Flies were already swarming her body, drawn by the blood.
The little girl twisted out of my arm and ran to her mom, crying and tugging at her hand to pull her upright. Jacinta’s limp arm twitched, but I knew that she wouldn’t be getting up. To be absolutely sure, I rolled her over. Two large exit holes confirmed my fears that she’d never hold her baby again.
“Sonny! She’s running!”
“Dammit! Come get this baby!” Not waiting for Yolanda’s response, I charged down the canyon after my detainee. She had a fair head start, but her feet were already sore and with only one shoe and a piece of clumsy carpet, I tackled her after about a hundred yards.
She went down hard, her face slapping in the dirt. She didn’t roll or struggle or cuss. I was madder’n a wet hen and wanted to slap the piss out of that stupid, evil woman, but there wasn’t time. I did the next best thing. Once again, I grabbed a head full of hair and jerked her upright.
Villarreal wasn’t tender-headed, that’s for sure. She gasped from the sheer violence of it, and then caught her balance, her eyes shooting daggers.
I gave her head a shake. “We don’t have time for this! Don’t you know that fire’s gonna be here in a few minutes and we don’t have time to play grab-ass. Get back there. We’re gonna climb out before it catches us.”
No longer in her sniper’s nest, Yolanda was holding the little girl by the time we got back. The baby was down to sobbing hiccups. Yolanda wiped the little girl’s nose with her hand and rubbed the results on her pant leg.
I could tell she took an immediate dislike to Villarreal. “You should have shot her and saved us the trouble.”
“I will, but if she runs again, I’m gonna let her own people kill her.”
Yolanda’s brow knit at the comment. Holding her rifle in her right hand, she shifted the little girl to rest on her left hip, a natural move that I’d seen thousands of times. My bride Kelly calls ’em hip babies, and I always love to see her standing hipshot with a little one saddled securely with one arm around them.
I explained. “They’ve all turned on her. Afraid she’ll sell ’em all out.” I pointed up to where Yolanda’d been covering us. “Is that a way out?”
“Yeah, but the last five or six feet is straight up and crumbly.”
“Perry Hale will take care of that for us.”
“That’s my guy.”
I pointed upward. “Villarreal, climb up there.”
She looked upward, at me, and without a word started up the incline toward what had been Yolanda’s sniper position.
Yolanda was still holding the baby and I took stock of her slender frame and studied the grade. Keeping an eye on the smoke that was blotting the sky, I shrugged off my pack. Opening it up, I dumped the contents, including the extra magazines for the AR. I still had three in my vest pockets.
“She may not like this, but we’re gonna need both hands.” I held the MOLLEE pack open and knowing what I wanted, Yolanda gently lifted the baby with both hands and whispered to the little one as she put her feet into the empty pack.
She started wailing and struggling, but I’d seen worse trying to strap my own kids into car seats when they were little. The two of us worked her down inside, and I pulled the pack tight over her shoulders, leaving only her head sticking out.
I turned and with Yolanda’s help, shrugged the straps over my shoulders.
That little head behind mine tuned up loud and long. I was dang glad she was facing the opposite direction. My hearing was about gone as it was.
“This won’t be pretty.” I led the way and started up the incline. “Keep an eye on this kid.”
Yolanda followed.
Each time the little one shifted her weight, it pulled me off balance, but we had to get out right then, and there was no time to waste. A couple of times Yolanda had to reach out and steady me, but the little girl struggled for less than a minute before exhaustion and the past few days took its toll and she quieted.
“She breathing back there?”
“Poor little thing’s asleep or passed out.”
“Thank the lord.”
Villarreal was already at the high-water mark by the time I picked my way up to within six feet of the top. I was wringing wet with sweat. Something in the flames popped not far away.
“What took y’all so long?” I looked up to see Perry Hale on one knee and peering over the edge.
“Picked up a passenger.”
“Hurry up. It’s gonna catch you.”
The weight on my back lifted when Yolanda took hold of the pack. I slid out of the straps and took it from her, lifting it high. “There’s a baby in here.”
Perry Hale didn’t change expression. “Of course there is.” He reached down and I handed up the sleeping girl. He grabbed a strap and disappeared from view. He was back a second later. “Next.”
“Yolanda.” I knelt and laced my fingers. She put one boot in the stirrup made by both hands and jumped at the same time I lifted. She virtually flew over the rim.
All the while I made sure Villarreal was behaving herself. The only thing she did was adjust her boobs, and I figured she was sweating as bad as I was under the tactical vest I couldn’t wait to take off.
“You saw how she did it. You’re up.”
She put both hands on my shoulders, her foot in my hands, and I lifted.
The firestorm made the turn up-canyon, pushed hard by the weather it created.
“Sonny.”
I took his hand, dug my foot into the dirt wall, and Perry Hale pulled me up and over.
Chapter 64
It wasn’t a whole lot better up topside. There was a fire up there, too, but it wasn’t burning nearly as fast as the one in the canyon pushed by a venturi effect. Perry Hale lifted my pack by the straps and I put the sleeping little girl on again.
