Hawke's Fury

by Reavis Z. Wortham

  Perry Hale grinned from under the cap pulled low over his eyes. “I have a set of keys, remember?”

  I stood and buckled the belt around my Wranglers, setting it just right on my hips. I must have looked a sight, wearing a cowboy hat, a neon flowered shirt, tactical military vest, jeans, and boots.

  Already feeling almost normal, I reached into the inside of the vest Judge gave me and took out my Ranger badge and pinned it to the vest. Suddenly I felt like a lawman again, instead of a felon on the run, and my spirits lifted.

  Watching me through lidded eyes, Villarreal’s face went hard. I guess she hadn’t believed that I was really a Texas Ranger, but now she knew better.

  “My people are going to kill you and those dogs with you.”

  “You can’t sweet talk me.”

  “I’m going to roast your tongue and eat it while I remember how it flapped in your mouth.”

  “You’re a charmer.”

  She clammed up, and I again wondered what she was trying to hatch in that evil little brain of hers.

  Chapter 74

  The shadows crawled across the canyon, finally giving us some relief. The girl was crying, and I figured it was hunger and partly dehydration. One or two of the adults still carried water in plastic water jugs, and one of the women finally stalked over to a man lying on the ground and snatched up the half-empty jug beside him.

  He came off the ground like a shot and was about to advance on the woman when Leon stood and spoke sharply. They squared off for a moment, but he pointed at the little girl drinking from the jug and the man bit off a reply. When the little girl was finished, the woman carried it back to him and put it on the ground at his feet.

  Still glaring, he picked up the jug, flipped off the cap, and tilted it up, drinking every last drop. Finished, he pitched it on the ground.

  I know the next thing that happened was stupid, but I couldn’t help myself. I was tired, thirsty, hungry as a horse, and irritated by everything around me. “Pick that up.”

  “Sonny.” Perry Hale’s voice was low.

  I knew he was trying to cool me down, but I wasn’t having any of it. “I said pick it up!” Knowing he likely couldn’t understand me, I pointed at the jug lying on the ground with everything else that had been dropped for months.

  It was ludicrous, but my mind was in a different place. “That baby was thirsty, and you’ve been hoarding water. I don’t care if it was yours, but I’m tired of seeing all this. Pick up the damn jug and at least put it over there on top of that big pile of trash.”

  Kelly’s voice came to mind, soft and sweet as only my wife can speak. Is this the battle you want to pick?

  You’d have done the same thing. That baby was thirsty, and she’s hungry, too. I bet he has food stashed away.

  But you don’t know his life story or theirs. Let it go.

  Her hand quietly slipped into mine, bringing me back into the real world. It wasn’t Kelly’s hand, though. It was Yolanda’s.

  Once she knew I was back, she let go and stepped forward to talk with the angry man. At one point she turned and pointed at the badge on my vest, then at her own chest. Half a second later, she produced her own badge that Major Parker had given her for emergencies and pinned it to her vest.

  As if they’d received an electric shock, the others stood, talking quietly among themselves. They milled for a moment before a couple of the other men stepped in and talked to the guy with the water.

  Yolanda came back and grinned. “Kelly’s right. You need an anger-management course.”

  Deflated, I glanced up overhead at the gathering darkness. “Maybe, but I’m done with this place. Villarreal, stand up.”

  She’d been sitting against the rock with her eyes closed. Gathering her feet under her, she stood like I told her. I grabbed her shoulder, turning her toward the river. “Walk.”

  * * *

  It was nearly full dark when we stepped out of the canyon and onto the carrizo cane-choked bank of the Rio Grande. As far as I could see on our side of the bank, there was nothing in both directions, except for a two-track caliche car path. The tall green cane rose high overhead, pushing through the swirling water that chuckled around the thick stalks.

  The greenery provided perfect cover for anyone moving on our side of the river. An opening forced through the cane provided access to the river that was still silver from the last of the day’s light. Perry Hale and Yolanda gathered beside me, and I heard the migrants several yards back.

