by Billy Kring
In the end, Ledezma gave a small nod and left the room, and that was it. Ellis had the official go-ahead to build his tunnel. The soil around and under the river was a combination of loamy soil, sand and gravel, with a clay mixture, and it ran true all the way from where he would start to where he would end. One of the best things was, nothing under the soil like electrical lines, or sewage and water lines could block the tunnel. The locations sat outside both Presidio’s and Ojinaga’s infrastructure. It was desert and the dry, desiccated banks of what remained of a once large river that was now a remnant of what it had been, nothing else. The warehouses on both sides of the border would hold and hide their work.
The tunnel expert was a former mining engineer who worked silver mines in the Sierra Madres. He was old now, and they’d let him go, so the man was eager for money. They talked at length about dimensions, and Ellis told him what was needed. The engineer, whose name was Conrad Cortes, wrote it all down on an iPad. What Conrad didn’t know was that, when they finished with the tunnel, he would be the first addition in the bottom of the cinnabar mine on the hill.
Don’t leave people to talk, Chapo Guzman told him a decade ago. He’d adhered to it since that time. Chapo had not, and now was in the United States in a maximum-security prison. In all likelihood, he would never taste freedom again.
Ellis had a few things to finish in the tunnel, like the pumped air and lights, along with the last few feet of a small paved floor that would allow multi-ton loads of contraband to move from one side of the border to the other, with small trailers and tugs to push and pull them. He could move guns and women south, drugs and money north. There was room for anything else, too, either way, if they paid enough. His mind came back to the present when his partner touched his arm.
RL said, “You care what I drive?”
“Don’t take the dump truck.”
“Hah! Think I’ll take the Buick. It’s comfortable, and doesn’t draw much attention.”
Ellis said, “It’ll make you almost look respectable.”
“Almost.”
RL retrieved the Buick’s keys from the desk in the corner, and said, “See you soon.” He drove out of the warehouse, and Ellis closed and locked the door. He drove the River Road out of town, past the tall adobe walls of the Fort Leaton museum, and on towards Lajitas, Terlingua, and the Hart ranch. His thoughts drifted to Hunter Kincaid, and the Mexican boy who kept turning up everywhere, what was his name? Oh yeah, Adan something.
**
The first thing Hunter saw when she entered into the United States was Raymond, leaning on a front fender of his Border Patrol vehicle, nervously bouncing the toe of a boot on the caliche road by Presidio’s International Bridge. When he spotted her, the relief showed on his face. He followed her to the Presidio Border Patrol Station where she returned Harris’ truck and changed into uniform. She hurried out of the station, carrying the sack of the clothes she’d worn into Mexico.
Raymond slid behind the wheel and as she got in the passenger side, he said, “So, I’m hoping it was a dull, uneventful afternoon for you, enjoying the sights of Mexico.”
“Not exactly.” She told him all of it.
Raymond thinned his lips and shook his head. “You’ve got to stop taking chances like that.”
“Like you wouldn’t have tried to save that boy’s life in the mine? Give me a break.”
Raymond pulled down on his Zapata moustache with the thumb and index finger of one hand as a way to not talk and hold down his irritation about his young friend’s actions. “I would have taken somebody with me.” He looked hard at her, “You get the drift, what I’m saying here?”
They had a stare-off for ten seconds, then the tiniest of smiles started in the corners of Hunter’s mouth. She let it build and began moving her head side to side, like a child endearing herself to her parent. She said in a girl’s voice, “I got you something, yes I did.”
Raymond couldn’t hold it. “Well, hell. I guess you’re old enough to do what you want.” He paused a few seconds, “What did you get me?”
She reached into her pocket, took out the folsom point and handed it to him.
“Dang, Hunter, that’s a folsom.”
“Took it out of an ice age buffalo while it was still running.”
He turned it over in his hands, running his thumb up and down the long flutes on both sides that reached from the base almost to the point. He glanced up at her, “Where?”
