“Yep, and I thank the good Lord ever’ mornin’ for that.” Herman fiddled with a pair of binoculars. “I hope I can still see through these field glasses.”
“I don’t think you’ll have any trouble.”
“I won’t be much good walking a far distance, but get me up on top of a hill where I can see, and I’ll go to lookin’.”
Ethan grinned at the old man’s grit. “Those guys are pros. They may have him found by the time we get there.”
“Well, at least we know where he was headed. That’s a start. There ain’t no law says we can’t just drive where we want.”
Before Ethan could respond, the radio mounted below the dash squawked. It was Karen Anderson in dispatch. “Sheriff Armstrong?”
He’d instructed Dispatch to use codes as little as possible when they were calling him, and that included using his name instead of unit number. “Go ahead.”
“You close by?”
“Fairly. We’re heading out to the park to help search for Sonny. Why?”
Herman tilted his head, listening.
“Gary Collins called and said two dogs attacked his mama about two blocks from her house while she was taking her walk this morning.”
“She hurt bad?”
“Cut up enough they took her to the emergency room. You want me to send Deputy Malone over there?”
“No.” Ethan took an intersecting road and headed back toward Ballard. “I’m not that far away. I have an idea who those dogs belong to. I’ll take care of it.”
“Ten-four.”
Ethan replaced the microphone on the bracket and accelerated. “I hate to do this, but I know who those dogs belong to. Gary’s mama lives out on the north side of town and there’s a rent house about a quarter mile from there. Couple of the sorriest guys I’ve ever talked to moved in not too long ago and they have two pit bulls that get out all the time. I’ve talked to ’em ’till I’m blue in the face, and I fined ’em, and they still don’t lock those dogs up.”
He checked his rearview mirror, feeling he needed to explain further. “The park has the point on this one anyway. My folks expect me to take care of things here first . . .”
Herman waved a hand. “You don’t have to explain nothin’ to this ol’ warhorse, son.”
“I know it, but it don’t seem right that I can’t get on out there.”
An experienced lawman in east Texas, Herman was no stranger to folks labeled “sorry.” The high desert flashed by as they sped past flowering cactus and ocotillo. “I believe you have an idea about how to handle this dog business.”
“Sure do.” Ethan pressed the gas and they cut the wind back to Ballard. “We’re close and it won’t take but a few minutes. Malone’s headed toward Alpine right now anyway.”
Ethan nodded and watched out the window. “You’re right about Search and Rescue. I probably won’t do much more’n get in the way anyhow.”
Ethan glanced over to see the old man’s face. His jaw was set, but he’d been a lawman long enough to know Ethan had a job to do. Herman would have already been on his way, but his good truck was broken down and he’d sent his hired hand, Gabriel Nakai, to Fort Stockton for the part, leaving Herman to hitch a ride with the sheriff.
Ethan’s cell phone rang and he plucked it out of the cup holder.
It was Kelly Hawke, and she still hadn’t heard from Sonny.
Chapter 21
By eight-thirty the next morning, Kelly couldn’t wait any longer. She sent the kids to school and put in for a substitute to teach her class. She punched Ethan’s name on her cell phone.
He answered with a question. “Still haven’t heard from him?”
Kelly’s voice trembled. “No. Even if he’d broken down, someone would have picked him up and he would’ve called as soon as he could get phone service. Major Parker’s on the way to a command center they’ve set up at the park. There are a lot of folks volunteering to come help look for him.”
“Well, tell ’em to wait. We don’t need a lot of amateurs out there right now. I have Herman with me, and we’ll head out there as soon as I take care of something that just popped up. I’ll call the Park Service again as soon as we hang up. I talked to them last night and I know for a fact that they’ve already got a team on the ground.” Ethan paused. “You realize they’d have already called you if they found him.”
“I know it. I just needed to touch base with you.”
“Good, like I said. Herman and I are headed out there as soon as we’re finished in town.”
“Perry Hale and Yolanda are here with me.”
