On Wings of Deliverance

by Elizabeth White

  “Okay, lady, let’s have this out once and for all. You claim to be so good at interpreting men. Did you not see the way that federal was looking at you?” He leaned in, practically nose to nose. “You. Are. Stuck. With. Me. Period.”

  She stared up at him, mouth pursed to protest. Then something shifted in her expression and she looked away. “I guess I shouldn’t expect you to say anything else.” She didn’t exactly sound grateful.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Never mind.” Leaning back a little, she gave him a gentle poke in the side. “Turn around and let’s get going before Señor Federal decides to come after us. We’re going to have to disguise you and find a change of clothes.”

  “Disguise me?” Owen nudged Sunflower in the ribs with his heels. “How?”

  “You’ll see. Just find a general store.”

  Owen cast a look over his shoulder and found Benny’s eyes twinkling. “I have a feeling I’m not going to like whatever you’re cooking up.”

  “You want to stay with me, you’re going to have to do this my way.”

  Unable to get her to come clean, Owen had to content himself with the full-time task of keeping Sunflower’s attention off the wild onions growing along the side of the road.

  He could not wait to trade in this contrary, spavined animal for a vehicle with wheels. Cousin Jorge had better have a decent selection.

  “I look like an Elvis impersonator!”

  Benny surveyed Owen critically in the wavy, speckled mirror. She thought she’d done a pretty good job, considering she’d never been to cosmetology school and hadn’t dyed her own hair since she was fourteen. Back then she’d gone in for magenta and green streaks or a full-platinum bleach. She wrinkled her nose. Thank goodness those days were over.

  On the outskirts of Poza Rica, they’d stopped at the first general-store-cum-tourist-trap they came to. Leaving Owen to tend to the mule, Benny had gone inside to purchase a beach towel, a bottle of hair dye, a hat and a pair of cheap sunglasses.

  She’d had to get creative to find a place to effect Owen’s disguise. The restroom in the store was out of the question. Slipping a man of Owen’s height past the clerk would have been impossible, and besides, anybody could walk in on them. So they’d headed toward town until they saw an outhouse in an empty schoolyard. It was relatively clean and contained a sink and mirror—the major requirements for Benny’s impromptu beauty salon. Propping the door open, she’d draped the gaudy towel around Owen’s broad shoulders and got to work.

  Now his blond hair and eyebrows were jet black. By contrast, his horrified blue-green eyes looked even more electric. She had to admit, he bore a strong resemblance to the King, whose black-velvet portrait hung over the couch in Roxanne Gonzales’s living room. Every day during her sophomore and junior years of high school, Benny had giggled at that portrait as she walked into the kitchen for breakfast.

  She whipped the towel off his shoulders. “Can you do ‘That’s All Right, Mama’?”

  Giving her a pained look, he slipped on a wrinkled Hawaiian shirt he’d had stuffed in his backpack and buttoned it up. “You’re making fun of me.”

  “Would I do that?” She crammed his discarded T-shirt and the towel into the backpack. Fooling around with Owen’s hair had been an intimacy that left her flustered.

  “What are you gonna do with your hair?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You ought to cut it.”

  “Oh, no you don’t!” She grabbed the braid lying across her shoulder. “If I cut this off I’ll look like a Brillo pad.” Vehemently she plopped on her new straw sun hat. “The hit man saw me wearing a skirt, with my hair down. See? In these jeans, with my head covered, I’ll look like a boy.”

  There was a short silence as Owen studied her. “I don’t think so.” The look in his eyes seemed to suck every bit of oxygen out of the room.

  Or maybe she was just breathless because it smelled so bad in here. “You s-said you wouldn’t—”

  Owen sighed. “I know, but…”

  There was nothing threatening in his stance, and his gaze was tender. Still, she closed her eyes. Was she afraid of him or herself? She couldn’t help thinking of that picture of her in his notebook.

  “Bernadette, look at me.”

  She was trying to summon the courage to open her eyes when someone banged on the door. With extreme vigor. Apparently it had swung shut while she was occupied with Owen’s hair.

  “What’s going on in there?” demanded a female voice in scandalized Spanish. “Get out here right now or I’ll call the police!”

