Читать книгу On Wings Of Deliverance - Elizabeth White - Страница 12

Chief Justice of the Tennessee Supreme Court, the Honorable J. Paul Grenville III, had pulled his Harley into one of the historic roadside parks along I–20 to Memphis. He sat on a picnic table with his cell phone pressed to his ear. On his way home from Nashville for the weekend, he’d stopped to check up on a certain international project.

“What do you mean, you missed her?” In his agitation, he dropped his helmet and it went bouncing against some Confederate soldier’s headstone. Probably one of Grenville’s ancestors. He was related to half the state of Tennessee.

The voice on the other end of the cell connection surged and dropped out. What good was the North American Free Trade Agreement when you couldn’t even get a good cell connection with employees in Mexico?

“—didn’t get close enough for a clear shot,” he finally heard. “They took off, headed across the Gulf.”

“Took off? You mean in a boat?”

“No! Some big blond guy had a Cessna freight plane parked on the beach. There was a kid there, too, but he drove off in the girl’s Jeep before I got close.”

“You checked out the plane, right? Where did it go?” Grenville picked up his helmet and paced along the concrete sidewalk edging the cemetery. Briggs had been in his employ for nearly twenty years, since the days when Grenville had been on the Tennessee Court of Appeals. Briggs was methodical, thorough and ruthless. In a word, invaluable.

“Of course I did. Turns out he’s an off-duty Border Patrol agent on a supply run for some missionary outfit out of Laredo. I figure that’s where they’re heading.”

“Make sure.” Grenville mounted the bike. “Get the flight plan and intercept them when they land. It would have been a lot easier to get her before she reached the States.”

“I know.” Briggs made a disgusted noise. “She really fooled me during the interview. I thought I had the wrong woman until I poked through her stuff while she was out of the room.”

“You better get something straight right now, Briggs. This girl is young, but she is not stupid.” In fact, that had been the thing that most attracted Grenville once upon a time. “I’m counting on you to keep her from scotching this appointment.”

“You know I will, sir.”

“And Briggs—”

“Yes, sir?”

“The pilot has to go, too.”

Grenville ended the call and sat there a moment, contemplating the budding greenery in the woods behind the cemetery. He had sacrificed too much to let some little ex-hooker ruin his chances at one of the most powerful posts in the judicial branch of government.

Gustavo snored like a B-52 bomber, and Owen woke up with a crick in his neck from trying to keep his ears covered while sleeping on a tile floor with nothing but his arm for a pillow. He and Eli had camped all their lives, so roughing it wasn’t a problem. Still, he’d found himself tossing and turning all night.

The look on Bernadette’s face when she’d come in, armed with ointment and Band-Aids, would probably give him nightmares for months. Demanding to see his thumb, she’d squirted half a tube of medicine on him and nearly cut off his circulation with a bandage. Then she’d disappeared behind the curtain, where she and Señora de Oca would sleep.

He couldn’t understand her sudden agitation. After the crash landing, she seemed to have settled down, almost enjoying the impromptu bed-and-breakfast scenario. Maybe she was worrying about whoever had shot at her in Agrexco. One way or another, he was gonna have to find out what that was all about.

He sat up, stretching, and looked at the backlit dial of his watch. Not quite 5:00 a.m. and Gustavo was already gone, apparently outside tending to his animals. Maybe there would be eggs for breakfast.

There wasn’t much light yet in the dingy little living room; Mariela had unplugged the Christmas bulbs before following Benny to bed, and the sun barely glowed around the edges of the thick polyester curtains hanging in the windows. Owen had a sudden overwhelming urge to get out of this place. He’d have been happier spending the night in the plane, but leaving Benny alone wasn’t an option. Though Mariela and Gustavo de Oca seemed like nice enough people, he felt better knowing Benny was just on the other side of that curtain.

Pulling on his boots, he wondered if she’d slept well. No looking, he reminded himself as he glanced at the curtain. He quietly let himself out the kitchen door.

