“I’ve got it,” he told her. “You’re right. I’m sorry. We’ll go together.”
Melanie sneered. “Gee, thanks.”
“I don’t suppose you could come up with a couple of flashlights, could you?” He bowed from the waist and swept an arm out to his side. “That is, if you’re through being sarcastic?”
“Oh, I’ve only just begun.”
“And a big screwdriver or something to pry open the back of the camper. I’m assuming they locked it.”
With a curl of her upper lip, Melanie marched to the pantry off the kitchen and came back a moment later with two flashlights and an eighteen-inch-long screwdriver.
“You’ll need jackets,” Fayrene said.
Ralph took a couple of jackets from the coat closet and handed them out.
They looked out the kitchen window and could see Little Donnie sitting in his car puffing on a cigarette, plumes of smoke gushing from the open driver’s window.
“He’s not going anywhere,” Caleb muttered. “Let’s go.”
They left by way of the window in the den, which couldn’t be seen from the front, back or driveway. They kept their flashlights turned off and let the glow of the utility light over by the barn light their way. Keeping the house between them and Little Donnie, they made their way past the garden and into the edge of the woods.
It was quiet enough that every footfall seemed to echo through the night, but there were still enough frogs in the trees and out around the ponds, even this late in the year, to create enough noise to cover the sounds of their passage.
Once in the woods they turned on their flashlights and followed the fence line over the rise and down into the pasture. Then they cut north toward the pickup parked beneath an oak on the far side.
They stopped and turned off their flashlights. There was enough moonlight to see where they were going.
“We’re assuming there’s no one there,” Caleb said.
“Yeah.”
“You know what assuming does.”
“Yeah. It makes an ass out of u and me.”
But there was no way to sneak up on the pickup. There was nothing surrounding the tree under which it sat for a hundred yards in any direction except grass barely tall enough to hide a snake.
With no other choice, they walked openly across the pasture toward the truck filled with “goods.”
Ten feet from the pickup Caleb grabbed Melanie’s arm and put a hand over her mouth. Next to her ear he whispered, “Shh. Listen.”
Melanie tried, but her heart was pounding too loudly. She strained to hear over the thunder in her ears.
Then she heard it. “Voices.”
There were windows all around the camper shell, and of course the front and sides of the cab of the truck. Caleb and Melanie were approaching from the rear. Anyone in the camper would be able to see them.
But why would anyone be in the camper? That was where the goods, whatever they were, should be.
“Careful,” Caleb whispered.
She nodded, and they crept closer.
“What’s that smell?” she whispered. “Did something die?”
Caleb stopped and sniffed, then swore quietly. “I don’t think so. Come on.”
No shouts of alarm sounded as they neared the pickup. In fact, there was suddenly no sound at all, except, Melanie thought, the pounding of her heart.
They approached the back of the camper as quietly as possible. They checked the cab first and found it empty. They tried to see into the camper, using their flashlights, but the camper’s windows had been covered with a reflective material. If they wanted to see inside, they were going to have to open it up.
Caleb reached for the handle of the door, and Melanie held her breath. He gave a yank, but the handle was locked. He paused and listened but heard nothing. That bothered him. He had definitely heard voices earlier.
Using the screwdriver, he pried the lock free at the sides of the camper door. Then, nodding to Melanie, he gripped the handle and flung open the door.
Melanie hit the button on her flashlight, but the smell struck them in the face before the beam illuminated the interior.
What they found shocked them both to the core.
Chapter Eight
People. The camper shell was crammed with people. And from the smell of things, they’d been in there entirely too long. Days too long. The stench was unbearable.
Melanie gasped and stepped back, covering her nose and mouth with her arm.
Caleb coughed.
From inside the camper, no one made a sound. They stared out at Melanie and Caleb like terrified statues. Four women, eight men, three children under the age of ten. Each adult clutched a cloth bundle. Four clear plastic gallon jugs that perhaps once held water but now held, well, other liquid. One five-gallon bucket and a half-dozen empty toilet-paper rolls. All crammed into the small camper space like the proverbial sardines in a can.
But it was the hope on the faces, even behind the fear, that reached Melanie. A deep pity stirred inside her for the horrifying conditions.
Someone whispered, “Una gringa.”
One man at the far end leaned forward. “¿Los Estados Unidos?”
“The U.S.?” another asked. “Are we in the United States?”
Melanie and Caleb shared a stunned look. “Yes,” Melanie answered. “Oklahoma.”
“Oklahoma? Truly? In America?”
“Yes,” Melanie told the man. “Sí. In America. Where are you from?”
“Are you police?”
“No, no,” Melanie said quickly. “No police. How… how long have you been here, in the pickup?”
“Two days,” the man answered. “We come from Sonora, in Mexico. The man, he promise us jobs. Good jobs. We work for you?”
“Oh, uh, no, not for us.”
“But we must work to pay for being brought here.”
“What do you mean?”
“We each paid the man to bring us, but the cost was so high that none of us could pay it all. We work to pay the rest.”
