The old man was looking at Sanchez while Sanchez was trying to decide what to do. He didn’t know that Sanchez was contemplating his fate.
Then Sanchez had an idea. An absolutely great idea.
“I’m sorry, old man. We have no horses to sell. But we can discuss making a deal for the little girl if your wife fancies her so.”
Sal was taken aback.
“Excuse me?”
Ruben Sanchez wasn’t the brightest guy around. In fact, he was good at very few things. One was killing. Another was lying. He could spin a yarn as well as any man, and think on his feet.
“We are an orphanage. We take in all the orphaned children in the area. Those children whose parents died in the plague, or killed themselves. Or fell victim to somebody else’s gun. If your wife fancies the girl, and believes it to be her own, perhaps we should pacify her and send the girl with you.”
Sal was stunned. He truly didn’t know what to say.
So Sanchez continued to spin his tale.
“Since the power is out, we are unable to contact the state of Kansas. Therefore we are forced to operate on our own. An independent adoption agency, if you will. So there is no formal paperwork to fill out or waiting period, or even an approval process. You simply promise to provide a good home for the child, pay an adoption fee, and take possession.”
The words “take possession” had an eerie ring to them. As though a child were nothing more than a used car.
Sal looked across the yard. Nellie was on one knee, the young girl standing in front of her. Nellie was holding both the girl’s hands and conversing with her. The smile on Nellie’s face was the first Sal had seen in a very long time.
He turned to Sanchez and asked, “How much, sir, is the adoption fee?”
Chapter 7
Sanchez choked at the question and had a very difficult time stifling a laugh.
But he quickly composed himself.
After all, there was money on the line.
“Seven pieces of silver.”
It was, from his perspective, a totally random number.
And one he totally expected to be dismissed outright.
For he had no clue what adoption agencies or the states which oversaw them charged for processing fees.
Nor was Sanchez a student of the Bible, for he was a man who didn’t believe in God.
If he had been, surely he’d have seen the irony of suggesting that seven pieces of silver was the going rate for doing the deplorable.
For his part, old Sal thought the price was a bit high.
But he was bordering on desperate. His wife would surely not let him leave without her precious grandchild.
And Sal held absolutely none of the cards.
So he pounced on the offer before it was withdrawn. And perhaps rose to a higher figure.
“Done,” he said while offering his hand.
Sanchez shook the hand. He had to, for in his band a welsh was as bad as a snitch.
But even as he was shaking Sal’s hand he was wishing he’d asked for twenty silver pieces instead of only seven.
Still, he’d have seven pieces of silver in his pocket that he didn’t have when he woke up that morning. That in itself made it a pretty good day.
Sanchez took the seven Morgan dollars Sal fished out of a pocket, all the time fighting the urge to just shoot the couple and take whatever else they had.
But had he done so, he’d have still been stuck with little Beth.
Sanchez didn’t like her much, you see. She had a mouth on her. Little Beth was always demanding that Swain and his band of thugs go away and leave them alone. She especially didn’t like that Swain was constantly taking her mom into his bedroom for hours at a time. And that Swain was particularly brutal to all the children when her mom wasn’t around.
She even kicked Sanchez in the ankle one day when he told her to get her snotty little ass in the house and do some housework.
He’d let the old man live, and the old woman too. They’d take the snotty kid with them, and he’d have a pocket full of silver to boot.
It wouldn’t be the worst of days, by any means.
“Let me go talk to her for a minute,” he told Sal. “Alone. I need to explain to her what we’re doing, so she won’t try to run away from you.”
Sal understood. It was important, he imagined, that the child be assured by someone she knew and trusted that she wasn’t going to be harmed in any way. That this couple would accept her and love her and treat her well.
“I understand,” Sal said. “I’ll get Nellie away from her for a few minutes and explain to her that you’ve been taking good care of Becky, and that she’ll be coming with us now.”
Nellie didn’t want to leave the child’s side, of course. Sal had to coax her away a little at a time. Even when they were separated by forty feet, Nellie’s eyes remained locked on the girl, her hands outstretched in Beth’s direction.
Sanchez went to Beth and took a knee. He wanted to convey to the old couple that he was a compassionate friend of the child, when in reality he was anything but.
Beth crossed her arms in a defiant posture and demanded of Sanchez, “Just what in the world is going on?”
“Shhh. Not so loud.”
He started spinning a great tale. One which wouldn’t have impressed an adult with even a hint of common sense. But which might make perfect sense to a snot of a seven year old girl going on eight.
“I want you to go with these people to get some medicine for your Aunt Karen.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your mom didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“Your aunt has a sickness. A sickness that can only be cured with penicillin. Do you know what penicillin is?”
“I’ve heard Mommy and Daddy talk about it.”
“So you know it’s a medicine?”
“I guess so.”
“Atta girl. Well, it’s very hard to find, but these people know where some is. They’re going to get it and bring it back here so they can use it to save your Aunt Karen’s life. You want to help save your Aunt Karen’s life, don’t you?”
