Hanging Falls
Page 29
Ramona turned and sauntered down the side of the brown adobe house, tossing the last scraps of food as she went while Mattie followed. If any neighbors happened to be observing, they were two friends greeting each other and about to enjoy some baked goods with a refreshing drink. But Mattie’s gut fluttered with a swarm of butterflies.
They entered the side door that led directly into the kitchen. As soon as Mattie stepped inside the small space—tidy and furnished very much like Mama T’s with a wood-burning stove and a small refrigerator—Ramona shut the door behind her.
Ramona’s eyes widened with wonder. “Julia?”
“I’m Mattie.”
Her mother’s face filled with shock, and tears sprang from her eyes as she pulled Mattie into her embrace. “Oh, my baby girl.”
For the second time in only a few weeks, Mattie sobbed in the arms of someone she’d longed to see. The pain was exquisite, and her mind seethed with unanswered questions. She set those aside and focused solely on her mother: the touch of her skin, the scent of her hair, and the heat from her embrace in the small, warm room.
Time became meaningless as they clung together and cried for what seemed like seconds or maybe hours but was probably only minutes. When they pulled apart, Mattie felt wet from tears and sweat, and she wiped her cheeks and forehead with her hands.
Ramona stepped over to the counter, opened a drawer, and handed Mattie a clean towel. “Use this. I’ll get you a cold drink.” She grabbed a towel for herself and wiped the back of her neck as she reached into an upper cabinet for glasses.
Ramona spoke quietly in accented English, her voice low and melodic as she took ice trays from the top of the refrigerator and carried them to the sink. “I thought I’d never see you again. I thought I’d never see any of my children again.”
Fresh tears streamed down Mattie’s cheeks as she thought of Willie. She would have to be the bearer of bad news here, but she wanted some time before she broke her mother’s heart. Together they fixed glasses of ice and twisted the sealed caps on bottled water, and then Mattie followed Ramona into a tiny living room set up with a sofa, two chairs, and a small television. Mattie sat on the sofa while Ramona went over to turn on an oscillating fan before settling in beside her.
She took Mattie’s hand. “Tell me how you got here.”
Mattie told her about meeting Yolanda and Julia in Timber Creek and how Yolanda had told her where to find her. “Abuela said we’d all been apart too long, and she needed to know you were safe before she died. She said I could be trusted since I was a police officer.”
This prompted questions from Ramona about her mother’s health, and Mattie assured her that this death Yolanda anticipated was not imminent. Then Ramona asked what Mattie’s life was like in Timber Creek, followed by what her life had been like growing up. Mattie answered her mother’s questions as succinctly as possible while she struggled with impatience, wanting to move on to her own.
After all, how could she explain a lifetime of not knowing anything about her family, her feelings of abandonment over the years, and the horror of discovering her past the hard way?
Ramona used her towel to wipe her tears. “What about Julia and Willie?”
Mattie’s heart sank, and she hoped to buy time before having to talk about Willie. “Julia’s a housewife and mom of two boys. She wanted to come, but I stood a better chance of travelling unnoticed if I came by myself.” Although she left the words unsaid, she’d also feared this visit might be too dangerous to bring her sister. “I have a picture she sent to you,” she said, removing it from her pocket.
Ramona took the photo of Julia, her family, and Abuela and gazed at it as she swiped at her continuous flow of tears. “Oh, my mama looks good. You said she’s well?”
“She is.”
Ramona nodded, hanging her head and avoiding eye contact. “I feel so ashamed. I abandoned you kids and my mother all those years ago, and I’ve been too afraid to go back.”
This led Mattie to the question she most needed answered. “Why … why did you? Why did you leave all of us?”
When Ramona finally raised her eyes, they were awash with sorrow and terror from years past. “They were very bad men, Mattie,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I saw them kill my husband, and you know how we all suffered. I couldn’t protect you. Harold Cobb was one of many who would come after me. So I ran.”
Mattie’s stomach ached from the tension. “Harold Cobb is dead, and John Cobb is in a maximum-security prison in Colorado.”
