She chuckled. “I never thought the day would come.” She motioned to the kids, who jumped from the fence and ran to join them.
Hope took her hand. Gracie glanced at Michael as he walked toward the house, shoulders back, head erect. A man’s man. And one a woman could trust if she had any faith in her own judgment. She was ready to believe that she might have made a good decision for once in her life.
GRACIE LAY AWAKE IN THE PREDAWN. THE ROOSTER CROWED. SHE HEARD the distant rumble of a truck’s tires on the macadam road in front of the house. Michael’s breathing was slow and deep. He hadn’t yet begun to swim toward consciousness. She wasn’t sure she’d slept at all, even though Michael had herded the kids into one room and put Caesar on guard in the hall last night.
She sat up and eased out of bed. Her feet felt the floor for her slippers, and once she had them on, she moved to the door and into the hallway. Caesar raised his head when Gracie peeked into the room where the children slept.The security light shone in the window and touched Hope’s sweet cheeks as she lay with one hand under her cheek.All arms and legs, Evan was sprawled at the end of the bed, and Jordan was curled with her back to Hope. All was well here.
She went downstairs and stepped outside onto the back stoop that faced the barn. Predawn had a certain smell. Freshness mixed with new hope. She needed to find a bright lining wherever she could.
King nickered to her from the corral, and she stepped into the weedy yard and approached the fence. “I don’t have any sugar, boy.” He stretched his head across the fence, and she instinctually stepped back.
Hesitantly, she held out her hand and let him press his velvety nose against her fingers. “You wouldn’t hurt me, would you?” Yesterday’s bond would continue to grow.
“Gracie? You okay?”
She turned to see Michael standing on the stoop in his pajama bottoms without a shirt. Just the way she’d left him. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“You should have woken me. I don’t like you out here by yourself.”
After rubbing King’s nose a final time, she retraced her steps to the house. Michael opened his arms, and she went into them. His musky scent buried her fears, and she pressed her lips against the warm skin of his chest.
“It’ll be okay,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen.”
She said nothing. He’d try his best, but she knew the dragon waited out there to devour any happiness she might find. She should never have dragged this good man and his children into the pit of God’s rejection with her.
“I have to go to work early this morning,” Michael said. “Could you come back after the kids are on the bus, just long enough to feed and water my horse and King? Fabio’s in the pen inside the barn. He can’t hurt you.”
“Fabio wouldn’t mean to hurt anyone.” Though she knew and agreed with her words, her pulse sped up at the thought of entering the barn.The smells would be enough to bring back the fear.
“Thanks, honey. I’d better get in the shower.” He kissed her, his lips warm and reassuring. “Want to join me?”
She laughed. “Don’t tempt me.”
“It’s what I hope to do best.” He kissed her again, this time with more hunger.
She broke away and laughed. “You have to go to work early, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah.” He patted her bottom, then stepped back into the house.
Gracie got the kids up and ready for school. Michael dropped them all at Bluebird. It was all she could do to watch the children get on the bus. Last night Michael’s arguments about maintaining as much normalcy as possible had been persuasive. In the bright daylight, she wasn’t so sure it was the right decision.What if a gunman held up the bus and took the children off of it? Several different scenarios played out in her imagination.
She asked to borrow Allie’s car to run back and feed the horses. The silence at the house made Gracie’s nerves jitterbug as she found a dented metal bucket. She filled it with water from the garden hose on the side of the house, then carried it toward the barn. She watered King first to delay stepping inside.
The closed barn door beckoned her. She heard Fabio whinny and snort from inside his stall. She could do this. Fabio wasn’t dangerous. Michael knew she needed to stop running and face some of her fears. This was one small step in that direction. Setting down the bucket, she slid open the barn door.The scent of hay and dust rushed at her, evoking a tornado of emotion. It took every bit of strength she had to stand still as the winds of memory buffeted her.