Yolanda stood facing outward, covering for us. I rested a hand on her shoulder. “Thanks, kiddo.”
“Hug me later. We’re still in hostile territory.”
“That’s the truth.” Swiveling back around, I slapped Perry Hale on the shoulder.
He surveyed the terrain around us. “What next, Kemosabe?”
I grinned. “Oh, I get it. The Lone Ranger and all.”
“It really hadn’t occurred to me, but now that you mention it, it kinda fits.”
Yolanda broke up the boys’ club conversation. “How far is the river?”
“About two miles.” Perry Hale took a reading with his compass. “It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t for this damn fire and a Hummer full of bad guys up here looking for us.”
I wanted to keep the pressure on Villarreal, so she’d continue to cooperate. “They’re after her, too.”
“What? Ain’t she their boss?”
“She was. They tried to shoot her a little while ago. I figure they want to shut her up before I get her to the states and take over the operation down here.”
Her eyes met mine and wouldn’t let go.
He gave her the once-over. “Well, let’s all stay healthy. You want me to tie her up?”
“Villarreal, that’s up to you.”
“I won’t try to run.”
“There’s your answer. But if she does, you both have orders to shoot her in the legs. We can carry her two miles between the three of us.”
Perry Hale gave her a sinister little grin and raised an eyebrow. “Fine then. Let’s go.”
We took off under a smoke cloud as the firestorm down below scoured Chalk Canyon clean.
Chapter 65
With no road to follow, Geronimo steered the Humvee with care around whatever obstacle came in their path. As they rolled away from the canyon and the steep, rocky ridge, the vegetation thinned out to nothing more than scattered scrub growing barely three feet high.
Esteban rode shotgun, as he’d called the passenger seat when he was a kid. He didn’t want to be there, preferring to have Incencio in front. If that had happened, he could have easily shot them both in the ba
ck of the head and driven himself to the border.
However, for the first time since he’d known them, Incencio insisted on riding in the seat behind Esteban. There was no way he could shoot them both without endangering himself. The best thing to do was continue the search until he could take advantage of their situation.
From their vantage point in the military vehicle, the three in the Humvee could see for long distances. However, the eroded country cut and slashed by wind and water provided millions of hiding places for anyone, or anything, unwilling to be seen.
Unable to find their prey, Incencio became increasingly frustrated, making sounds deep in his throat as if the man were an animal. He pointed to the left. “That way. Closer to the canyon. The fire is going to force them out.”
Geronimo veered as directed. “They may come out on the other side.”
“They will still come out. Our bullets will reach across.”
Dead wood snapped and crunched under the tires as they neared the edge. Incencio tapped the back of Geronimo’s seat. “Stop.”
He stepped out and climbed onto the Humvee’s roof. The windows were down and Esteban called out. “What do you see?”
“Nothing. Do you think the fire caught them?”
Esteban hung his elbow out the window. “They may be farther down than we thought. Let’s continue.”
“Wait.” Geronimo tapped the steering wheel with his fingers. “We still have that sniper out here. Could we have passed him?”
Incencio jumped onto the hood, and then to the ground. He came around to Esteban’s side. Instead of carrying his rifle muzzle downward, he had it cradled in his left arm, far too close to Esteban’s head than he would have liked. It was as if he sensed what was in Esteban’s mind.
“Maybe. I think we should go back. Maybe we passed all of them.”
Geronimo shrugged. “I don’t care.”
The border was so close, and yet Esteban had the sense that the Ranger still might need his help. “I agree. Let’s drive along the edge back as far as the fire. If we don’t see them, then we turn around and wait for them at the river. That’s where they’ll cross with La Jefa.”
Incencio met his gaze far longer than was comfortable. “You are right.”
He opened the back door and settled into the seat.
Esteban glanced back to see Incencio watching him. “Is something wrong?”
“You seem nervous. I’ve never seen you like this before.”
Esteban turned forward. “That’s because no one has ever taken La Jefa before. I want to get her back, but at the same time, I hope she understands there is no fault with the three of us. We don’t want to wind up in her garden.”
Incencio laughed, slapped Esteban’s shoulder, and leaned back against the seat. “No worries about that. She will be very thankful and will probably bed me for it. I will give her what she wants and put in a good word for the two of you!”
They laughed at the joke as Geronimo reversed direction and headed south.
Chapter 66
Perry Hale pointed. “A Hummer passed me a little while back, heading toward the river. They’re looking for me, but I figure y’all, too.”
I adjusted the pack straps to settle the sleeping kid in just the right place. Yolanda took a boonie hat from her own pack and put it on the little one’s head for shade. She came around me and paused, giving Villarreal the once-over.
It was a girl thing, and I could feel the claws come out on all four hands.
“I’ll take the point.” Yolanda directed her comments toward Villarreal. “You try and keep up. I’m not slowing down for you.”
“Someday I would like for you to see my garden.”
Yolanda raised an eyebrow in my direction.
“She buries people there.”
“Fat chance.”
She spun on her heel and led off. I jerked a thumb in her direction and Villarreal followed with me right behind. Perry Hale brought up the rear.