Ramona shook her head, leaning forward as she squeezed Mattie’s hand as if for emphasis. “They were only two, sweetheart, and there are many more. It will never be safe for me. It might not be safe for you.”
Mattie had already discovered that, but she didn’t want to mention it to her mother. She returned her mother’s grip. “What happened? How did my father get wrapped up with this gang?”
Ramona hesitated, looking around the room as if suspicious she could be overheard.
Mattie believed her mother still lived in fear every day. “You can tell me. I need to know so I can fix this.”
Ramona shook her head, her face crumbling with pain. “You can never fix this, Mattie. It’s too big.”
“Tell me.”
“Your father, Douglas, worked in border patrol at night. I used to take him meals when I could, and you kids would ride in the car.”
“Is that what happened the night we were taken?”
She shook her head quickly. “No, not that night. But these guys, these smugglers, had seen us there, and they used us to get to your papa. They threatened to kill us if he didn’t cooperate. It went on for only a few months. Douglas warned me to stay away, and I did.”
Mattie’s gut, already clenched, tightened even more. “What happened that night?”
“Julia was staying with my mama. Someone called and told me to come get Douglas, that he was ill and couldn’t drive home. I thought it was a guy he worked with, so I loaded you and Willie into the car and went to get him. A man in a border patrol uniform met us and made me take you kids inside. There were six of them, and they were holding your papa and another guard at gunpoint.”
Mattie’s chest ached. She knew what was coming next.
“They shot him in front of me, in front of you and Willie.” Sobbing, Ramona stopped to catch her breath. “It was horrible. I still have nightmares.”
Mattie moved closer and held on to both her mother’s hands. “And they took us.”
Ramona tipped her head down and stared at her lap, her shoulders slumped. “To Colorado … in the back of a van. There were three others, two Mexican men and a boy. None of them spoke English. One of the men was the boy’s father.”
Mattie knew this part of the story but still needed to hear it from her mother. She waited in silence, the whir from the fan the only sound in the room.
“The Cobb brothers took over when we got to Colorado, and we went by horseback up into the mountains. They shot the others in the back of the head, even the child, and burned their bodies. But I begged for our lives.” Ramona’s voice had begun to quiver. “I told them I would do anything they said if they would let us live. There was nothing I could do to stop Harold from hurting you kids except try to draw his rage back onto me.”
The image of Ramona fighting Harold Cobb came to Mattie’s mind, this time slightly different. Ramona had started the fight—she’d come at Harold wielding a knife. He’d overpowered her and beaten her to within an inch of her life, stopping only after Mattie sneaked away to dial 911 and the deputies arrived. She shivered, her muscles so tightly bunched that they were quivering.
“I’m sorry I left you and Willie.” Ramona raised her eyes to meet Mattie’s. “I was injured. I was afraid. And I didn’t trust anyone.”
Mattie wondered if her own inability to trust was partially inherited or simply born out of their mutual experience. “Did you have any money? John Cobb said you had taken money from Harold.
”
Ramona’s eyes widened. “No, I never had money. I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
Mattie had suspected as much. Harold had probably hidden the money from John or taken it for himself before being sent to prison. “I believe you,” she told her mother, encouraging her to go on with her story.
“I hitched a ride to San Diego with a trucker, told my mama what had happened and that I was going to hide in Mexico. I only contacted her one other time, and that was to tell her where I was. We haven’t seen each other since the night I left Julia sleeping in her bed.”
Unable to speak, Mattie sat holding her mother’s hands and staring into her eyes.
Ramona leaned toward her. “Now, what about Willie?”
And that question brought the inevitable moment she’d been avoiding. Mattie shared what she could with her mother, giving her only the information she needed to know about her son’s death. Together they grieved, their hoarse sobs mingling with the quiet shushing noise of the fan.
* * *
Mattie stayed for two hours. She learned that her mother had married one of two brothers who owned the local car repair shop. She’d never told him her story and wanted Mattie to leave before he came home from work—which was fine with her, since she needed to get back across the border before nightfall.