Her mother wasn’t lying in a pool of blood inside. There was nothing but a hungry and thirsty animal in the stall in front of her. Gradually, her heart resumed its rhythm. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom. Though her legs trembled, they supported her as she carried the bucket to Fabio.
“Here you go,” she said, falling into a soothing tone. She climbed onto the railing, then poured the water into his trough.
Fabio plunged his nose into the water and drank. Gracie turned around and spied the bag of feed by the door. By the time she dumped his food into the feed bag and attached it to the gelding, it was as if she’d never left this part of her life behind.Why, she could even curry him if she wanted to. She started toward the comb and brush, when a shadow moved in the doorway. Squinting through the gloom, she saw a Hispanic woman peering into the dim interior of the barn.
Gracie took in the crisp appearance of the woman’s jeans and shirt, the expensive athletic shoes. Alarms rang in Gracie’s head even though the woman didn’t appear dangerous. “Can I help you?” she asked. A pitchfork hung on a peg nearby. If she had to, she could lunge for it.
Glancing outside, the woman stepped into the barn, then sidled out of the light. “No, señora, but I can help you.You must leave this place. Go far away before he arrives to take you and the niña. ”
Gracie gasped and put her hand to her throat. She smelled oranges in the woman’s voice. Only Cid’s voice had ever caused her to have that reaction. She took a closer glance and realized the woman was familiar, though Gracie couldn’t place her.
“Before who arrives?” She took a step back.
The woman shook her head. “Ask no questions. If he discovers I have come here to warn you, the journalists will report my head lying in a schoolyard. He thinks I have come to deliver his message. Leave, señora. Leave right now, before it’s too late.”
“His message?”
The woman clutched her hands together. “He says if you will meet him when he calls, he will spare your husband and his children. But I know him and I do not believe it.”
“Spare my husband and children.” She shook her head. “Why would Vargas want to talk to me?”
“It is not Vargas I speak of.”
“Then who?” She studied the woman’s strangely familiar face. “Cid has a half sister.Are you her?”
The woman held up her hand. “Please, no questions!”
She’d guessed right. “What does Cid want with me? I’m married now. It’s over between us.”
“For you, perhaps. For Cid, it is not over.His obsession only grows.”
“I don’t understand any of this.”
“I have no time to explain it. Listen to my warning. I do not want your blood on my hands.”
Blood. Gracie felt her own drain from her head. “He means to kill me?”
“When you and your daughter are of no more use to them.”
“What does my daughter have to do with this?”
“Everything. He panicked when they failed to take the child yesterday.”
Spots danced in Gracie’s vision. “Hope was the target?”
The woman inclined her head. “A mistake was made that will not be repeated.They are out of time.”
“They? You mean the men who killed the federal agents?”
The woman backed toward the door. “If you stay here, the children will be in danger also, and your husband will be a dead man.”
“They’ve done nothing!”
“It is no matter.Y
ou must leave this place.Today. Do not take his call. Run, and do not look back.” She held out her hand. “Tell no one you have seen me. If he hears . . .” She shuddered. “My life is in your hands. I could not stand by and see innocents harmed.”
“Stay with me, then,” Gracie urged. “Don’t go back.”
The woman wiped her eyes. “There is no help for me.Too many times have I turned from the right path and chosen the wrong. This thing I could not do.Maybe I will find grace in God’s eyes for the one good deed I could do.”
Gracie stepped closer to her, but the woman backed away. “Please. Do not look on my face. It is not that I do not trust you, but he might make you describe me. Forget what you see. Please, say nothing to your husband. To anyone. If you do, my blood is on your hands.” Glancing outside first, the woman stepped through the doorway, and the sound of her feet running on the dirt faded.
Gracie reached for her cell phone to call Michael, then stopped. He would rush right home. And what if the woman was right—what if Cid would make sure Michael and the children were killed? She couldn’t live with herself if she brought danger to the ones she loved more than life.
