by Sylvia Nobel
I’ll bet he did. “Perhaps,” I said. “I’ll be in touch.” Damn, it felt good to see the self-satisfied smirk wiped off his face, but I was frustrated that I hadn’t had the opportunity to ask him what he’d been searching for.
I watched him climb behind the wheel and rev the engine, but he didn’t get very far down the driveway before Sister Goldenrod motioned for him to stop. “Why haven’t you left yet?” she barked, ambling up to the passenger window, her face one big scowl. “I told you we need those groceries here by four o’clock.”
“I’m goin’, I’m goin’,” he said, glowering as he gunned the truck towards the road. Sister G shook her head in disgust before turning a look of suspicion on me. “What were you two talking about?”
My heart faltered for a second. Minus her white robe, her disagreeable personality had reemerged. “Nothing in particular,” I answered, hoping I sounded calmer than I felt. “I just stopped by to pick up Lupe’s bag. She wasn’t feeling well and went home right after breakfast.”
My explanation didn’t diminish the worried glaze in her eyes. “You didn’t talk to him about Javier, did you?”
“No.”
“Good. He doesn’t really know anything other than he’s just a little kid that I’m babysitting for a couple of weeks and that’s the way I want to keep it. That man can’t be trusted to keep his mouth shut when he drinks.”
She was sure right about that. “Speaking of Javier, what’s going to happen to him? What happens to other children in similar circumstances?”
A look of melancholy softened her crusty demeanor. “Tragic. It’s just tragic. In most cases, if the powers that be can’t locate a relative, these poor tykes are deported to orphanages in Mexico where conditions can be unspeakable. I can’t bear the thought of that happening to him.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
Her expression of genuine distress made it harder to accept the fact that she was an ex-con in minister’s clothing. Was she really here trying to rectify her past, or merely using her position to enrich herself by breaking United States immigration laws? I weighed my next move. Should I share what I’d learned from the meeting with Mazzie La Casse? For Javier’s sake, for Lupe’s sake, I decided to go for it.
“What?” she squawked when I’d finished. “You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone about him!”
“She doesn’t know who he is or where he is. Just hear me out.”
She froze in disbelief as I relayed the similarities between Javier’s nightmares and some of the incidents attributed to other witnesses. “My Lord,” she gasped, pressing a hand to her bosom, “so, the poor baby’s telling the truth?”
The whole idea was unnerving. “Well, I think it’s the truth as he perceives it. Would you consider allowing her to place Javier under hypnosis? It may help him to remember more details.”
“But that might scare him even more,” she murmured, picking at the hairs growing from her chin. “I’m going to have to think about that.”
“Fair enough.”
She looked towards the house and back at me again, her forehead rumpling in a frown. “If…if I do decide to let her talk to him, where would I reach you?”
I hesitated. There was no guarantee I’d ever pick up a strong signal for my cell phone. “I’m on my way to the Sundog ranch right now, but after that, I’m not sure. I can call you later.”
Still appearing undecided, she grunted, “Okay.”
I started towards my car then swung back. “By the way, Lupe wanted me to ask if you’d been able to track down the smug…I mean the person who guided Javier’s family across the border.”
“I…haven’t had time to look into that yet.”
I could tell by her wary expression that she wasn’t about to tell me even if she did know. “Okay, well, I have to go now. Here’s my card, or you can call Lupe if anything new develops. And thanks for your hospitality.” Such as it was, I added to myself, tossing Lupe’s bag onto the back seat of my car. As I made a wide circle to turn, I noticed her staring at a slip of paper in her hand. Frowning, she looked up and flagged me down. “Miss O’Dell, wait a minute!” I stopped and waited while she lumbered towards me, waving the paper.
“I…I didn’t mean to be so short with you,” she said, breathing heavily from the exertion, “and thanks a lot for this generous donation. Every cent counts.”
“You’re welcome.” I shoved the car into gear again, but she didn’t move. I looked up at her questioningly. “Is there something else?”
