Blood Bargain

by Maria Lima

  "Con permiso,” Robles said in a quiet voice and headed into the men's room.

  "Okay, now what the hell is going on?” Bea demanded as she placed the full tray on the table.

  I helped myself to a mug before I replied. “Heaven.” I took a deep gulp and let the aroma surround me.

  There is nothing better than excellent coffee in the company of friends and family. Not that I couldn't get coffee at the ranch. I usually wasn't much in the mood for it there. I preferred coffee at Bea's, hanging out in a booth with her, yakking. Ranch awakenings were usually about sex and cuddling and prepping for the night with Adam. I didn't mind, not in the least, but I did miss this. I used to come into the café every day around three for coffee, conversation and breakfast tacos. Now, three o'clock was the prime of my sleep time. That's what I got for hanging out with vampires.

  Bea let me soak in the flavor for a moment. “I repeat. What are you guys up to?"

  I took another drink and put the mug on the table and looked at my brother who relaxed back into his chair.

  "Keira, please, you're a creature of habit. Suddenly, you and your brother show back up here at four-thirty in the afternoon with some mojado?"

  "How do you know he's a wetback?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  She shrugged and stirred more cream into her nearly white coffee. “It shows. Live here long enough. Live with enough family from Mexico, you can tell."

  "I sort of rescued him.” I stirred half-and-half into my mug of coffee, lightening it up some. Bea's eyebrows rose as she sipped from her own mug, her gaze cutting over to Tucker, then back to me.

  "Rescued, as in...” She left it wide open.

  "As in, Tucker and I went over to the Pursell ranch today to check it out. Said he was trespassing. Looked like they were spoiling for a fight and this poor guy was in the middle of it. They wanted to kick him out."

  "Pursell?” Bea's voice suddenly got several decibels quieter. “You mean Judge Pursell's place, over by the county highway crossroads?” She took a large gulp from her mug and stared down at the tabletop. Okay, red alert time. This quiet tone wasn't like her.

  "Yeah, Adam's looking to buy it. It's on the market.” I reached over and grasped her wrist. “Bea, what is it? What's wrong?"

  She shook her head, her fingers gripping the sides of the coffee mug. “It's ... shit.” A moment passed, then she looked up at me. “Who else was involved?"

  "Involved?"

  "In the almost fight."

  I shrugged, still wondering what had upset her so much. I knew she'd never laid eyes on Ignacio Robles before a few minutes ago. “Some of the hands were holding him, trying to force him off the property."

  Her shoulders relaxed a little. “So, just the hands?"

  "Actually,” I said, “there was the jerk of a foreman, Pete something. He was a royal pain."

  "Pete Garza?"

  "No clue,” I said. “Why, do you know him?"

  "I might.” Her answer was quieter than her original question. She dropped her gaze again, staring into her coffee cup as if to read the non-existent grounds. This was not good.

  "I guess he could be a Garza,” I continued. “I thought he was a gringo by the accent and the whole ‘I'm better than you’ ‘tude, but around here, who knows."

  "Yeah, that sounds like him. Guero, fairish hair, chews?"

  "You know him?” I was puzzled. Bea and I had been friends for about thirty years. I'd never heard her talk about this guy. Even when I was away in England, we wrote e-mails constantly.

  "If it's who I'm thinking about, he's bad news, Keira. As in, really bad."

  "Okay, Lucy, you seriously got to ‘splain this one.” I joked with a fake Ricky Ricardo accent, trying to nudge her out of her evident mood. Hell, I didn't even know what kind of mood it was. If I didn't know her better, I'd have said she was frightened.

  "Damn, Keira, I don't know how to tell you this."

  I looked over at Ignacio, who'd emerged through the men's room door and stood watching us with a bit of interest. Whatever Bea had to say, I'd bet she didn't want to say it in front of a stranger, no matter if he didn't understand the language. I exchanged glances with Tucker. He took the hint.

  "Hey, look, why don't I take Ignacio there to the kitchen? I'm sure he's hungry. Tia Petra can look after him, okay?” Tucker smiled at us both. He knew Bea well enough to know that it was time for the guys to clear out.