  FIVE

  Owen stared down into Benny’s wide brown eyes. He’d been this close to kissing her. What kind of jerk kissed a woman for the first time in an outhouse?

  The pounding on the door got louder. “Open up! What’s going on in there?”

  He shook his head to regain his composure. “I’ll handle it.” Yanking open the door, he found a middle-aged woman who, from every indication, was an out-of-work schoolteacher. “¡Hola, señora!” he said in the worst Texas accent he could muster. “Gracias por letting us usar el baño. Yo estoy embarasado—” He stopped when the woman’s eyes widened and Benny gasped. “What? What did I say?”

  “You know you just told her you were pregnant, you dork!” She looked as if she didn’t know whether to laugh or faint.

  “Oops.” Pleased that his diversion had worked, he turned back to the woman still blocking the doorway. Her florid face was convulsing in laughter. “Lo siento, señora. Yo no embarasado. Yo—Yo—”

  “Yo-yo about covers it.” Benny ducked under his arm to smile up at the señora. “We are sorry if we weren’t supposed to be here,” she said in her flawless Spanish. She had an ear for colloquialisms and she’d already picked up the penchant for extra x’s and z’s characteristic of the dialect in this part of Mexico. “We’re having a very bad hair day.”

  Owen clutched his dyed locks. That was the understatement of the year.

  “We were just leaving,” Benny continued. “Do you know where we can find the car lot of Jorge de Oca?”

  The woman wiped her streaming eyes. “The other side of town on Highway 130 near the Poza Rica Inn. Jorge has fine cars, but I hope you have plenty of money. He does not sell cheap.” She moved aside, glancing at Owen with mild disapproval. “You should let your wife do the talking if you expect to make a bargain.”

  “I’m not his—”

  Owen bent down to lay a quick kiss on Benny’s mouth. “Sí, señora,” he said with a wink at the schoolteacher. “Hasta luego.” He hustled Benny toward the gate, where they’d left Sunflower. “Ha. That went pretty well.” He untied the mule and mounted, then reached a hand down for Benny.

  “Depends on your definition of well.” She grabbed his wrist and let him boost her up. “If you wanted to make sure she remembers us, I’d say you accomplished your mission.” She sighed as Owen nudged the mule’s ribs. Sunflower brayed and reluctantly abandoned the weeds along the fence. “Doesn’t Border Patrol ever do undercover work?”

  “Benny, I’m a pilot. I generally wear a uniform.” He patted her hand, lightly splayed across his middle. “This is a big city. The chances of anybody finding us here are next to nil.”

  “It’s that little possibility that worries me.”

  Silence fell as Sunflower plodded along the street. It had been recently paved and the smell of sticky tar rose from the sunbaked road. Owen longed for a cold shower. Well, truthfully, he needed a cold shower for a lot of reasons. He and Benny were going to be together for a while, whether she liked it or not.

  The problem would disappear if they were to get married. A thought that proved the sun had roasted his brain, too. He might be halfway in love with Benny, but he wasn’t ready to marry a woman who had people shooting at her.

  Yesterday. Had it been less than thirty-six hours ago that they’d taken off from the beach with bullets flying after them?

  Owen pulled the m
ule to a halt in the shadow of a little adobe church whose steep roof was topped by a small bell tower. The bells began to chime for afternoon mass. “Bernadette, we’ve got to talk about this. Who’s after you?”

  She sat silent for a moment. “There are several possibilities.”

  The mule sidled. Owen settled him, tamping down irritation. “I can’t help you if you won’t give me a clue who they are.”

  He felt a gusty sigh against his back. “I know. I just…Owen, I’m not putting my life in somebody else’s hands again—” She paused. “Nobody’s but the Lord’s.”

  “Yeah, that sounds really noble and spiritual, except for the fact that it’s downright unbiblical.” He felt her stiffen. Right about now his big brother would have told him to keep his mouth shut and wait for a better time to talk. But Owen had never been a big fan of waiting. Or keeping his mouth shut, for that matter. “What about the whole ‘two are better than one’ thing? And ‘pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up’?” He prepared to defend himself. After all, who was he to correct somebody with a seminary Ph.D.?

