Lonestar Homecoming

by Colleen Coble

She set Hope on the floor and held her finger to her lips. Careful to make no sound, she shut the door to the bedroom, then led Hope to the sliding door. On her first attempt the door didn’t budge; then she realized she had to unlock it at the floor as well as the latch. Once it was fully unlocked, it glided open without a sound.

  She led Hope through and shut it behind them. Moonlight relieved the darkness enough to show her the way along a flagstone path that wound past cacti and shrubs. If only she had keys to one of the vehicles surely parked in the three-car garage, but she and Hope had only their feet to help them escape. This ranch was miles from anywhere.They had no water, no food.There was a road but no place to hide along the barren stretch of asphalt. Her best chance of escape was to strike off into the desert, then wind back toward the road farther down and hope to find help. And she should pray.

  “Mommy, I’m thirsty,” Hope whispered.

  “I know, sweetheart. I am too.” She didn’t dare start into the desert without water in August.

  Leading Hope by the hand, she approached the back of the barn. She heard a horse inside shuffle and whinny. Of course. The horses. She could get much farther on a horse. If she had the courage to ride one. Glancing at her daughter, she knew there was no other way.

  “This way,” she whispered.

  She tried the back door to the barn and found it unlocked. Stepping inside, the scents of hay and horse assaulted her noses, and she nearly changed her mind. Hope clutched at her hand, and Gracie found the strength to move forward. First she got her daughter some water, then Gracie drank too. She saw no canteens around, but there was a half-empty water bottle. She refilled it. It might not be the most sanitary thing, but it was better than no water at all in the Sonoran Desert.

  “Hold this for me, sweetheart,” she said. Gracie’s breath began to come in short, laboring pants as she approached the horse. A bridle hung on the stall, and she grabbed it, then stepped into the pen with the sorrel mare.

  “Easy,” she murmured when the mare shuffled.

  Gracie slipped the bridle into place, then led the horse from the stall. Hope hung back, but Gracie motioned her forward, then lifted her onto the horse’s back. The sorrel stood still for her, and she thanked God for it. When she led the horse through the rear of the barn, she heard shouts from the ranch house.

  “They know we’re missing,” she said. Holding the reins, she climbed the wooden fence of the corral, then slid onto the horse’s back behind Hope. “Hold tight, honey,” she said.

  She dug her heels into the mare’s side and urged the horse into a canter away from the barn. Going in this direction, the barn would hide their silhouette, at least until someone came this way.

  The night air should have felt refreshing, but Gracie couldn’t stop shivering. She clung to the reins and rode like a sack of feed on the horse’s back until her childhood training began to take over.Then the ride smoothed out, and her shudders began to ease. They reached a stand of paloverde trees, and she stopped the horse long enough to gaze back toward the ranch. No hoofbeats came to her ears, just the distant shouts from the house. She and Hope were far enough away now that they couldn’t be seen from the house. Facing forward again, she glanced around the empty desert.With only the stars to guide her, she had only a vague idea of where to find the road. Better not to go there yet.Their silhouette atop the horse would be easier for the arriving cartel to spot.

  She strained to see some twinkle of light, some indication of another dwelling in this wilderness, but she saw nothing but endless night. She and Hope were alone out here. No, not alone. Not now. God was here. Gracie started north, praying she could intercept Michael in time.

  Lights from the road approached. Maybe her prayers were about to be answered. She urged the horse to a gallop. The wind lifted her hair. Another few feet and she could see who was in the truck. She heard a voice.

  “Mommy, I smell oranges,” Hope whispered.

  “So do I.” Before she had time to turn away, the truck stopped and a man waved a gun at them.

  She turned the horse’s head, but bullets slammed into the sand by the horse’s hooves. The mare snorted and reared. Gracie clutched Hope, but they both went sailing into the air.

  MICHAEL PUT DOWN HIS BINOCULARS. “THERE’S A BIG TRUCK OUT FRONT. I can’t see into the house.”The two men stood on the road by the lane that led to Governor Wheeler’s ranch.

  “She might not even be there,” Rick warned.

  “If she’s not, I don’t know where to look next,” he said. “I’m going in.”

