They’d have to catch her. She wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t give up. She focused on the open space ahead and thought of Matt. Where are you when I need you? But he didn’t even know where she was.

  Bullets zinged around her. She felt one whistle past her ear. She had hoped that they wouldn’t shoot because of the baby. God, they could kill her baby!

  A burst of strength exploded in her, and then she felt the bullet slam into her shoulder. The impact knocked Molly to her knees and sent a searing heat down to her fingertips. She held tight to her baby, protecting her. The diaper bag fell. She left it, struggled to her feet, and stumbled on. “Mommy will never give up, sweetie,” she rambled in shock. “The only way they’ll take you from me is to kill me.” She laughed a little hysterically. “And another bullet might do it.”

  ****

  Five helicopters flew low over the pasture. From the lead craft, Matt pointed to the figure in the familiar red shirt running across the wheat-colored pasture. “It’s Molly!” he told Ramon. “Set down between her and those men chasing her.”

  When Matt’s chopper touched ground, he ran to meet Molly. “You’re here,” she gasped.

  He wanted to kiss her, hold her, never let her go. Sounds of gunfire blasted around them. He had to get them to safety.

  Air Force choppers landed nearby. Combat troops and armed vaqueros charged past Matt and Molly, shooting and forcing back Del Fuego’s men.

  Matt took Sara Jane. His Sunshine felt so tiny. He wrapped his other arm around Molly. She winced. He felt something warm and sticky on his hands. “You’re hurt!”

  She mumbled something. Nearly carrying Molly, he headed for the chopper. Luke met them halfway and took his niece. “Thanks, bro,” Matt said.

  Molly kept stumbling. Just as they got to the chopper, she collapsed. Blood was seeping through her sleeve, dripping from her arm. Fighting panic, Matt swept her into the helicopter. “Get a medic!”

  He knew there was one among the AF troops. He cradled Molly in his arms as her blood seeped through his shirt. Don’t die. He clung to hope, soothed by the rhythm of her breathing and the beat of her heart against his chest.

  Molly stirred. “Our baby?” she asked weakly.

  Matt smoothed a tress from her brow. “She’s fine. Just relax. I’ll take care of both of you.” Guilt washed over him. So far, he’d done a lousy job of that.

  Ramon squatted next to them with the medical kit. “Let me help. Get her shirt off. We have to stop the bleeding.”

  Molly’s face went sheet white. “What’s he doing here?” she asked with a tremor in her voice.

  “He’s our pilot. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

  “No. No.” Her eyes were wild. “Get him away! Del Fuego said he had an inside man at the ranch—”

  “Señorita, it’s not me. I’m with the FBI.”

  Matt gestured with his head. “Back off, Ramon. You bother her. Get a medic.”

  Ramon hopped out of the chopper and took off at a run.

  Matt eased Molly’s shirt off to get to the wound. The bullet entry was from the back. He gently rolled her to her side. “Gimme a belt,” he called out. Someone slapped one in his hand. He wrapped it under Molly’s arm, adjusted it between the wound and her heart and yanked it tight.

  She groaned. Matt prayed she would be all right, promising anything, everything. Where the hell was that medic?

  Holding Sara Jane in one arm, Luke handed him a blanket. “Molly’s probably in shock. Might want to cover her with this.”

  Matt lightly draped her, leaving access to the wound. “You’re going to be fine. Help’s on the way.” She moaned, her eyelids closed tight.

  It was taking too long. Gunfire echoed in the distance. AF troops had pushed Del Fuego’s men into the ranch house and had surrounded the place. How would Ramon find a medic in that chaos?

  The bleeding wouldn’t stop. Matt had never felt so helpless.

  At last, Ramon came back. He brought a GI who looked about eighteen. Matt wanted a qualified medic, and Ramon brought him some kid still wet behind the ears.

  “I’m a medic,” the GI said and motioned Matt to the sidelines. Matt bristled, but the guy’s skilled movements reassured him. The medic tightened the tourniquet and stopped the bleeding. He recited Molly’s vitals to another GI. “Call ahead to Del Rio Memorial,” he ordered. “Tell them we’re bringing in a gunshot victim, female, late twenties. Bullet’s lodged
in her shoulder. Clean entry—shattered bone.” He paused and leveled a look at Matt. “Get her to emergency now!”

  “Head for Del Rio,” Matt told Ramon.

  “One of us should stay and secure the prisoners,” Ramon said. “It’s the FBI’s responsibility.”

  Matt could pilot the chopper himself, but that would mean leaving Molly’s side. Luke could fly a chopper, and he had a license, but what about leaving Ramon in charge of Del Fuego?

  Giving up control set Matt’s teeth on edge, but nothing mattered as much as Molly. “Meet you at Laughlin,” he told Ramon. Ramon gave a thumbs-up gesture and jumped out of the chopper.

  Matt looked up at Luke and reached out his arms. “Give me the baby. You’re the new pilot. Fly us to Del Rio fast. And no fancy stuff.”

  Matt glanced outside. His vaqueros and the troops from Laughlin were herding a group of men toward them from the ranch house at gunpoint, including Del Fuego. It was Matt’s responsibility to see that Del Fuego didn’t escape—that he was locked away. He’d been in on this case from the beginning and wanted to see it through to the end. He looked down at Molly. But none of that mattered anymore.

  ****

  Twenty minutes later at the emergency room, the staff whisked Molly away to surgery. A burly male nurse sent Matt and Luke to a waiting room. Matt paced, holding Sara Jane. He glanced over at Luke slouched on a couch. His brother’s eyes drooped as though he was barely conscious. “Are you okay, Luke?”

  “I could use some more of them pain pills.”

  Matt could use some himself. His arm was swelling and throbbed with pain. “I’ll get someone to take a look at you. Maybe they’ll give you something.”

  He showed his badge to a sweet-faced nurse with tired eyes, explained about the gun battle, and asked if someone could check Luke’s ear. After she took Luke to an examining room, Matt tried to relax. It was impossible. What was happening with Molly?

  Sara Jane was so still in his arms. Not at all like his usually vocal Sunshine. He approached the nurse again. She was going to get tired of him, but this was important. “I think I have a sick baby here. Can someone examine her?”