“Good. I wouldn’t have expected anything else. Try not to worry.”
“You know better’n that. Thanks, Ethan.”
She hung up and related the news to Perry Hale, who’d spent the night on her couch. He drained his eighth cup of coffee since daylight and pulled on his boots. “I can’t stand this.” He stomped them into place.
Yolanda knew him well enough by then to pull on her own boots. She’d dozed in and out all night in the guest room, but looked as fresh as if she’d gotten a full night’s sleep. “Kelly, we’re heading out.”
“Ethan says he’ll be on the way as soon as he handles a call. He doesn’t seem that worried.”
Perry Hale rubbed his three-day beard. “He’s worried all right. The Park Service is doing what they do best. He’ll let them handle the first stages of the search, but I expect them to give us a holler at any time if this thing stretches out any longer.”
“Why?”
“Because Ethan’s a lawman,” Yolanda answered. “After what happened here a few months ago, he’s thinking the way we are. Sonny probably got turned around, but if it’s something else, typical search parties won’t be prepared for what’s waiting on them. I’m afraid it might be tied to last winter.”
Kelly, ever the realist, was startled by the direction the conversation was headed. “You’re talking about the man who was behind the Ballard attack.”
“Yep. The terrorist Sonny took out on the train is bound to have family or friends.” Perry Hale rolled his shoulders to ease some of the tension. “They might want payback for Sonny’s part.”
Kelly’s hand was shaking when she set her empty cup down. “I wish you hadn’t said that.”
“I shouldn’t have.” Perry Hale tugged a gimme cap on his head and pulled the brim down on his forehead. The emblem on the front was a cannon, and the words Come and Take It were embroidered underneath. “It’s kind of far-fetched.”
“So was the takeover here.” Kelly stood.
Yolanda tied her thick black hair back. “But we’re probably overreacting.”
Kelly followed the pair to the door. “Y’all find him.”
Perry Hale stopped and scanned the front yard. “Look, I’m probably borrowing trouble, but you keep a pistol handy anyway, just in case.”
Kelly felt her stomach knot, but no stranger to trouble, she nodded in understanding.
Not much for public displays of affection, Perry Hale gave her shoulder a soft pat and led the way outside. Yolanda hugged Kelly’s neck and whispered in her ear for a moment.
* * *
Perry Hale was in the truck with the engine running when Yolanda came out. She started toward her own car, then paused. She circled the rear of her Explorer and went to the passenger side. “I’m riding with you.”
He nodded as she slammed the door and shifted into gear. “My place.” She raised an eyebrow as he steered onto the highway toward his rent house. “I have everything we need there.”
“Not everything. I need to change.”
He sighed and bit his lip. Another hour wouldn’t make any difference in the long run. They needed to properly outfit.
Chapter 22
Chino and Pepito led the way through the subdued morning light. The Ranger’s tracks were easy to follow in the sand, despite the overcast. A couple of hundred yards farther and the tracks were less distinct in the higher gravel bed. The others fann
ed out behind them, keeping an eye out for their quarry.
“I’m getting tired of taking orders from that chíníí.” Chino spoke in their native language that had evolved into a mix of Apache dialects and Spanish. His favorite insult for the Syrian was “dog,” because the rawboned man with the ragged beard reminded Chino of the poor dogs that lived in the small settlement they grew up in, back in the Sierra Madre Occidental.
Pepito grinned at the dog reference. “If it weren’t for Chatto, I would have already killed him.”
“You’re not afraid of Chatto, are you?” Chino’s eyes thinned even more, making him look even more Asian, though his blood was a mix of Apache and the Mexicans their great-grandparents had taken in to raise.
It was easy to disregard the head of their gang, even though both knew that if any of their discussion got back to him, Chatto would have them put to death immediately, if he didn’t do it himself.
“No, but I like his money. I want to take more back to my mother. She needs a generator so she can have electricity and a television.”
