Hawke's Fury

by Reavis Z. Wortham

  “One more minute.”

  “We don . . .” I stopped when I heard the distinct sound of a crying child. The rifle instinctively came to my shoulder, and I swept the area with the muzzle, searching for the source.

  Villarreal heard the same thing. Her head snapped around, and she peered into a tangle of tall desert scrub and grass on the shady side of the canyon. Near the edge of the wall, something moved. Someone was crouched under a scrub bush.

  I looked down the barrel of my rifle. “Come out.”

  The thin cry came again. Still tense and with the rifle ready in case they tried something, I edged closer. Movement.

  I switched to Spanish. I’m not fluent for casual conversations, but any law enforcement officer who works the border knows common phrases that come in handy through the years. “Salir ahora!”

  An adult hand stuck up, then its mate.

  “Ahora!”

  A woman in a torn T-shirt and gray sweat pants crawled out of the jumble. “No me despares.”

  Villarreal translated. “She said don’t shoot her.”

  “I got that part.” I switched to Spanish. “Yo hablo Engles?”

  She shook her head. The woman’s face was bruised, and her clothes were dirty and torn. “Tengo una nina pequena. Ella esta enferma.”

  “She says . . .”

  “She has a little girl who’s sick.”

  “You do speak Spanish.”

  “I understand some words.”

  The mom turned and motioned for the little girl to come out of hiding. Hesitant, she stepped out and coughed deep and wet. She couldn’t have been more than three years old, but the tiny, skinny little thing was poor as a snake and looked like she hadn’t eaten in a month.

  As tired and scared as I was, I worked up a smile and waved them forward.

  “All right, Villarreal. Try to redeem yourself a little and find out why they’re here alone.”

  Face impassive, she asked if they were all right. I understood that much, but then they launched into a stream of rapid-fire Spanish that completely lost me. It went on longer than I wanted before Villarreal shrugged. “She wants to know why I am tied up, and if you are going to do the same to her.”

  “Tell her that I’m a Texas Ranger and you’re under arrest, my prisoner. Tell her I’m taking her with us until we get to the river and she is free to go, or I’ll contact someone on the other side and get them both some help.”

  They talked some more. “She says she’s an immigrant from Honduras. Her name is Jacinta. They were with a coyote who raped her. She fought back and he beat her, then said he would beat the child if she didn’t submit to another coyote. She did what she had to do, but in the night they slipped away. They didn’t look for her when they took the rest of the immigrants to the river last night. Jacinta and the child have been waiting for the next group. She hopes they’ll take her with them.”

  I felt my face harden. The image quickly played out in my mind, because I’d heard it before. Coyotes raping women while the others they were leading across the border did nothing but turn their heads and pretend it wasn’t happening. Men like that had no right to live.

  Now with her and the little girl, I was between a rock and hard place. I couldn’t leave them in the canyon, because they’d surely die, or those guys would come back and probably rape and kill her and the little girl on their way out. The next group that was sure to come through after dark wouldn’t let her join them, because they hadn’t paid that coyote.

  I wondered if those guys retraced this path back to the turnaround once they’d delivered their people to the river.

  “Were the coyotes armed?”

  Another long exchange.

  “Yes.”

  “What with?”

  “Automatic weapons.”

  “Figures. How many?”

  “Three.”

  We were low on water, but I dug my last two bottles from the pack and gave them to the woman. She opened the first and gave it to the little girl who drank like she hadn’t had any water in a week. Once the mom had taken care of her daughter, she opened the other. There were a couple of energy bars in my pack and they were glad to see ’em.

  While they drank, I studied on our problem. The woman looked like she was in good enough shape to travel, despite the attack. I could carry the little girl. Or we could stay right there and wait for Perry Hale, but his exfil might have been along another route. There was no guarantee he was coming along behind us.

  And where was Yolanda? Those two were virtually inseparable. If he was up on that ridge alone, then they had a plan, but what was it?