  “I told them to wait for their contact.” Yolanda’s voice was husky. She swallowed. “We’ll go first, and someone should be along soon to get them.” She was looking through the opening toward the Texas side. “They’ve come a long way on lies and promises. I feel for them.”

  I looked over at Villarreal who was staring, studying the gap through the long green leaves. “So do I, but I need to get this woman across first. Then I can tell the agents over there that there’s a little girl on this side that needs help. They can contact some of the honest police over there who can come and take these people back to safety.”

  “What if they don’t?”

  My mind was reeling with guilt, compassion, and frustration. “Yolanda, I have one job, and that’s to stop the murders on our side. Maybe once I’ve turned her over to someone else, we can see about helping them. Okay?”

  She patted my arm. “If we can.”

  The sun was finally down when Perry Hale, who’d been watching not the river but the canyon behind us and the riverbank on our side, stiffened. “Vehicle approaching.”

  “There’s no road.” I squinted downriver, where he was looking.

  “I hear an engine.”

  “Maybe it’s coming from the Texas side.”

  “Uh, uh. There.”

  I swung the pack off my shoulder one last time and dug inside for the NVGs. Slipping them over my eyes, I looked to the east to see a large vehicle approaching on the dirt track. “That’s a Hummer. No headlights.”

  “It’s likely the one that chased me off the mountain.”

  I saw that he’d put on NVGs, too. Yolanda had done the same thing. They’d come prepared.

  The sound of an oar thumping the side of a boat came to us. I spun to see a man floating past in an old vee-hull. He flicked a flashlight twice, and kept floating downstream.

  The migrants rushed down to the water and waited.

  “This ain’t right.” Perry Hale stepped away from us. “Something’s up.”

  “You’re damned right. Those people have found us.” I waved the migrants back from the riverbank. “Yolanda. Tell these people to get back.”

  She translated, but was cut off when a barrage of gunshots came from the direction of the Humvee.

  I heard a splash and turned to find Villarreal gone, leaving nothing but a dark swirl in the current.

  “Goddamnit!”

  Yolanda spun and shouted at the man in the boat in Spanish. “I have one thousand dollars for you to come get three of us!”

  Chapter 75

  The Humvee driven by Geronimo intersected the Rio Grande just east of where Chalk Canyon emerged into that same river. Across the river, a highway paralleled its winding course. Headlights lit the Texas side as a farm truck drove on, oblivious to what was about to happen on the other bank.

  Geronimo had little to avoid other than rocks and deep rivulets winding down to the river. Sparse vegetation grew in the hardpack, but across the river, as if in an entirely different world, vegetation both voluntary and planted, greened up the landscape.

  They drove as far as they could, until a protruding point narrowed the bank too much for the vehicle to continue. As soon as he stopped, Incencio stepped out with an automatic weapon in his hand.

  “Finish this now!”

  With a determined set to his jaw, he rushed upriver. Esteban stepped out and waited for Geronimo to follow, but the sicario waited. “It is his kill. Let him have the first shots.”

  Frustrated beyo
nd measure, Esteban talked himself out of shooting Geronimo, who was partially protected by the Hummer. Even if he did kill him, that would put him in a direct shootout with Incencio, and though Esteban was a professional himself, he was too close to freedom. And besides, he didn’t think he could survive against the much more experienced killer.

  Incencio’s weapon opened up, flashing in the darkness, followed by a return barrage.

  At that moment, a splash far from the bank caught Esteban’s attention. The cane was much shorter there, and he jumped onto the Humvee’s hood to get a better angle. A flash of white rose from the depths and submerged again. It was someone in the water. He waited, and the figure rose once more, this time swimming on the surface with a familiar rhythm.

  Many of La Jefa’s men had watched in the past as she swam each evening, reveling in the water and the knowledge that her men were watching her sleek body slide through the water, clad only in the tiniest of bathing suits.

  Esteban knew the body of that swimmer. It was La Jefa, pulling strongly for the Texas side.