“There is more than money at stake here. I’m getting tired of all this. I think I would like to go back into the cool mountains where we grew up. I miss the tall trees and the water. Here there is nothing but dirt and cactus.”
“Let’s find this man and let Calaka take his ears, then when that chíníí back there is satisfied, we can go home. These people and their drugs are making me tired.”
Abdullah’s voice cut through the morning air. “Will you two be quiet! This Ranger will hear you long before we see him.”
Chino threw a look back over his shoulder and spoke in Spanish. “You have that long rifle. Maybe he’ll stick his head up like a mole to hear what we’re saying and you can shoot it off. Then we can go.”
Javier spoke up with a laugh, using their dialect. “He’ll probably miss again.”
The gangsters laughed and went back to tracking while Abdullah seethed.
* * *
He wasn’t the idiot they imagined him to be. A radical to the bone, he once worked in government-run prisons back in his home country, torturing prisoners for both information and enjoyment before joining in as a refugee fighter for al-Qaeda-affiliated Jabhat al-Nusra.
After refining his skills, he was sent over to join the Mexican cartels to train and establish cells destined for the U.S. He came through Germany, taking advantage of their open-border policy that turned the country into a safe haven for Islamists departing the Syrian-Iraqi battlefronts.
He joined other Islamists in Mexico. They had all been radicalized in European mosques, or in the suburbs of various countries, and evolved into battle-hardened terrorists with combat experience.
Abdullah was the worst of the lot, and he had a plan. He slung the pack off his shoulders and dug for the satellite phone Chavez had provided. It was time to tell him that he’d return alone to meet Chatto with the Ranger’s head. The other four would soon be food for the scavengers and he could go to Washington, where his skills were needed.
“There!” Chino pointed at a tiny figure trudging more than a hundred yards away.
Heart pounding with excitement, Abdullah snapped the rifle to his shoulder. The Ranger disappeared behind a bush, then reappeared. The anxious terrorist’s finger tightened on the trigger too soon, and he knew he’d missed as soon as he fired.
The Apaches opened up with their automatic weapons and the figure disappeared.
Abdullah cursed and refused to meet their eyes. “Go! He may be wounded.”
They trotted ahead and he slung the rifle over his shoulder with a trembling hand.
The call would have to wait.
Chapter 23
Ethan’s Durango slowed at Ballard’s city limits and he steered around the courthouse, which was under repair. Half a dozen trucks and vans bearing the names of local businesses were parked on the lawn. It would soon look good as new.
He turned through a quiet neighborhood of stucco houses landscaped with native plants. The paved road ended and packed gravel took over. The houses thinned until they were scattered like marbles.
Gary Collins’ sun-blasted Southwest-style house squatted alone amid a mix of mesquite and prickly pear. Ethan steered into the driveway between two thick cedars guarding the entrance. He and Herman stepped out and were about to knock on the front door when Gary came around the corner by the carport.
“Howdy, Ethan.”
Sheriff Armstrong shook his hand. “You know Herman Hawke?”
Gary’s brow furrowed. “Sonny Hawke’s daddy? We’ve not met, but I’ve heard of you. You’re a Ranger, too.”
“Howdy.” Herman tilted the hat back on his head. “I’m retired.” True to his law-enforcement roots, he kept his answer ambiguous. “Just ridin’ with Ethan to remember all the reasons I retired.”
Gary gave him a wry grin. “This might be one of them, but I doubt it’s enough to interest the Rangers.”
“You can never tell what brings what.”
The pleasantries were over. Ethan jerked his head toward the house. “Your mama home? She all right?”
“Yep.” Gary turned to Ethan but addressed Herman. “Mama came to live with us a couple of years ago when her health got bad.” He met Ethan’s eyes. “She’s laying on the couch. Just got back from getting her stitched up, took about thirty, and they gave her some pain pills. They’re worried about rabies, and said the dogs need to be quarantined.”
“She awake?”
“Let’s see.”