“Near that mine I told you about, lying there at the edge of the road.”
“I don’t have one.”
“Well, you do now.”
Raymond wrapped the point in his handkerchief as delicately as if it were fragile china. He slipped the bundle in his front pocket and said, “You think if we took a couple of shovels…?”
“No. We’re not going into Mexico to raid their historical sites.”
“You did.”
“I picked up something on an old road. I wasn’t digging.”
“But it’s a folsom.”
“All you old patrollers are crazy about that stuff. Like an addiction or something.”
Raymond said, “Old patrol, huh? How many folsoms do you have at your house?”
“That’s different.”
“Hah. How many?”
“Six.”
“Six? Six?”
“Well, five. One of them doesn’t count because it has the tip broken.”
“It still counts. That still counts. I’ve seen it. It’s like one splinter of flint the size of a tiny arm off a snowflake. You can barely tell. So, hah! Old Patrol, you’re Old Patrol. You’re New Old Patrol.”
“You’re gonna chew me out after I gave you a gift?”
“What? No, no. I was instructing you on the history of the Patrol and folsom points.” He grinned, “I love the gift. Thank you.”
Raymond drove toward Marfa, and they talked a lot about other things. Food was a big topic, with Hunter asking when he was going to grill something so she could come over and eat.
“I’m taking Connie to eat in Alpine, so I can’t. It’s date night.”
“Good for you. I think I’ll drive up to Odessa and buy some things I need.”
“You’re gonna drive three hours to Odessa? You don’t buy local?”
“When they have it.”
“If you’ll pick me up a brisket from that place on forty-second that’s running a big sale, I’ll cook it up next week so you won’t starve. How’s that?”
“Larry’s Meat Market? You’ve got a deal.”
We’ll do it in honor of my folsom point.”
Hunter finished her paper work at the station, hurried to her home and changed clothes before driving to Alpine and taking the jag on Highway 67 to Monahans, and from there, on I-20 to Odessa. She went to several stores shopping for new blouses and skirts, even though she rarely wore them, with her style running more to jeans and shorts, shirts and tee-shirts. She still wanted to dress up nice occasionally. She found two blouses that she liked almost immediately, then it took a while to find the right skirts. Once Hunter finished with that, she went to the meat market, picked up a beautiful brisket, and took it to her truck.
As she loaded it in the back seat, RL drove by and noticed her, recognizing her from the border. He slowed and turned around, parking in another lot to observe. She wore faded jeans, a loose-fitting, dark blue tee shirt with a lightning bolt diagonally across the front, running shoes and a Texas Rangers baseball cap. He also noticed the movement of her shirt that showed the tiniest indication of a pistol under it.
He called Ellis and waited four rings before the man answered. “What’s up?”
RL said, “I’m sitting in a parking lot in Odessa, watching that female Agent, Kincaid, across the street.”
“She following you?”
“The opposite. I spotted her first, so now I’m watching to see what she’s up to, if she’s here because of me.”
“Don’t think too highly of yourself, she
could be shopping or something.”
That stung RL. “How about I just shoot her right now, make sure of things?”
“Keep an eye on her, and don’t be a drama queen. If it comes to killing her, we want to do it down here where we can hide her body, or feed it to the javelinas out in the back part of the pasture at the ranch.” Ellis thought of the mine on the hill, but didn’t mention it.
“Okay. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Do that.” Ellis wasn’t worried about Hunter Kincaid three hours away in Odessa as much as he was this damn kid, Adan, down here, who had seen him push his other little buddy into the mine shaft. That kid would have to be dealt with, and gotten rid of, for sure. If he had it to do over again, he would have pushed Adan in the shaft first. Looking back, he realized the boy was more of a scrambler, a fighter than the other one.