  I squeezed Bea's shoulder as she looked up at me, a small smile crossing her face as she nodded to Tucker. “Sure. Sounds like a plan."

  After a quick exchange with Bea, Ignacio followed Tucker into the kitchen to be overfed by Tia Petra. I could hear the elderly woman's voice through the swinging door. Something about “pobrecito” and “enchiladas.” No doubt, Tio Richard was cooking up a batch of his special enchiladas and lucky Ignacio was going to share in the bounty. Richard never cooked them for the restaurant, only for family. According to Tio Richard, Tucker was practically a son.

  "So,” I said as the door stopped its swing. Bea's face was still full of an emotion I couldn't place. “You going to clue me in here, Nancy Drew, or leave me in the dark?"

  A sigh escaped her. “It's not that easy, chica,” she said. “I know should have told you long ago, but...” A tear escaped and trickled down her cheek.

  "Shit, Bea, what is it?” I handed her a paper napkin.

  "About four years ago, when you were still in England, something happened. I never told anyone. Not even my aunt and uncle. Not even Sheriff Larson."

  Oh fuck. This was way beyond not good. This was ranging into really, really bad ... because by Sheriff Larson, she meant Carlton's dad. I could see her not wanting to share personal stuff with a guy we all went to high school with, but Sheriff Larson had been a father figure to all of us, upholding the law with a sense of humor and kindness behind the steel. In fact, since Bea's own dad and mom had died some years back, he'd been a fixture at the café, stopping in right before closing and staying until she locked up. Carlton himself took over that role after his dad died. People tended to look out for Bea, myself included.

  "This guy started hanging out here, at the café. This was not long after I'd broken up with Emilio and I was fairly stupid."

  "Yeah, I remember,” I said, smiling at the memory. Emilio had been nice, but not so much into girls. He'd tried dating Bea to please his mother. When Mama Rojas died, he came out with a bang ... so to speak. He moved to San Antonio and got a job as headliner at The Bonham, a well-known drag club. He did a fabulous Judy Garland. Bea hadn't been crushed so much as disappointed and a little peeved at herself. They'd been friends for years, but she'd never been so good with the gaydar.

  "I'm guessing the guy was this Pete character?"

  She nodded. “Yeah, stupid."

  "Stupid how?"

  "I started going out with him. He was fun, flattered me, paid a lot of attention to me. He really liked me. After Emilio, it was a bit of a relief to go out with a macho kind of guy. Really, that's all it was, fun.

  "After a while, though, it was more possession than attention. One night, my nephew Noe and his buddies came over to the café to hang out. Damn, I think they were all of fourteen, fifteen years old. One of the older guys teased me, like they do. Pete came in and saw Chip grabbing me around the waist giving me air kisses. I'd baked some extra cookies for them, you see.” The tears flowed freely now. I kept silent, letting her get it out.

  "Pete got angry, slapped Chip and told them to stop fucking with his girl. You know me, I got mad right back and yelled at him. The place was full that night, one of our special barbecue nights, I think. Next thing I know, he dragged me outside and started screaming about ‘how things looked’ and ‘my woman’ and all sorts of Neanderthal things.

  "I screamed at him and told him to go jump in the fucking lake...” She smiled a little through the tears. “Or something like that. I really don't remember. In any case, I told him it was over and he could go date some Pleasan
tville Stepford wife because I wasn't interested."

  Bea sighed and blew her nose.

  I waited for the rest of the story. I knew there was more. A screaming match with a boyfriend would never reduce her to tears. Never.

  She stood up, walked over to the windows and lowered the blinds on the picture window to the right of the café door. Her hands trembled as she stood there, staring at nothing, the white cord wrapped around her index finger. I had to strain to hear her next words.

  "I was sound asleep. I don't really know what time it was. After midnight, I guess. Barbecue nights usually end late. I heard something. Thought it was Tia Petra. You know how she gets after eating barbecue and borracho beans.” Bea made a strange sound. It could have been a laugh, but I doubted it.

  "Next thing I know, someone was on top of me, straddling me. I tried to scream, but his hand was over my mouth and nose. I couldn't breathe. All I could do was struggle a little. He had me with his weight.