  Without any more information, the only thing we could do was continue down the canyon, working our way northward to the Rio. I’d deal with everything once we got to the border.

  “We have to go. Tell her there are bad people after us. She has to come with us. I’ll carry her baby.”

  Villarreal translated and I reached out for the little girl who shrieked and held tight to her mama’s neck. The woman recoiled also, and I stepped back, fighting down a growl of frustration even though I understood her fears.

  We were at an impasse when a gust of hot wind came up the canyon, bringing the thick odor of burning wood. I looked back the way we’d come and was stunned to see a roiling column of dark gray smoke rising up from the canyon. We were in a dry tinderbox facing what amounted to a flash flood of roaring fire rushing in our direction.

  I checked the steep shale walls around us, looking for a way up. If I didn’t have any bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all. We were in a narrow section of the canyon that was shaped like a taco, with the high, steep walls offering no way to get out.

  “We’re going to have to run. Villarreal, turn around so I can cut you loose.”

  The woman gasped when I took the knife from its sheath. Villarreal said something to calm her and turned. I cut the lamp cord, letting it fall at our feet.

  “Run as fast as you can until we can find a way out of this death trap.”

  I grabbed up the screaming little girl, and we took off like scalded cats.

  Chapter 57

  The smoke was still thin enough at times for Perry Hale to see a man in a military uniform creeping through the brush lining the canyon’s edge. With the calm deliberation of a deer hunter at the target range, he looked through the rifle scope with both eyes open and slowly pulled the trigger. He saw the impact in the man’s shirt. Legs stiff, he toppled sideways and landed like a felled tree.

  At the accurately placed shot, others retreated back around the bend in the road where Perry Hale couldn’t see them, and all went quiet. He waited several minutes and decided they’d likely retreated, or worse, found another way into the canyon.

  He swept the area with the rifle scope, looking for more targets. Smoke was making it impossible to see. The fire climbed the steep wall, jumping from one struggling bush or clump of grass to the other, and was burning toward the ridge. Down below where the cars had gone over, it was an inferno.

  The crackling and popping fire was clearly audible as yellow and white smoke roiled into the air and drifted overhead, northward. Several minutes later, a twisting column of hell’s fire rose into the air telling him it was time to move.

  Now he had to find another position, but the question was where.

  Chapter 58

  Incencio and Geronimo held back around the corner, letting Perez’s men draw the sniper’s fire. They had no idea how many were on the ridge above, but they had no intention of showing themselves.

  “Should we send someone up back there to come around behind him?” Geronimo was so wound up and angry he paced back and forth on the road.

  “No. They will retreat soon. Either they will kill all those soldados and maybe even Perez, or they will retreat. No matter. We will wait for a few more minutes while the fire builds. The smoke will conceal us.”

  “Are we going into the canyon to follow?”

  “No. That will be sui
cide. The wind is coming from the south. The canyon will become an infierno. They are fools if they go in there.”

  “I think some of them already have.”

  “Like I said. Fools.”

  Rifle slung over his shoulder, Geronimo studied the rising smoke column. “They are getting away with La Jefa.”

  “No.”

  From the smoke boiling over the road, a figure emerged coming in their direction. Both men readied themselves to fire, but it was Esteban. “I am glad you weren’t in those vehiculos deportivos, or that Humvee.”

  “So are we.”

  He flicked his hand southward. “We can go now. The sniper is gone.”

  “Did you kill him?”

  “No. He did what he wanted and left. We cannot go down into the canyon now. Perez sent three of his men in before the fire got out of control, but they will burn. We are not obsessed with staying hidden. We can go cross country and follow the same path. I know the way, so we can get ahead of them before they reach the border. Going in a straight line will be much shorter than following that damn canyon.”

  Incencio grinned. “I have a better idea.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Perez and only one man are over there, guarding his Humvee. We will kill them and drive to the border in their military vehicle.”

