Cowboy Lies

by Lynde Lakes

  Matt shook his head, trying to clear the dizziness.

  Blood trickled from Luke’s ear and soaked his collar. He struggled to his feet. “We have to stop your bleeding!” Luke’s voice boomed with strength considering his condition. He was more of a fighter than Matt had given him credit for.

  “You’re the one who needs treatment.” Sucking in extra oxygen, Matt fought to stay alert. His brother’s inner strength and courage in an emergency surprised him. Made him proud.

  “You first, then me,” Luke said. Holding on to the wall, he made it to a shelf where they kept a half-dozen emergency medical kits. “We gotta stop your bleedin’ or you’ll be no good to anyone.”

  Matt looked down at his blood-soaked sleeve. Luke was right. He needed to stop the bleeding. If he didn’t, he might pass out. “Okay. Make it snappy.” He shrugged out of his shirt.

  Luke dressed Matt’s wound with trembling hands, blinking and shaking his head as though he might black out again. He managed to stop the bleeding and get Matt’s shoulder bandaged before slumping into Matt’s arms.

  Under different circumstances, he might have just slapped Luke conscious, but with the injury to his head, it wouldn’t be wise. He grabbed an ampoule of ammonia from the medical kit and waved it under his brother’s nose.

  “I’m okay…I’m okay.” Luke’s speech was slurred.

  “The hell you are.” Matt swabbed Luke’s ear. “Face the light so I can see what I’m doing.” Molly could do a better job of this, but it was a gamble to wait.

  “Anybody ever tell you that you’re bossy as hell?” Luke asked.

  Matt was too busy to answer. He did a quick cleanup of Luke’s wound and suppressed the flow of blood with pressure. He needed to do a good job, but he also had a driving sense of urgency to get to Molly.

  “Ouch,” Luke said, flinching.

  “Hold still,” Matt growled. He pressed on a thick square of gauze and then wrapped a bandage around Luke’s head to hold it in place. Matt removed two packets of painkillers and closed the first aid kit with a decisive snap. He handed a packet to Luke. He didn’t know what the doctor might say about giving codeine to an alcoholic, but this was an emergency. Without waiting for water to wash them down, Luke popped two pills into his mouth and swallowed. Matt could hold out and wash his down with water when he got to his office.

  Groaning, Matt eased back into his shirt. He grabbed his rifle. “You’ll be okay now. I’m going to check on Molly and find out who turned off the lights.” Maybe Molly doused them for some reason…or maybe the FBI hotshots did it.

  Luke struggled to his feet and grabbed his rifle. “I’m coming with you.”

  “No, you stay put.” Matt ran toward the office, his brother following anyway.

  Matt’s breath caught. The office door hung off its hinges. No one was inside.

  ****

  A coyote howled mournfully in the distance while pops of gunfire echoed from the ranch. But it was Sara Jane’s top-of-her-lungs cries that held Molly’s attention and twisted her heart.

  Molly’s leg muscles burned, and her breath came in labored gasps, but she kept pace with her captors. She couldn’t hang back—the man ahead had her baby! She hadn’t been able to protect her own child. What was she going to do?

  Claudio seemed to be the leader. He was dirty, with cruel eyes, not someone she wanted to even touch her baby. Moonlight distorted the pasture’s terrain, and Molly stepped into a hole and fell. “Pedro!” Claudio barked, and then ordered in Spanish, “Keep her moving.”

  Pedro, a squat man with slits for eyes, yanked her to her feet and stuck a gun in her ribs. “Fall again, and I’ll shoot you.”

  She had to keep her wits. Her mother’s words echoed in her head, “It’s not what happens to you—it’s how you handle it.” If she lived through this, she’d have to identify these men in court. Except for Claudio, the guy with the misshapen boxer’s nose, they were all dark-skinned Latinos. Black flight suits from head to toe hid any scars or other distinguishing marks.

  Molly kept her eyes on the wide back of the man who had her baby. It was useless to look for ways to escape. While they had her baby, they had her.

  Ahead, a plane engine roared in readiness. A man with a rifle shouted in Spanish for them to hurry. Since escape was out of the question, she’d have to board. Once she did, any chance for rescue would end.