  His decision was made. He jumped to the ground. “Geronimo! La Jefa is in the river!”

  The sicario rounded the front of the vehicle to look where Esteban was pointing. He stepped up around Esteban to get a clear look. His attention was on the woman when he twisted from a searing hot pain that lanced through his kidneys at the thrust of a razor-sharp knife.

  Esteban grabbed Geronimo’s gun hand to prevent him from drawing the pistol at his side, and stabbed again, cutting deep and outward, just below the man’s vest. Geronimo’s knees gave as Esteban withdrew the blade and this time cut the man’s throat in a spray of dark blood.

  Geronimo dropped, rolling down the riverbank and into the water where he sank in an instant.

  Esteban quickly dropped all of his gear and kicked off his boots. He wasn’t a great swimmer, and the current looked strong, but he was determined to get across and intercept La Jefa. He could keep her beside him, acting as her guardian until the authorities found them, then he would turn her over and explain who he was.

  With nothing more than the knife in the belt of his pants, Esteban threw one last look over his shoulder and pushed and stumbled through the cane and into the swift river. The current immediately melted the gravel beneath his feet and sucked him under, and he began swimming, pushing hard for the Texas side.

  Chapter 76

  I happened to be facing downriver when a man carrying an automatic weapon suddenly appeared on the riverbank. I figured there were others behind him, but right at that moment, he was my primary target.

  “Stop! Alto!”

  Women screamed behind me, and the sound of running feet and splashing water told me the migrants were in panic mode. I hoped the women with the little girl would have the sense to simply drop to the ground until whatever was about to happen was over.

  The man shouldered his weapon and pulled the trigger at the same time I did. Strobes of flashing light lit our world as I fired, aiming for center mass. The guy stumbled backward, screaming something I couldn’t understand.

  Flashes of light from both sides of me came from Yolanda’s and Perry Hale’s weapons.

  The guy hit the ground, still shooting. I couldn’t figure out how he was still sucking air with all the lead he’d absorbed, but he wasn’t through. When his rifle went silent, he reached to his waist and came up with a handgun.

  It flashed several times and Yolanda fell backward, gasping in pain.

  My brain shifted gears and muscle memory kicked in. I drew the .45 from its holster and it came up smooth as silk, familiar in my hand. Perry Hale’s rifle went silent, and at the same time I cranked off my first shot, he joined in with his own pistol, a Beretta M9.

  Advancing on the fallen man, we continued firing until we were so close there was no chance of missing. Our last few rounds struck his neck and head. His arm fell and it was over. Perry Hale whirled and ran back to Yolanda. I kicked the man’s weapon away and knelt to look at him through the green lenses.

  He wore a tactical vest, and most of our rounds had impacted the plates. I’d never seen the guy before, and unlike most of the cartel members I’d encountered, he didn’t have one visible tattoo on his face, throat, or hands.

  That wasn’t right. I ripped the Velcro loose on the vest and yanked it to the sides, then tore his shirt open. There they were. His torso that you couldn’t see was covered in gang tats, including the year 1518 and the word Hidalgo. Under that, the name Incencio.

  I pitched his weapons into the river and hurried back to find Yolanda sitting up. Perry Hale was running his hand inside her tactical vest, but other than a grimace, she looked unhurt.

  I knelt beside them. “A little forward, ain’t it.”

  She pulled off her NVGs. “You could have kissed me first, buddy.”

  He grinned at us both. “No penetration. The bullet didn’t go through.”

  Yolanda took a deep breath, likely to confirm that she still could. “Well, that hurts.”

  Chapter 77

  Tish Villarreal reached the Texas side of the river and pulled herself onto the bank. The cane was thinner there and much shorter. She crawled on her hands and knees to the top and sat there, shivering. It took a few moments to get ahold of herself, and when she did, she realized a two-lane highway was only a few short yards away.

  She regretted the white blouse, now stained with muddy river water. There was no way to hide on the barren highway, so she practiced a quick alibi in case some good Samaritan saw her and slowed.