He walked down the hill toward the barn, intending to inspect the plane before Benny got up and around. A thorough examination revealed that, besides the holes in the fuel tanks, which he could have patched, the right wing had a long crack near the fuselage. Without the tools or materials to fix it, he felt like a surgeon diagnosing an inoperable tumor.

Getting Benny safely home in a reasonable amount of time was going to be a challenge. He didn’t have much cash, and the border was a long way off. Laying a hand on the cool steel belly of the aircraft, he spent a few minutes praying for wisdom.

Feeling immeasurably stronger, he went searching for old Gustavo and found him inside the barn, feeding the goat. The little billy gave Owen a disdainful bleat, then went back to his hay.

“Good morning, Gustavo.” Owen leaned over the top of the stall. “Thanks for your hospitality.”

“It’s nothing.” Gustavo propped his hands atop his pitchfork. “We don’t see many Americans out here, so you must excuse my rudeness yesterday. I thought you might be drug traffickers running from the law.”

Owen smiled at the irony of that remark. “Not a chance. Do you have any idea where we might get hold of a car?”

“Now that,” Gustavo said, “is a large problem. As I told the señorita last night, all I have is my truck, and my closest neighbor is twenty kilometers away. Unless—” he scratched his whiskery chin “—unless you want to ride my mule up to Poza Rica. My cousin Jorge runs a used-car lot and I’m sure he’d give you a good deal.”

Owen thought of several objections to that plan, not least of which was Benny’s desire to stay away from cities. Still, their choices were limited. “Couldn’t you drive Benny and me to Poza Rica? We’d be glad to pay you—”

But Gustavo was shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t leave right now. Lajuana is due to drop her calf. She had trouble last time.”

Having grown up around horses, Owen understood the concept of protecting one’s livestock. Still, the prospect of riding a mule twenty miles struck him as a bit over the top. “But won’t you need your mule?”

“It is only mid-March.” Gustavo shrugged. “I won’t plow for another two weeks, at least. You could leave Sunflower with Jorge. I will drive up to get him later.”

“Okay, then, how about letting us borrow your truck? I’ll pay someone to drive it back to you. The plane’s good collateral, don’t you think?”

“I need my truck.” Gustavo picked up the pitchfork and went back to work, the subject obviously closed. “If you don’t want to take Sunflower, you can walk.”

Owen glanced over his shoulder at the busted-up plane, then at the swaybacked mule, contentedly munching oats in its stall a few feet away.

Oh, how the mighty are fallen.

Benny was scrambling eggs on Mariela’s ancient stove when Owen came in the back door, carrying a bucket of milk. He plunked it on the table and walked up behind her. “I was hoping somebody would have breakfast going. That smells good.”

She glanced over her shoulder. With golden-brown bristle covering his jaw and a sleepy droop at the corners of his eyes, he looked a little worse for wear. “Where have you been?”

“Negotiating a deal with Gustavo.” He reached over her shoulder and snitched a strip of bacon.

“What kind of deal?”

He leaned on the counter and licked grease off his fingers. “Let’s just say I didn’t get the better end of it. More specifically, my end may wind up whooped.”

Benny had to giggle. “That sounds ominous.”

“I’ll say. Old Gustavo wouldn’t part with his truck, so it looks like Sunflower and I will be taking a little field trip.”

“Sunflower? Who’s that?”

“Not who—it. Sunflower’s a mule, my transportation to Poza Rica. I’ll ride up there, buy a car from Gustavo’s cousin Jorge and come back to get you.”

Benny stared at him. He looked perfectly serious. “You’re not leaving me here.”

He cocked his head. “Benny, I shouldn’t be gone more than a day—two at the most. Mariela will take good care of—”

“No, I’ll go with you. That will save time.”

Owen’s blue-green eyes lost their sleepy look. “What are you afraid of? You know we lost the guy in the Land Rover. There’s no way he could catch up to us.”

“They’ll know we never made it to Laredo. Anybody can look up a flight plan.” Shivering, Benny turned off the stove and shoved the pan full of eggs off the burner.

“I didn’t have time to file a flight plan.” Owen took her by the shoulders when she would have turned away. “Bernadette, who’s after you? Is it more than just this one man?”