  ****

  Matt stared at the unhinged door. Molly and Sara Jane were gone. His gut knotted. Luke brushed past him, looking around at the empty room. His glance caught a sheet of paper that had drifted to the floor. Someone wearing dirty boots had stepped on it. “Matt. Look.”

  A chill ran down Matt’s spine. He grabbed the sheet of paper that his brother held out to him. When he scanned the words, he felt the blood drain from his face, and his throat went dry. “I’m Sara Jane’s father.” He gripped the desk. I’m Sara Jane’s father. My Sunshine. Our daughter.

  “No bombshell to me,” Luke drawled. He grabbed Matt by his uninjured arm. “Pass out the cigars later. We gotta get my niece back.”

  “Right!” A surge of adrenaline pulsed through Matt’s veins and propelled him into action. He filled a paper cup with water and gulped down the painkillers. He couldn’t let pain mess up his aim or slow him down. He grabbed extra shells from the gun cabinet and handed some to Luke. “Can you make it?”

  “Sure. Our crusty ol’ man may have raised misfits, but he didn’t raise no wimps.”

  At the rear of the barn, Matt heard the crash of a feed bucket hitting concrete. “Molly?”

  Luke and Matt raced to the sound and found the three FBI men bound and gagged. A bucket lay beside Ramon’s rope-lashed ankles. Somehow, he had knocked the pail off the hook with his head.

  Matt yanked the cloth from Ramon’s mouth. “Where’s Molly and the baby?”

  “Del Fuego’s men took them to a plane in the east pasture.”

  “Untie these guys,” Matt told Luke.

  Luke whipped out a pocketknife and cut the ropes around Ramon’s wrists. He handed his knife to the agent. “Cut your buddies loose. I gotta go.” Then he and Matt slipped out the door. With Matt in the lead, they ran across the rutted pasture in long strides, bullet wounds forgotten, strengthened by raw determination to save Molly and the baby.

  In the distance, by the light of the full moon, Matt saw a Cessna taxi along the road that cut through the pasture. His gut knotted tighter, and his throat constricted as he watched it increase its speed, then lift and take to the air. Dear God. They had Molly. And his baby!

  ****

  Tears pressed at Molly’s eyes as she watched Matt running across the pasture, silhouetted by a full moon and the glow from the ranch lights. With her index finger, she touched the windowpane. Her hero raced to the rescue—mere minutes too late.

  Don’t blame yourself, cowboy. You did the best you could. Accept it. You can’t control everything.

  Had he found her note? Under the circumstances, maybe it would have been better for him to never have known.

  The plane climbed. Then the ranch she’d come to love disappeared into the blackness, leaving just the glistening moonlit line of Verde Creek, the place Matt had kissed her before her memory returned. Soon that silvery line disappeared, too. A tear rolled down her cheek. She brushed it away and took a deep breath. Okay. She was stuck with this mess, and she’d better handle it right. She was all Sara Jane had now.

  Grim faced, Claudio sat in a passenger seat next to Molly with the baby in his lap. Sara Jane’s cries had faded to whimpers. But when the plane climbed higher, she started screaming again. The baby swatted at her ears with tiny fists. “My baby’s in pain,” Molly said. “Please give her to me.”

  He thrust the baby at her. “Shut her up. That squalling’s getting on my nerves.”

  Molly closed her eyes briefly as she gathered Sara Jane close and reveled in the feel of the baby’s warmth. “It’s her ears. The pressure. Get something for her to drink. She needs t
o swallow to stop her ears from hurting.”

  Claudio glared at her with narrowed eyes. “I don’t take orders from a prisoner—especially a woman.”

  Damn him. She’d like to lunge at him, scratch his eyes out. “All this crying will make Sara Jane ill. Does your boss want a sick baby on his hands?” Claudio stared at her, the wheels obviously turning in his head. She glared at him. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

  He snickered. “We got beer or wine.”

  The armed men who sat around them watched their exchange with dull eyes. “Water will do.”

  He took a few steps to the front and opened an ice chest. He returned with a bottle of wine. “No water,” he growled.

  Idiot. Well, at least she could rub a little wine on her knuckle, anything to get her baby to suck, anything to ease the pain. After quieting the child, she patted her back, murmuring, “Mommy’s here, sweetie. I know these men frighten you, and that your ears hurt. But somehow, we’ll get through this. I promise you’ll see your daddy again.” Hugging her baby girl tight, she wished she could believe her own promise.

