by H. L. Wegley
“You three took them all out? And cremated them already?”
A man with a deputy sheriff’s badge stopped beside Preston. “You can’t cremate without a license. It could get you arrested.”
The man either had a dry sense of humor, or he was trying to be obnoxious. “Tell that to God, Deputy, uh … I can’t read your badge,” Beth said.
“Yeah, Deputy I-can’t-read-your-badge. That’s who you need to talk to about the forest fire that trapped and burned about twenty-five cartel members, including Hector Suarez.” Drew chuckled.
“Well, I’ll be—”
“No, Preston. You don’t want to be that. We’re pretty sure that’s what Suarez got. But it’s possible that one or two of the guys Steve shot are out there wounded. For all the others, you’ll be either collecting bodies or ashes. The fire crowned and ran them up into a box canyon, where Beth and I led them. We heard them as the fire got them. It was gruesome.”
“So you were in the box canyon and you survived, but they’re all cremated?”
“Yeah. In a situation like that, who you know makes a big difference. If you don’t believe in God, you might call them coincidences. But a strange combination of events led me to the split rock that leads out of the canyon to the other side of the ridge. We breathed a lot of smoke but got out through that crack in the rock.”
The deputy kicked the dirt a few times with his boot then looked up at Agent Preston. “We’ll search for survivors and bodies in the morning. The fire is probably dying down some, due to the rain. But it’s still too much of a danger to approach it until daylight. Also, any survivors, hidden by the darkness, could start shooting at the police.”
“I don't think you’ll find any survivors.” Steve had walked up to where they stood. “I shot fifteen of them. Probably killed ten outright. The able-bodied men chased Drew and Beth and were cut off by the fire. I was looking down from a ridge to the east when it crowned. Looked like Hell on earth. Flames leapt up three-hundred feet or more. Whole trees exploded from the heat. The explosions split the air and cracked like lightning. The fire ran faster than a man can run.”
“Good to see you in one piece, decoy.” Drew gave Steve a hand. Then they went through some male ritual with their hands and arms that Beth didn’t understand and didn’t think the men did either. It stopped when Steve bumped Drew’s upper arm.
“Ouch.”
Steve grabbed Drew’s shoulder well above the wound. “You got hit, bro. We need a medic to dress that and close it up.”
“Yeah. I wouldn’t want to have an infected arm on my wedding day.”
“Izzat right?” Steve turned toward Beth.
Beth waited until Drew looked her way. “Drew West is full of it.”
“We all know that, Beth,” Steve said. “But, about a certain wedding, are you denying it or not?”
“She doesn’t work that way, Steve,” Drew said. “When she says something, it implies two or three other things which, if taken together, might answer your question. But you’re supposed to know that without being told. She’s an INTJ female. You gotta’ read them in between the lines.”
“Bro, I know what ‘Drew West is full of it’ means. There’s nothing in between the lines. But it didn’t answer my question about a wedding.”
“Can we talk about something else, something more relevant,” Beth said. She wasn’t ready to reveal what was happening in her heart and mind to anyone else … not yet.
“Yeah. Steve, call my mom at your place and have her call her vet. Dusty got hit in the shoulder by an AK-47 bullet and needs some pain meds and his wound treated. Just tell her he’s along the fence by the old homestead.”
“Hit once?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it safe down there?”
“Yeah. If the vet comes in from the south, on the old homestead road, he’ll be safe.”
“You got it, bro. We’ll talk about the other stuff later.”
Preston blasted out a sigh. “Now that we’ve gotten all that out of the way, back to FBI business.”
“And DEA business.” Another man in a suit approached.
“Yes. And DEA business,” Preston said. “Based on what Mr. Bancroft and you two described, I think we can say the fire wiped out the Del Rio cartel. And half of the Tijuana cartel.”
“No. God wiped them out. Burned them just like they did to my town,” Beth said.
Preston turned toward Beth. “Your father was Rafael Sanchez, wasn't he?”
Beth nodded. “After almost eight years, maybe there is justice on this earth.”
Agent Preston dipped his head. “And Suarez didn't have to wait for a white throne for his judgment.”
“No, sir,” Steve pulled his cell from his ear and shoved it in his pocket. “Suarez thought he was his own god, El Capitan of his own soul. But the God who answers by fire—He is God. It was almost like Elijah and the prophets of Baal. Fire came down from heaven, a big bolt of lightning, and burned up everything.”
“Well said, Ranger Bancroft.” Preston grinned at Steve.
Steve cocked his head. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”
“You didn’t know me, but you sure gave me a hard look when you passed by my SMAW while you were reciting the Ranger’s Creed.”
“You were there that day eight years ago?”
“The day your outfit saved America—you bet I was,” Preston said.
“Did you hear that, Drew?” Steve turned toward Drew. “Hey, bro. Did you hear that?”
Drew looked Steve’s way. “Go away for a few minutes. I’m busy.” He turned back to Beth and took both of her hands.
“Marry me, Beth. I have a contract for what will be my breakout novel. I need a business manager.”
“That didn't work the last time you tried it, Drew. What makes you think it will this time?”
