The City of Rocks

by Don Travis

  Hazel’s gaze bounced back and forth between us.

  “We’re taking a few days off,” I said hastily. “Or, at least, we were.”

  Both of them frowned at me. I tried to put the best face on the situation. “How would you feel about another visit to the Lazy M?”

  Hazel gave me a frosty look. “Getting shot at once isn’t enough?”

  “What kind of ambush are we walking into this time?” Paul asked. “I thought you said Los Alamos was the best public course around.”

  “It is, and we’ve played it before. But the client just called and asked me to come down for a meeting. And I can guarantee there’ll be no gunplay on this program. I just arranged that demonstration last time to impress you.”

  “A little comedy would have been fine, but that was high drama.”

  “Seriously, how do you feel about going down there for a couple of days? Then we could head over to the Gila Wilderness or go to Mexico for a little while.”

  “I don’t have a passport.”

  “You don’t need one until next year. Your driver’s license will work just fine for now.”

  “Well, I guess so. At least it’s a change from school.”

  I called Millicent and told her Paul and I would be down sometime tomorrow, probably early afternoon. She offered to send the helicopter to pick us up, but I told her I wanted my car since we were taking a few days off.

  When she offered the use of her Lincoln, we compromised. I promised to get Jim Gray, the private pilot I usually use, to fly us down in his Cessna. That spiced things up for Paul a bit. He had flown to Farmington last year during the Bisti murder business, but soaring around in a small craft still gave him a thrill. I made up my mind to have Bert gave him a spin in the whirlybird. That was a whole other experience.

  Chapter 23

  PAUL AND I departed Albuquerque from the Double Eagle Airport early Saturday morning. Jim Gray, a lanky fixed-wing jockey with a small potbelly, got us off the ground and into the air with his usual efficiency. Although we approached the end of our monsoon season, dark thunderheads to the west announced rain over the New Mexico-Arizona border. Exercising his customary caution, Jim got on the radio for a final weather report. He knew I didn’t speak radio—all that static and the special lingo pilots and controllers use rendered it incomprehensible to me—so he obliged us with an interpretation.

  “Gonna be okay. The front’s drifting off to the northeast. It won’t even come close enough to give us a bumpy ride. We’re gonna have a good flight.”

  We circled to the west and settled on a south-southwest bearing, passing over the old mining town of Grants and the El Morro National Monument, a huge, castle-like sandstone monolith rising from the scrubby desert plateau. A reliable water hole hidden at the foot of a bluff had made it a popular campground since pre-Columbian times. A succession of Indian, Spanish, and Anglo passersby had left inscriptions: names, dates, messages, and rock art, all carved into the stone to create a gigantic historical billboard. Somewhere nearby lay the desert Ice Cave. Farther to the west, the lava beds of the El Malpais Badlands cast an ebony shroud across the land.

  As promised, the trip was uneventful. Jim set the Cessna down on the Lazy M’s dusty strip with hardly a bump and turned to taxi back toward the house. On the way we passed a parked red-and-white Piper with an XE fuselage number, which Jim recognized as a Mexican registration. This plane looked larger than the small Piper Acosta flew last time, making me wonder if he had a fleet of aircraft. Did he check in through the nearest international airport or simply make an illegal hop over the border? In the latter case, did that raise any hackles at the Border Patrol?

  Jim was in a hurry to salvage some of his weekend, so he kicked us out, revved the engines, and immediately took off for Albuquerque. I experienced a brief feeling of abandonment as the Cessna rose into the blue, leaving us in the middle of New Mexico’s Boot Heel country without our own transportation. The sensation passed as Millicent, trailed by Acosta, came out to greet us. She wore a broad smile, but I saw the strain behind it.

  After warmly acknowledging Paul, the Mexican rancher turned to me. “Nice to see you again. Millicent tells me she invited you down to prove that every visit doesn’t end in a gunfight.”

  “That’s what she tells me, but can you confirm that?”