She stood stiff under his hands and looked at the strong brown column of his throat. “I’m not sure.”

“This is insane.” Frustration laced his voice. “How can I protect you—and myself, for that matter—if I don’t know what we’re running from?”

He was right. It wasn’t fair to keep Owen in the dark, but if she told him about Paul Grenville, Grenville would do his best to kill Owen, too. On the other hand, she refused to lie.

She made herself relax. “Okay, you’re right. It’s silly to worry like this. Go ahead and take the mule to Poza Rica.”

Several seconds ticked by. Benny felt Owen’s big, gentle hands tighten, the thumbs on her collarbones and palms cupping her shoulders. When she looked up at him his expression speared her to the heart.

“You’ll be gone when I get back, won’t you?” His lips pressed together as he let her go. “I can’t believe you have so little regard for me.”

Benny caught her balance against the table. “Owen, you don’t understand who these people are. I care for you too much to let you—”

“You care for me?” Owen uttered a harsh laugh, the kind she’d never imagined him capable of. “Then trust me with the truth.”

She put her hands to her face and closed her eyes. “Okay, listen. Here’s all I can tell you now. When I was very young, I had some bad experiences and they’ve come back to haunt me. I have to get to Memphis to see an old friend, find out what she knows.”

After another moment’s silence, Owen sighed. “Why not call her?”

“We’ve just been in touch by e-mail because I’m afraid my calls can be traced. I have to see her in person.”

“Memphis,” Owen muttered. “I thought we were going to Laredo.”

Benny lowered her hands. “Will you help me get back to the States? Without asking questions?”

He shook his head. “You are a crazy woman, you know that?”

“I know. Please, Owen?”

“Like I could ever say no to you.” It wasn’t a question.

After breakfast, Owen saddled Sunflower with Gustavo’s old-fashioned tack, then mounted the mule with the confidence of long practice. Getting Benny situated was a bit trickier.

At least he’d talked her into trading in her full, flowery skirt for his extra pair of jeans.

“Come on, Ben,” he’d teased, “you’ll have saddle sores on your saddle sores if you try to ride in a skirt.”

So she’d rolled up the legs three or four times and tied them at the waist with a leather strap Gustavo had lying around the barn. She actually looked pretty cute, in a countrified kind of way.

“Okay, now stand over on the left side of the mule—watch out! He’ll kick if you get too close to his rear.” Owen was sweating already; he could just imagine what the heat would be like this afternoon. He’d give anything for his straw cowboy hat or even his Border Patrol headgear.

Benny looked up at him, hands on hips. “How’m I going to get up there?”

He extended his left hand. “Okay, put your left foot—no, your other left foot,” he said with a grin “—in the stirrup. That’s it. Now grab my wrist with both hands and I’ll pull you up. Hang on. Here you go!”

She swung up easily, fitting neatly behind the deep, old-fashioned cantle of the saddle.

“I did it!”

“Good girl. Now give my stirrup back and hold on.” When she clutched the sides of his shirt, he looked over his shoulder. “You’re gonna have to get a little more aggressive than that.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Whatever you say,” he said with a little smile and a shrug. Waving at Gustavo and Mariela, who stood at the kitchen door watching the show, he kicked Sunflower lightly in the ribs. “Yippee-ki-yo!”

As Owen had anticipated, the mule’s gait would have registered about 5.0 on the Richter scale. Benny was forced to hang on for dear life.

The mule also expressed, at regular intervals, noisy objection to his double load, which kept their conversation to a minimum. Since Owen had nothing to do but keep Sunflower from turning around to head back to the barn, he passed the time mulling over this morning’s conversation with Benny.

Bad experiences when she was very young. What did that mean? Most people he knew had traumatic experiences of one kind or another. He could never understand people who let tragedy dictate their lives. Owen figured you could make your own sunshine.

Not that Benny seemed to dwell on negative things as a rule. He’d always observed her to be a can-do person. She’d tackled issues with a Mexican orphanage that would have made most women run screaming back to the good old U.S. of A.