When RL hung up, he muttered, “Drama Queen, huh. I’ll do what I want, take care of trouble from the get-go, that’s what I’ll do.” Hunter Kincaid was still in the meat market’s parking lot, making a call as she stood outside her vehicle. His eyes lingered on her hard, athletic butt in those tight jeans.
What RL didn’t see was Hunter watching him in her pickup’s side mirror. She recognized him as the one who ran with Ellis, the one who looked like a bad guy. He was nice looking, but there was something about his appearance that said trouble. She saw him call on his phone, then put it away, his face looking hurt and angry for a moment. “Well,” she said to herself, “Let’s see if he’s following me for real.” Sliding behind the wheel, Hunter pulled out of the parking lot and drove easy, just to see if he followed. He did. She called Raymond.
Raymond answered, “You have the brisket?”
“I do, plus that guy hangs with Ellis.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s here in Odessa, following me.”
“Are you carrying? Wait, I’m talking to you, so that was a stupid question. I wonder what he wants.”
“I don’t know, but I’m gonna find out.”
“Don’t shoot him.”
Hunter said, “I don’t shoot people.”
Raymond didn’t answer.
Hunter sighed, “I get the point. I’ll be nice, I promise.”
“Good. Unless he tries some crap, then you shoot him, okay?”
Hunter laughed, “10-4.” She hung up and put her attention on the roads and the vehicle following her, and in an old habit, touched behind her left hip to place the pistol’s location in her memory.
RL drove behind her, three cars back, confident he wasn’t seen. He’d noticed Hunter laughing on the phone while sitting in her pickup, so he took it as a good sign. They drove at a slow pace, with RL twisting his hands on the steering wheel like he was revving the throttle on a motorcycle because of the woman’s turtle-like speed. “What the hell is she doin’?” He said, “Takin’ a nap while she drives?”
Hunter drove through town, catching every red light, which agitated RL even more, then down to the hospital, where she turned at the last instant into the multi-story paid parking area, snatched a ticket from the machine and raced up the ramp to the higher floors. Surprised, RL reacted, flooring the gas pedal and squealing his tires on the ramp as he hurried to catch the damn woman.
Hunter drove crazy fast but controlled, drifting some of the turns to pull even farther ahead, then at the top, hurtling down the exit ramp to the second floor, where she again turned so she was going up the ramp again. She was on RL’s rear bumper by the time he reached the fourth level. He didn’t notice until the next level, and jerked when he saw her in his rearview mirror. He sped up, but she stayed right with him. Hunter flashed her headlights at him on the uppermost level where they could look out over the city because they had no roof over them.
RL saw the lights, slumped his shoulders and slowed to a stop. He exited his Buick, as did Hunter from her pickup. She approached and said, “What are you doing?”
“I…thought I recognized you, so was following to try and make sure.”
“Really.”
“Sure, why would I lie?” He smiled and held out his hands, palms up.
“And your name is…?”
“RL. RL Milam.”
“What brought you to Odessa, RL Milam?”
“Just RL, and, that’s a private matter.”
Hunter didn’t want to start trouble, “How about this: Next time you want to check on me, pull up beside and ask. How’s that?”
“I can do that.” He touched his lip with a forefinger like an idea popped in his head. “While we’re talkin’, you want to go out sometime? Maybe Saturday?” She was so fine looking, he had to ask.
Hunter looked at him like she couldn’t believe it. “I appreciate being asked, I really do, but not until permafrost is six feet thick in Odessa and the Devil’s wearing a parka.”
RL said, “I’ll take that as a maybe.”
Hunter gave him a small smile. “I’ll see you on down the road, RL.” She got in her pickup and drove around him and out of the hospital parking building, travelling down city streets, back to I-20, and on to Monahans. She stopped and bought a Dr. Pepper and a package of salted peanuts, drinking the soft drink down a few inches, then put the peanuts in the bottle. She hopped in the pickup and turned off I-20 toward home, turning up the bottle occasionally to get both the sweet soda and the salty, chewy peanuts together in her mouth.