  He grinned. “I see. Since the pistoleros came from my side of the fence, you want to know if I can guarantee they won’t come over and shoot up everything again, no?” His mood darkened for a moment. “We must all work together to put an end to that kind of thing.”

  I stepped to Millicent’s side and gave her a peck on the cheek. Paul added a small embrace to his. She looked spectacular today in a fringed buckskin skirt and a white blouse with short, puffy sleeves and a bit of lace at the throat. Large silver earrings with bits of coral, shell, and turquoise dangled from her lobes. On many large women, the outfit would have looked ludicrous; on her it was becoming.

  “Come on in,” she said. “We ate quite early this morning, so Maria has whipped up a light brunch for us.”

  “Lead me to it.” Paul rubbed his hands together. Maria, standing in the shade of the patio, flashed him a smile.

  Millicent patted his arm indulgently. “Bert’s out in the back pasture. He’ll be here soon, but we don’t have to wait. He and Paco can pick through our leftovers.” She led the rest of us toward the portico, where covered dishes were laid out.

  “Paco’s here?” I asked.

  “He decided to accompany his parents home,” Acosta said.

  “His fiancée came along so we could meet her,” Millicent said. “Charming girl.”

  “Yes, but she wanted to visit an old school friend in Deming,” Acosta said. “You will meet her later. Madelena is a very nice young lady.”

  “Luis drove her over in one of the pickups,” Millicent explained. “They’ll be back later.”

  If Maria’s homemade tamales, carne adobada burritos, refried beans, and guacamole were “light,” I’d hate to see a heavy meal. Delicious. Paul went back to the serving trays at least twice. Bert and Paco had better hurry up.

  As if my thoughts had conjured them, the whack of rotors heralded Bert’s small helicopter. He came in from the south and set the chopper down gently. Bert strolled toward the patio before Paco made it out of the cabin. I saw why when he finally came into view. His left arm was cocked against his torso, held motionless by a denim sling and strips of tape. He moved as if his cracked scapula gave him fits.

  “BJ, I see you made it.” Bert slapped his hat against his pant leg, raising a small cloud of dust. He gave me a firm handshake and winked as he turned to Paul. “You came back for the showdown, huh?”

  “I thought last time was the showdown. But your mom claims there won’t be any more.”

  Paco, moving up behind his buddy, merely nodded to me, although he clasped Paul’s hand and murmured “Con mucho gusto” when Bert introduced the two of them.

  “I see your wing’s still clipped.” I nodded to the heavy sling.

  Paco moved his shoulder gingerly. “Yeah, but it’s getting better. Pretty soon, Don Hector will put me back to work.”

  “Let’s not rush things,” Acosta said. “The time will come when it truly arrives.”

  A curious remark. Was it an old Mexican adage? “I’m looking forward to meeting your fiancée,” I said.

  “She’s in Deming right now. She’ll be back later.”

  “You fellows better dig in before Paul cleans out the pantry,” Millicent said. She smiled and patted his arm. “That’s all right, honey. I like a man with a healthy appetite.”

  “I ASKED BJ to join us for our talk.” Millicent settled behind her desk. Bert took a seat at his own, leaving the two barrel chairs in the middle of the room for Acosta and me. “BJ’s not only an investigator, he’s a lawyer as well. So please feel free to discuss anything you wish.”

  If my client wanted to fib to her adversary, who was I to object? I n
odded in a manner I imagined worthy of a doctor of jurisprudence and held my tongue.

  He glanced at me before facing her again. “I wondered if you have given my proposal any thought.”

  “I’ve thought of little else.”

  “I can imagine. There is one element I can add to the deal. I am aware of your wager with Kenneth Hammond. Kenny and I are old friends. We have some investments together on both sides of the border, so we talk occasionally. I believe I can promise he will release you from your wager should you decide to sell the Lazy M to me.”

  “Get him to forget the wager, and we won’t even have this conversation.”

  “I’m afraid I cannot do that. A man does not give up a quarter of a million dollars easily. Even today, that is a considerable amount of money.”

