Texas Born

by Gould, Judith

  It was but a matter of time. After several weeks of suspecting inconsistencies, he could keep quiet no longer.

  For Elizabeth-Anne, the day dawned with the usual everyday anxieties, but she could see no major danger looming on the horizon. She awoke feeling safe and secure, certain that all was well in her snug little world. The morning was crystal clear and the stars seemed brighter and closer to earth than ever.

  As usual, Carlos Cortez was waiting for her and Zaccheus at the construction site. Cortez was always the first to arrive in the morning, unless they arrived minutes earlier, and the last to leave at night. She knew that hiring him had been a good choice. No one could ask for more dedication from anybody.

  'I don't believe it!' Elizabeth-Anne marveled as she stared around at the dark, ghostly shapes. 'Half the framework is already completed!'

  Carlos nodded. 'My men work fast.'

  'Indeed they do!' Elizabeth-Anne hooked her arm through Zaccheus.' 'Come on, darling!' she said excitedly as the dawn began to pale the night sky. 'Let's poke around!' She shook her head in wonderment. 'I didn't realize the tourist court was so big! Now that the timber frames are half up, it looks . . . well, monstrous!'

  'And expensive,' Zaccheus added quietly.

  She caught the undercurrent in his voice and glanced at him sharply. This was the first time he had voiced concern over the budget. 'What's wrong?' she asked gently.

  'Nothing's wrong, exactly. But since I drew up the original estimates, costs have been spiraling steadily upward. I hadn't taken that into account.'

  'You mean it won't come in within the budget?' She smiled. 'Well, don't worry. I didn't really expect to repay the extra two thousand early.' She paused. 'How far over budget do you think it's going to run?'

  He shook his head. 'I don't know, exactly,' he said cautiously, 'but it looks as though it might go well over the extra two thousand. We may have to dip into our savings.'

  Her fingers clasped his arm tightly, but she did not say a word. She didn't have to: the pressure she applied on his arm said it all.

  'These units are expensive,' he explained. 'Especially the plumbing and the wiring. It would have been a lot cheaper putting up a single large building, but . . . well, that would have been a hotel, and not a tourist court. That's what's costing us . . . that, plus the fact that nothing's getting any cheaper.'

  'At least we have money in the bank,' Elizabeth-Anne said.

  'I hope it's enough.'

  'You hope what?' She stared at him.

  'I'll have to go over the figures with Carlos this weekend, but I only think it fair to warn you . . .'He hesitated uncomfortably, and looked out over the fields in the direction from which the highway was coming. 'I would have told you earlier,' he said softly, 'but I didn't want to worry you. Not until I was sure.'

  'And now you are?'

  He nodded. 'Now I am.'

  Summer dragged on, and then events began to overtake them. It was the beginning of August; they had been married thirteen years. The fickle wheel of fortune and the plot Jenny had hatched were too potent to withstand.

  17

  The strong noonday sun baked the fields remorselessly and the Mexican laborers were hidden, enjoying their siesta in the shade behind stacks of lumber and building materials as Zaccheus pulled up in the Sexton Model T Ford he had use of. The construction site seemed deserted.

  He killed the engine and the silence was almost eerie. But from the shadows he could feel the small army of Mexican workers eyeing him curiously.

  'El jefe. '

  The boss. That was how he was known by them.

  He saw Carlos Cortez striding toward him from the patch of shade. 'You sent a message that it's urgent you see me immediately?' he asked as he climbed out of the car.

  Cortez nodded. 'Si, Senor Hale. It is very, very important.' He gestured to the far end of the site. 'Let us talk over there. Some of the men understand English and I do not wish for them to hear.'

  Zaccheus nodded. 'All right,' he said, his voice sounding unnaturally loud in the silence.

  They took the wide path that had been trampled down over the past weeks toward the foundation of the last building, at the far end of the tourist court. When they reached it they sat down on the raised porch. Cortez produced an open pack of cigarettes and offered it delicately to Zaccheus, who shook his head. Cortez took one for himself, lit it, and took a deep drag. 'Things are not right,' he said softly.

  Zaccheus stared at him. 'What's wrong?'