The men stepped into the cool living room. Exposed overhead beams and stucco walls echoed their footsteps on the red Spanish tiles. Carl’s wife had decorated the interior with a Southwest flair that was like something from a magazine article, complete with roughhewn furniture, Spanish tapestries on the walls, colorful horse blankets on racks, pottery, and hand-braided rugs on the floor.
Gary left the gimme cap on his head. Both Ethan and Herman removed their hats as soon as they stepped through the door. An elderly woman in a housedress and robe was laying on the couch.
She started to get up, but Ethan held out a hand and sat on the edge of the couch. “Stay there, Mrs. Collins.” He introduced Herman and glanced down at the white bandages on her pale legs. They were both covered with dark bruises and scratches, telling him the unseen wounds were frightening. “Can you describe the dogs?”
“Yessir.” Her voice was weak from age, stress, and the painkillers. She wiped the corner of her mouth with a white silk handkerchief. Her silver hair that had been brushed and curled that morning stuck out in several directions, making her look even older. “One was a big brindle and the other was light tan, almost white.”
“Do you know what breed?”
“I don’t know dogs, but they both had leather collars with brass plates. It’s funny what you remember in times like that. Squinty eyes, those collars, and all that snarling.”
“That’ll be enough.” Ethan stood. “I hope you get to feeling better. I’ll take care of it from here on out.”
She leaned back and closed her eyes, the hand with the handkerchief held aloft. “Thankyee, Sheriff.”
They went back outside. Gary paused in the shade of the carport. “She’s been walking every day, because the doctor says she needs the exercise. Those dogs have threatened her more than once, but this is the first time they’ve ever attacked. They would have hurt her worse if it hadn’t been for that high school kid that beat ’em off her with a stick.”
“You know where they live for sure?”
He pointed. “That trailer out there.”
They followed his finger. A line of low blue mountains in the distance acted as a backdrop, defining a battered, dusty house trailer that would have otherwise blended into the desert. It was obvious Gary’s house was built to take advantage of the spectacular view.
Ethan was sure the trailer arrived after construction on the house was completed. “That’s what I thought. Who’s the kid?”
“Do
n’t know him. He moved out there in a trailer past that one over yonder. Looks like a single mother and boy is all. They moved in about a month ago.”
“Fine. I’ll take care of it, Gary. Y’all have the option of filing charges against the dogs’ owners. This is a one-bite state and you can file for damages if you want, but those people probably won’t pay up, even when the judge says so.”
Gary sighed. “I guess that’s it, then.”
“Let me talk to them.”
They were back on the dirt road when Herman finally spoke up. “Those dogs tore her up pretty bad.”
A rooster-tail of dust rose behind the Dodge as Ethan pressed the foot-feed. Gravel rattled against the undercarriage, and cedar fence posts flashed past.
“Yep. They belong to that Martinez bunch.” He pointed at a fence line. “That’s the city limits.”
Herman reached into the back pocket of his Wranglers and pulled out his badge holder. He opened it and slipped the cover behind his belt, presenting the gold cinco peso retirement badge to anyone they encountered.
They came to an intersection and the sheriff barely slowed before taking the corner and accelerating down the connecting dirt road. They passed two other trailers that looked more like abandoned shells than actual houses.
A young Hispanic boy was on the road, marking his pace with what appeared to be a walking stick. Ethan slowed to keep from smothering the kid in dust. He recognized the youngster when the distance closed.
He slowed to a stop. What he took for a dark stick turned out to be a piece of thin rebar. “Arturo, how you doin’?”
The high school junior brightened. “Good mornin’, Sheriff. Mr. Hawke.”
Arturo had been instrumental in the aftermath of the Ballard takeover. Neither Ethan or Herman knew the kid before the courthouse incident, but they’d grown to like him more and more with every encounter. Arturo was one of those kids who had the odds stacked against him, but always managed to squeak past. Sonny was intent on ensuring the boy’s success achieving his dream of a career in law enforcement.
“What are you doing this far out?”
Hawke's War Page 9