  “What about your backup? Weren’t they supposed to be here?”

  Michael glanced at his watch. “Yeah. Half an hour ago. Maybe I’d better call Estevez again.”

  A voice spoke out of the darkness. “That won’t be necessary.” Gravel crunched, then a figure stepped onto the road. Israel Fishman held a gun in his right hand. It was pointed at Michael. “Estevez had to inform me to mobilize help, of course. He’s safe at home, assuming I’ve sent men to rescue you. He’s much too trusting.”

  The moonlight illuminated Fishman’s grim stare. Michael glanced from that stern face to the gun, then back. “Not you. I thought you were one of the good guys.”

  “I am. Most of the time. Sometimes it pays to look the other way.” He moved closer. “In fact, it pays very well.”

  “Did you turn your back on Phil too?” Michael had to ask, even though the answer stared at him in the form of a gun’s bore.

  “He never understood business. He could have joined the fun but refused.”

  Michael balled his hands into fists. “You killed him.”

  “Not exactly. I just stood back and let others do it.” Fishman motioned with the gun. “Let’s join the party. I believe they’re expecting us. Hand over your guns, please.”

  “I don’t have one,” Rick said. He exchanged a glance with Michael.

  “Let’s just make sure, shall we?” Fishman kept the gun trained on Michael and ran his hand over Rick’s back and legs. “Hand over your gun, Lieutenant.”

  Michael pulled his gun from its holster and held it out by the grip. Fishman took it and stuck it in his belt, then frisked Michael too. When he found nothing, he motioned with his gun. “Move.”

  Michael started toward the house with Rick at his side. “There are two of us,” Rick muttered under his breath. “Our best odds are now, before he gets to his cronies.”

  “Quiet,” Fishman barked. “My trigger finger is already twitching. Don’t even look at one another.”

  Michael believed the warning in Fishman’s voice. There was no way to make a plan. Besides, he didn’t want to get Rick killed. It was his fault the other man was here. He should have waited for backup from the army. Or the Border Patrol. Though he realized now no backup was coming for them. Fishman would have seen to that.

  Fishman would have no choice but to kill them both.The prognosis was grim, but Michael wasn’t giving up. While he breathed, he would try.

  The three men trudged up the asphalt drive to the house blazing with lights. Once he saw whether Gracie and Hope were all right, he’d figure out a plan to get everyone out alive.

  The door opened before they reached the stoop. A swarthy man with a Beretta gestured for them to come in. Michael strained to see past him, but Gracie wasn’t in the hallway.

  “Stay out here,” the man told Fishman. “Teo should be here any time with Vargas.”

  Vargas.This was a plot to free Vargas.Michael gasped at the sheer audacity of it.

  “No trouble?” Fishman asked.

  “Nothing we cannot handle.”The man’s eyes shifted to Michael.

  “Then I think I’ll come in.” Fishman pushed his way into the house.

  Michael followed the voices to the living room. His gaze landed on the woman who’d warned him to take care of Gracie. She didn’t meet his eye.

  “Where’s my wife?” he asked.

  A man with a gold chain around his neck sneered in Michael’s directio
n. “What do you think we’d do with a pretty señora like that?”

  Michael willed himself not to react. The guy was trying to provoke him. He strained to hear Gracie or Hope in the house somewhere but heard nothing. He didn’t notice the older man, likely Sam Wheeler, until he spoke.

  “She escaped,”Wheeler said.

  The man with the gold chain stepped in front of the governor and smacked him in the head with his gun. “You will shut up!”

  Michael’s pulse began to gallop, and he couldn’t hold back a smile. “You let her get away,” he said. “You have to be Cid.”

  The man’s face went ruddy under his swarthy complexion. “Sit.” He pointed at the sofa. “We will find her. She cannot escape me that easily.” His dark eyes swarmed over Michael’s face. “She belongs to me and has been mine since the first time I saw her.”

  Don’t react. Say nothing. Michael’s nerves jangled. He sat on the sofa. Rick joined him. They faced Wheeler. Three against three. He could wage a coup and win.

  Cid glared at Wheeler. “Where is Vargas?” he demanded, pacing the rug. “He should have been here by now.”