  "I tried everything,” she said in a whisper. “Everything. I've been to all those self-defense classes. All I could think of was that I didn't want to wake Tia Petra. I didn't want him to hurt her, too. And Tio Richard's so deaf, I knew he wouldn't hear anything."

  "It was Pete?"

  "Yeah."

  Bea came back to the table and sank into the chair. “He didn't rape me. He didn't really hurt me, not really. He—” She turned away from me. “All I could hear was his breathing ... then the click. He shoved a gun into my neck and whispered something ... I don't know what. For four years, I've been trying to figure out what he said, but I can't."

  This was worse than I imagined. I got up and walked around behind her, leaned down to give her an awkward hug.

  "The reason I'm still alive today is because of my aunt.” Bea grasped my hands and pulled them around her, tightening the hug. “The noise I heard was Petra on her way to the bathroom. My bedroom door was open and she heard him in there. She got Richard and they both came in screaming and yelling. Richard had a rifle. I don't know why Pete didn't fire the gun. I think they startled him."

  "Holy shit, babe, and all this time, he's been working at the Pursell ranch?"

  She nodded. “He was working there when we met and he never left. He doesn't come in here anymore. Never really saw him again after that night."

  "But you didn't tell anyone?"

  "I know, I know,” she said. “I should have pressed charges. I should have told someone. But Tia and Tio wanted to keep it quiet. They were scared he'd come back. For months afterwards, Tio would go to sleep in the recliner in the front room, with his rifle across his lap."

  Bea turned in her chair and looked me in the eye. “I'm so sorry. I never told you. I felt so stupid to let myself get involved with that freak. And I knew you'd come tearing back here to do something stupid."

  I pulled out of the hug and stood up. “Damn right, I would have,” I said. “No one gets away with messing with my best friend."

  "Please, Keira, it happened a long time ago. Don't bring it up. I don't want him to know I told you."

  "You're still scared of him."

  "A little. Like I said, he doesn't come around here at all, and I don't want to give him any reason to."

  I didn't like it, but I conceded her point. I simply wouldn't tell her that I'd share this information with Tucker. He'd figure out a way to keep an eye on Pete Gringo Garza.

  "So what are you going to do with Ignacio?"

  "Figure out why the hell he was trespassing at the Pursell place.” I didn't mention to her what Tucker and I were both afraid of ... that it had something to do with the Wild Moon. She didn't need that.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  When Tucker came back out from the kitchen, he shot me a “what the fuck?” look, meaning Bea. I answered back with a silent “later."

  He joined us at the small table and Bea poured him a cup of coffee, not looking up to meet his eyes.

  "So, did Ignacio spill the beans?” I asked.

  Tucker nodded and gulped his coffee. “Yeah, he's coming out to explain to Bea. Tia Petra is one damned fine investigator, but I thought Bea should hear this.” He looked at me with another one of his brotherly gazes. I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to watch as Ignacio explained. Tia Petra might be great when it comes to asking questions, but my family was a hell of a lot better at hearing the unsaid.

  The kitchen door swung open again and Ignacio came out, a plate of pastries in one hand, his hat in the other. I smiled at him and motioned him to a chair. He smiled back and put the plate of sweets in the middle of the table.

  "Para todos,” he said, quietly. For everyone. No doubt Tia Petra figured we could use the sugar and carbs.

  Bea leaned forward and patted him on the back as she began to talk to him in a quiet, steady voice. I took the opportunity to study Ignacio. He was small and wiry; probably no more than five foot four and he'd obviously seen a hard life. His skin was leathered by sun, brown in the way that constant exposure would make it, a life spent outdoors. His threadbare, much-mended cowboy shirt had once been clean and neat. His jeans were worn almost through at the knees and seams. A battered cowboy hat sat on his head, covering hair that wasn't yet gray. He couldn't be more than thirty, yet the weariness in his expression showed many years of hardship. Whatever story he was telling Bea, I was sure it wasn't a pretty one. I understood one or two words in the rapid exchange, one of them being “hermano" again. As he spoke, his quiet face became animated, agitated. His dark eyes welled with unshed tears at one point, his hands rubbing them away before they could fall, but he never once shifted his gaze from Bea. Whatever he was saying, it was truth as he knew it.

