by Lynne Hinton
There was another awkward pause.
“Malene was concerned because Frieda called. She said Alexandria was waiting for you.” Roger sat up a bit in his seat.
Trina’s eyes darted from Roger to Conroe and then over to George. Everybody could sense her anxiety. It was written all over her face.
“Alexandria?” Conroe spoke up. “That the little girl you babysit?”
Trina didn’t answer, and George and Roger both seemed confused.
“Trina told me she watches a little girl in the evenings when she gets off work at the garage.” He seemed to be studying the men. “I told her that she sure seemed to have a lot of baby stuff around just to be babysitting.”
He waited. When there was no response, he kept talking. “I guess I’m surprised that Trina chose to babysit is all. She always told me she didn’t like children.” He turned to the young woman. “You don’t want kids, isn’t that right?” He smiled.
Trina glanced away.
“Mr. Jasper, do you have a family?” Roger asked, eyeing the stranger, trying to figure out exactly who he was and what he was doing in Pie Town.
The man nodded. “I have two sons, twins,” he responded. “My wife and I divorced just a year ago.” He glanced over at Trina. She wasn’t watching him. “She took the boys to Dallas, so I don’t get to see them that often.”
“That must be hard,” the sheriff responded.
“It is,” Conroe replied. “I drove a truck for most of their lives when they were little. And now I only get to see them about once every couple of months.” He softened. “That’s a difficult thing, to be away from your children.”
Roger and George were still trying to understand who Conroe Jasper was and why Trina would lie about Alexandria to him. Something seemed off about the relationship between the two of them, and they were having a difficult time figuring it out.
“I hear ya’ll had a lot of excitement here recently.” Conroe decided to change the subject. He was talking to Roger.
“I’m sorry?” Roger responded, not understanding the reference.
“The FBI barreling into some Indian reservation here, a robbery over at the other end of the county, somebody running drugs up here. . . .” Conroe draped his arm over the back of the sofa around Trina. “Ya’ll sound like you’re having more trouble with laws being broken than they do on the border.”
“You sure seem to know a lot about Catron County just to be passing through.” It was George making the comment.
“You stop at a bar or a small-town diner and you hear a lot,” Conroe responded.
Roger nodded. “I don’t think it’s anything too dangerous or worrisome,” he replied. “We’re mostly a pretty quiet little community.”
Conroe nodded. “I ’spect so,” he said, glancing over to Trina. “But you must have a little something going on or she wouldn’t have settled here.” He grinned. “Trina likes a little excitement.” He touched her on the shoulder, and she flinched.
Father George could see Trina’s growing discomfort.
“I was trying to talk her into coming back to Texas with me when you two showed up,” Conroe said, surprising the two other men. “Trina drove long hauls with me. She’s as good a driver as anybody I know. We used to have some really good times.”
Trina could feel all eyes on her. She fidgeted in her seat.
“You and Trina used to drive together?” the priest asked, starting to understand exactly who Conroe Jasper was.
“Abilene to San Diego, Denver to Las Cruces, Dallas to Tucson. . . .”
And as soon as he named the Arizona town, George figured it out. Even though Trina had never told him the name of the man she left when she came to Pie Town, she had mentioned that he was a truck driver and that she left him in Tucson.
Roger understood it all now too. Trina had told him the same details of her last romantic relationship. Conroe Jasper was the guy who broke her heart. And if Roger was calculating correctly, Conroe Jasper was more than just a former lover—he was also the father of Alexandria. Suddenly, everything became clear to the sheriff.
“Yeah, well, about taking her back to Texas,” Roger commented. “We’ve sort of grown attached to our Trina.” He smiled. “We’d have to put up a fight to let her go,” he added.
Conroe didn’t seem to have a rebuttal to offer, but Roger and George could see him watching Trina. “Yeah, she was telling me that she was happy here.” He slid his fingers over his chin and seemed to be thinking. “She was a little vague about why, but the only thing I can figure is she’s got a beau.” He turned to Roger. “ ’Course, I’ve been around all evening and now this morning and I’ve not seen hide nor hair of him, so I think she might just be trying to blow me off.” He leaned forward, getting closer to the sheriff. “What do you think?”
Roger looked at Trina and then over to Conroe. “Trina’s old enough to make up her own mind and tell you what she wants to tell you. Father George and I are just her friends, but we’re very protective of her.” It appeared as if he was going to say more, but then he just stopped.
Conroe nodded as if he understood the message the sheriff was giving him. “Well, as a friend of Trina’s and somebody who cares about her very much too, I’m glad to hear that. And maybe if she’ll let me stop by from time to time, you can both get to know me and see that my intentions are honorable and that I can be very protective of her as well.” He cleared his throat and then peered down at his watch. He seemed ready to take his leave. “Well, I’ve got to go check out of the motel in Datil and head over to Abilene.”
Everyone stood up with him. Roger held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Conroe,” he said politely.
“Nice to meet you, Sheriff Benavidez.” Conroe turned to the priest. “And you, Father George.” He smiled.
“Mr. Jasper,” George said softly.
He moved closer to Trina and held her by the arms. She stiffened. “I hope to see you again, Trina,” he said and bent down to kiss her on the cheek.