  “Okay, I give. You’re right.”

  “I’m—what?” He looked over his shoulder and found her eyes closed, brows pulled together.

  “I had no idea you knew so much Scripture. But you’re right. It’s not fair to expect you to hang with me and not tell you what’s going on.”

  “So—” he struggled to regain his footing “—so you’re going to fill me in?”

  “No. We’re splitting up as soon as we get to the car lot.”

  “Benny, we are not going through that rigmarole again. If you try to leave me, I’ll find you. And you should know, I’ve got a wall full of tracking awards. Besides, you have no money and no ID. How do you think you’d get to Texas by yourself?”

  “I can walk and I can hitchhike.”

  “You can hitchhike.” He felt like howling.

  “I don’t want to, but I can. Owen, please.” Her voice wobbled a little, the first crack in her pigheaded confidence he’d heard. “Please don’t push me. There are things I can’t say without putting other people in danger. I—I really feel safer when you’re with me but not if you’re going to keep on at me.”

  With a frustrated grunt, he kicked the mule into motion again and they continued to plod down the road. That little waver in her voice got to him, whether he liked it or not.

  His thoughts rotated like a propeller. What could Benny have done to make someone want to kill her? What was so bad, so scary that she refused to let him get involved?

  As they rounded a bend in the road, a huge white sign painted with red letters appeared: Carros de Segunda Mano de Jorge. Jorge’s Secondhand Cars.

  They had other things to think about now, but he wasn’t giving up on digging the information out of her. Nope, he didn’t like to wait, but he could do it when he had to.

  “I still think we should take a bus.” Benny tugged on Sunflower’s reins. Multicolored plastic flags flapped overhead as she peered through a chain-link fence at rows and rows of cars. Just inside the gate squatted the small prefab office building.

  She and Owen had walked the last couple of blocks, leading the mule. Riding double through town, they had attracted a good bit of attention. Even with his hair dyed black and the sunglasses covering those brilliant eyes, Owen’s height and military bearing made him stand out in a culture of small, wiry people who generally took life casually.

  “I’m not riding public transportation unless we have to.”

  Benny looked up to find Owen’s mouth set in a stubborn line. He and Sunflower had a lot in common.

  “Why spend our little bit of money on a car? How are we going to buy gas? Come on, what’s the matter? Has the daring ace pilot got a bus phobia?”

  “Not exactly.” He folded his arms. “Let’s just say I’m not in the mood to share a ride with a flock of chickens.”

  Sunflower, patently bored with the discussion, wheezed and lipped the daisies on Benny’s hat. Laughing, she pushed his whiskery muzzle away. “Dinner at eight, big guy.”

  “Come on.” He opened the gate and held it for Benny to lead the mule through. “Let’s just talk to Cousin Jorge and see what kind of deal he’ll offer.”

  Arguing with Owen was about as productive as blowing bubbles in a tornado. She followed him to the office. “All right, I’ll let you do the talking. But no more embarasado stuff.”

  “You’re such a killjoy.” He grinned at her and knocked on the office door.

  “¡Hola, amigos!” called a friendly male voice. “Estaré pronto.” A broad little man in neat, dark slacks and a white dress shirt appeared in the open doorway. With a beaming smile and three chins, he looked both prosperous and cordial. “¡Americanos!” He offered Owen a hand to shake. “Me llama Jorge de Oca. ¿En qué puedo ayúdarles hoy?” What can I do for you today?

  “We bring greetings from your cousin Gustavo,” Owen said in Spanish. “He sent us to you for a reliable vehicle.”

  “Gustavo sent you?” Eyes popping, Jorge stood on tiptoe to peer over Owen’s shoulder. “That’s Sunflower! He never lets that mule out of his sight.”

  “We’ve been treating Sunflower like one of our own children.” Owen patted the mule’s neck. “Gustavo said you’d take care of him until he can come get him in a few days.”

  Jorge’s smile dimmed. “I have no place to keep a mule.”

  “But Gustavo said—”

  “Can I help it if my cousin won’t move into the twenty-first century? He can’t understand that the world is no longer one big goat farm.”

  “Listen, we’ll pay you to feed the mule. Just tie him to the fence behind your building. Gustavo will come get him in a couple of days. We have to have a car.”