“Listen, tell Lupe I did hear some news. My sources tell me that no one has seen or heard from the guy for over two weeks now.”
Interesting. By the time I reached the main road and turned south, my brain felt like a wet sponge, unable to absorb one more drop of liquid. So many details whirled in my head, I couldn’t think straight. What a pathetic reporter I was! Armed with all the information I had, I still didn’t really know anything. This story was far different from the other two blockbusters I’d tackled in the last six months. This one seemed to have no clear focus, no apparent motive, and yet I knew that nothing this weird happens without a reason. I thought about what Mazzie La Casse had said about the unsuspecting illegals dying by the hundreds from heat and exposure in the remote regions of the southwest deserts, especially during the burning months of summer. Years could pass and still hikers, campers and Border Patrol agents would stumble upon the sad remains―a pile of sun-bleached bones, a watch, a coin, something, some sign that the person had once resided on earth. So then, how could people just vanish into thin air without any trace? Wasn’t it entirely possible that during the past two weeks the coyote in question had returned to Mexico, been picked up by the Border Patrol or just melded into the Hispanic population? But on the other hand, if he had disappeared along with the other passengers in the van carrying Javier’s mother and possibly Lupe’s relatives, where was his body? Where were the bodies of all the others? More importantly, why were these people missing?
All at once a feeling of intense weariness washed over me. I felt utterly alone. Utterly overwhelmed. “Face it, O’Dell,” I grumbled, “you’re in over your head on this one.” I was supposed to be on vacation, damn it! I should be at home preparing for my romantic getaway with Tally, and instead, because of my own bullheadedness, I’d chosen to make Lupe’s seemingly unsolvable problem my own. Again, I wondered what had possessed me to think I could unscramble a situation this complicated in one weekend?
Totally immersed in thought, I almost drove past the turnoff to the Sundog Ranch. I hit the brakes and turned right, passing under a graceful wooden arch flanked by several sun-faded wagon wheels. After traveling for more than twenty minutes along a well-worn dirt lane that meandered through miles of hilly mesquite and yucca-covered rangeland dotted with grazing cattle, stock tanks and spinning windmills, I began to appreciate just how big the place was. Signs along side the road warned in both English and Spanish that this was PRIVATE PROPERTY and NO TRESPASSING was permitted. Considering the ranch’s close proximity to the border, the signs seemed ineffectual at best.
The topography changed subtly as I drove toward the gentle foothills of the Baboquivari Mountains. Spectacular upthrusts of smooth rounded sandstone boulders in all shapes and sizes dramatically transformed the grassy landscape. Lush green vegetation hugged the banks of a dry creek bed charting a serpentine course among the outcroppings.
I was beginning to think the road would go on forever when it suddenly widened into a sandy drive bordered by a white wooden fence and shaded by tall cottonwood trees. When I rounded a corner, an impressive two-story ranch house with a giant American flag billowing in the steady breeze jumped into view. It was a large, rambling place sporting three large dormer windows set against a red roof flanked by stone chimneys at each end. Beneath the generous overhang a wide porch wrapped around both sides. Within easy walking distance sa
t four white cottages nestled against the rocky hillside. Bordering the north side of the main house lay a series of outbuildings and a large red barn enclosed in pipe fencing. A string of horses stood at a long hitching post. As I drew closer, a ripple of surprise snaked through me at the sight of so many people packed into the clearing. I parked at the end of a row of cars and walked towards the house while watching two tough-looking, sun-weathered wranglers tighten saddle cinches and adjust stirrups for a group of men, women and children sitting astride the waiting horses. The air was filled with shrieks of laughter, bird song and lively chatter—a carnival-like atmosphere totally different from Tally’s place, where raising cattle and breeding Appaloosa horses was considered serious business. I searched my memory. Why was it again that he’d had to come down here so many times these past few months?
“Hello,” said a cheery female voice. “Can I help you with something?”
I turned to see a smiling, pleasant-faced woman standing on the porch. Smartly clad in a crisp white blouse, plaid vest and a chocolate-colored broomstick skirt, she hooked a strand of wispy strawberry blonde hair behind one ear while descending the stairs towards me.