“Is it a lot of money?” Melanie asked.
“Sí. It is very much money. We paid five hundred
U.S. dollars each, and now we work to pay the other two thousand.”
“Dollars?” Melanie squeaked.
“Sí.”
“Each?”
“Sí. We work for you now?”
“Not yet. It’s too soon. You’ve only just arrived. Why don’t you get out. If you want to.”
“Is all right? That we get out?”
“Yes, yes. Please. Get out and be comfortable.” Melanie grabbed Caleb’s arm and dragged him aside. “Jobs? The Bruno McGuire Employment Agency? I don’t think so. What’s going on? What are we going to do? He’ll find a way to use them and make their lives miserable.”
“What is this?” Caleb hissed. “For somebody who doesn’t like illegal aliens, you sound awfully concerned.”
“Oh, stuff it. These people are in trouble.”
“Maybe you’re the one who’s been running an underground railroad in the county.”
“Maybe you’ve been sniffing locoweed. Bruno’s going to turn these people into slaves.”
“I’m afraid it’s worse than that,” Caleb whispered.
“What do you mean?”
“The kids.”
“Yeah, I’m wondering about them, too. If he’s bringing in illegal aliens to work, why would he bring families with small children?”
“Because he can take the children and hold them hostage, make the parents turn over all their pay. And he can sell the kids. Or rent them by the hour to perverts.”
Melanie’s stomach churned.
“They talk about this sort of exploitation all the time on the news.”
“What are we going to do? We can’t just let him take them away and turn them into virtual slaves.”
“They’re on your land. What do you want to do?”
“Oh, great. Now you decide to let me make the de
cisions.”
“If you’re asking what I’d do, I’d get them out of here so Bruno can’t find them. They’re obviously il legals. It’s not like he can complain to the cops, right?”
“No, he can just break Daddy’s kneecaps.”
“There is that.”
“But not,” Melanie said thoughtfully, “if we complained to the cops.”
“You mean turn these people over to Immigration?”
Melanie swallowed. Of course, that was exactly what they should do. These poor people were in the U.S. illegally. Immigration would send them back to Mexico.
She looked at them, at their wretched condition, at the wretched conditions they’d suffered to find new jobs to feed their families. Yet they would work for Bruno for years and never pay off their debt, never even come close to the great American dream. Bruno’s interest rates made credit card companies look like Santa Claus.
“No,” Melanie said. “Not unless we have no choice. But there is such a thing as home invasion, and my home has definitely been invaded. Before we do anything, we need to move these people. Hide them.”
“Where? Why?” Caleb asked.
“We can hide them down at the hay barn,” she said. “As for why, because I’ll be damned if Bruno is going to use the Pruitt Ranch in his disgusting scheme.”
Caleb smiled. “That’s my girl.”
“Huh. In your dreams, pal.”
“There, too. But we also have to think about your dad. We interfere in this, Bruno will take it out on him.”
“I know.” She paced away, then back. “I know. Daddy went along with this to cancel out his debt.”
“He went along with it to avoid getting his kneecaps broken. And maybe yours, too.”
“I know, I know. But it’s not like Daddy can get police protection from his bookie.”
“No, but Bruno’s not just going to go away. He lets your dad get away without paying and anybody hears about it, he loses his reputation, then his business.”
“And I’d feel so sorry for him.”
“Me, too. But nobody named Bruno is going to let that happen. He’s going to come after your dad, or you’re going to go out to the barn some morning and find another goon waiting out there.”
Melanie threw her hands in the air. “What am I supposed to do about it?”
“The only thing you can do. The only thing he’ll settle for. Pay him.”
“I can’t afford it,” she cried.
“Melanie.” He took her by the shoulders and held her still. “Are we friends?”
“Not for much longer if you don’t get to the point.”
“I can pay him.”
“You cannot!”
“I can, and if you won’t take it as a gift from one friend to another, you can pay me back later, whenever it’s convenient.”
“Caleb!”
“Melanie.”
Melanie fought back a groan. “I can’t deal with this right now. Let’s just get these people out of here first. We’ll worry about Daddy and the money later.”
Melanie explained the situation as best she could, while those who spoke English translated for the others.
“The man, Bruno, who arranged to bring you here, is a bad man. He makes money off the misery of others. When he comes here in a little while he’s going to separate you into two or three groups. It’s possible he’ll separate husbands from wives, and there will be nothing you can do about it. It’s almost certain that he’ll take the children away from their parents.”
After the translations, one woman hugged her daughter close and spoke a rapid stream of Spanish that was far beyond Melanie’s high-school-Spanish vocabulary.
“She asks,” said the man who identified himself as Jorge, “why a man would do such a thing.”
“Because he can, then force you to work even harder and give him every cent you earn. He’ll tell you it’s to take care of your children. He’ll make you do things you won’t want to do. If you don’t do what he wants, he’ll say you’ll never see your children again. Meanwhile he’ll be selling your children to other men, making them do things no child should ever have to do.”