  Esteban’s eyes widened. It was obvious he hadn’t thought of such a savage solution.

  Geronimo nodded at the suggestion and walked back to the soldier who was standing beside the left front tire, smoking a cigarette. His rifle lay across the hood. Perez was leaning against the door, talking into a microphone threaded through the open window.

  The sicaro walked with a big smile on his face. “I have a question.”

  The man raised an eyebrow in question and Geronimo nearly cut him in half with a burst of automatic gunfire. Shocked at the unprovoked attack, Perez dropped the microphone and held out both hands, as if the gesture could stop a 5.56mm bullet or make the man change his mind.

  Geronimo emptied the magazine into the captain’s chest and as Perez crumpled, he turned and waved. “Get in. I will drive.”

  Chapter 59

  Running parallel to the canyon, Perry Hale moved through the desert with ease, occasionally checking over his shoulder. He was confident that he’d slowed, if not stopped, Sonny’s pursuers. In addition to hopefully killing those in the Humvee, he’d managed to nail two others, one wore a uniform, the other likely a cartel member.

  Barely slowed by the water and wind-scorched desert floor, he wove his way around the scattered plants, trees, and cactus. Dry washes were shallow wrinkles that barely slowed his progress.

  Slowing to a jog, he keyed his microphone. “Yoli.”

  “Asshole.”

  It was their way of making sure they had radio contact. “You still there?”

  “Yeah, but I see a lot of smoke.”

  “See Sonny yet?”

  “Nope.”

  Perry Hale’s heart was beating fast, both from exertion and dread. That fire down below could be a death sentence for Sonny and his captive. “Are you where you can get out fast?”

  “Yeah, it’ll be a bitch, but I can climb out right here. I hope Sonny’s already out.”

  “You’ll be on my side when you pop up?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “I’m hoofin’ it cross country up top. I’ll be at your position in about ten minutes . . .” A sound he wasn’t expecting reached his ears. “Dammit!”

  “What?”

  “There’s a car coming.”

  “Out in the middle of the desert? There aren’t any roads out here. I checked on the satellite map.”

  “Well, it’s not on the road. I’ll get back to you.”

  Perry Hale knew exactly what happened. Once he’d abandoned his position, they simply drove through the smoke and across the turnaround. It had to be a Hummer.

  To his right was still another shallow wash, no more than knee deep. Thick, low growing creosote bushes offered shelter. He cut sharply to the right, away from the Hummer’s path and dropped behind a bleached mesquite log, depending on his camouflaged clothing to hide him.

  The big military vehicle passed thirty yards away without slowing, weaving around larger vegetation, and rolling over anything else in its way. It dipped into a shallow wash and then reemerged back up on the other side.

  Once they were out of sight, Perry Hale rose and followed their tracks in the sand.

  Chapter 60

  From her vantage point five feet below the canyon’s rim, Yolanda Rodriguez watched smoke boiling into the air, diffusing the morning sun and looking like someone had opened the gates of hell.

  She keyed her mike. “Can you talk yet?”

  “Yep. It’s a Hummer. Went past and kept heading north.”

  “The fire’s getting closer. Tons of smoke. You start it?”

  “They started it when they pushed a couple of burning cars off the road.”

  “Well, it’s coming this way fast.”

  “They better be running, if they’re still down here.”

  “They haven’t come through.” She checked the opposite side. The rim was close, but the wall was straight up and covered in prickly pear. “Maybe they’ve already found a way out. Where are you?”

  “Hard to tell. What are your coordinates?”

  She rattled the numbers off and he dug a GPS the size of a pack of cigarettes from a pocket on his MOLLEE pack. “I think you’re half a mile away.”

  “You can’t get down here. The walls are too steep.”

  “We’ll work it out when I get there. By the way, you have hostiles headed your way, too. All armed.”

  “Do you have any good news?”

  He was panting when he answered. “Hawke’s cooking us a Wagyu steak when all this is over.”