  ****

  With an anguished heart, Matt drew the three FBI men together in the moonlit pasture. “Stop that other plane from taking off,” he told them. “Luke and I will ground the chopper.”

  “I want to go with you,” Ramon said. “Noble and Phillips can disable the plane without my help. I’m good with choppers.”

  Matt hesitated, and then nodded.

  By the time Matt, Luke, and Ramon returned to the ranch compound, Alfonso and some of the vaqueros had already seized the chopper and had tied up Paulo Santina and Webb Viceman. The other three of the chopper crew had been killed in the crossfire.

  Using his good arm, Matt grabbed Santina by the neck. “Where are they taking Molly and the baby?”

  “I do not know anything, señor. I am only the pilot.”

  “Let me beat it out of him,” Luke said. “I think he’s the polecat who shot off the top of my ear.”

  Right now, Luke couldn’t beat his way out of a paper bag. Matt leveled a menacing look first at Santina, then at Viceman. “I have something more deadly in mind for these two if they don’t start talking fast.”

  Viceman spat in Matt’s face.

  Santina sneered. “My sentiments exactly, señor.”

  “Okay,” Matt said, “we’ll do this the hard way.” He checked the men’s bindings. “Load these bastards into the chopper. We’re going for a ride.”

  Matt studied his vaqueros and handpicked a couple of ex-marines to go with him. “Anyone want to back out? It’ll be dangerous. And not by the book.”

  In answer, without hesitation, they climbed into the helicopter.

  “I need a pilot, too.” Matt could fly the chopper, but he had another job in mind for himself. Luke had a pilot’s license, too. But he wanted him to stay behind.

  “I can fly this,” Ramon said.

  “Then rev ’er up.”

  Ramon climbed inside and started the chopper. Propellers whipped the air, blew dust in rolling gusts.

  “I’m going, too, bro.” Luke didn’t wait for agreement. He climbed into the chopper behind the other volunteers.

  His brother needed a doctor, not another fight, and Matt needed men who were strong, ruthless. But if he disqualified Luke, he’d have to disqualify himself. And there was no way in hell he would do that.

  With his hair blowing in the wind, Matt paused before closing the chopper door and asked Alfonso, “Are my folks okay?”

  “Si, but mad as hell. Tita and Roberto are with them now.”

  Matt waved his thanks, then slammed the door closed and gave a thumbs-up sign to Ramon. Once in the sky, Matt went into a huddle with a couple of his strongest men and whispered what he wanted them to do. Then, in a loud voice, he told them to blindfold Viceman and Santina. “Okay, slimeballs,” Matt said. “Your choice. Talk or fly.”

  “You cannot push us out the door, Señor,” Santina said. “You are an agent of the government, not a killer.”

  “Right now,” Matt growled, “I’m just a cowboy who wants his daughter back.”

  Santina swallowed. “I—”

  “Don’t spill anything,” Viceman shouted. “Or I’ll kill you myself.”

  “Sorry you feel that way.” Matt nodded to one of his burly vaqueros and the man hustled Viceman into position. Viceman stiffened, trying to make himself dead weight. Matt yanked the door open, and air rushed in. He stuffed a cloth into Viceman’s mouth. “Tread air, maggot.”

  Matt stuck his head out the door and made a cry—loud at first, then fading, to simulate the scream of a falling man, counting on Santina believing he’d pushed Viceman out of the chopper.

  Sweat rolled off Santina’s face.

  “Okay, your turn, Santina.”

  “Wait! Wait! I will tell you! They have taken the señorita to a ranch just over the border into Mexico. Near Del Rio.”

  God, Matt prayed, let us get there in time.

  ****

  Beneath a Mexican sky blazing orange and gold, Sara Jane’s hungry wail cut the early morning air. Molly patted the infant’s back. Claudio gripped Molly’s arm and hurried her across the dusty, weedy runway toward two Jeeps where men in camouflage jumpsuits waited. In one Jeep, a powerfully built passenger sat in the back seat. He’d have been rather handsome if it wasn’t for his dark, evil eyes.

  Those eyes! Del Fuego!

  Molly’s pulse pounded in her ears. Matt had tried so hard to keep her and her baby out of this monster’s clutches. Thoughts of Matt gave her courage. “My baby needs food.”

