The Midwife and the Lawman

by Marisa Carroll

  Devon raised her hand and massaged the tight muscles at the back of her neck. “That sounds like a good idea. Do you want herbal or English breakfast?”

  “English breakfast, I think. I need a pick-me-up.”

  The morning passed quickly. The midwives were determinedly cheerful, going about their business as though nothing was very different from any ordinary summer day. But of course, everything was very different. The usually blinding sunshine was hazy and diffused. There was a smell of smoke in the air that hadn’t been there the night before.

  More than once Devon caught herself glancing out a window when she walked by, watching the plumes of smoke that rose into the thin mountain air veer off on a tangent as the wind came more strongly from the south.

  She’d just finished lunch—a package of wheat crackers from the vending machine, a piece of cheese and an apple from the break room fridge, washed down with a glass of sun tea that Trish had made the day before—when her cell phone rang.

  “Devon here,” she said fishing the tiny cell phone out of the pocket of her lab coat.

  “It’s Jesse,” the boy said without preamble.

  “Hi, Jesse, what’s up?” She’d half expected the call to be from Jesse or Sylvia. The girl had been having Braxton Hicks contractions at fairly regular intervals. Over the past thirty-six hours, they’d become more like real labor pains.

  “I wanted to let you know I’m going to go up to Mr. Elkhorn’s place with Manny Cordova and help him bring his animals down to his ranch. I guess the fire is getting pretty close.”

  “That’s what I heard on the radio a few minutes ago.” Devon stuffed the apple core into her empty foam cup with her free hand. “You be careful up there, okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be real careful not to get eaten by no billy goat,” he said with all the machismo of his Latin heritage. “And, Devon?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’ll be close by if Sylvia needs you, right?”

  “I’ll be here all day. Call me when you get back into town.”

  “Sí, I’ll do that.”

  Devon snapped the phone shut. Maybe she was making progress with Jesse, after all. She sighed, or maybe not. No matter how often over the past few weeks he’d clashed with her, he’d always put his sisters’ welfare before his own.

  “Devon.” Trish’s head, then the rest of her, appeared in the break-room door. “Jenna Harrison is on line two. She says Kyle is nursing every two hours and crying all the time in between. Her breasts are sore and she’s sobbing harder than the baby.” She rolled her eyes in sympathy. “Poor thing. She sounds like she’s at the end of her rope. Do you have time to see her this afternoon?”

  “Can she be here in an hour?” Devon asked, pitching the remains of her lunch into the wastebasket.

  “From the sounds of that baby’s howls, she can probably be here in ten minutes. I can move Carrie Simpson back a half an hour. She won’t mind.”

  Devon chuckled. “Okay, ten minutes, then.”

  Jenna was indeed in a state. It took Devon almost forty-five minutes to calm her down and assure the nervous woman that she wasn’t being a bad mother if she supplemented one or two breast feedings a day with formula from a bottle. It would be better for both her and Kyle, Devon explained patiently. Her breasts wouldn’t be so tender. The baby wouldn’t be so hungry and suck so hard. Everyone would benefit.

  By the time Kyle had been coaxed to take his first ounce of formula and readied for the trip home, Devon was a half hour late for her next appointment. It was three o’clock before she had a chance to leave the exam room and go in search of a glass of iced tea.

  The main phone line began to ring. After the fourth peal Devon realized Trish wasn’t at the reception desk to answer. The receptionist must have gone up to the second-floor records room for a moment. Her grandmother was with a patient, the other midwives also occupied, so Devon ducked back into her office to answer the phone.

  “The Birth Place. How may I help you?”

  “Señorita Devon Grant, por favor,” a gravelly voice said.

  “This is she.”

  “Señorita, this is Manny Cordova.”

  “Yes, Manny. Is there something wrong?” Jesse’s helping the two old men bring Daniel’s menagerie down off the mountain had been at the back of her mind all day. It wasn’t particularly dangerous work under normal circumstances, but a wildfire less than two miles away wasn’t normal circumstances.