  "Momento, por favor,” Bea said with a pat to Ignacio's hand. She turned away from him to face me and Tucker. “I'm going to send him back to Tia Petra. He wants to help out with the dishes, in exchange for the food."

  I nodded and smiled at the man, trying to look sympathetic. I hated not knowing the language, not being able to express my concern directly. Mental note: learn to speak better Spanish. It was stupid to be ignorant of the language here in Texas. I could excuse myself with the rationale that I'd spent years learning other things, like martial arts, how to cast spells, how to help people die ... but not anything remotely useful for this type of situation.

  Neither Tucker nor I said anything while Bea escorted Robles to the back. I heard her explaining to her aunt, then more rapid words to Robles. Shortly, she was back at the table, pouring herself more coffee.

  "Well?” I asked.

  "It sucks,” Bea said, “that's the extent of it."

  "Sucks?” Tucker chimed in, reaching over for the pot to refill his own mug.

  "He's looking for his little brother, Alejandro, Alex ... at the Pursell ranch. Alex was working there for the past eighteen months. All of a sudden, poof, no Alex."

  "Poof? As in he disappeared? And how little—a kid?"

  "—'Poof’ as in he used to send money to the family every month, by the fifth of the month. And little as in he's twenty-three."

  Not a kid then. For a moment I'd wondered if Alex's disappearance had anything to do with those missing kids. Highly unlikely, though, that a twenty-three year old illegal ranch worker would be hanging around a bunch of high school kids.

  Bea continued, “Three months ago, the money stopped. Ignacio works on a ranch about twenty miles outside Piedras Negras. He gets to town a couple of times a month to pick up the money from Alex, but nothing's come in since before the end of the year. He tried calling a couple of times from his wife's cousin's phone, but no one at the Pursell place would tell him anything."

  "His brother's been missing since December?” Definitely not to do with the kids then.

  Bea grimaced. “That's what he said. He said he got through to someone who kept saying Alex left. That Alex wasn't there anymore. Then they'd hang up on him. Thing is, Ignacio doesn't have any transportation at home, he has to walk into town every time he tries to call. He's even s
ent two telegrams, but he's getting nowhere."

  "Then he came here?"

  "Yeah. He crossed over, then hitchhiked here. Took him a week. When he finally got to the Pursell place, they kept throwing him off the property. No one will talk to him."

  "He's sure his brother worked there?"

  "He's sure,” Bea said. “I did ask him that. He said that Alex told him the name of his boss in case anyone needed to contact him in an emergency."

  "Has he gone to the sheriff?” Tucker asked.

  "You don't go to the law when you swim the river,” Bea said with a grim laugh. “Carlton would have to turn Ignacio in to La Migra."

  "Shit.” She had a point.

  "Look, Bea,” I said. “I don't really want to get in the middle of this if I can avoid it. I don't want Adam and company involved, and these days, I'm part of the ‘and company'. I hate the fact that this guy can't find his brother. Tell you what, let me run by Carlton's office, see if he'll talk to me and run this by him as a hypothetical. It won't take long. I can scoot over there while you all wait here. Even if Ignacio gets sent back to Mexico, I'm sure Carlton will help. Maybe his brother went to work at another ranch?"

  Or maybe, he took off to find more work and for whatever reason, ended up dead somewhere in the middle of somewhere where no one will ever find him. There's a lot of empty land still left in the Hill Country. More often than not, acres and acres of properties owned by the weekend landowners were never actually seen by human eyes. These types tended to leave the metaphorical “back forty” to nature.

  Bea frowned and shrugged. “Maybe,” she said. “It's that I don't think Carlton'll want to stir up that hornet's nest. Besides, he's got those missing kids to worry about."

  "Nest?"

  "You know these good ol’ boys hate anyone poking around their land,” Bea said. “Carlton's up for re-election this year. You know how it is."

  "No, I don't,” I said, pushing my chair back. “Carlton Larson isn't the type of guy who puts some damned election above the law. There's a missing person and he'll help find him. I know him. And so much the better, he's already got search crews going out, maybe they can keep an eye out for Alex."