Roger and George watched as her face reddened. She did not speak as Conroe made his way out of the house. The three of them watched as he strode to his truck, got in, waved at them, and drove away. The house fell silent.
Trina turned to them both, but didn’t speak.
It was George who spoke up. “You want to tell us about that or should we just make a calculated guess?”
Trina blew out a long breath without making a reply and walked over to the phone. “I need to call Frieda” was all she said.
THIRTY-ONE
Father George understood that this was his only opportunity to drive to Ramah to look for Raymond without the FBI agents following him. He hated the thought of not showing up for the meeting scheduled at church that evening, but he felt confident that the worship committee could handle the items on the agenda without him. He also hated the thought of leaving Trina when she was so upset at Conroe’s sudden reappearance in her life, but knew that Roger and Malene or Francine and her other friends could help her with that situation.
When Trina had left to go pick up Alexandria, leaving Roger and George standing alone in the living room of her house, Roger invited George to go with him to Albuquerque to see Frank. George explained that he had visited their friend already and that he had a meeting to prepare for. It was then that he suddenly noticed that the FBI agent was no longer following him: the dark sedan was nowhere to be seen up or down the street, the driver parked and watching, nor was it driving slowly past the house. With this realization, he had suddenly understood that this could be his chance to find Raymond.
He had driven home assuming that the FBI agent was likely to be waiting for him at the church. When he pulled up to the rectory and saw no cars in the parking lot and no cars parked on the side of the road, he knew he was free and clear. And then, when he called Malene to see if she had talked to Trina, she said that Roger had come by on his way to visit Frank and told her what had happened. According to Roger, the agents had both left tow
n and as far as he knew were done with their work in Catron County for the day. For whatever reason, George understood, they were leaving him alone and providing him with the chance to get out of town.
He placed a call to the head of the worship committee to explain that he wouldn’t be there for the meeting and then jumped in his car. Heading west on Highway 60, he was glad that he had studied the map earlier that morning when he had gotten the call from Malene and driven over to the nursing home. He recalled that at Quemado he would take Highway 36 north to Fence Lake, and then the dirt road to State Road 125 to the Ramah Indian Area, progressing on to Pine Hill. He hoped that there he would find someone from the Twinhorse family who might know where to find Raymond.
As he drove down the highway, checking his rearview mirror and hoping not to see the dark sedan behind him, his thoughts turned to Trina. He wondered what would happen with Conroe if the man was serious about wanting to reconcile with Trina. He wondered what he would do when he found out he had a daughter and why Trina had not kicked him out the night before and had instead even allowed him to come again the next day.
He thought of the possibility that Raymond could return to town and run into this man from Texas, from Trina’s past, and wondered how he might react. He worried about the encounter, but George still could not make himself believe that the young man he was just starting to know would resort to something as heinous as intentionally harming another person.
He knew Raymond was capable of violence; he had, after all, seen the burns from the scalding water on Trina. He knew about the trouble in Datil, and he knew that Raymond was a trained soldier who had been deeply affected by what happened while he was in Afghanistan.
And yet, George could not accept that Raymond was the man the FBI agents were making him out to be. He believed that the incident with Trina was an accident and that the outburst at the bar happened only because he was drunk. George did not think Raymond Twinhorse was the fugitive the feds were searching for.
George drove on thinking about the FBI agents and how they spoke of Raymond. “The fugitive,” they kept calling him, never by his name, always just, “the fugitive.”
He hurried as quickly as he could out of Pie Town and recalled a story he once read about a fugitive. It was from a book he had read in seminary, a book by a priest, a renowned scholar and spiritual leader named Henri Nouwen. The story was about a young fugitive running from an enemy and taking refuge in a small village. The people in the village were kind and generous and offered the young man a place to stay. Soldiers who were seeking the fugitive followed him to the village and threatened to burn it and kill all the people unless they turned the fugitive over to them. The people decided to ask their minister what to do, and after a night of reading the Bible to find an answer, he discovered the words: “It is better that one man dies than that the whole people be lost.”
After finding these words, the minister closed the Bible, called the soldiers, and turned over the boy. The next day a feast of celebration was held in the village in honor of the minister because he had saved the people. The minister, however, did not join the celebration. He was overcome with grief over what had happened to the fugitive. Later, an angel came to him to explain that the fugitive was in fact the Messiah. When the minister asked how he could have known who the fugitive was, the angel replied—and this part of the story George remembered vividly—“if, instead of reading your Bible, you had visited this young man just once and looked into his eyes, you would have known.”
George thought about Nouwen’s story and about the unfolding story of Raymond Twinhorse. He thought about the reactions from members of the community to the news that Raymond was a suspect in a robbery and then also suspected to be dealing drugs.
Originally, the priest had expected that the people of Pie Town would cooperate with the FBI agents after hearing their claim that Raymond was a thief and a drug dealer. Even though George knew that Oris had jumped to Raymond’s defense, and that Francine and Bernie had chosen not to turn him in when they knew where he was, George had still thought the people of Pie Town would not support Raymond. He had thought that they would choose to give the FBI what they wanted. He even considered it likely that a few of them would help the agents search for the young man, jumping on horseback like members of some posse deputized to assist in a crucial search.