We were less than two miles from the river.
Chapter 67
We hadn’t gone two hundred yards when a group of about thirty people popped up out of the canyon, driven up by the smoke, and we were in the wrong place at the wrong time. They couldn’t go back down, so they milled around the edge while two men separated themselves from the crowd and came forward. Both carried pistols belted around their waists.
Coyotes.
“Illegals.” Perry Hale’s soft voice came from over my shoulder. I sensed, rather than saw him step sideways to get a better field of view. “These guys are trouble.”
Villarreal spoke just as softly. “They aren’t illegal yet. They’re migrants.”
Yolanda angled herself to keep Villarreal in sight and still keep an eye on the two men.
Rather than get into a debate over migration, I cut the conversation off. “Yolanda, you can give her your views as a Mexican-American later. We don’t have time for this. Find out who they are, and tell them we aren’t interested in ’em at all.”
Fluent in Spanish, she called out to the two men who’d separated themselves and stopped a couple of yards from their people. The conversation went back and forth until Yolanda shrugged. “They want to know why we have weapons, and why she’s with us.”
“Tell ’em it’s none of their damned business. We’re headed north, same as them. Leave us alone, and we’ll do the same.”
“Sonny, I can’t shoot from here if I have to. Too many people behind them.” Perry Hale shifted again.
One of the men in a ragged gimme cap pointed at him and shouted for him to stop. At least my Spanish was good enough to understand that. Gimme Cap rested his hand on the butt of the semi-automatic stuck gangster style in his belt.
“Tell that son-of-a-bitch to get his hand off that weapon!” I didn’t want the situation to accelerate even more, so I kept my voice low.
Yolanda translated and Gimme Cap’s partner drifted in the same direction Perry Hale had moved. The crowd behind them milled around in the hot sun, not knowing what to do. One or two pointed at the fire coming across the desert in our direction.
There was one guy at the back of the group who remained stock-still, not appearing nervous like the rest of them.
He also wore a dirty foam cap that went out of style thirty years earlier. All I could see was his head and one shoulder, because others were in the way. He wore a gray sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off.
“Perry Hale. The guy in the back.”
“I see him. There’s a sling over his shoulder. Yoli, these two in front are yours if it goes south. I need to concentrate on that rifle back there.”
You could feel the tension heavy as the hot sunshine beating down on our heads. My heart was hammering a mile a minute and I wanted a drink of water in the worst way. I didn’t want to be behind Yolanda, so I stepped forward and put my hand on Villarreal’s arm.
“Don’t say a word. You and I are stepping over here.”
She cooperated, and we drifted a short distance to the side as casually as possible. I still had that baby on my back and for the first time in my life kept someone between me and danger. I figured, right or wrong, that if they started shooting and hit the cartel leader, even if the bullet went plumb through, there was a good chance that my vest, and ultimately, my body would protect the sleeping child.
Gimme Cap pointed and hollered again.
Yolanda spoke without turning her head. “Says to be still. He doesn’t like you moving around.”
“Had to get some distance. Tell him to move on.”
They exchanged words again. I took stock of the rapidly deteriorating situation. Perry Hale was as tense as a wound mainspring, his eyes rock steady on the man in the back. Index finger along the trigger guard of her rifle, Yolanda continued trying to talk the man down.
I’d about had enough. “Why won’t they move along?”
“Because we have what he calls a Mexican prisoner. He wants us to release her and they’ll take her and go.�
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“That’s not happening.”
“I told him the same thing.” Yolanda spoke again, pointing with her left hand toward the border, then in the direction of the approaching wildfire. This time she translated it into English for my benefit. “Take your people with you and go. We’re doing the same thing. Let’s keep this peaceful so we can all get away from the fire.”
At her command, some of the migrants started north. Mr. Out-of-Style shouted at them to stop, but they were afraid of the oncoming flames and enough had moved that Perry Hale could now see the man had an AK-47 slung muzzle-down over his shoulder. “Rifle.”
I held out my left hand. “It’s still down. Everyone stay cool.”
The group continued to drift away and Out-of-Style grabbed a woman by the collar, jerking her still. Gimme Cap tilted his head, as if assessing the situation, and Yolanda continued to talk.
He snickered and said something that caused Yolanda to stiffen. Villarreal laughed and Perry Hale tensed. I picked out a word or two, and saw the look in his partner’s eyes. These were probably the men who’d raped Jacinta, two young outlaws full of themselves and feeling indestructible.
“Perry Hale, stay cool.”
“I know what they said.”
“I bet you do. It’s just words at this point.”
“I’ll bury those sons-a-bitches with those words still in their mouths.”
“Maybe. Let’s try to de-escalate. Everyone take two steps back. Give them room.”
“The rifleman back there has his hand on the grip.”
“So do you, and me, and Yolanda. Yoli, ask them nicely to let us go. We’re backing up.”
In my mind, if we asked permission and appeared submissive, they might let the situation pass. I read The Art of War by Sun Tzu, and he said that if you leave your enemies a way to escape, they’ll likely take it. If they can’t get away, they’ll fight like wolves to protect their lives.
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