When it was time for Mattie to go, Ramona gave her a long hug. “I love you, but please, don’t come back,” she murmured in Mattie’s ear. “It’s not safe for either of us.”
“I’ll keep you and where you live a secret, but I’m going to look into some things to see if you’re safe now.”
Shaking her head, Ramona clasped Mattie’s upper arms and held her at arm’s length. “No. You need to leave things as they are. It’s not safe for any of us. You know what they did to Willie.”
“But that man is in prison. He can’t hurt you.”
“You can’t be certain, Mattie. There are others, I tell you. And we don’t know where they are.”
Mattie tried to reassure her mother, gave her another hug, and left. She scanned the area as she took a roundabout way back to her car. She noticed no faces peering from windows, no one following her footsteps, and by the time she reached the car, she felt satisfied that she’d not brought any of her mother’s demons to her doorstep. Only then did she start her engine, drive around a few blocks to make certain she didn’t have a tail, and head out of town.
The day had been a huge drain on her energy, but she felt restless while she drove the narrow highway north toward the border. As she moved farther away from her mother and their emotional reunion, an itch of discomfort began to build inside her.
She didn’t doubt that her mother feared her captors, had back then and did even now. But did that justify abandonment of her children?
Her mother had left her family decades ago. Why had she never reached out to check on Abuela? Why had she done nothing to help Abuela find her lost children? Was fear a large enough factor to have kept her from doing the right thing?
Mattie tried to put herself in her mother’s shoes, and even then, the answer was no. No person and no thing could ever keep Mattie from protecting her children or her family. She knew that for certain.
She knew she struggled with perfectionism, and she tried not to judge her mother too harshly, but still … Her mother had expressed shame and regret, but how could her fear have immobilized her for decades?
Or had living without the entanglement of children been more convenient?
Mattie fought resentment as she drove, occupying her mind with other mother-child relationships. Hannah and Ruth, now reunited and trying to find a way to support themselves and the rest of their family so they could stay in Timber Creek. Angie and her mother, trying to repair the rift between them. The many parents and children who called law enforcement to help straighten out domestic disturbances.
Issues within families weren’t all that unique.
Family. Cole, his kids, Mrs. Gibbs, Mama T, Robo, and the other dogs were her family now. She could hardly wait to get back to them. She would spend tonight with her sister and grandmother and then fly home tomorrow.
And soon, Detective Hauck would come to Colorado to interrogate John Cobb about her father. She needed answers about her father’s death and the status of this alleged smuggling ring. Was it still in existence? Were her mother, Julia, and Abuela in danger? Mattie needed to know.
Robo came gently to her mind, and she relaxed back into the car seat, the smile on her lips making her feel better. Before leaving home, she’d asked Sheriff McCoy to request permission from the county commissioners for a mating between Robo and Sassy. If it was approved, there would be puppies sometime during the next few months. Robo’s offspring—little fuzzy balls of black-and-tan fur. She could imagine them now, and the image brought joy to her bruised heart.
Despite the pain, her life was good.
ALSO AVAILABLE BY MARGARET MIZUSHIMA
Tracking Game
Burning Ridge
Hunting Hour
Stalking Ground
Killing Trail
Author Biography
Margaret Mizushima has a background in speech pathology and practiced in an acute care hospital before establishing her own rehab agency. Currently, she balances writing with assisting her husband with their veterinary clinic and Angus cattle herd. Her fiction has won contest awards, and her short story “Hayhook” was published in the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers 2014 anthology, Crossing Colfax. She enjoys reading, yoga, and hiking, and lives with her husband on a small ranch in Colorado where they raised two daughters and a multitude of animals.
This is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real or actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Margaret Mizushima
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Crooked Lane Books, an imprint of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.
Crooked Lane Books and its logo are trademarks of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.
Library of Congress Catalog-in-Publication data available upon request.
ISBN (hardcover): 978-1-64385-445-8
ISBN (ebook): 978-1-64385-446-5
Cover design by Melanie Sun
Printed in the United States.
www.crookedlanebooks.com
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First Edition: September 2020
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