  I was out with my boyfriend and he wanted more than I was willing to give. I made him stop, and I got out of the car, but he chased me. I ran to the river, but fell in, and he drove off and left me.

  Delivered without any accent at all, it would pass muster with most people who only wanted to do good deeds, and didn’t expect to find themselves with a cartel leader asking for a ride on the side of the highway.

  Pulling her hair from her face, she felt underneath her left breast. The transmitter was still there, sending out its signal. She would wait right where she was, until her half-brother arrived to pick her up.

  “La Jefa!”

  Shocked by the familiar voice in the darkness, she whirled to see a shirtless figure coming close. “Esteban?” She recoiled, backing away. He’d tried to kill her earlier in the day, and now here he was with a knife in his belt.

  “Yes. It’s me. I saw you go into the water and jumped in to help. It’s a good thing I did. The Texas Ranger who had you killed both Geronimo and Incencio.”

  “Both of them?” She’d heard the machine-gun fire while she was in the water, glad that none of it was directed at her, though she fully expected the Ranger to keep his word and shoot her at the first opportunity.

  “Sí. They are both gone. It is just the two of us until I can get you somewhere safe.”

  “You tried to kill me. You shot at me when I was with the Ranger.” She backed away even farther. “He said you wanted to take over after I was dead.”

  Esteban’s eyes widened in innocence. “Señorita, jefa, I would do no such thing. He lied to you, as all Americans lie. I wasn’t shooting at you. The smoke was in my eyes and I was shooting at him. I am sorry if I scared you, but here I am.” He held his hands wide.

  The truth was that he could have killed her with the knife as soon as he emerged from the water. Esteban hadn’t been shooting at her. The Ranger had put worms in her head, trying to confuse her in order to get her across the river.

  Her jaw clamped. What she’d told him would come about. She would make the Ranger pay by killing his entire family, anyone who bore his last name. Her wet shoulders squared in the darkness. She would wipe out his friends, also. Her wrath would be demonic! People on both sides of the river would talk about the cleansing for generations to come, ensuring the respect that she deserved as the Devil Woman.

  She laughed and clapped her hands like a child as Esteban crossed his arms and watched with interes
t.

  Her original alibi out the window, she thought quickly. “We have to get off the road. If the police come by, they will know we swam the river. Without documentation, they’ll take us to a detention center.”

  “I’m not sure what we should do now.”

  “We look for headlights and hope they aren’t police. I have people coming to get me.”

  Esteban hesitated for a second and then nodded. “Bien. I will wait, but my job is to protect you, señorita.”

  “I know. You will be there when I need you. Now, go hide until a car slows.”

  She watched him slip back down the riverbank, thankful that one of her faithful men was there for her, but angry that he might ruin her escape.

  Chapter 78

  The man in the boat smelled like he’d never bathed in his whole life. He pulled up close to the shore, as far as the cane would allow, and shipped the oars he used to float downstream. Now the small 7.5-horse engine on the back was idling just enough to maintain his position in the strong current. The little motor was unnaturally quiet, and I realized he’d used some kind of upgraded muffler to silence the noise.

  He didn’t come all the way in, because several of the migrants were waving for him to come closer and I suspected he was afraid they’d all try to jump in at the same time.

  He shook his head and ordered them back in Spanish. With Yolanda between us, we pushed forward and she took over. The boatman almost twisted the throttle at the sight of our NVGs, but her soft voice held him steady.

  When she finished talking, he nodded and held out his hand. Jaw set, Perry Hale reached into a pocket on the leg of his pants and waded out thigh deep through the cane, setting his legs against the current. He pulled out a packet of bills that he counted into the man’s palm.

  “Bien. Get in.”

  I waded out and climbed in. Yolanda turned to the others, explaining that we had to get across to catch the Devil Woman. At her name, several of the migrants crossed themselves. Assisted by Perry Hale, she pulled herself over the side near the bow and stepped into the middle seat. Perry Hale followed and settled into the bow, adjusting his rifle so he could swing it easily into position.