  The car dealer heaved a grand sigh, then stuck his head inside the office. “Carlota, I will be right back. I have customers.” He waddled past Owen toward the mule. “I am interested in what brings two rich Americans to a used-car lot on a mule.”

  “Not all Americans are rich.” Benny pulled Sunflower back. “We’re missionaries headed back to the United States.”

  “I see.” Jorge’s black eyes gleamed. “Then how did you come upon my cousin’s animal? Perhaps you’re lying. Maybe you robbed poor Gustavo. I think I should call the police.”

  Benny gasped. “Please, no, we’re—”

  “I thought you were going to let me do the talking.” Owen stepped between Jorge and Benny. “Come on, man, give us a break.”

  “I will give you a break.” Jorge burst out laughing. “I should be on TV! I had you going, didn’t I! Ah, you should see your faces! Tell me what you’re looking for.” Jorge tied the mule with a neat knot to the fence. “Car? Truck? SUV?”

  “Truck,” said Owen as Benny simultaneously said, “Car.”

  They looked at one another.

  “Car,” said Owen reluctantly and Benny smiled. He was such a guy.

  “All right. Two-door or sedan?” Jorge led the way toward the first row of cars. Benny was pleasantly surprised to see that most of them appeared in fine condition.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Owen said. “Just needs to be reliable and…uh…cheap.”

  Jorge halted. “Cheap? How cheap?”

  “Well, I have three hundred American dollars,” said Owen.

  Jorge’s genial expression evaporated into suspicion. “I do not have anything on my lot for three hundred dollars. Gustavo knows this. Are you sure he sent you?”

  “Of course he sent us. Just ask Sunflower.” Owen pulled out his wallet. “Look, can’t we work out some kind of financing? Maybe use a credit card?”

  “I am sorry, but I run a cash-only enterprise.” Jorge stuck his hands into the pockets of his trousers and rocked on his heels like a Weeble.

  Benny unobtrusively tugged on Owen’s shirtsleeve. “Forget it,” she said in English. “We can just take the bus.”

  “I’m not taking the bus!” Looking harassed, he turned back to the car dealer
. “Jorge, let’s talk.” He threw an arm around the shorter man’s shoulders. They walked off together, leaving Benny muttering her frustration to the mule.

  “Men!” She jerked at the brim of her hat, which, along with a pair of red sunglasses, hid the top part of her face and provided shade against the relentless sun. “He doesn’t get how much danger we’re in.”

  But maybe Owen refused to take the situation seriously because she’d kept him in the dark. Was she being prudent or just selfish and paranoid? If Grenville found out Owen had been with her for the past two days, he’d assume she’d told him everything anyway. Owen’s life—and maybe his career—were probably already compromised.

  Oh, Lord, she prayed silently out of habit, please give me more wisdom. Help me know how much to trust Owen, and please help him get hold of a car for us. Not just any old car—we need the right car. Preferably one that’s full of gas.

  She opened her eyes and smiled to find the mule munching her daisies again. “And thank You for Sunflower,” she said aloud, patting the animal’s bony shoulder.

  A few minutes later the men returned. Jorge laughed as Owen whacked him on the back.

  Owen’s white teeth were gleaming in his sun-bronzed face. “We’ve got a classic ride. You’re gonna love it.”

  “More classic than Sunflower?” Benny had a bad feeling about this.

  “Just wait ’til you see. Come on.” Owen reached out a hand and Benny was so abstracted she took it without protest, letting him tug her toward the rear of the lot. He grinned over his shoulder. “I know you’re attached to that mule, but you’ve got to leave him with Cousin Jorge.”

  “Oh. Okay.” She tossed the reins to the car dealer, who smiled in what Benny considered entirely too enthusiastic a manner. “Vaya con Dios, Sunflower. Gracias, Jorge.”

  Jorge chuckled and waved before turning back to his office. The last Benny saw of him as she and Owen turned down a second lane of cars was Jorge swatting the mule’s hindquarters with his hat.

  “Will Sunflower be okay here?” Owen seemed to be in an awful hurry. “Maybe we should call Gustavo to let him know we got here safely.”