Hawke's War

by Reavis Z. Wortham

  Estrada pointed to a clump of sagebrush. Behind it was a johnboat that looked as if it had gone through a trash compactor.

  “That’s not a boat,” Perry Hale said. “It’s a promised drowning.”

  Estrada picked up a splintered oar made from tacked-together slats of wood. A pile of one-gallon plastic jugs were tied together in the middle of the boat. “Se filtra, pero es suficiente para llevarnos a traves de.”

  Perry Hale and I both raised our eyebrows, waiting for Yolanda to translate. “He says it leaks, but he thinks we can get across.”

  I pointed at the jugs. “And those?”

  She asked and Estrada answered. She seemed to deflate at the answer. “Flotation devices, just in case. Lifejackets.”

  Perry Hale turned back to the ghost town and set his sock feet. “I’d rather take my chances fighting those guys.”

  Chapter 95

  Major Parker finally lit his cigar in frustration as they watched the battle across the river. The Humvee driven by Sonny Hawke sped away as both gangsters and military personnel sent a storm of bullets after them.

  Seconds later, a man he recognized as Chatto, one of Juárez Cartel’s leaders, rose from behind the shot-to-pieces Suburban with a pistol in his hand. His men commandeered an undamaged Humvee, and the gangsters’ leader piled in, along with two of his men.

  The sight caused Parker to unconsciously bite down on the end of the cigar. “Just what I thought.”

  The military officer in command of the Mexican soldiers stepped out from the same cover and pointed at the dead Suburban parked in front of the Americana Bar de Vista. The dusty paint was dimpled with bullet holes surrounded by brighter metal and gray primer.

  Major Parker tilted his Stetson back on his forehead. “Nick, dig that megaphone out of the back there.”

  Ranger Delgado was back in a second with a black battery-operated bullhorn. He flicked the On switch and handed it to Major Parker, who plucked the cigar from the corner of his mouth. “Hello across the river!”

  The surviving soldiers and gangsters rose from cover, turning toward the river as if they hadn’t seen the men and vehicles gathered on the Texas side until that moment. The commanding officer took his time turning in that direction, as if to prove immediate response wasn’t required. From the major’s position, he watched the officer stroll over to one of his men.

  Major Parker lowered the bullhorn and stuck the cigar back in his mouth, chewing rather than smoking to tamp down his rising frustration.

  Sheriff Armstrong joined them. “You don’t need to stand out here in the open by yourself.”

  Parker looked over to see the Ballard sheriff with an AR-15 cradled in his arms. “Little out of your jurisdiction, you know.”

  “Yep.”

  After a lengthy exchange between the Mexican officer and his subordinate, the commanding officer waved his arms and shouted at his men to tend to their wounded and dead scattered on the muddy street.

  The officer finally walked to the riverbank and waited with both hands on his hips, facing the Texas Ranger across the Rio Grande. His face was red either from anger, fear, or high blood pressure. He had to shout across the distance and rushing water. “I am Captain Perez, and this was an armed invasion of my country by your military!”

  “Major Chase Parker, Texas Rangers. You need to stop right there with that and listen to what I have to say. How’s your English?”

  “Not good.” Perez shrugged and waved one of his men over. They spoke for a moment.

  Major Parker called Ranger Delgado over. “C’mere and bring that camera.”

  “Sir?”

  “We’re gonna get that pompous ass’ goat. Hold the camera where he can see it.”

  “Yessir.”

  “Watch and learn.” Parker puffed at the cigar to keep it alive and raised the bullhorn again. “This is going to be short and sweet between the two of us. There will be no negotiations after I’ve said my piece.”

  Perez propped his fists on his hips again, listening.

  “My men have been shooting still photos and video since we arrived.”

  Ranger Delgado held the black Canon aloft.

  “I have an accurate and true record of you and your soldiers colluding with Chatto, the El Machete enforcer for the Vincente Gonzales Flores Cartel. That means your involvement with him makes you a criminal to both the American and Mexican governments.