“Because I love you the way you are, Beth Sanchez. I don't have anything to prove to you. And an imperfect man, one you know everything about, is asking you.”
Drew dropped to one knee on the ground.
Beth leaned back against the police car and stared at him. How was he going to do this? He wasn’t going traditional on her, was he? And he didn’t have a ring.
Steve turned around, looked at them, and scratched his head.
Drew jumped up, ran to Sundown and fiddled with her saddle. He trotted back and took a knee.
“Give me your sexy, swollen ankle, Beth.”
“Here it is. But it's not swollen. It's just a little sore from running on it. As for sexy … do you have an ankle fetish, Drew?”
Steve pointed at Drew. “Bro, this isn't manly, and it’s not how it's done.”
“Butt out, Ranger Bancroft. This is my battle.” He looked up at Beth. “Do you want me to tell you what I was really thinking when I held your ankle by the Rio Grande?”
“Are you actually going to admit that in front of this audience?”
Now four policemen had joined Steve watching the marriage proposal that threatened to become a train wreck.
“Yeah. I am. I was thinking that I wanted to take care of you for the rest of my life.”
“That's what you said last time, Drew. I don’t like reruns.”
“But you'd better not give me the same answer, because then I wouldn't have to take care of you for very long.”
“Was that a threat? You really know how to scare a woman.” She felt anything but threatened, but Drew needed to deduce things like that on his own.
“Beth, despite our earlier conversation, for you and me, real life can be better than a Nicholas Sparks romance.”
“I certainly hope so. Half the time, somebody dies, and the other person’s left behind, crying their eyes out … along with all the readers.”
“Just say you’ll marry me. You can live here, ride horses whenever you want. You can manage my writing business and Way West Ranch too. You’ll be the CEO of two companies. And you can bring Mom into the twenty-first century.”
> “When?”
“When what?”
“When are we getting married?”
“Is that a yes?”
The crowd had grown to at least fifteen policemen and a policewoman.
“I want to marry a man who is decisive. When are we getting married, Drew West? How long does it take around here to get—what do the cowboys say, hitched?”
“I think it takes at least three days for—”
“Okay. Three days.”
“Like, for real? Three days?” His voice had cracked on three.
“Take it before I change my mind.”
A policeman tapped Drew on the shoulder. “Take it, dude. If you don't, I will.”
“Okay. Three days.”
“So in three days I get two jobs and a horse ranch?” She extracted her ankle, reached out a hand, and pulled Drew to his feet.
“That's about the size of it.”
“It’s bribery. Pure and simple.”
“But you’re forgetting something, Beth?”
“What?”
“I know for a fact that you're one of those INTJ women, the rarest type on the planet—sarcastic, never show affection, or much emotion. But at some point—don’t you have something you want to say to me?”
She cupped his cheeks. “I love you too, Drew West.” There. She had said the words and now it was time to show him.
Beth leaned closer to kiss Drew, but he held her by the shoulders, then he took her left hand. Drew lifted it up where the flashing blue and red lights turned it purple, just before he slipped something over her ring finger.
She wiggled her fingers. It was big and wasn’t exactly round, but it was familiar looking. “A D-ring from Sundown’s saddle?”
“I can get something more suitable tomorrow.”
“For now, this is perfect.” She kissed Drew.
She had initiated all three of their kisses. But this one was much longer than the first two. Maybe it was time to test her theory. In the middle of the kiss, she concentrated on the strategy she had used to capture Drew.
I’ve closed the drawbridge. You’ve been trapped inside the castle. You thought you had stormed it, but I caught you, and now you’re mine, Drew West.
Beth continued her betrothal kiss. She ignored the audience, ignored her fear of emotional exposure, ignored everything except the man who had saved her life more times than she could count, the man who offered her more than a romance writer could ever give a woman.
Speaking of writers, Drew was one. And she still didn’t even know what he wrote, yet she had promised to marry him.
What if he wrote horror? That could be changed. After all, she would be his business manager, his wife, and she was an INTJ. If he wrote horror, that’s what his life would be until he changed genres.
As she finished the kiss, their audience clapped and whistled.
But Drew cocked his head and gave her the strangest look. “Beth, I want to marry you more than I’ve ever wanted anything on this planet. But I should have realized that when you opened the drawbridge you were setting a trap for me, weren’t you?”
He had done it again. Drew knew. “I opened the gate because I wanted you inside, and I closed it to keep you. The only question was, would I have to open it again to kick you out?”
“Are you always strategizing, planning, and analyzing things in that INTJ mind of yours?”
“How else can a person know if they’re right?”
“Beth, all’s right that ends right.”
“Are you trying to quote Shakespeare to me? Don’t answer that. Just tell me this … did we end right, Drew?”
“I don’t know. We’ve only just begun.”
There were other people around them. How could she have completely forgotten that? One of them approached her and Drew walking at a snappy pace. Agent Preston.
“I’ve got some news for you two. You get to honeymoon in Pecos, Texas. They're about to convene the grand jury.”
Beth gave the FBI agent a serious frown. “It seems there's always a Suarez messing up my life.”
