“Oh my, child… you’ve done a superb job!”
He eyed her suspiciously, then teased.
“Wait a minute. Are you absolutely sure you’re not playing a trick on me? Did you take the old truck away and replace it with a brand new truck when I was gone?”
“No, silly,” she responded. “This is the same truck. See, it has no engine. A new truck would still have an engine and a hood on it.”
“Well, child, this is the cleanest and shiniest pickup truck I’ve ever seen in my life. You did a very fine job.”
She was full of pride and smiled broadly.
Her smile warmed Sal’s heart, but also brought him a tinge of pain.
For she had the same smile as his little Becky, God rest her soul.
When they’d taken Beth away from what Sal honestly believed at the time to be an adoption agency, she’d held no special place in Sal’s heart. Yes, she resembled Becky, and strikingly so. But she shared none of Becky’s personal traits and they had different personalities.
He’d only agreed to take the girl because Nellie, overcome with grief, was convinced she was their dead granddaughter.
But despite he and Beth spitting nails at one another their first weeks together, she eventually grew on him. Now she held her own place in his heart. She’d never be Becky in his mind, as she was in Nellie’s. But she was a special girl in her own right.
And he had to admit to himself, even if no one else ever heard it, that he did indeed love the child.
It would be hard giving her up again. It would be like losing Becky all over again.
But it had to be done.
“Did you see any critters?” Sal asked her.
“No rattlers,” came her answer. “One vinegaroon. I was gonna smash him ‘cause I like the way they smell. But then I thought he wasn’t bothering me, so he didn’t deserve to die.”
Sal smiled. It was he who’d introduced her to vinegaroons when they were walking through the desert not long before.
“Ooh, what’s that ugly thing?” she’d asked him.
“It’s called a vinegaroon. It’s a member of the scorpion family, but it can’t sting you. So they’re harmless to humans.”
“Why do they have such a funny name?”
“Because they smell exactly like vinegar when you crush one.”
He demonstrated by crushing the little creature beneath his boot.
Sure enough, a very distinct smell of vinegar permeated the air around them.
He’d almost immediately regretted what he’d done. Although giving her an interesting lesson in nature, he’d needlessly taken a life to do so.
“I’m sorry I did that,” he’d told her. “He wasn’t bothering us. I should have let him live.”
Today, on this day, she seemed to learn a lesson.
Sal was glad she’d spared him.
Chapter 23
Sal looked at little Beth, who seemed to be chomping at the bits to tell him something.
Or rather to ask him.
“Go ahead, child. You have something on your mind. Spit it out.”
“I was just wondering… well, two things, actually. The first thing is, when are we going to leave? I really miss my mom, and I even miss my sister. I never thought I’d actually say that, on account of she’s really a big old pain in the butt most of the time. But I actually do miss her sometimes too.”
Sal smiled.
“Well, I was looking at my brother Benny’s weather forecasts yesterday. And I’ve decided the very best time to leave will be two weeks from today.”
The smile left her face.
She was obviously a bit disappointed.
“I was… well, I was kinda hoping it would be sooner than that. Like…”
“Like maybe tomorrow?”
“Well, yes, actually.”
She was looking down at her feet.
He went down on one knee, placed his hand beneath her tiny chin and lifted her face. They were eye level.
“Look at me child, and make me a promise.”
“Yes, sir. What?”
“Don’t ever look down again. You are a beautiful young girl. Someday you’ll be a beautiful young woman. Your beauty will outshine the sun itself, but not if you’re looking at the ground. You’ve got every reason to be as loud and proud as anyone else on this earth. Don’t diminish your light by looking at the ground, ever.”
“It’s just that I’m a little…”
“Disappointed?”
“Well, yes.”
“We could leave tomorrow. But we’d have a rougher go of it. I had to pick a window when it would be best to travel. And that window opens in two weeks. But don’t worry, child. It’ll be here before we know it.”
“I don’t understand. What do you mean a window?”
“Well, a window is the best time to leave. You see, we’re going to spend up to ten hours every day for several weeks to get you back to your mom’s place.”
“Yeah. So?”
“So we want to be as comfortable as possible. I’ll be sitting on the bench, in the hot sun, driving the horses, but at least I’ll have a breeze.
“You’ll be sitting next to me part of the time. But I can’t let you get sunburned. So you’ll be sitting in the cab most of the time. You’ll be shaded from the sun. But you’ll have very little ventilation. So you’ll be as uncomfortable as I am.
“If we wait a month or more it’ll be more comfortable. But we’ll also run the risk of getting caught up in cold weather if we can’t get there before winter sets in.
“I’ve examined Benny’s weather forecasts, and determined the best time to leave is two weeks from now. The temperatures will be a little bit cooler than they are now. And we’ll still be there by the middle of December.”
“But you keep talking about weather forecasts. How can you watch the weather forecast? The TVs don’t work anymore.”
“Not the TV weatherman, sweetheart.