  “Which simply means you can do it, but you won’t. Not unless I sell you my home.”

  “Millicent, be reasonable. We are business people, no? Favors one can do for friendship’s sake, but business is business. Accept my offer, and you can retire comfortably.”

  “What do you think, BJ?”

  “I’ve already given you my opinion. The wager does not have the force of law. No court in the land will prosecute Hammond’s claim. Refuse to pay it, and it will only cost some of your pride.”

  “I agree,” Bert said.

  “What do you say to that, Heck?” she asked.

  “What I say or what I think on the matter isn’t important. But the Millicent Muldren I know, the Mud Hen of my acquaintance, honors her word.”

  I saw his devastating argument strike home. Millicent almost physically recoiled. Then she squared her shoulders. “Even so, the legal advice BJ provides must be given some consideration.”

  Acosta shifted his weight in the chair. “Let us put our cards on the table. The wager will be forfeit in less than two weeks. If I am to persuade Hammond to forgive it, I have to do it before that happens. I might have to engage in some… subterfuge, shall we say. I don’t have much time. You don’t have much time.”

  “How much of that bet do you hold, Heck?” I asked.

  He didn’t flinch. “I own a piece of it, and I’ll gladly surrender that portion to you in any case. But I doubt that ten percent of two hundred fifty thousand dollars will ease your burden very much.”

  “I understood it to be considerably higher than that. Of course, rumors are often inaccurate.”

  Millicent waved a finger at Acosta. “That son of a bitch was going to pull a switch on me, Heck. He was going to—”

  I interrupted her. “That’s water under the bridge. Since you are a longtime friend of the Muldren family, I’m going to tell you something. I have investigators working in Florida right this minute to confirm the fraud Hammond planned, and when I do, the situation changes considerably. The bet might be technically forfeit in less than two weeks, but payment is certainly not going to be made until I am satisfied every legal avenue has been exhausted. And if a fraud was being perpetrated, the court system may have something to say about that. Hammond could find himself in some legal difficulties. He may find it easier to cancel the debt than to fight the claim and counterclaim for the next few years.”

  “You have never met Hammond, have you?” Acosta said, clearly unimpressed by my bluff. “Such arguments might sway many men, but not one with such a monumental ego.”

  “I know a little about the man, and he did not make his millions by taking unreasonable risks. Business risks, maybe. But not taking on the courts in a hopeless cause. It’s not out of the question we can prove who stole Millicent’s racer in the first place.”

  “You believe Kenny did that?” Acosta’s black eyebrows twitched.

  “Hammond or one of his associates. Someone who has a piece of that bet, for example. And I am reliably informed several individuals share in the wager.”

  Acosta faced Millicent. “Is he speaking for you?”

  “If you pay a man for his advice, you are at least obligated to seriously consider it. Yes, Heck, I will let him proceed with his investigation until he brings it to a close.”

  “I see. Since I can add nothing further, I will take my leave.”

  “You are welcome to stay the night.”

  “Thank you for your hospitality, but I must get about my business.”

  “You can’t leave until Madelena returns from Deming,” she said.

  “I will have Paco contact her and tell her we’ll pick her up at the Deming airport.”

  “A shame. Maria delights in cooking for you, you know.”

  “And I take pleasure in her talents. It is not only your ranch I covet, Millicent. I would like Maria’s cooking as regular fare.”

  Acosta rose and gave Millicent a kiss on each cheek before rearing back and taking a long look at her. “The years have been kind to you, my dear. You look just like the muchacha who stole my heart so many years ago.”

  “You go to telling whoppers like that, and I’m gonna wonder what else you’re playing fast and fancy with.”

  He laughed aloud, said a quick good-bye to Bert and me, and bustled through the doorway, calling loudly to Paco in Spanish. We followed them outside.

  Minutes later the Piper rose and circled back to the northeast.

  “Well, that was quick.” Bert stared at the departing plane.

  “Too quick,” his mother said. “I haven’t seen Heck in such a hurry in a long time.”