  Fishman glanced at his watch. “I want to be gone by dawn.”

  “You will get your guns,” Cid said.

  “And you’ll get your dad out of jail.We all win.” Fishman strode to the window and stared into the yard.

  Cid pressed his lips together. “Where are they?” he muttered.

  “Fraco, go outside and see if there are car lights coming.” His partner nodded and stepped out of the room. “Try calling him again.”

  “There’s no cell phone tower out here,”Wheeler said.

  “Your plans are about to come unraveled,” Michael said. “I’d be cutting and running now. Gracie and Hope are gone, so you have nothing to hold over Sam’s head.”

  “He is dead if my father does not show up,” Cid said, his lips twisting in a snarl. “And you will shut up or your teeth will be on the floor.”

  Michael closed his mouth.The man was on the edge. One shove and he’d be firing bullets. While Cid paced, Michael glanced around for something to use as a weapon and noticed Rick doing the same.

  Car lights swept the far wall. Fraco popped back inside the living room. “Someone is here,” he said.

  Cid spat an oath and went toward the door. “Watch them,” he ordered.

  Fraco’s sharp eyes studied them. “I am not like Cid,” he said. “I would rather shoot you now. He will want to taunt you. It is a mistake. Maybe I will save him from himself.” He raised his weapon.

  Michael stared down the barrel of the gun. Sam was the closest to the guy. If the governor would tackle the gunman, they might have a chance. The man’s finger tightened on the trigger, and his eyes narrowed. Michael’s muscles coiled to spring. Fraco’s head turned at the commotion at the door, but Michael had no time to act before Cid thrust two figures into the room.

  Gracie and Hope.

  29

  GRACIE HAD TRIED TO GET HOPE TO RUN AFTER THEY’D BEEN THROWN from the horse, but her daughter wouldn’t leave. The two men in the truck had quickly overcome them.The one in an orange prison suit gave her chills. Even now,Vargas stood watching everything with cynical eyes as the other man thrust them into the house.

  Gracie stumbled and went down onto the hardwood floor. Pain flared in her knee, already bleeding from its contact with the road after her horse threw them. Whimpering, Hope clung to her hand. “It’s okay, baby,” Gracie soothed, pulling her daughter into an embrace. Her gaze met Michael’s over the top of Hope’s head.

  Though they couldn’t have been reunited in worse circumstances, Gracie drank in her husband’s face. If anyone could find a way out of this, it was Michael. His eyes told her to take courage.

  The gun. Crouched on the floor with Hope blocking their view of her leg, she thought she might be able to get to it. Her fingers quickly found the holster and she slipped the tiny gun from its nest, then thrust it into the back of her waistband.

  Vargas entered the room. He spoke in Spanish. “My son, you have succeeded. I knew you would not let me down.”

  Cid embraced the man in the jumpsuit. He answered in Spanish. “Papa, you are here.We must go. Quickly.”

  Vargas’s cold gaze roamed to Michael. He spoke in English this time. “He must die. Give me a gun.” He grabbed a gun from Teo’s hand.

  “No!” She jumped up, in front of Hope. Gracie whipped out her gun and held it in front of her. She remembered Michael’s instructions and widened her stance, then tightened her finger on the trigger. A shot spat from the barrel and the man flinched. His gun fell to the floor with a clatter.

  Before Gracie could fire again, Cid tackled her. “Let me go!” she screamed, trying to keep control of her gun.

  His weight crushed the air from her lungs, and he ripped the revolver from her hand. She thrashed until his forearm pressed against her windpipe and cut off her air. Darkness hovered at the edge of her vision and she gasped.

  Cid released her and stood. “I should kill you now!”

  She held her hand to her throbbing throat.A sobbing Hope threw herself onto Gracie’s chest, and Gracie clutched her. “It’s okay, honey,” she soothed. She struggled to her feet, then lifted her daughter into her arms.

  Vargas glared at her, then glanced at Michael before starting for the gun again. Cid stepped closer to his father and whispered in his ear. She caught the words “accident” and “tonight” before Vargas nodded and turned away from Michael.

  A cold ball formed in Gracie’s chest. Cid had something planned.