  “This will end right here. You will not pursue this issue, or those people who just fled, from this moment on. If you do, I will release these photos and video to the American government, your government, and the media in both the United States and your country. You’ll wind up in front of one of your own firing squads by the end of the week.”

  Captain Perez listened as his translator repeated what Major Parker had said.

  Major Parker thought the Mexican officer’s head was going to explode. He shouted at the cowed soldier beside him, first gesturing toward the Texas side of the river, and then back southward.

  The man answered and pointed at the Texas lawmen. The Mexican officer railed even more before his translator relayed the message with both hands around his mouth. “The captain says you will not do that! It will be an attempt to cover up this invasion of our country!”

  Major Parker turned and waved at the armed men still standing behind the vehicles they’d used for cover. “I need all the border patrol agents up there.” He located the FBI agent. “Landon, come up here with me. I need to use you as a visual aid.”

  Frowning, the FBI agent came around a Suburban and joined the heavily armed agents who gathered on both sides of the tall Ranger. He handed the bullhorn to Ranger Delgado. “Nick, repeat this in Spanish so that sonofabitch can hear it in his own language.

  “We also have the FBI here, as well as Border Patrol agents that recognized and also recorded what just went on across the river. The images we have do not show anyone other than the military and cartel members meeting, colluding, and then acting together to fire upon others.”

  Ranger Delgado repeated the statement with the bullhorn as the major spoke.

  Perez threw up his hands and stalked back and forth, raging up and down the riverbank. Major Parker replaced the cigar and crossed his arms, waiting for the man to calm down.

  The officer finally came back to the private, who wilted under a long verbal onslaught. Finally, Perez calmed down and gave his man instructions. The soldier cupped his hands again, clearly irritated that he had to shout to be heard.

  His voice wasn’t as strong as it had been. “Captain Perez asks you to repeat your demands.”

  “Nick, tell him we’ll do better than that. What we saw was his men engage members of the cartel and fight with bravery and honor. This is over as far as we’re concerned. That is the end of my statement and word on this matter. Do. You. Understand?”

  Ranger Delgado grinned as he relayed the message. A burst of gunfire from upriver caused the men on both sides of the river to pause.

  Perez crossed his arms and squared his shoulders at the sound.

  “Nick. Repeat this. Those are my men bringing the others back home. This is over.”

  Perez stared across the roiling water for several long moments before finally nodding. Raising one hand, he spoke to his translator, then spun on his heel, shouting orders to his men.

  “Captain Perez says that is exactly what happened and you can disperse your men. We have the situation well in hand, and Texas is once again safe from this cartel.”

  The world across the river blew up. Captain Perez’s men knew their commanding officer enough to almost move as one. As the Texans watched, almost as spectators at a music venue, the Mexican soldiers turned on the surviving cartel members.

  Guns rose on both sides, but the overwhelming firepower from the military’s fully automatic weapons dropped the few remaining gangsters like wheat before a scythe.

  Major Parker laughed. “Boys, I believe this is over.”

  The Te
xans chuckled.

  Chapter 96

  “C’mon, buddy.” Yolanda jumped down to the narrow slice of solid land between the drop-off and boiling water. Estrada built a smile full of gold teeth and dropped down beside her.

  I slapped Perry Hale on the shoulder. “Hey, it’s only a few feet across.” Not about to jump four feet down, I sat on my rear and slid off, favoring my left side.

  “I think my plan was better,” Perry Hale said as he landed beside me. “Y’all get in, but you get in the middle, Sonny. Yolanda and this guy can paddle. I’m gonna shoot some more people, because getting scared makes me mad and that’s what’s gonna happen when we get out on that water.”

  I started to respond when several men materialized from the scrub on the Texas side of the river. I recognized my Rangers. Perry Hale reached back over the high bank and grabbed the aluminum johnboat. He leaned backward, dragging it over the edge.

  Yolanda pushed past me to help drag it to the river. They couldn’t shove it into the strong current that would have pulled it away. She asked Estrada a question and he answered. Her face fell.