I smiled back and extended a hand. “Hi, my name is Kendall O’Dell. You’re probably expecting me.”
Still smiling, she stared at me, looking slightly perplexed. “I’m sorry, do we have a reservation for you?”
After a slight hesitation, I repeated, “Reservation?”
“Well, don’t worry,” she assured me, appearing slightly chagrined, “we’re still new at this and someone just probably forgot to write your name down. I’m sure we can find space for one more.”
I stared at her uncomprehending for several seconds before turning to look again at the boisterous group of people on horseback and then back to the row of cars, many of which bore out of state license plates. And then it hit me. The Sundog was a guest ranch. It also finally sank in that some of the horses pawing the ground impatiently were handsome Appaloosas just like the ones Tally raised. Had they come from the Starfire? And if so, why hadn’t Tally ever mentioned this to me? Or, I thought uncomfortably, perhaps he had and I hadn’t been listening.
“If you don’t mind sharing,” the woman went on, “I can put you in one of the guest cottages with that nice lady from New Jersey over there on the chestnut mare.”
“We’ve got a little misunderstanding,” I said, turning back to her. “I’m here about the injured cat.”
One hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry. You’re the one Payton told us about. If you can wait a few minutes, I’ll be glad to…oh, wait, here he comes now.” She pointed towards the pickup rolling into the parking area. The decibel level of the noisy crowd of trail riders rose as they urged a latecomer to mount up. A heavyset man wearing spanking new blue jeans and a brightly printed shirt that clearly indicated his ‘greenhorn’ status, waddled towards the last horse for a leg up from the waiting wrangler. It took a couple of tries before he made it into the saddle.
I couldn’t suppress a grin. It hadn’t been that long ago, I’d worn a similar outfit on my first horseback ride with Tally. Had that only been six months ago? I no longer felt like a newcomer, but it dawned on me watching this group fumble around for stirrups and reins, that I wasn’t that far removed from my ‘city girl’ ways.
“Grandma, Grandma, look what Daddy found for me!” shouted a small red-haired boy breaking from Payton’s side and running towards us holding something high above his head. I returned Payton’s wave of greeting as the woman knelt and spread her arms wide. “What have you got for me, sweetie?”
“A rattlesnake skin,” the excited child announced, extending his hand to show her the gauzy brown and gold pattern. “Isn’t that cool?”
“Yes, very,” she said, recoiling slightly. She stood and brushed her skirt as Payton walked up. “I hope you’re careful when you take him on these snake hunting jaunts with you.” There was an undertone of reproach in her voice.
“Please don’t concern yourself, Twyla,” he answered evenly, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Rest assured that he’s never in any danger.”
“If you say so.” Her head cocked at the sound of a phone ringing inside the open front door of the big ranch house. “Excuse me, I have to get that.” She trotted up the steps and Payton said, “Kendall—may I call you Kendall?”
“By all means.”
“I’d like you to meet my son, Brett. Brett, this is Kendall.”
“She has the same color hair as us,” the little boy observed, staring up at me with surprised eyes.
Payton laughed. “Very true. This is the very nice lady who rescued the little kitty earlier today.”
“It’s actually your dad who rescued him,” I told him, wishing I could add, ‘And it was your malicious uncle who tried to run over her,’ but I contained myself. I would address that issue soon.
“You’ll be happy to know that Dean has looked her over pretty thoroughly and seems to feel that she’ll recover in time. Would you like to go see her?”
“Absolutely, and if I could use a phone.…”
The steady beat of horse hooves on the sandy earth interrupted my words. When I turned to look, it seemed as if the tourists, ranch hands, and even the birds had all fallen silent. Every eye was riveted on the young, blonde woman in the hot pink shirt cantering into the clearing astride a stunning white Appaloosa with a perfect dappled-gray blanket adorning its hindquarters. Aware that she had a captive audience, she beamed us a winning smile and then demonstrated her excellent horsemanship by maneuvering the animal to rear up on its hind legs several times, each time waving her black hat to the appreciative crowd like a rodeo queen. Amid the ooh’s and aahh’s from the trail riders, she trotted over to us and dismounted with fluid grace. She tossed back long golden hair and fixed a pair of reflective periwinkle blue eyes on me. “Hi, I’m Bethany Beaumont. Welcome to the Sundog.”