“You see, my brother Benny has been farming for many years. You’ve probably noticed that his ranch is mostly desert, but he has a very lush garden that grows enough grains and vegetables to feed us all.”
“Yes. He’s a really good farmer.”
“Well, it took him a long time to get really good at it. Farming on arid land requires two things: plenty of well water, and plenty of knowledge about rain tables, temperature ranges and the like.”
He was losing her. Her eyes started to glaze over.
He laughed.
“I’m sorry. I’m making it way too complicated. I’ll try to simplify it a bit.
“For many years Benny has tried to plant two sets of crops. His spring crops, which grow best in spring and early summer, and his summer crops, which grow best in summer and early fall. That way he can grow twice as many vegetables each year.”
“Okay. I understand so far.”
“In order to do that he has to know how early he can plant his spring crops without taking the risk a late freeze will kill them.”
“Okay…”
“In order to do that, he started keeping records almost thirty years ago. Every day he recorded the high and low temperature. He recorded whether it was cloudy each day and whether it rained or snowed. He recorded whether it was windy or still. He also recorded the day when he saw the first grasshoppers and mosquitoes. He recorded the day the mesquite trees first started to blossom and the day the desert lilies bloomed.
“Then he took all that data and compiled it.
“Now he can pick any day of the year and have a pretty good idea of what the weather is going to be like.
“He can say, for example, that on July 1st the average high temperature over the last thirty years has been ninety seven degrees. So that will be his forecast high. The low temperature for that date over the last thirty years has been seventy four degrees. So that will be his forecast low.
“On that day over the last thirty years, it has rained thirteen percent of the time. So his forecast will have a thirteen perc
ent chance of rain.
“The highest recorded wind on those days for the last thirty years was fifteen miles an hour. That’s windier than the daily average of ten miles an hour. So he’ll add to his forecast it’s going to be windy that day.
“His forecast is usually off by just a little. But even before the lights went out he was a better predictor than the TV weathermen. He used to watch the weather on TV just so he could make fun of them. He called them “college-educated amateurs.”
“So… if we leave in two weeks it’ll be the best time to go?”
“Yes.”
She tried to hide her skepticism. But she had to ask.
“Do you promise we’ll leave then?”
He knew she doubted him.
It hurt him, but he couldn’t blame her. After all, she told him from the beginning he was scammed. That he didn’t really adopt her, but had bought her.
He’d lied to her.
He told her she was wrong. That she was confused.
He put Nellie’s needs for a granddaughter above the child’s own needs.
It was inexcusable, and he’d have taken it back if he only could. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t undo what he’d done.
The best thing he could do was to take her home again.
“Look, child. I know you don’t trust me. I wish I could convince you that I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything. It was wrong for me to believe the man you call Sanchez without checking his story.
“It was wrong to pay money for you. That in itself should have told me there was something not quite right.
“You’ll see. The only way I can make it up to you is to be true to my word. I want to take you home, but I want us to be comfortable on the way.
“Use these last days to say your goodbyes to Krista and Thom and the other friends you’ve made here. In all likelihood you’ll never see any of them again. Spend time with them and make some nice memories you can carry in your heart.
“We’ll leave two weeks from today. Then you’ll be able to see I’m being straight with you. I wish there was some way I could make you believe it now.”
“Maybe there is a way,” she said.
“Oh?”
“It would help me trust you again if you stopped calling me child or sweetheart and called me by my given name. You’ve never called me Beth. Not even once.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. You’ll see, Beth. We’ll set out on schedule, and you’ll be back with your parents by Christmas.”
Chapter 24
Joe Manson never carried a weapon in combat.
Oh, he’d participated in war games more times than he could count, going “into the field” for days at a time.
Under field conditions he lived in tents, ate MREs, and pretended to be at war. He’d be called upon to fire his weapon occasionally to defend his “deployed motor pool.”
But the bullets were blanks, the invading forces actors.
He did serve two tours overseas in a war zone. Once in Afghanistan and once in Iraq. But neither time was anywhere near the front lines.
Scarface’s MOS, or job specialty, was that of a vehicle mechanic. As such, he was always assigned to the post motor pool.
And motor pools were never located where they were likely to come under fire.
He’d watched a lot of war movies over the years.
But that was the closest Scarface ever got to actual combat.
That was okay, though.
He was no worse off than the “ninety day wonders,” the wet-eared and barely trained second lieutenants who got many good American soldiers killed in Vietnam.
They were minimally trained, yet suddenly in charge.
The smart ones swallowed their pride and took direction from their first sergeant or other grizzled and battle-tested men.
Scarface’s cellmate at Leavenworth was a former soldier named Parker. He’d served three tours in Iraq as a combat infantryman. He’d survived dozens of fire fights and had a purple heart to prove it.
He served with distinction and would have been considered a hero.
Except that four months after returning to the states after his last tour he got drunk at a bar not far from Fort Bragg.
And got behind the wheel of his car.