When Jorge translated, everyone spoke at once.
“Hitting them pretty hard, aren’t you?” Caleb asked.
“I want them to understand the kind of man they’re up against.”
“You’re scaring them.”
“I mean to.”
One woman started to wail.
“No.” Melanie grabbed Jorge’s arm. “Stop her. We have to keep quiet. Stop her now! They left a man, a lookout, just over the rise. We can’t let him know you’re out of the truck.”
“Shh, shh,” Jorge said, followed by a fast stream of Spanish.
The woman gasped and fell silent.
“Thank you,” Melanie said. “The man on guard has a gun and I’d hate for him to come out here to investigate.”
“A gun?”
“That’s right. The other men who will come for you will have guns, too.”
“What can we do? We came here to work, for our families. We want no trouble.”
“We can hide you until the men leave.”
Jorge looked around the empty pasture. “Hide us where?”
She pointed west. “There’s a hay barn not far away. You’ll be safe there.”
“The owner, he will not mind?”
“This is my family’s ranch. I’m one of the owners.”
Caleb stepped up. “If Bruno decides to look around, he could easily find them there. They’ll be safer on the Rose.”
“Are you sure?” Melanie asked. “You don’t mind?”
“What is this Rose?” Jorge asked.
“It’s my ranch. The Cherokee Rose. You’ll be safer there. It’s not far, but if you’re all willing, we should get moving.”
They were willing. Eager, even, to avoid the men with the guns who would come for them.
Melanie led the way across the pasture and down along the fence. The Mexicans moved slowly; they were exhausted and hungry and had little strength left. The children staggered with fatigue. One woman was so weak she could barely walk and had to lean on her husband. Caleb brought up the rear.
How was a man supposed to keep up with a woman like Melanie? Figuratively speaking. Much less understand her. A couple of days ago she’d been all hot under the collar thinking he’d been breaking the law by helping illegal aliens.
Now look at her, he thought. Leading this group of ragtag refugees like Moses shepherding the Jews out of Egypt. Except Moses hadn’t had a flashlight.
For this particular exodus, Caleb was grateful for the flashlights but wished they had a little more time. Or a little more speed. If Bruno and his men showed up and caught them out in the open, there was no telling what might happen.
The woman just ahead stumbled again. Her husband was getting weaker, having more trouble carrying her weight.
“Here,” Caleb offered. “Let me take her for a while so you can catch your breath.”
“Oh, gracias, señor, but I am able to manage.” He straightened and adjusted his grip around his wife’s back. The woman let out a soft moan.
Caleb fell back, but not too far, and followed, ready to leap forward and catch the woman if the man couldn’t hold her up.
He figured they were another ten minutes away from their goal. Melanie hadn’t said so, but he knew she was taking them to the gate she and Caleb had installed the other day. Trying to get these people through the barbed-wire fence, children included, without someone getting sliced up, would be nearly impossible. The gate would be much easier.
They finally reached the gate and made it through to the copse of blackjack trees on the Cherokee Rose on the other side. Caleb turned back to close the gate, and the woman who’d been having trouble let out a cry and sank to her knees.
“Maria!” Her husband fell to his knees beside her.
Caleb rushed over and dropped beside them. “What’s wrong?”
; “It’s the baby, señor.”
“Baby? What baby?”
“The one that is coming.”
“Coming?” Caleb tried to swallow and couldn’t. Surely he’d heard wrong. “What do you mean, coming?”
“What’s all the noise about?” Melanie elbowed her way through the crowd surrounding the downed trio. “What’s going on?”
Caleb looked up at her. The sky was gone, blocked out by tree branches still thick with leaves. Why in the name of all that was holy had he not brought a cell phone? His was in the front seat of his pickup and Little Donnie might have spotted him retrieving it, but Melanie’s was in the pile of phones George had collected. Caleb’s only excuse for such a lapse was that he didn’t seem to think straight around Melanie these days. Didn’t seem to be able to think much at all around her.
Now, here they were, out in the woods in the middle of the night with a baby on the way and no way to call for help.
“Unless I miss my guess,” he answered Melanie, “we’re having a baby.”
“Oh my God.” For a moment, Melanie’s mind simply went blank. She dealt with birth on a regular basis on the ranch, of course, but not human birth. “How long has she been having pains?”
“I have no watch,” the man with her said. “But it has been since a long time before we stopped.”
“Are you her husband?” Melanie asked.
“Sí. I am Pedro Martinez. This is my wife Maria. This is our first baby.”
“Maria, do you speak English?”
“She does not,” Pedro said. “I am sorry.”
Melanie looked over at Caleb. “How far are we from the house?”
“About a half mile.”
She swore under her breath. “Too far to carry her.”
Maria cried out and arched her body against a contraction. When it subsided she spoke to her husband in halting Spanish.
“She says the baby comes now.”
“Oh, God. I don’t suppose anyone here knows about childbirth.” She looked up hopefully to the other three women.
The Chisholm Brothers:Friends, Lovers... Husbands? Page 34