  Thunder rumbled outside, and a streak of lighting illuminated the yard. Flickering and growling, the promised storm moved nearer. Gracie moved closer to Michael until Cid noticed and pointed his finger at her.

  “Do not move,” he barked. “Say adiós to this gringo.You will never see him after tonight.”

  “Let Michael and Rick take Hope and go,” she said, pitching her voice to be low and soothing. “I’ll go with you wherever you say. I won’t try to get away.”

  “Do you take me for a stupid man?” He stepped nearer. His hand lashed out and struck her face.

  “Cid, no!” Zita screamed. She leaped onto her brother’s back and he reeled. She fell away, and he whirled to shove her. She fell onto the floor.

  Heat flared in Gracie’s cheek. She palmed her stinging skin as Michael leaped from the sofa.

  “Leave her alone!” he shouted.

  Fraco clubbed Michael with the back of his rifle, and her husband fell to the floor, where he didn’t move.

  Gracie started for Michael, but Cid seized her arm. His fingers bit in hard enough to bruise.

  He nodded toward Michael’s inert form and motioned to the other man. “Tie him up, Fraco.The other one too.”

  Fraco tied Rick, then knelt by Michael and bound his wrists together behind his back. Michael groaned, then slumped back onto the floor.

  “Michael!” Gracie tried to wrench her arm from Cid’s grip so she could go to her husband. He had to be all right. Cid’s hard hand hit Gracie’s back. Pain radiated to her shoulder, and she fell forward on one knee but managed to keep Hope from slamming to the floor.

  Sam grabbed her hand and helped her to her feet. “I’m so sorry to get you involved in this, honey,” he said.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said, pressing his hand. “Cid had this planned.”

  “I played into their hands,” Sam said.

  She stared at her husband’s body on the floor. He wasn’t moving. “Michael,” she said again. She started toward him once more, but Cid blocked her.

  “Do not count on your husband to save you,” he said. “Everything is prepared.We will all walk to our truck now.We will tie your hands, and you will get into the back.Then we will drive across the border.”

  “Where are my guns?” Fishman asked. “They need to be in place in two days, or I won’t get paid.”

  “In the other truck outside. Our business is ended a
fter tonight.” Cid grabbed Gracie’s arm and propelled her toward the door.

  “Let Hope go,” Gracie begged. “Please, Cid, do what you want with me, but let her go.”

  “I will do what I want with you whether she is freed or not,” he said. “She is a tool to make you behave, is she not?” His smile held only an unpleasant promise. “You will pay for your betrayal.” Cid’s fingers laced through Gracie’s hair. “A pretty blond gringo like you will earn her keep in the bordello.”

  She flinched away. “I don’t think so, Cid.You’ll be lynched when I bite off the first ear.”

  His face darkened, and he raised his hand again, but she stared him down, putting every bit of contempt she could muster into her gaze.

  “Please. Leave her alone,” Sam said, stepping between them. “I’ve done all you’ve asked.You have everything you need. Don’t hurt her or my granddaughter.”

  Fraco shoved him back into the chair, then tied him to it. Sam slumped back with trembling lips.

  Zita got slowly to her feet. “You did what this man wanted,” she said to her brother, gesturing to Vargas. “Let him go his way and we will go ours.”

  “He is my father, Zita. I cannot do that.”

  “I am your sister.”

  “Half sister.”

  “I see,” she said. “If there are choices to be made, you will choose the man who will toss you aside when he reaches his country.We are Americans, Cid.What you are doing is wrong. Evil.”

  Vargas took the gun from Fraco and shot her. His face was expressionless when she fell onto the floor. He handed the gun back to Fraco. “Let us go on without more whining.”

  “Y-you killed my sister,” Cid said. He knelt by Zita and rubbed the back of his hand against his eyes.

  “She would only slow us down and pull you from your duty,” Vargas said, his voice indifferent. “Leave her.”

  Gracie fought the nausea burning the back of her mouth. “She loved you, Cid. And he shot her like a dog. How can you let him get away with it?”

  “You will shut up or I will shoot you next,”Vargas said. He glanced at Cid. “The child will slow us down. Leave her.”