Father George realized as he drove toward Ramah that he had judged the townspeople unfairly. Of course, there were a few who thought the young man was guilty and wanted to see him get arrested, but those few were loyal to Gilbert Diaz and believed everything the owner of the Silver Spur had told them. And those few were actually a very small group. Most everyone he encountered believed in Raymond’s innocence and wanted to find a way to support him.
George recalled a meeting held at the church just a few days earlier that had been organized to discuss the annual budget but turned into a gathering of support for Raymond and Frank. It had not been anything at all like he expected.
Francine and Bernie had driven all the way from Phoenix to the church to come to the meeting and announce their plan to support and protect Raymond. They had rushed into the sanctuary, apologizing for interrupting a scheduled meeting, and explained that they were there to talk about Raymond and how to help him. Oris Whitsett had chimed in at that point, standing up in front of the whole congregation and announcing, “Raymond Twinhorse is in trouble, and we need to do something about it.”
George had been deeply moved by the townspeople’s loyalty to Raymond and their concern for him and his family. One after another, they stood up and shared a story about the young man. One former teacher spoke about his hard work and honesty. Fedora talked about his generosity, how he refused payment when he took care of her lawn while her lawn man was out sick, and Fred and Bea agreed with her assessment of Raymond, explaining that he did chores for them at the diner, never requesting a dime. Another member mentioned his kindness, his quiet way of being, and one young mother explained that to her son, a student at the elementary school, Raymond was a hero, and he had even written a story about him for his class.
“He’s our son,” Oris had said to the gathered members of the church. “He belongs to us all. His homecoming is no different to me than if it was my Lawrence coming home from serving his country,” he noted, speaking of his adult son who had made a career in the military. “And if Lawrence was in trouble, I’d do everything I could to help him.” And he vowed his support for Raymond, promising the same kind of care and attention.
Father George knew that even though the FBI thought of Raymond as a fugitive, that label had never been used or even considered by the people of Pie Town. He was one of their own, their son, their hero, and this village, unlike the one in Nouwen’s story, would never betray him.
George saw the dirt road ahead and made the turn, heading in the direction of where he hoped he would find Raymond. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say if he did find the young man, whether he would tell him about Trina’s ex from Texas showing up out of nowhere or his father’s arrest. He didn’t know what to say about the robbery and the FBI’s manhunt for a drug dealer.
All he knew to say was that Pie Town was there for him and wanted to help him. All he knew to do was to take to the boy the love and support of his village. He wasn’t sure exactly how he would explain all of this to him, but he would let Raymond know that no matter what had happened, his community cared for him.
Even though he wasn’t sure whether or not that information would help the young man, George did know that he would, without pause or hesitation, tell him that.
THIRTY-TWO
Conroe Jasper.” Trina was putting Alexandria to bed for an afternoon nap. She had gone over to Frieda’s and picked up her daughter, claiming that she didn’t need the woman to watch Alexandria the rest of the day. After the visit from her old lover, Trina decided not to open the garage. With Frank unavailable, she hadn’t felt comfortable trying to run the place by herself. The b
urns on her back and legs were better, but she had difficulty standing for very long or bending over an engine, and sliding underneath a chassis was out of the question.
Besides, the truth was that most of the people in Pie Town preferred Frank’s expertise to hers and business was slow anyway; she figured she might as well stay at home with her baby and think through things, make a few decisions about the current issues in her life, about Raymond, about her relationship with him, about Conroe Jasper’s recent appearance at her front door.
“Conroe,” she repeated to herself, shaking her head as she closed the door to the baby’s room. She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of iced tea. She sat down at the table, dropping her hands by her sides. “Of all the people to show up this week,” she said. Forgetting the tenderness from the burns, she sat back in the chair, then quickly leaned forward.
She thought about calling an old friend from Amarillo, somebody who knew Conroe and knew what he had done to her, just to find out what they had heard about the divorce, if it was really true, and about what he was doing showing up in Pie Town. Once she had that thought, however, she decided against it. She knew that having such information wouldn’t really matter. He was there. He knew where she was. And he had made it clear that he wasn’t about to leave things alone. Not yet, at least.
Trina was confident that she had kept him from finding out about Alexandria. Somehow he had not been smart enough to figure out that the baby she was supposedly babysitting, the baby who had made herself at home in Trina’s house, was actually at home in her house. For whatever reason, he hadn’t put it together that Trina was a mother. She knew, however, that if he kept coming around, kept showing up, it wouldn’t take long before that fact would finally become clear to him. And once he saw Alexandria, learned how old she was, her date of birth, he would know that he was the father.
Trina took a sip of tea. “Maybe he’s not bright enough,” she told herself. “Maybe he’d believe that some other man is the father.” But she knew that wasn’t true. Conroe wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he was no dummy either. He would figure it out. And then what? Would he want some relationship with Alexandria? Would he use the baby as a means to try to worm his way back into Trina’s life? Would he want parental rights? Custody? What if he found out about Raymond and the accident and said she was an unfit mother to keep Alexandria around him? It was just too much for her to consider.