RL called Ellis and filled him in.
Chapter 6
Adan left Dario and his mother at her small house across the river from Lajitas. She told him, “Come back whenever you wish.”
“I will.” He shook Dario’s hand, then left the small house and, after searching the river bank for Border Patrol and not seeing anyone, crossed the river again and blended into a group of other young people at the golf course. He purchased a Big Red soda and a Snickers bar, then went to the rock near the putting practice green and sat in the shade, watching a man and two women practicing their game, stroking the dimpled white balls across the smooth grass toward perfectly cut round holes in the practice green.
He spotted Benton Sellers, the elderly man who tipped him so well last week, and Benton came to stand beside Adan, smiling. “Adan, you know much about Mexico, things to see over there? My friends were thinking of going over and having a look-see.”
“There are many things. What types of things would you wish to see?
“Things out of the norm. Not tourist things. Some of the unusual, isolated things. But, not dangerous.” He laughed.
“Adan named several places, and Benton nodded, “How about old churches?”
“There is one I know of, a good drive from here because you have to go to Ojinaga first. It is in a lonely place. A white church with two towers, and a wall of mountains in the distance behind it, the Sierra Del Carmen mountains.”
“Is the priest there?”’
“Oh no, it is abandoned, has been for years, as long as I’ve lived. It is near a place called La Linda, a ghost town now that the road across the border is closed.” He reached into his back pocket and removed the old, plastic covered photo of his mother standing in front of it. “This is what it looked like, but worse for wear now. Drug runners used it for a while, then the military, and then someone set a fire inside. But it still looks nice at sunrise. The light makes it appear white and clean. It is a long way, though.”
Benton looked at the photo, “You mom is beautiful.”
“Thank you.” He felt no need to tell the man she was dead.
“Who took the photo?”
“I did,” he lied. His father had taken it before Adan was born. Adan’s mother told him about it, about the trip to the church, and his father talking to the people at the fluorspar mine in La Linda. She always made it sound like a special place.
Benton looked at the photo a moment longer, “You want to take us there, me and a couple of friends?”
“I don’t know.”
“We can only play golf so long be
fore we get bored. I’ll pay you, and buy all the food.”
Adan thought about his plans to go to the Corazon Ranch to look for evidence of his father, “I can’t right now, I have some errands to do.”
“How about in a few days, when you’re free? I’ll pay you a hundred dollars.”
A hundred dollars! Adan nodded, “When I am free, I will take you and your friends. You will need vehicles with the four-wheel drive, and good tires because of the thorns and sharp rocks. We will need to take a shovel, in case we are stuck. The travel is about 12 or 13 hours each way. You will need enough gas, food and water for that long, and sleeping bags for overnight.”
“So, we’ll be camping out?”
“Yes, it is too far for one day.”
Okay, we’ll be ready. Till then, you can find me here on the golf course or in room 111 at the resort hotel.”
“I will do that. Thank you.” Benton waved and returned to his friends. Adan watched them a moment, then walked back to his hiding place in the draw. He drank water and chewed on jerky as he planned his trip, only this time without his friend, Dario. It would be a lonely one.
Gathering items, he put them in the small backpack he’d found last week in the trash, one with the Great Dane cartoon character, Scooby Doo on the front. The only blemish on the pack was a torn place on the flap. He put water, jerky, matches for emergencies, and some crackers and a small tin of sardines in the pack, Adan slid his arms through the straps and slung it on his back. He adjusted it with a shrug of his shoulders and a tug on his shirt to move a wrinkle from under one strap, then walked into the desert.
He took the same trail that Dario showed him, and several long hours later was at the location where the two ranch hands had caught them. Adan felt the healing scab on his cheek where the one man had struck him. “Not today,” he said to himself. Circling far around, staying in the canyon bottoms and not topping out on hills made for a longer trek, but Adan trudged on and never saw anyone else in the harsh landscape.