  Chapter 61

  With Villarreal leading the way along the canyon floor and Jacinta following with the little girl now in her arms, I brought up the rear. Our pace was far slower than I wanted, but there was nothing we could do about it.

  At that point I wasn’t looking to make time all the way to the border. We needed to find a way to the top. Confidence was high that there were several trails leading up, but the question was how far away.

  Canyons aren’t straight. Water follows the path of least resistance, and through thousands of years, it finds it way around the most difficult obstacles. Because of its winding nature, and all the vegetation around us offering way too much concealment, I was never confident that whoever was chasing us wasn’t going to pop up behind us at any moment.

  The sun was high overhead, flooding the canyon with light, when I finally saw what I was looking for. “Villarreal.”

  She paused and turned. I pointed upward toward the high-water mark. “There’s the way out.” We were both looking at that tangle when I saw the shape of a person holding a rifle. My own weapon came up and I was tight on the trigger when a voice stopped me cold.

  “Sonny!” Yolanda rose and waved. “Get up here fast.”

  I lowered my weapon at the same time she shouldered hers and sent a burst over our heads. The hard echoes filled the canyon as lead stitched the ground beside me and it wasn’t hers.

  Everyone scattered.

  Chapter 62

  Perry Hale heard the chatter of automatic gunfire and sprinted toward Chalk Canyon’s rim. The first reports were followed by a second weapon, then a third. They came from the exact coordinates Yolanda gave him earlier.

  The fire chasing down the canyon had grown in intensity. Burning through the vegetation along the canyon’s edges, it spread over the lip, consuming everything it touched. The column of smoke rose into the sky and bent over the canyon itself, pushed upward by licking flames that grew in intensity. Behind him, it jumped the dirt road and widened in its path toward the river.

  The blaze spread quickly across the desert floor. Creosote bushes virtually exploded in flame, and the sun-bleached deadwood and dry
vegetation burned as if soaked in gasoline.

  Heart in his throat, Perry Hale finally reached the sheer brink and dropped to one knee to peer over. A burst of automatic weapon fire down below made him flinch backward. Weapon shouldered, he leaned forward and scanned the situation, first finding Yolanda from her description of the natural sniper’s nest on his side of the canyon, fifty yards to his right. She fired a three-round burst and someone in the brush shrieked.

  To his left was Sonny on the canyon floor, wearing a bright yellow Hawaiian shirt covered by a tactical vest, and backing in her direction and returning fire directed toward men concealed by a screen of desert trees. The straw hat on his head didn’t fit the scenario at all.

  Two women, one carrying a child, were running as fast as they could away from the battle.

  Growling deep in his chest, Perry Hale snugged the stock of his AK to his shoulder and swept the canyon floor, looking for a target. A woman screamed and he prayed it wasn’t Yolanda. Movement in a gap in the leaves was exactly what he was looking for. Those same leaves shuddered from the muzzle blast of a rifle pointed toward the fleeing women and Sonny.

  Perry Hale sent three controlled rounds behind that rifle. It dropped and he searched for another target. A swarm of hot, angry insects rose in his direction, too far away to pose any threat. He saw where they came from and fired again, this time seeing his target. The rounds tracked the ground where a man had been only a second before. He was falling back from two streams of fire from Yolanda and Sonny.

  The echoes faded from the canyon, replaced by the crackle and roar of the oncoming wildfire.

  A Mexican soldier broke into the open, running for all he was worth away from the oncoming fire. Yolanda double-tapped him, and when he dropped, shot him again.

  Perry Hale knew why she’d fired the anchor shot. He’d killed one of the fleeing women.

  More gunfire chattered from cover and his return fire silenced them.

  Chapter 63

  Four men in Mexican military uniforms were still on the canyon floor, and I suspected others were lying where we couldn’t see them. I rose and rushed back to find Jacinta facedown in the sand. Two small holes in the back of her shirt told me that she wasn’t getting back up again.