  Del Fuego smoothed his thick black hair with blunt fingers. “I see your ordeal has not knocked the spunk out of you, señorita.” His heavily accented tone reflected a mixture of admiration and hatred. “Fear not. Your child will receive everything she needs. I have a nurse waiting to care for her.” He paused. “Your health, however, is quite a different matter.” He patted the seat beside him. “Come, my dear, join me and we will discuss your fate.”

  One of the crew vaulted into the passenger seat next to the driver. Claudio opened the back door. Holding her baby close, Molly struggled to climb inside. Before comfortably seated, Claudio followed, jostling her against Del Fuego.

  Del Fuego reached down into a satchel lying between his boots. Molly expected him to withdraw a gun. Instead, he handed her a bottle of milk. “This should stop your baby’s tears for now,” he said with contemptible graciousness.

  She unscrewed the lid and smelled the milk.

  “My, but you’re suspicious,” Del Fuego said.

  She shrugged and slipped the nipple between her baby’s lips. Sara Jane sucked hungrily. “Thank you,” Molly muttered.

  “It’s not free,” Del Fuego crooned. “You will pay a high price for that milk.”

  Molly had an urge to thrust the bottle back at him, but she wouldn’t deprive her baby.

  The other men who had been on the plane with her climbed into the first Jeep, and the vehicle moved ahead. Del Fuego motioned for his driver to go. Molly coughed as the wheels of the two Jeeps kicked up dust.

  She swallowed to clear the dryness out of her throat. “What do you want from me?” As if she didn’t know.

  “The coins. I want them back.”

  Molly lifted her chin, even though it trembled. “Is that all?” She hated the waver in her voice.

  “Where are they?”

  “At Matt’s ranch, of course. Your men didn’t exactly give me time to pack a bag.”

  Del Fuego glared at Claudio. “Why didn’t you get the coins when you grabbed her?”

  “Mucho security and firepower. We were lucky to get out with the niña and the señorita.”

  Molly looked up at Del Fuego. “I’ll be glad to go back and get them,” she said sweetly, fighting the tremor in her voice.

  “Most humorous, señorita. Tell me where they are. My inside man will get them.”

  Molly gulped. Inside man? Ramon? But it
couldn’t be. He was FBI. Or was he a double agent?

  Del Fuego’s two-Jeep caravan drove up a long dirt road lined with rusty, sagging barbed wire fences. In the pastures, cows whose ribs poked through their skin stood, ready for a breeze to blow them away. The road curved, and the caravan entered a compound of dilapidated buildings. Half the barn roof had collapsed.

  They stopped in front of a wind-worn, rambling wooden frame ranch house that looked only slightly better than the barn. Off-center to the left was a wide walkway to an inner courtyard. The wrought iron double gate hung open on sagging hinges. Neglect had stolen any charm the place might have once had.

  “This is home,” Del Fuego said, gesturing with a wide, gallant sweep.

  “Did a rich uncle die and leave you all this?” she quipped. “What happened to your fancy villa? IRS foreclose on you?”

  “Your humor amuses me,” Del Fuego said. “You are either very courageous or incredibly stupid, my dear.” He laughed. “We shall find out which it is.”

  The taunting and deceptive gentleness in his tone sent chills up her spine.

  A husky, silver-haired older woman came down the front steps and stepped with vigor over the missing one. She was medium height and solid muscle. She wiped her brawny hands on her white uniform and reached for Molly’s baby.

  “This is Dañoso,” Del Fuego said. “She will care for your niña.” Panic rose in Molly. She clutched her infant to her breasts. “I want to keep my baby with me.”

  “Not advisable, my dear,” Del Fuego crooned. “You and I have unfinished business.”

  She took a calming breath. “My baby and I stay together! And that’s not negotiable!”

  Fire flashed in Del Fuego’s eyes.

  Molly turned to the woman and forced an accommodating smile. “I’m so happy to meet you, Dañoso.” Molly was amazed how composed she sounded. “Would you please get us some food and diapers?”

  The woman’s face remained stern.

  “Dañoso will be happy to provide those things for your niña. But you won’t be there. And that’s not negotiable.” He pried the baby from Molly and handed her to Dañoso. Sara Jane began to cry.