Her choices had brought her to this place. Now she had to run again. At least until she could get Hope to safety.The face of Gracie’s father flashed into her mind. He would take in Hope.Would Cid know to look in Pecos? She’d never told him where she was from, but how hard could that be to figure out?
She rubbed her forehead where pain began to pulse.Was there no way out?
With the horses cared for, she walked back to the house and strapped the tiny gun onto her ankle. Permit or not, she was taking it. The tick of the clock on the wall in the living room was the only sound, so she flipped on the TV. A morning talk show came on, and she sat down to try to think.
What right did she have to drag Michael, Jordan, and Evan into this morass? Her choices loomed in front of her. She could stay and hope Michael could be vigilant enough to protect them all, or take Hope to safety and confront Cid. Make him see that it was over. She wanted to run and hide somewhere, but Michael was right.There was nowhere to go. She had to have faith he could protect their family.
The talk-show hostess was replaced by a reporter standing on the sidewalk in front of a modest home. Gracie listened as the newscaster reported seven people shot and killed in El Paso.
“The man and woman were beheaded,” the reporter said. “The police suspect a Mexican cartel involvement.The family had been under a death threat and were being watched by police, but the policeman was shot first, then the family.”
Nausea roiled in Gracie’s stomach. “Michael can’t be everywhere at once,” she whispered. “I have to fix this myself if I want to save my family.”
She flipped off the TV and went to the car. King whinnied when he saw her, and she paused before crossing the weedy yard to the corral. “Hey, King,” she whispered, rubbing his nose. He huffed into her palm.
“I don’t want to leave here, but I have to.” She wiped her nose with a paper hanky, but tears clogged it again. “You’ll be fine without me. Michael will take good care of you. So will the kids. And you’ll forget about me.”
His dark eyes denied the statement, and he nuzzled her neck. His warm breath and horsey smell made her want to throw her arms around him and sob for the happiness that had been all too fleeting. She’d named her daughter for the hope she’d dreamed of having for the future, but it had been nothing but a mockery. She should have expected this.
She kissed King’s nose, then ran back to the car.When the vehicle reached the end of the driveway, she stopped and glanced back at the house. For a brief time she’d had a home.
CAESAR LOPED AT MICHAEL’S SIDE AS HE EXITED THE TRUCK AND JOGGED toward the Rio Grande, where Estevez waited. A vehicle had left ruts in the dirt, and Michael saw where the tracks crossed the shallow riverbed to the other side.
When he reached Estevez, he knelt and examined the ruts. “Looks like it was loaded down.”
“Probably a coyote bringing a truckload of illegals through,” Estevez said.
“Or a load of guns and ammo,” Michael said.
Estevez’s lips tightened. “You sound like your brother.”
“He was right, though, wasn’t he?”
“That’s been the only time arms came through here.”
“That you know of.” Michael glared at his brother’s former partner. “What is it with you, Estevez? You don’t like me. I get it. But I’ve done nothing to warrant your antagonism.We’re on the same side. And since you brought up my brother’s name, listen: I’ve been thinking about what I found in the file on his death.”
“What?”
“Nothing. And that bugs me. There doesn’t look to have been a real investigation into his death. It’s like the incident was logged in and forgotten. He deserved better than that.”
Estevez’s mouth turned grimmer. “He was my friend. I’ve been investigating it.”
“Then why is nothing in the file?”
“You just missed it. I personally input the evidence I’ve found.”
“What evidence? I went through every shred of the physical file and every bit of the electronic one.”
“Fingerprints, shell casings, a shoe. Eyewitness evidence.An informant’s testimony.”
“There’s none of that in the files. Check for yourself. It’s all gone. Now, why would that be?”
Estevez studied Michael’s face as if to gauge whether he was lying. “For real?”
“Yeah. So that tells me someone in the department scrubbed it. Which means only one of two things.”
“Blackmail or payoff,” Estevez said. He let loose with a string of profanity.