Now here she was, mounted behind him like Calamity Jane, arms wrapped around his waist and heels bouncing in rhythm with Sunflower’s bone-jarring trot. Wondering what she was thinking, he looked down at her slim hands, clasped under his rib cage. Her skin was the color of coffee with cream, her nails short and unpolished but beautifully groomed. She had a little silver ring with a turquoise stone on her right pinkie, and her watch—a simple bangle—was silver as well.

He took an experimental breath, filling his lungs to make Benny’s arms tighten around him. Sunflower seemed to have settled down. “You okay back there?”

“J-just peachy. How much longer ’til we get there?”

“About five more hours.”

“Five hours?” Owen felt a gusty sigh against his back. “I thought I was in pretty good shape, but I’m beginning to feel muscles I didn’t know I had.”

“Wait ’til you try to get to sleep tonight.”

“Oh, thanks. You’re such an encouragement. I guess this is no big deal for you, huh?”

“Well, old Sunflower’s not exactly in the same league as my cutting horse.”

“You ride the rodeo circuit?”

“Yup. Three-time amateur calf-roping regional champ. Got the buckles to prove it.”

Bernadette chuckled. “I’d like to see you ride sometime.”

Owen felt his chest swell a bit. “You could come this fall, after you get home.”

There was a short silence. “I’m not sure where home is.”

“I’m guessing Mexico doesn’t cut it.”

“Not yet.”

“Is Memphis your stomping ground?”

“No.” He thought she wasn’t going to elaborate, but then she said, “I grew up in Collierville. It’s a little bit east of Memphis.”

“Really? Tell me about your family. You got brothers and sisters?”

“No, I was in foster care.”

“Oh.” Kids in foster care generally came from messed-up families that they’d just as soon you didn’t mention.

Bad experiences.

He briefly laid his hand on top of hers and felt her fingers flutter against his palm. “I’m sorry, Benny.”

“One of my foster moms gave me a Bible. She was a nice lady.”

Owen didn’t find it nearly as easy to talk about spiritual things as his brother did, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get Benny to talk. “Is she the one who taught you about the Lord?”

“She tried. Her name was Mrs. Coker. How about you? How did you come to know Christ?”

“The usual. Vacation Bible school. Mom had us in church every time the doors were open.”

“You’re very blessed, Owen.”

“I know.” He shifted in the saddle. “But then my dad blew it all at the end. I don’t understand how he could throw our family away for money. I always looked up to him as a kid. He was my hero.”

Three years ago Owen’s father, a Border Patrol agent, had been involved in a smuggling scheme that had resulted in the murder of two other agents. A year later he’d been killed while trying to cover his tracks. Owen’s mother was just now getting over the tragedy.

Benny was quiet for a moment. Then to Owen’s astonishment she laced her fingers through his. “Lots of times people self-destruct when they’re separated from God, Owen. Make sure you stay close to Him.”

Owen could have sworn she laid her cheek against his back for a fleeting second. He decided it must have been his imagination.

Still, he was strangely comforted, even when Benny released his hand and began to sing, off-key, “Arroz con leche.”

Rice pudding, huh? He goosed Sunflower with his heels. Poza Rica was a long way off.

“Wait a minute, Briggs.” Grenville turned off the speakerphone and shut the door of his home office. He sank back into the antique leather chair and swiveled to face the picture window looking out onto his front lawn. “What did you find out?”

“They didn’t make it to Laredo.”

“Then where did they go?”

“Seems they made an emergency landing somewhere north of Veracruz. Some farmers in the area reported it. I must have nicked the fuel tanks.”

Grenville watched two hummingbirds squabbling over the red glass feeder hanging from the eaves. He found their antics soothing. “Where are you now?”

“Laredo, their intended destination.”

“Then you’ll just have to backtrack. Head for the area where the plane turned up.”

Briggs sighed. “I’m on it.”

“Briggs…” Grenville paused, picking up the morning newspaper covering his desk blotter. The front page of the editorial section displayed an old file photo of himself, sharing a basketball trophy with his college roommate and cocaptain—now the President of the United States.

“Yeah, boss?”

Grenville tossed the paper into the trash can. “Find them.”