  Cortez laughed mirthlessly. 'What is not wrong, senor? Coyote Building Suppliers, they always raise their prices. Nothing arrives at the time it is promised. For some things we have waited for weeks now.' He paused, and added softly, 'You work for Senor Sexton. Can you not appeal to him?'

  'I already did. He says there is nothing he can do. He says the building-supply company is controlled by his brother, Roy.'

  Something flickered deep within the Mexican's dark, liquid eyes.

  Wearily Zaccheus looked out across the fields.

  Cortez smoked in silence for half a minute. 'There is something else. It worries me even more.'

  Zaccheus turned to him.

  Cortez ground the cigarette out under his heel. 'We are always short of supplies. What is delivered is carefully inventoried, but then . . .'He shrugged. 'When we use the supplies, much is missing.'

  Zaccheus' voice was hushed. 'You mean someone is stealing from us?'

  The Mexican's expression did not change. 'The last night, I spent it here, Senor Hale,' he said in a hushed voice. 'I wanted to see for myself.'

  'And someone came? To steal?' It was more a statement than a question.

  'Si. ' Cortez nodded. 'It was after midnight when they arrived. There were two trucks and five men. I did not try to stop them. There were too many of them, and only one of me.'

  'It would have been stupid to try anything,' Zaccheus agreed. 'Did they see you?'

  'No, senor. But I recognized two of them . . . and the trucks.'

  Zaccheus stared intently at him.

  Cortez did not speak.

  Zaccheus' voice was a bare whisper.' 'Who were they?''

  Cortez remained silent.

  'They were Sexton men, weren't they?' Zaccheus said tightly. His bright blue eyes turned dark and stonelike with anger. 'They had to have been.'

  Cortez nodded. 'And the trucks were Coyote Building Suppliers trucks. I am sorry, senor.'

  'I should have known,' Zaccheus said bitterly. 'First they sell us the materials, and then they steal them back to sell them all over again.'

  'They are not good people, senor.'

  ' 'I know.'' Zaccheus sighed. ' 'And I am one of them.''

  'Senor?'

  'I work for Sexton. Or, I should say, I worked for him. I am resigning today.'

  Cortez looked at him and nodded. 'That is good.' He paused. 'About the thefts, senor. What are you going to do?'

  Zaccheus' voice was thoughtful. 'When is the next big shipment coming in?'

  'Tomorrow afternoon is when it is scheduled.'

  Zaccheus rose from the porch. 'Then they are likely to come again tomorrow night. I will spend it here; I will have to,' he said.

  Cortez looked at him. 'Then I shall spend the night here with you, Senor Hale,' he said softly. 'Better that there are two of us. Those men, they look dangerous.'

  'No.' Zaccheus shook his head. 'This I must do myself.'

  'Then be careful, senor. If you change your mind. . .'

  Zaccheus smiled. 'I won't, but thank you. You're a brave man, Senor Cortez. There are not many men in this state who would dare put themselves in that position.''

  'De nada. ' Cortez shrugged. 'It is nothing. They are thieves and must be stopped.'

  'I will stop them.'

  Cortez stood there, smiling sadly. 'You, too, are a brave man, Senor Hale,' he said softy. 'I only hope you are not a foolish one, as well.'

  'No!' Elizabeth-Anne gasped. It was approaching dusk and they were s
tanding on the porch of the café. 'No, Zaccheus. I forbid it! You can't. If you go out there tonight, I think you ought to get Sheriff Parker to go with you.'

  He smiled. 'Don't worry so much, Mama. I'm just going to hide on the site to see what happens.'

  'I'm scared, Zaccheus.'

  He smiled. 'Don't worry so much. I'm not going to play the hero. But we've got to find out exactly who's behind the thefts. How else can we stop them?'

  She stared at him. 'Still. I wish you wouldn't go.'

  'I have to. You know that.'

  She nodded and came into his arms. He held her close, a feat which was becoming increasingly difficult with her pregnancy. He could feel her trembling.

  He smiled down at her, his eyes tender. 'Let's stop worrying, and go upstairs. I've got an hour to kill and I intend to put it to good use.'

  She laughed in spite of herself. 'The baby might kick you,' she warned teasingly.

  'Then let it kick.'