“She doesn’t look sick.”
“Oh, but she is. She’s been trying to hide it from you kids so she doesn’t worry you. But she’s very sick and without the penicillin she’ll die very soon. You don’t want your Mommy’s sister to die, do you? Think how sad your Mommy will be.”
“Why do I have to go with them? Why can’t they go get it and bring it back on their own?”
“Because the old man can’t see very well. He can’t read the road signs. He needs someone to help read the road signs so he doesn’t get lost. You can read road signs, can’t you?”
Beth suddenly grew defiant.
“Of course I can! I’m not stupid, you know.”
Then, in a wary tone, “How come the woman can’t read the signs for him?”
“Because she’s sick as well. In her mind. That’s why she calls you Becky, because she’s confused.
“Will the penicillin help her too?”
“Why, yes. Yes it will. It’ll make her all better too.”
“I think I should check with my Mommy first.”
“You can’t. Swain just took your Mommy up to his room. She’ll be up there for hours. And you know how mean Swain gets when he’s interrupted. He might get angry and beat your mother. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
Sanchez knew Beth would find this part of his tale particularly plausible. For she’d seen Swain beat her mother on several occasions in the past.
“Here’s the thing,” Sanchez continued. “If you don’t go with them right now to get the medicine, it’ll be too late. Your Aunt Karen will die and your mother will have a broken heart. You can help, but you must go now.”
Beth was wavering. She didn’t trust Sanchez. Not at all. But she loved her mother and her aunt and didn’t want to see pain nor harm come to either of them.
“How long will
we be gone?”
“Just three or four days. And the old people will take very good care of you, I promise.”
“Well, okay. And you’ll tell my Mommy where I went?”
“I certainly will. I promise.”
Chapter 8
Beth climbed into the cab of the Ford Ranger, her little heart and mind telling her she was doing something kind to help those she loved the most.
Sanchez took old Sal aside.
“She has a lot of good friends here. She doesn’t want to go. I hate to say it, but I had to mislead her. It’s the only way I could convince her to go with you.”
“Deceive her how?”
“I told her you were going to find penicillin for her sick auntie. And that you’d return in a few days.”
Sal was aghast.
“But what will she do when she finds out you’ve lied to her?”
“She won’t do anything. Just avoid her questions. And then when you’re three or four days away, tell her she misunderstood me. That you never said you were going for medicine. That we decided to send her someplace safer. When you’re several days away, she won’t have any choice but to stay with you. She won’t run away because she’s a smart girl. She’ll know she could never find her way back.”
“We’re headed to Albuquerque. If she ran away she’d die in the desert.”
“Then tell her that. But wait until you’re well on your way. Let her believe you’ll be bringing her back, until you’re too far away for her to walk back.”
Sal was a good man. A bit gruff on the exterior sometimes, but a decent and kind and giving man. And he was honest as well. He hated deceiving anyone.
Especially a child.
But when he looked into Nellie’s eyes he could see the pure love and joy she had for the child she believed to be her granddaughter.
Becky had been taken from her once.
Sal didn’t have the heart to allow her to be taken a second time.
Sal tried to rationalize the problem. To tell himself that what he was doing wasn’t right. But that perhaps it was best for the girl in the long run.
After all, the man at the orphanage said she’d lost her family.
And wouldn’t it be better for her in the long run to give her another family? An older couple who’d love her and care for her and guide her?
An orphanage was no place for a child to be raised.
Not when Sal and Nellie were willing to take her in.
It went against his grain as a decent man.
But he’d do what the man at the orphanage suggested.
He’d be vague with his answers. He’d lead the girl to believe she was going on a mercy run. A run to find and procure medication for her sick aunt.
Eventually he’d have to tell her the truth. But he’d wait until they were very far away.
He’d take her by the hand and explain that she was misled, sure. But it was for her own good.
“You’ll see,” he’d tell her. “We’ll treat you like our very own granddaughter. We’ll be kind and will protect you. You’re much better off with us than you would have been at that orphanage.”
Eventually Sal would have that conversation with the child. Just the two of them, while Nellie slept.
And then he’d learn that the “orphanage” wasn’t an orphanage at all. It was an armed camp, run by hostile men. And that Sal and Nellie were lucky to be allowed to leave with their lives.
And the small girl.
Eventually Sal would be faced with a dreadful decision.
For the humane thing to do would be to take the girl back. To reunite her with her mother and sister.
But while that might be the most humane course of action for the girl and the proper thing to do, it would destroy Nellie.
And Nellie had made so much progress in recent days.
In the end, he decided he owed his allegiance to Nellie. He insisted to the girl that she was legally adopted. That it was much too late to go back and change anything.
And that her new name was Becky.
And each night, as he lay down to sleep, his decision haunted him.
Chapter 9
It took another week to solve the problem with Shadow’s bad knees.