For some reason I could not begin to define, my reaction to her was unexpected, yet instantaneous. I disliked her.
12
I think she only half heard my name over Brett’s excited squeal. “Mommy! Look what Daddy found for me. Can I keep it in my room?”
Her facial muscles twitched in a valiant effort to repress her disgust at the sight of the crinkly snakeskin. As he rushed towards her, she put a restraining hand against one shoulder to hold him at arm’s length. “That’s really…exciting, honey, but I’ll look at it closer another time, okay?” she said, ignoring the boy’s crestfallen expression and locking her frosty blue gaze on Payton. “I didn’t expect you to be here.” Her voice sounded flat, cold, impersonal.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” he said, maintaining a light tone while shooting a worried glance at Brett.
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
He inhaled a deep controlling breath before saying quietly, “Save the sarcasm. Now that you’ve seen fit to return from California, I’m afraid you’re going to have to accept the fact that I intend to exercise my parental rights. You’ll have to get used to me coming here.”
I squirmed. Witnessing their very personal exchange made me ill at ease, but as I considered Bethany Beaumont’s petite figure, stunningly beautiful features — upturned nose, flawless sun-kissed skin, rosebud lips and dimpled chin—an indefinable pang of apprehension chilled my heart.
An older ranch hand with a sun-browned face called out, “Come on, Miss B, we got a bunch of anxious cowpokes and gals champing at the bit to get a move on.” As if to reinforce his statement, several of the horses whinnied and shook their heads, jangling the reins.
She glanced around and issued the man a dazzling smile that now seemed artificial to me. So far I was less than enchanted with both of the Beaumont offspring. “Be right there, Hal,” she answered in a singsong voice.
Returning her attention to Brett, she bent down to eye level with him. “These nice people over here are waiting for Mommy to show them some more o
f the ranch, so I’ll see you in a little while, okay? Now run inside and get Mommy’s black jacket, it might get chilly.” She cast an upward glance at the swiftly moving clouds.
“Okay!” He flashed her an endearing smile, raced up the steps and disappeared through the front door. Envying his escape, I cleared my throat and pointed to my car. “Payton, I’ll wait for you over there.”
Bethany stared at me blankly as if she’d forgotten I was there and then her questioning gaze flickered between the two of us. “Oh? I didn’t realize you were here together. How nice.” The insinuation in her voice was clear, but before I could set the record straight Payton put up a warning hand. “Kendall, stay. And, Bethany, if you still feel the need to belittle me, could you please do it in private and not in front of Brett?”
“Did I ask for your opinion?” Their eyes clashed as the little boy burst out the door and handed the fringed leather jacket to his mother. Like quicksilver, she was all goodness and light. “Thank you, honeybun.” She slipped it on, grabbed the horse’s reins, but then swung around to face Payton. “Oh, by the way, I thought you said you were taking him to a movie in Green Valley?”
“Our plans changed.”
“We hiked near Wolf’s Head,” Brett volunteered. “My legs are really tired.”
Irritation flared in Bethany’s eyes. “Not another dreadful snake hunting escapade?” Pouting prettily for Brett’s sake and possibly mine, she added, “The poor baby looks depressed. Don’t tell me you forced him to accompany you again to that maudlin…shrine you’ve created for Laura?” She shook her head sadly. “I wish you wouldn’t include him in your personal obsession without my permission.”
Jaw muscles working in a struggle to maintain composure, he laid a protective hand on his son’s shoulder. “You always have to have the last word, don’t you? Just as a reminder, I don’t need your permission in regards to what Brett and I do with our private time together. And you needn’t worry, I know exactly what I’m doing.”