  The old man hesitated. “Yes, there is. After we unloaded Daniel’s goats and chickens and he headed off for his daughter’s place, Jesse stayed to help me put a new lock on the gate. Then, when I was busy feeding the horses, the boy, he drove off with my old truck. Left me stranded here at my place.”

  “What?” Devon leaned against the desk and closed her eyes. “He stole your truck?”

  “Well, I guess you’d have to say that. I thought maybe he just needed something real bad from town, but he didn’t come back, and it’s been an hour.”

  “Did…did you call the police?” She couldn’t bring herself to say Miguel.

  “No, ma’am. Not yet. I wanted to give the boy a chance to come back on his own. He’s a good kid. Been a real help to me. I don’t want him to get into trouble and maybe have Immigration come sniffin’ around about it.”

  “You guessed the kids weren’t here legally, too?” she asked. She had been a fool to think she could keep their undocumented status a secret. Who else had guessed? The answer was obvious and sharp as a dagger in her heart. Miguel, of course.

  “The boy let some things slip, but it’s none of my business how he got here, ya know.” But it was Miguel’s business, and yet he had said nothing, done nothing to separate the children from her. Was he staying silent for her sake?

  “Thank you, Manny. I’ll find him. I’ll get your truck back, good as new.”

  The old man chuckled, low and gruff. “She’s got two hundred and forty thousand miles on her. She hasn’t been new since my oldest boy was in boot camp.”

  “I’ll get her back, Manny.”

  “The boy brings the truck back and we’ll forget this ever happened, okay?”

  “Okay, Manny. Goodbye. And thank you.”

  “Adios.”

  “Manny wait.” Devon stood up clutching the phone receiver with both hands. “How close was the fire to Daniel’s place?”

  “Too close. Miguel, he stopped while we were loading up Daniel’s horse. He said the fire crew, they would send in a bulldozer to clear the brush from around Daniel’s buildings. He said they were going to close the road soon. Maybe even today if the fire jumps the line anywhere up there.”

  “How long ago did he tell you that?”

  “Before the wind changed.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  DEVON CLOSED HER EYES and tried to decide what to do next. She rested her weight on her hands, but she paid no more attention to the feel of the cold metal desk than she did the sight of mismatched chairs and the empty bookcase on the far wall.

  She needed to get to Jesse. She had no doubt he was headed back up the mountain to the old ghost town. The most valuable thing in the world he and his sisters possessed was the truck they’d hidden at Silverton. But he would need help, a second driver, unless he planned to abandon Manny’s pickup on the mountain—and Devon didn’t think he would. And for that there was no one he could turn to…but Sylvia.

  She picked up the receiver again, her heart beating hard in her chest. Before she could begin to dial, she heard her name called. “Devon?”

  “I’m in here, Trish.”

  The receptionist appeared in the doorway, her cheeks pink from hurrying. “I was putting some files away upstairs and I forgot to take the portable phone with me.”

  “It’s okay. The call was for me.”

  Trish nodded, looking back down the hallway now, not at Devon. She seemed a bit distracted. “Look who I found in the play area.” She held out her hand to someone Devon couldn’t see. “C’mon
here, sweetie. Devon’s in here.”

  Devon put the receiver back in the cradle and took a quick couple of steps toward the door. “Maria.” The little girl was wearing a new T-shirt in a striking shade of hot pink that Myrna had bought for her the day before when they went shopping in Taos. Her sandals were pink, too, as were her toenails and fingernails and the ribbons in her pigtails. Maria had brought all Myrna’s latent grandmother traits to the surface with a vengeance, her father had noted at dinner.

  Devon dropped to her knees and Maria rushed into her arms. She buried her face against Devon’s shoulder and wrapped her arms around her neck, holding on for dear life. She gathered the little girl close. She felt strong and sturdy now, a comfortable weight in Devon’s arms.

  “Maria, sweetie, how did you get here?” Devon looked at Trish over the top of Maria’s head. The older woman raised her hands palm outward to show she didn’t know.

  “Sylvia brought me. She told me to play nice until you could come and get me.”

  “Where is Sylvia?”

  Maria rubbed her fist across her eyes. “With Jesse.”