  The change in her demeanor was obvious. “What?”

  “His plan is to push off and let the current take us around the horseshoe. He thinks it’ll push us up against the far bank.” She pointed to the riverbank at the other end of the horseshoe not fifty yards away.

  “This thing’s already leaking like a sieve.”

  “It won’t make any difference. If we float past that curve, it’ll take us under the bridge where we’ll be sitting ducks.” Yolanda climbed in first, moving to the far end. Water seeped in through a dozen holes. Phoebe followed.

  Perry Hale swung the pack off his shoulders and dropped it in our end of the boat. “You’re next.”

  I stepped over the first bench seat and settled into the next at the same time the boat broke free in the violent current. Perry Hale launched himself over the bow, landing on his stomach with a thud. Yolanda and I were already trying to control the out-of-control boat with the homemade paddles.

  It wasn’t working.

  Seconds later we were floating backwards in the raging river that had taken control of our lives. Yolanda’s paddle snapped. I passed mine to Perry Hale. “Use this one. I can’t control it from this seat!”

  He grabbed it and dug in, trying to turn the boat and gain enough control to reach the bank only thirty yards downstream, but the river had us. Desperate, Phoebe grabbed the gunnel and leaned over to paddle with her hands.

  All we needed was a couple of people with rifles to appear on the Mexican side of the riverbank and it’d be all over but the cryin’.

  * * *

  Chatto thought it was the second miracle of the day, when his only surviving Humvee stopped behind the Americans’ stolen vehicle. He’d been given a present. “Quick, the river. They are trying to cross. Kill them!”

  The two bodyguards exchanged glances, but obeyed their leader. They split up and rounded the car from both ends, guns ready. Chatto followed with a Beretta 92 he’d taken from a dying young private with smooth skin who clutched his hand and asked for absolution.

  Chico and Emilio approached the riverbank in a crouch and quickly rose when they saw their quarry halfway across the river. They opened fire, not seeing the camouflaged Texas Rangers on the other side.

  * * *

  Flat-bottom boats don’t cooperate with paddlers, and especially in high, fast water. Perry Hale was fighting a losing battle. Four inches of water was already sloshing around our feet, and we weren’t a quarter mile from where we wanted it to go.

  “Ranger! Here!”

  Several men shouted at once and their combined voices were loud enough for us to hear over the river and all our activity. It was a team of Texas Rangers moving in a flurry of action. We were in too much of a battle with the swift river to see what they were doing, but whatever it was, I had complete faith.

  We were moving fast, and I hoped whatever they had in mind would work.

  “Grab one!”

  We were almost on them, but still in the middle of the river. Three lines simultaneously flew in our direction. One fell short, but two went completely across the boat and weights splashed into the water.

  We grabbed at the blue and red nylon climbing ropes. The short one was on Yolanda’s end, but Perry Hale and I snagged the other two. The Rangers on the other end set their feet and wrapped the ropes around their hips like cowboys holding a fighting steer.

  Perry Hale and I did the same and the ropes tightened. We didn’t expect the boat to skip around on the surface, slinging one end around like kids playing snap the whip. We were almost yanked completely out, and would have been if we hadn’t planted our feet against the gunnels. The force pushed Yolanda and Phoebe toward the stern and they held on for dear life.

  The Rangers on the other end held tight and we played a deadly game of tug-of-war against the current. Red water poured over the sides, threatening to sink the boat before we could reach the bank.

  * * *

  Two of the Rangers raised M4 carbines and took careful aim at the gangsters shooting at those in the boat. Bullets flew across the international border. Chico took two high in his chest and dropped backward, the pistol flying from his hand. The back of Emilio’s head exploded in a red and gray mist. He didn’t know he was dead until he woke up in Hell.

  * * *

  My side shrieked and I lost my grip on the rope that sizzled through my hands. With the tension released, I fell back and rolled into the bottom of the boat. Water filled my mouth, and it was all I could do to roll over, gagging for breath.