  She laid her head against his chest and gazed at the setting sun. It was huge and orange, poised above the roof of the rooming house across the street. For a moment it seemed to hang there hesitantly. Then suddenly it slipped down, down, down until it was a mere thin curve along the roof; then it was gone.

  She felt his hand tugging at hers.

  'But the girls!' she protested weakly. 'Really, Zaccheus!'

  'Rosa will keep them busy. Come on. It's our last chance until tomorrow morning.'

  She felt the warmth of him pressing against her body and her own answering warm tremor.

  He kissed her deeply, urgently. 'Time's a-wasting.'

  She stared into his eyes. 'Yes,' she whispered in return. 'It is.'

  18

  It was after midnight and Zaccheus had been sitting cross-legged in the weeds for hours now, a bottle of cold, sugared back coffee beside him. Fifty feet in front of him, that morning's newly delivered pallets of lumber, piles of copper plumbing pipes, and giant rolls of electric wiring were black shadows against a dark sky.

  The fields all around were eerie, moonless, and dark. Field mice scurried in the high dry weeds; in the distance a coyote howled. Cicadas and crickets shrilled and trilled their night songs.

  It was in the hour after midnight when he finally heard the distant, labored rumbling of approaching trucks. As they neared, the insects and animals stilled a moment before continuing their nocturnal cacophony. Three sets of headlights dipped and rose on the dirt road.

  Zaccheus crawled forward to get a better view and squatted behind a thorny bush. He blinked his eyes at the sudden brightness and froze as the vehicles made the turn in the road and came straight toward him, momentarily blinding him. The front vehicle, he saw now, was a car— a brand-new Cadillac, all chrome and shiny red paint. His heart beat like savage jungle drums. He knew that car. It was the only one like it in the entire county.

  It was Roy Sexton's. Roy . . . Tex's younger brother. He should have known.

  Then he heard the squeal of brakes and the slamming of doors. The vehicles' headlights were left on to bathe the construction site, and men were moving about, unhooking the tailboards of the trucks. He saw Roy Sexton climbing out of the Cadillac and stretching, then hooking his thumb in his belt. Six men, all Sexton ranch hands, ambled up to him.

  'I don't know,' one of the men drawled. 'What if they left somebody here to guard this stuff? They must be wise to us by now.'

  'Don't be a chickenshit, Billy,' Roy said derisively. 'Them Hales is a bunch of shitheads. Wouldn't know a tit from a pecker.'

  The other men laughed.

  ' 'Sides,' Roy went on, 'the workers is all Mexes. Anybody steals, it's them gets blamed.' He chortled and let fly a wad of spit.

  It was all Zaccheus could do to keep from jumping forward. His eyes were like silvery pinpoints in his face, and a killing anger and mortal outrage consumed him. So this was how they perceived the Hales, was it? Well, they would learn differently soon enough.

  The theft was well-coordinated and efficient. Roy, obviously in charge, led the way to the stacks of that morning's delivery and gestured to what the men should take. From his vantage point Zaccheus watched as they formed pairs and began carrying building supplies to the trucks.

  It didn't take them more than half an hour. Then Roy shouted, 'That's enough,' and they hooked up the tailboards and climbed back into their trucks.

  'You comin', Roy?' one of the men called out of the cab of a truck as he raced the engine.

  Roy flapped a hand, signaling for them to drive off. 'I'll just poke around a few minutes. You all go on. I'll catch up with you later.'

  The heavily laden trucks roared off, their headlights rising and dipping back the way they had come, leaving behind air foul with the stench of exhaust.

  Roy was alone, prowling around in the light of the Cadillac's powerful bug-eye headlights.

  Zaccheus hesitated, then rose from his hiding place and started walking toward him. He felt blinded by anger and it was as if his heart and pulse were furiously running away.

  'Roy!' The name came out as a sharp bark.

  Roy Sexton turned around in surprise and Zaccheus eyed him murderously in the glare of the headlight beams. He saw the lean, tanned face, the almost black, squinty mean little eyes, and the strong cleft jaw. He also sensed, not for the first time, the tense brute strength and animal cunning coursing through Roy's taut, wiry physique.

  'You been stealing from us a long time, Roy?' he asked softy.

  Roy had tensed for a moment when he heard his name called out. Now he relaxed slightly. 'You gonna do something about it, boy?' He grinned.