  “Where is Jesse?” Devon asked patiently, working hard to keep her growing fear from seeping into her voice.

  “In a truck. An old, noisy truck.”

  “Where did they go in this truck?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Did they go up the mountain, Maria?” she coaxed gently.

  “Jesse said the fire was going to get our truck and all the things we left in it.” She leaned close to Devon and whispered so that Trish couldn’t hear. “I think he and Sylvia went up the mountain to get it.”

  Trish gasped. “Devon, do you think—”

  Devon closed her eyes, fighting to keep from showing any fear. Maria was a bright child, and she would pick up on it immediately. “I think Maria needs a snack. And I bet that my mother would love to come here and take you out for ice cream. Would you like that?”

  Maria nodded. “I guess so. Will you come with us?”

  Devon shook her head. “No. I think I should go find Sylvia and Jesse, don’t you?”

  Maria’s head bobbed in vigorous agreement. “Yes. I don’t think Sylvia wanted to go anyway. She said her stomach hurt. Muy mal.”

  Really bad, Devon translated. If she had any doubts at all what her next step should be, they vanished. Devon was certain, now, that Sylvia was in labor. “Trish, will you make that call to my mother at the Morning Light? I need to go speak to Lydia.”

  MIGUEL LEFT THE COMMAND center at Angel’s Gate and headed for the fire. As he drove, he watched a Forest Service plane disperse a load of fire retardant on a hot spot, then lumber off to the south to reload. They’d already closed Silver Creek Road above the cutoff to the ghost town, but now he wanted Hank and Lorenzo to move the barricades down to his granddad’s place. The old man and his animals were safe, but if there was a breakout anywhere along the fire line, it would jump the road and roar up the narrow valley faster than a man could run.

  The radio squawked to life. He’d been monitoring the fire crews’ communications, as well as the highway patrol’s, but this one was for him. “Go ahead, Doris.” The dispatcher had been pulling double shifts since the fire started, and refused to be relieved.

  “Chief, can you take a call on your cell?” she asked.

  Miguel fished the cell phone out of his belt and checked the signal. “Ten-four on that, Doris. Who’s calling?”

  “Myrna Grant. It’s a ten-thirty-five,” which meant confidential information. “Says she has to talk to you. It’s urgent.”

  “I’ll pull over so I don’t lose the signal. Tell her to make the call.” He couldn’t imagine why Devon’s mother would want to talk to him. He didn’t have long to wonder about it, however. He’d no sooner steered the Durango onto the narrow shoulder that was all that separated him from a drop of 150 feet down the mountain than the cell beeped. “Eiden here.”

  “Thank goodness I was able to get through to you, Miguel!”

  “What is it, Mrs. Grant?”

  “It’s Devon…and my mother.” She was speaking so quickly that Miguel had trouble keeping up with her words. “I’m at The Birth Place. They’re gone. Both of them. The radio just said the fire jumped the line near Silver Creek Road. That’s where we believe they were headed. To the ghost town.”

  “Damn, what the devil are they doing up there?”

  “It’s Jesse and Sylvia. They…borrowed—hang on a moment.” Miguel waited impatiently while Myrna questioned someone on her end of the conversation. “He took a truck belonging to somebody named Manny Cordova and went up there for some reason. That’s all I know, but I’m worried.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Trish says Devon and Lydia left about an hour ago. I was away from our room. I only got the message a few minutes ago. What’s going on, Miguel? My husband and I are very worried.”

  “What about the little girl? Maria?” So far he had four civilians in the danger zone, one of them a very pregnant girl. Did the little girl make five?

  “She’s with me. I’m taking her for ice cream. I’ll have my cell phone with me.”

  “I’ll take the number, but there’s not much chance I can get a signal up around Silverton.”

  She rattled off the digits and he scribbled them on a notepad he kept on the floor of the unit. “I’ve been trying to reach Devon, but she’s not answering.”

  “Like I said, Myrna, I’ll do my best.”

  He disconnected the call, then keyed the mike and gave Doris his ETA for Silverton. “Tell Cooper and Jensen to stop anyone trying to get past my granddad’s place.”

  “Roger, Chief. Do you want me to relay this to the feds?”