  Yolanda lunged across Phoebe for the rope, but her reach was too short.

  It was all up to Perry Hale, and he did his best. The boat shipped more water and it flipped, throwing us toward the Texas side. Guns roared overhead, and I reached out a hand to swim.

  Someone grabbed that hand and my head went under. The next thing I knew, more hands grabbed hold and I was in Texas with the rest of my crew.

  The Texas Rangers had come through.

  * * *

  Chatto crouched behind the Humvee and watched his men fall as the flat-bottom boat spun out of control in the river. The Rangers set their feet and roped the sinking boat in as if it was a wild horse. The johnboat swung with the current and shipped water. It overturned, throwing all four passengers into the river.

  They were close enough that their rescuers could drop down the bank and plant their feet on the two-foot strip of solid land above the high-water mark. The Americans in tactical gear grabbed at both the young woman Chatto had wanted to sample and the Texas Ranger. Others rescued the man and woman in military clothing.

  He stepped around the Humvee as they pulled all four people ashore and stretched them out on the bank. The two men in tactical gear who’d shot Chico and Emilio watched over their rifles, waiting to see what Chatto would do. Suddenly tired, he laid his pistol on the hood and contemplated the long drive back to his home one hundred miles south.

  * * *

  I wasn’t out for long, and when I came to, Ranger Bill Gasch and his men were gathered around us. I coughed up some water and sat up. For a moment, it felt as if I were looking through a telescope. I blinked a couple of times to clear my vision and saw Chatto standing there as if he were shopping for cars. He stepped around to the front bumper and rested his hand on the hood.

  That man who was responsible for so many deaths and so much pain grinned across the water. It was more than I could stand. “Bill, give me your rifle.”

  “I can’t do that, Sonny.” Bill laid the rifle on the muddy ground beside me and knelt facing the opposite direction. “My boot’s untied again.”

  The others waited to see what I was going to do. I picked it up with one hand because my left side had almost given up on me. The weight was too much. Still sitting, I bent my left knee and propped it there.

  “Need some help?” Perry Hale sat with his back against mine.

 
; Yolanda backed against my bad side and together they kept me stable and upright.

  Ranger Gasch’s voice floated out soft, but firm. “Hey boys, who’s that coming from behind us?”

  Men and gear rustled as they turned away from Mexico.

  I adjusted the forepiece on my knee, snugged the butt to my shoulder, and found Chatto in the scope that wavered around, then steadied for a moment. It hurt like hell when I made myself use that left arm one last time to help steady the AR.

  “Dad!”

  Jerry’s voice startled me so much I almost pulled the trigger. He was still far enough away that I could do it, but I couldn’t shoot a man simply standing beside a vehicle while my son watched, no matter what Chatto had done. Lowering the muzzle, I felt my human braces move aside.

  A hand reached out to take the rifle at the same time Jerry slid to a stop on his knees, hugging me as hard as he could. My eyes watered and I returned his embrace at the same time an AR opened up on full auto. Startled, I glanced up to see Phoebe on one knee with my rifle at her shoulder.

  Chatto dropped where he stood behind the Humvee and she lowered the rifle. “I was in fear for my life because I’m sure he recognized me.” She addressed the openmouthed Rangers. “My daddy’s a cop. He taught me to shoot.”

  “Well, you sure killed that Humvee,” Perry Hale said.

  Yolanda squeezed my arm.

  His boot retied, Ranger Gasch took his rifle back. “You boys police up all this brass. Every single hull.”

  Those Rangers gathered around me, and they looked to be ten feet tall.

  * * *

  Something stung Chatto in the shoulder, then he lost his breath at the same time a huge blow knocked his head backward. He suddenly was on his back, staring at the clouds breaking overhead. The sun peeked through for a moment, then darkness.

  Chapter 97

  Major Parker looked past Ranger Delgado and removed the cigar. “Looky over yonder. I believe I see the end to this little situation.”