And ran a stop sign and hit a mini-van broadside.
A little boy was killed and the boy’s mom was paralyzed.
Parker got twelve years.
Joe Manson and Parker got along famously as cellmates. They became fast friends.
And in a prison setting, with more time on their hands than they could stand, they talked for hours each day.
Parker regaled his cellie with all his combat stories. How he’d killed. How he’d kill again under certain circumstances.
For example, if necessary to keep from going back to prison.
When other escaped inmates gravitated to Scarface and wanted to be in his gang, he needed a number two. A competent assistant. Someone who could augment his knowledge and help with the tactical planning skills he lacked.
It was an easy decision to choose Parker.
It wasn’t unlike the brand new second lieutenant in Vietnam, charged with leading a group of men into battle and not having a clue how.
Joe Manson, AKA Scarface, was the butter-bar acne-faced lieutenant.
John Parker was the grizzled and combat hardened first sergeant.
Together they made a good team.
They were inside the wood line, across the road from the Dykes brothers’ property and about a hundred yards down a single-lane paved roadway.
They’d been there for a couple of days now, camping another hundred yards back into the woods.
Parker made sure they maintained field discipline. Making sure his men burned no campfires. They weren’t allowed to smoke any cigarettes unless they walked south of the camp. Couldn’t go hunting north of the camp. Couldn’t do anything north of the camp, unless it was to stand watch.
They weren’t things Scarface would have thought of. But they were things that were essential if they wanted to keep their presence a secret.
They were going to assault the camp. That much had already been decided.
But not yet.
“First we have to do our homework,” Parker explained to Joe Manson.
“Homework?”
“We have to recon the target. Find out their troop strength. Whether they stand watch at night. When they do shift change. Whether they’re on a war footing.”
“War footing?”
“Whether they’re prepared for an attack. If they’ve never been assaulted, or haven’t been in awhile, there’s a good chance they’re sloppy. If they think an attack is imminent they’ll be on their toes.
“We’re going to attack them either way. But our methods will depend on whether they’re soft or whether they’re lying in wait for us.”
“And how do you determine all that?”
“We watch. We make notes. And we make calculated guesses based on what we observe.”
Parker was eager to prove his superiority. To show how much he was needed.
And because pride was a very important aspect in Parker’s emotional makeup, he wanted to show the men that it was really him, not Manson, who was running the show.
Sure, he’d be a good little second in command, and let Manson be in charge for awhile. He deserved a chance to succeed, to earn his pay.
But in any combat unit, the men knew who they could trust. And they’d only follow a man into combat if they could trust him.
Eventually, Parker knew intuitively, he and Manson would part ways. It might be sooner, it might be later, but it would happen.
Then the gang would be his.
Chapter 25
Scarface was eager to learn.
“Can you give me an example of what kinds of things we’re looking for?”
“Yesterday morning our lookout and I watched one of the men leaving. We also had reports of four intermittent gun shots thr
oughout the day. In the late afternoon the same man returned, carrying three dead rabbits.
“That’s a key piece of intelligence. It tells us they’re not on a war footing. Bad for them, good for us.”
Joe was confused.
“So he went hunting. So what? How does that tell you they’re not on a war footing?”
“Because he wouldn’t have done it if they thought an attack was imminent. He’d have stayed in the bunker, ready to defend it. They’d have skipped the fresh rabbit and settled for the food they already had until the threat passed.
“That’s number one. Number two, he wouldn’t have left the bunker if an attack was imminent because he wouldn’t come back. He had a radio on his hip. If he left to go hunting and saw something or someone out here he viewed as a threat, he wouldn’t have returned. He’d have known that if he returned there was a good chance he’d be shot down before he could get to the pillbox.”
“What would he do if he couldn’t go back?”
“I don’t know. Probably use his radio to notify the rest of the people in the bunker there was a threat, then stay in the woods until the threat passed. He’d become their scout, or their guerilla fighter. But he wouldn’t risk going back and getting picked off by a sniper.”
“What if he had no choice? What if he had to go hunting because they were out of food?”
“Then he’d leave the bunker at night. And he wouldn’t return until the next night. He’d use the cover of darkness to hide his coming and going.
“But they’d have to be pretty desperately hungry to leave a bunker with enemy troops around.”
“Okay. You’ve convinced me. They’re not on a war footing. That plays to our benefit, doesn’t it? It means we can take them by surprise?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“Why not?”
“Because I was here last night, watching them with night vision goggles. And I noticed they had them too. Not the same brand or style as ours. So I don’t know how effective theirs are. But I was definitely able to make out goggles on the face of their night sentry.
“But that’s not the biggest worry. If that was all we had to worry about we could just wait until a heavy rainstorm and use the downpour to hide in while we made our way to the pillbox. Once we were close enough we could lob a couple of hand grenades into their firing ports. That would kill everybody in the pillbox and we could enter it, then battle for control of the bunker itself.”
Payback: Alone: Book 7 Page 8