“But, Beth, aren’t you glad we turned down witness protection?” Drew draped an arm over her shoulders.
“Yes. But it is a bit like marriage.”
“Witness protection?”
She nodded. “Once you take it, there's no turning back.”
Epilogue
Drew stood in the living room of their cottage at the Lajitas Golf Resort and Spa, studying his wife. They had chosen the location for its proximity to Big Bend National Park. But there was no golfing on their agenda.
“A honeymoon in Texas isn't a bad thing, Drew.” Beth cinched up the laces of her hiking boots. “I didn't get to finish my Big Bend hiking excursion. But this time we get to go by ourselves.”
Beth stood and sauntered across the living room. “The last time we were by ourselves here, bad things happened.”
Wearing shorts and a tank top, Beth was in a class by herself. She could walk onto the stage at the Miss Universe Pageant and steal the show.
“What do you mean by bad things happened?”
“I sprained my ankle.”
Half of the time she was the great minimizer, the other half was all hyperbole or sarcasm. “So you don't think Suarez showing up was a bad thing?”
“Drew, Suarez … isn't. That’s all we need to say about him.”
“And when the money for his lawyer ended with the death of the Del Rio Cartel, Ricardo's lawyer lost interest.”
“He more than lost interest, Drew. The man disappeared, forcing Ricardo to take the best plea bargain he could get.”
“Which means that you and I won't be coming back for a trial. The indictments by the grand jury scared poor Ricardo into making that plea bargain.”
“And that means we need to make the most of our time here in Big Bend. Who knows when we’ll be back here. So let's get going. Santa Elena Canyon awaits.”
“Let's wait a few minutes, Beth.”
She slipped her arms around his neck and gave him a seductive smile. “What are you proposing, Mr. West?”
“Just that I'd like to get to the Canyon around 8:00 a.m.”
Beth stepped back and shook her head. “It's still August. We need to start early. It's going to be hot on the trail.” She studied his eyes for a moment, then stepped into his arms again.
“It's hot in this room.” Had he said that or just thought it?
“Drew, are all men like you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your thoughts are well, shocking. Like a lot of things that go through men’s minds.”
She was good at remembering his words and using them against him.
Drew reached for a couch pillow.
Beth tackled him.
She knocked him back onto the couch.
It was a picture-perfect tackle—shoulder into his stomach, arms clamped together like steel bars. She even drove through him like Drew’s old coach had taught his players.
Where had she learned that? Watching American football on the weekends?
She landed on top of him. “Remember what happened the last time we had a pillow fight?” Her eyes darted playfully around on his face until her gaze locked on a spot a little south of his nose. “If I kiss you, will you take me to the canyon now?”
“What time is it?”
“How can you think about time at a time like this?”
“Evidently, you can. You just said, ‘a time like this’.”
“Fine. Then you can't kiss me until we reach the Canyon.”
“Fine. I can wait.”
Beth made him wait.
Forty-five minutes later, Drew drove their rental car into the parking lot near the canyon.
With packs on their backs, they walked hand-in-hand from the trailhead to the place where they had sat beside the Rio Grande. In those magic moments, they had made the kind of connection that lasts a lifetime.
Drew glanced at his watch and nodded.
“Nothing.”
“No. Last time it was nothing. This time it’s …” She leaned toward him to give him the kiss she’d made him wait for.
A raft emerged from the canyon.
She sucked in a breath and pulled Drew down into the bushes by the river.
Another raft floated out of the shadows.
Then a third.
“We need to get out of here.” Beth whispered. “You didn't bring your Governor, did you?”
“No. Didn't think I'd need it.”
“Look. Now there are four rafts.”
“What should we do, Beth?”
“You're asking me? What happened to the Drew West I ran off to Oregon with?” She glanced at the river and gasped. “They're coming to our side, to the riverbank.”
Drew unslung his pack and stood.
“No. Don't. Get down.” Beth grabbed his belt and jerked downward. She almost pulled off his shorts.
“Hey, bro! Haven't seen you in a while.”
It was a familiar voice. Hunter.
They rose out of the bushes and Beth stood nose-to-nose with Drew. “Delaying. Always looking at your watch. You set me up, Mr. West.”
“Mrs. West, I’d never do a thing like that to my bride. She might have Whittaker prosecute me—maybe for trafficking in jokes on government land.”
“No. For spousal abuse.” She cocked her arm and focused on his shoulder. “I'm going to punch you so hard that you'll never—”
“Please don’t. I just got the stitches out.”
When she pulled her punch, Drew grabbed his pack and took off trotting down the trail for the canyon. “Catch you later, Hunter. Sometime after Beth catches me.”
* * *
So Drew had a nice ending planned to this, after all the mischief. And he had recreated part of that moment when they first met.
Beth would catch him. They would kiss in the shadows of the canyon, and tonight Beth would lie under the stars with Drew beside her at a spot for which they’d obtained a camping permit.
Later, while sleeping under the stars, she would dream of horses, of foals frolicking in green pastures, of Mel and Coop, of Drew’s mom, Mattie, who had made Beth her daughter. But mostly she would dream of the man she had given her heart to.