He got slower and slower as each day went by. The ground they covered each day got shorter and shorter.
And what made it worse was the burden the other horse, Max, had to carry. As he accepted more and more than his share of the load, he started showing more signs of stress himself.
They’d stopped at every ranch and farm along the way until they finally came to one which had a sturdy horse grazing in the yard.
The Peters family was in dire straits.
They’d lost two able-bodied sons to marauders. The mother was wheelchair bound. The father had a bad heart. They were both in their seventies.
It was just a matter of time.
They depended solely on a third son, Spencer.
Spencer was a good man, a fearless man. That he reminded most strangers more of Forrest Gump than Albert Einstein was irrelevant. For no one really expected him to solve complex equations or the mysteries of the universe.
Not often, anyway.
If he was deemed a bit on the slow side it didn’t really matter, for there was nothing adherently difficult about running the small farm on which he lived with his aged parents.
It was a lot of work for one man. But he was strong and he could handle it.
Still, they were struggling, through no fault of Spencer’s.
When Spencer’s brothers were murdered he had no clue how to gather food from the trucks on the highway. They had sheltered him from that part of the operation, figuring he was safer back at the farm with their mom and dad.
They certainly did him no favors. But then again, they weren’t expecting to be ambushed and shot in the back for the guns they were toting.
Spencer was able to find a few trucks, but they’d mostly been emptied of anything worth taking. There were more trucks farther out, but he didn’t want to venture too far.
He was easily confused, you see, and was prone to forgetting which direction he came from and which he was going.
He was, as the term implied, directionally challenged.
So his mother and father told him to stay at home.
They lived on a farm, after all. They could grow what they needed, and drink from the well.
Then the drought came.
Almost four long months came and went without a drop of rain.
Spencer did what he could to irrigate a limited amount of corn and wheat.
But the pump house no longer worked.
The windmill pumped enough water to fill the stock tanks. But when Spencer used most of it to irrigate the crops, the cattle started dropping like flies.
Spencer lacked the mental capacity to realize he could keep a few head of cattle alive, and a few rows of crops, but no better than that.
Instead, he tried to save everything, and in the process lost almost all of it.
The last three head of beef fell dead not from thirst, but from some kind of disease.
It was the final straw.
The three of them… mom, dad, and simpleton son, fell into a general funk together. They more or less gave up and waited to die.
Then old Sal and Nellie stumbled onto their farm in a red Ranger pickup truck drawn by two horses.
One broken down and the other wasn’t far behind.
Spencer met him in the yard.
“Whadda y’all want?”
It wasn’t that Spencer was trying to be rude, necessarily. It was just that he no longer trusted strangers.
“I saw your horse from the roadway,” Sal explained. “One of ours is going lame. He needs to be put out to pasture. I wonder if you’d be willing to take him as partial trade and sell your horse to us.”
“Sell him for how much?”
“I’ll give you two ounces of gold, and our lame horse in trade.”
; “Hold on, mister. Lemme go ask my Daddy.”
While he waited, Sal dismounted and took it upon himself to examine the pony grazing in the front yard. A Paint, maybe five years old and sturdy. He came from good stock.
Spencer appeared on the front porch again.
“Daddy wants to know what two ounces of gold is worth.”
Sal yelled back, “About eight hundred dollars, more or less.”
He really didn’t have a clue, but it sounded reasonable to him.
Spencer came out much quicker the second time, and met Sal in the yard.
“Daddy says you got yourself a deal, so long as you got the gold on ya. He says we don’t want no IOU.”
Sal had no scale with which to weigh the gold. But he erred on the heavy side, and probably gave away closer to three ounces than two.
But that was okay. He was desperate to replace Shadow before both horses went lame. And now that he knew where to look for it, he knew he could replace the gold in a few days by looking through the trucks as he came across them.
“Now, old Shadow has been through a lot,” he explained to Spencer as he unhooked the old horse from the rig. “Promise me you’ll give him a long life. Let him live out his days grazing on long grass in a peaceful meadow, instead of making him work any more.”
“Oh heck, I reckon so,” Spencer agreed.
The new Paint seemed to take well to the rig. He’d obviously towed heavy wagons before and was strong and capable.
Old Sal was supremely happy.
So happy that as he left the farmhouse and got back onto the highway, he barely heard the rifle shot in the distance.
And even if he’d heard it, he’d have paid it no mind.
For there wouldn’t have been any reason at all to associate it with the man he’d just left.
Or with old Shadow, who’d seen his last sunrise and who now lay dead in the rich red Oklahoma dirt.
Sal had no way of knowing that Spencer’s father had given him instructions that morning to dispatch the Paint. To send his soul to the big horse ranch in the sky.
They were desperate for fresh meat, as it turned out.
And while nobody would admit to favoring horse meat over beef, it worked in a pinch.
On Desert Sands: Alone: Book 6 Page 3