  “Not yet. Let me see if I can round them up first.” He knew what the boy was after—the truck, of course. He should have had the thing hauled down the mountain the day he found it. Now Devon was after the two kids, trying to get them back to Enchantment safe and sound, with no one the wiser. He didn’t know who he was angrier at—Devon, or himself.

  “IS THE FIRE GETTING BIGGER or is it just that we’re getting closer?” Lydia asked as they drove up Silver Creek Road. They were about a mile from Daniel Elkhorn’s place as the crow flies, farther on the twisting mountain road.

  “I don’t know,” Devon admitted. “I hope it’s just that we’re getting closer.” She pulled her eyes from the curtain of smoke that rose above them on the mountain and concentrated on the road. An hour earlier, when she told her grandmother where she was going and why, Lydia insisted on coming with her. Devon had done her best to reason with the older woman, but soon gave up. There simply wasn’t enough time. And once Lydia made up her mind, there was little chance she’d change it.

  Still, all the way up the mountain she’d been trying to find a way to get Lydia out of the car, drop her off someplace safe and continue on alone. Except they hadn’t seen another human being since they made the turnoff onto Silver Creek Road under the incredulous eyes of a TV camera crew filming stock shots for the evening news. Devon hadn’t expected to see any fire teams, but what about support personnel? Police roadblocks? Did that mean the fire was already contained, or were they driving into an inferno? The mere fact that they couldn’t see any flames, only smoke, didn’t make Devon feel any more secure.

  At the turnoff to Daniel’s homestead an Enchantment police cruiser blocked most of the road. As Devon and Lydia approached, a young patrolman got out of the driver’s side. An older, heavier officer that Devon recognized as Lorenzo Cooper exited the passenger door. The younger man held up a restraining hand. Devon rolled down the window and slowed to a stop.

  “Ladies, may I ask what you’re doing up here?” the young cop, whose name tag said Jensen, asked.

  “We need to get to Silverton. It’s urgent.”

  “Sorry, can’t let you do that. The fire’s too close to the road between here and there to let you through.”

  “How long have you been here?” Lydia aske
d, leaning forward in her seat to look at the young cop.

  “Just a few minutes, ma’am. We were set up a couple miles on up the mountain for most of the morning.”

  “Did you see anyone else on the road?”

  “No, ma’am. Except for the old ghost town, only about two more houses on up that way. Those folks left yesterday or the day before.”

  “We have to get to Silverton.”

  “I can’t let you do that, miss. We have to keep this road clear for the fire crews to bring equipment up to the blaze.”

  The cop twisted around, his hands still on the window frame, to confer with his partner. “Have him contact Miguel, Devon,” Lydia said quietly. “He might give us permission to pass through if you tell him the truth.”

  “No. I don’t think that will work.” Even if the young cop followed orders, she doubted Miguel would give them. Devon was tired of trying to be reasonable. She had to get to Jesse and Sylvia. “Officer, has the fire crossed the road between here and Silverton?”

  “Not yet, miss, but it might at any time. That’s why you have to turn around and go back now.” He stepped backward, his thumbs hooked in the webbing of his utility belt. “Those are Chief Eiden’s orders.”

  If the two cops had been driving a big SUV like Miguel’s Durango, she could never have attempted what she did next. But they were driving an older patrol car, a sedan, and if she got a good enough start, she could probably get past them without putting her wheels into the steep, narrow ditch beside the road. “Hold on,” she told Lydia. “We’re going to make a run for it.”

  “Hey! Stop! You can’t do that!” both cops yelled, then jumped back out of the way as she rammed the rear side panel of the patrol car, shoving it sideways. The sound of metal crushing metal sent a shiver up and down Devon’s spine.

  The Blazer bounced in and out of the ditch, listing far to the right, throwing Lydia against the passenger door with a thump. Devon hung on to the wheel with both hands, remembering not to pump the brake when they skidded back onto the graded surface of the road and fishtailed toward the rock wall on the other side. The back bumper kissed the stone and caused her to make one more swerve before the tires straightened out and they shot forward up the steep incline toward the Silverton cutoff.