  Zaccheus looked at him coldly. 'I want back what's ours, Roy.'

  Roy looked at him with a bored expression and turned away.

  The words tore venomously from Zaccheus' lips: 'You Sexton son of a bitch! You're thieves and liars and racketeers, the bunch of you! And you, you lowlife son of a bitch, are the worst sneak thief of them all!'

  Roy Sexton turned back around. 'I'd watch my mouth if I was you, Bible salesman,' he warned quietly. 'One more word outta you and you don't need to bother reporting to work tomorrow.' He gave a low, ugly laugh. 'You can peddle Bibles again.'

  'Yeah? What're you going to do? Fire me?'

  'Maybe.'

  Zaccheus laughed softy. 'I quit yesterday, or hadn't you heard? Now, get in your car and get off my property. I don't want a yellow-bellied thief like you despoiling it any longer.'

  Roy came at him in a blur, fists flying, and Zaccheus quickly ducked. He tackled Roy around the chest and the two men went sprawling to the ground and rolled over a few times. Roy buckled and threw Zaccheus off and jumped nimbly to his feet. Spying a foot-long iron pipe on the ground, he grabbed it and wielded it threateningly at Zaccheus, a wild kind of joy burning in his mean little eyes.

  Zaccheus was back on his feet now. Tempted though he was to watch the moving in. n pipe, he kept his gaze on Roy's eyes—they, better than his weapon, would signal his attack when it came.

  It came then. Zaccheus saw it coming and threw himself aside; the pipe thudded into the ground where he had been crouching a moment before. He walked cautious circles around Roy.

  Roy, crouching, laughed confidently as he kept turning to face him. He feinted a few moves and got the pipe, keeping Zaccheus back with it. Then he lifted it high and brought it whistling down.

  Zaccheus barely leapt aside in time. Even so, the pipe came down on his shoulder and there was a sickening crack. Lightning bolts of pain shot through his arm and down his chest and back, and he stumbled.

  Roy Sexton laughed and thrust forward with the pipe, forcing Zaccheus to dance back against a four- foot stack of lumber. Zaccheus' eyes darted about in panic. Now he could no longer spring backward; he was concerned.

  Gritting his teeth against the pain in his shoulder, Zaccheus swung himself up to the top of the lumber stack. He leapt to his feet and stood there a moment, looking down at Roy. Then he turned and ran nimbly along the ten-foot
length.

  Behind him, Roy threw the pipe onto the stack of lumber and hoisted himself up. Grabbing the pipe, he ran after Zaccheus.

  There was another, lower stack of lumber six feet away. Zaccheus took a leap and jumped down onto it, his sudden weight shifting the boards. He could feel them collapsing under his feet; he jumped down to the ground and leapt clear.

  It was a moment later that Roy did the same, but the result was disastrous. The lumber had shifted precariously under Zaccheus' weight, and it was now unevenly distributed. The moment Roy's feet landed on it, the stack gave way under his weight and he found himself falling backward, arms flailing.

  'What the . . . ?' he grunted, and those were the last words Roy Sexton ever uttered. Then the ground rose up to meet him and the back of his head hit an exposed pipe.

  Suddenly there was silence.

  With a racing heart Zaccheus slowly approached him.

  The headlight beams of the Cadillac still stabbed into the night, floodlighting the eerie scene.

  'Roy,' Zaccheus whispered.

  There was no reply, and a cold sweat began to pour from his body.

  'Roy!'

  Roy Sexton stared up at him with unseeing eyes. Blood poured forth from a gaping hole in the back of his head.

  Zaccheus' stomach began to churn convulsively and he jerked up and turned away, clapping a hand over his mouth to stifle the sickening bile rising up in his throat. After a few moments he took deep lungfuls of air and then slowly looked at the body again. He felt for a heartbeat.

  There was none. Roy Sexton, Tex's little brother, was very, very dead.

  Finally he stood up wearily and walked in a daze over to Roy's car. He steadied himself against the car's open door. For several drawn-out moments he stood there breathing deeply. Suddenly he was very tired. Sighing deeply, he closed his eyes.

  He knew what he had to do. He might as well do it. Get it over with.