  “We must have given him something to think about,” I said. “Too bad. I hoped Paco’s girlfriend would get back so I could take a look at her.”

  Paul’s voice surprised us. “That wasn’t going to happen.” We all turned to look at him. He stood under the patio cover with a leftover tamale about halfway to his mouth.

  “What makes you think that?” Millicent asked.

  “When he came through the doorway and collected Paco, I heard him ask if Madelena would be at the airport yet.”

  “You must have misunderstood,” Bert said. “He planned on having Paco call on the cell and tell her to meet them at the airport.”

  “No. I heard him clear as day. They’d already agreed to pick her up there.”

  “Son of a bitch,” I swore. “Acosta didn’t realize you spoke Spanish. Millicent, was he aware I intended to be here for the meeting?”

  “Not until he arrived early this morning.”

  “With Paco and his lady friend in tow.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Does Madelena Orona happen to be pregnant?”

  Her look of surprise gave me the answer I needed. “How did you know?”

  “I believe I’ve seen the lady before. At Liver Lips Martinson’s house the morning of his murder. Bert, how fast can that helicopter get us to Deming?”

  “Not fast enough. The Piper’s got better air speed, and Acosta has a head start. But we can try.”

  “Let’s do it,” I said.

  “Do you have room for me?” Paul asked.

  “Yeah, it’s a three-seater.”

  We ran for the helipad.

  Chapter 24

  BERT GOT us aloft without delay. We arrived at the Deming airport in time to see Acosta’s red-and-white craft rise off the runway and circle east toward Las Cruces. We landed so Bert could refuel and I could ask a few questions of the airport personnel. Acosta’s arrival and departure had seemed entirely routine to them, if a little rushed. He’d had the ground crew top up the gas tanks, filed a flight plan for the El Paso International Airport, took on a female passenger, and went airborne in record time. Had he been expecting us to follow in the chopper?

  Half an hour later, we took off again, following I-10 west until we spotted Luis Rael’s pickup on the highway below us. After that Bert veered southwest, and for a few minutes we were in Mexican airspace. As the Lazy M headquarters came into sight, I asked Bert to buzz the City of Rocks to give me a visual layout from the air.

  Most of the “city” part of the stone pile centered in the area we had already visited. One �
��street” appeared to penetrate the formation from front to back. Bert confirmed it as a way out of the City to the south. There was no sign of life in the area beyond a coyote—the four-legged kind.

  LUIS RAEL dry-washed his face in evident exasperation. “No, no, Señor Vinson, I did just as I was instructed. I am told to drive the girl to Deming to see a friend of hers. Then I am to do some shopping for Doña Millicent. After that I am to pick up Señorita Orona at the house where I left her and bring her back to the ranch.”

  “Those were your instructions, but that’s not what you did. What happened?” I asked.

  “I drop her off like I am told to. I go to the leather shop to pick up tack gear they were repairing for us, but it is not ready. So I do some more chores and come back to the saddle shop later. Now it is ready, so I pick it up and go back to the house for the señorita. She has me take her and her lady friend to one or two stores. Then we take her friend home.” He seemed to run out of steam. Luis was not accustomed to long speeches… at least not with an interrogator.

  “And then?”

  “And then she has me take her to the airport. She tells me I can return to the ranch, but I cannot leave her alone like that. She says Paco and Don Hector were coming for her. Still, I wait until they arrive.”

  “What did they say?”

  “Don Hector, he said I should go home. Their plans had changed, and they were returning to the Rayo.”

  “Did they say anything else?”

  “Not to me, Señor. I heard nothing more than talk about getting back home.”

  “Did you speak to your son? Ask him why they were leaving so abruptly?”

  “Only to say good-bye.”

  I leaned back in the chair behind Bert’s desk as Luis stood before me with his head bowed, hands clasped in front of him. He looked like a man who knew he had done wrong but hadn’t yet figured out what it was. I asked for the name and address of the friend Madelena had visited. He provided the address but only knew the name Elena. I dismissed him with my thanks.