Michael felt the weight of the knowledge like a physical blow. Anyone in the department could be to blame. In fact, how could he know Estevez wasn’t covering up his involvement by pointing his finger at someone else? He ran through the list of possible suspects: Estevez, Parker, Fishman. Even Pickens himself could be behind this.
“Sometimes I hate this business,” he muttered.
Estevez glanced at him. “Then why stay?”
“It’s my job. It’s part of who I am.”
“Not a very good reason.”
“Maybe not.”Was it reason enough anymore? He’d wearied of the constant threat of violence, the looking over his shoulder, the red tape and politics.
A movement caught Michael’s attention. A woman darted from shrub to shrub, making her way toward a crossing farther down the river. “Look there,” he said, starting in that direction.
Caesar bounded ahead of him. He reached the woman before the men did and backed her up against a boulder. Every time she tried to move, he bared his teeth and hedged her away from the crossing. Michael squinted against the glare of the sun and studied her. About thirty. Hispanic.Dressed in expensive jeans and a blouse.New athletic shoes. Not your typical illegal alien.
“Where you headed?” he asked, forcing a smile into his voice.
She clutched trembling hands in front of her. “Please. Call off your dog.”
“Caesar, sit,” Michael commanded. The dog padded back to his side and lay down. “Do you have any identification?”
She shook her head and stared at the dirt.
Estevez joined them. “Why are you out here?”
“I walk.There.” She pointed across the river.
“You live over there?” Michael saw the way she continued to tremble.
Her shoulders slumped. “Sí.”
He and Estevez exchanged glances. Their job was to stop incoming illegal aliens, not prevent them from returning to Mexico. He should have escorted her to the water and made sure she exited the country, but there was something about the way she glanced at him that aroused his curiosity. He almost thought she knew him. “What’s your name?”
“It is of no matter,” she said, finally raising her head enough to show her dark eyes.Those eyes held a flare of rebellion.
“Humor me
,” he said, hardening his tone.
“I will not.You cannot keep me. I am leaving.”
He caught her arm.“I could take you in as an alien with no papers. What are you doing here?”
She glared at his hand on her arm, then up into his face. “You should attend to your own business, Mr.Wayne.”
“How do you know my name?”
“It is enough that I know.Watch your wife. And her child.” She jerked, and her arm tore from his grasp.
“Wait!” He sprang after her, but Caesar collided with him and slowed him down. She crossed the rocks poking above the river’s surface and reached the haven of Mexico.
“I need to go home,” he told Estevez.Without waiting for an answer, he ran for his truck.
24
GRACIE’S FLIP-FLOPS SMACKED THE TILES IN THE SCHOOL HALL AS SHE ran to the office. Bursting through the door, she told the receptionist she wanted to take her daughter out.The woman eyed her with suspicion, so without being asked, Gracie pulled out her ID. “Just get my daughter,” she snapped.
“Sorry, Mrs.Wayne.We have to be careful, of course.”
“Of course,” Gracie echoed. “Hurry, please.”At least the receptionist didn’t question why she wanted her daughter. The woman left the office. Gracie glanced at the clock above the door. Nearly ten. She’d be to her father’s by one, even if she stopped to grab some food for Hope.
The door opened, and the receptionist came in with Hope, whose eyes were wide and scared. She carried her new Winnie-the-Pooh book bag.
“What’s wrong, Mommy?”
“It’s okay, honey,” Gracie said, running her hand over her daughter’s silken hair. “Don’t be scared. Thank you,” she said to the receptionist before taking Hope’s hand and exiting the office.
“Where are we going?” Hope asked once they were in the hall.
“I have a surprise for you,” Gracie said, forcing a smile. “I’m taking you to meet your grandfather.”
Hope stopped and gripped her mom’s hand tighter. “I have a grandpa?”
“Yes, honey. He and I—well,we’ve kind of been mad at each other. But it’s time we got over that. I want him to see he has the most beautiful granddaughter in the world.”
Lonestar Homecoming Page 21
