River to Cross, A (24 page)

It was late afternoon
when Chavez and the general turned into the lane leading to Madison’s house. Chavez took him up to the barn first, which was dark and empty inside. No horses; they’d been hauled away. No chickens and no dogs, for they’d been disposed of, also.

“All the curtains are pulled. The place looks deserted,” Diego said, riding back to the house. “Was it like this when you were here?”

“Not at all. I just assumed the woman was still living here. There was also a child and a housekeeper. Now, no one.”

Frowning, Diego walked up the steps to the front door. Locked.

He threw his shoulder against it several times until finally the lock gave way and the door swung open.

They stepped inside and looked around.

“What happened in here?” Diego asked.

“When my men saw that Lloyd Madison was gone, they got all angry. And this”—Chavez swept his hand at the overturned furniture and broken lamps—“was the result of that.”

“This is why the Evans woman left. Thanks to your men, the place is almost unlivable.” Diego smacked his hand against the wall and swore. “Why didn’t you tell me what we’d find before we came all the way out here?” He snapped his head up. “I don’t suppose you know where Elizabeth Evans lives now?”

Chavez’s eyes grew wide and he shook his head.

“I didn’t think so,” Diego said, and stormed out the door and down the front steps. He mounted his horse and started down the lane for the road back to Socorro.

Whistling under his breath, Laszlo headed down the Old Road for the cutoff to El Paso. Strange . . . The two riders a quarter mile ahead weren’t there a minute ago. He looked around. He’d passed no houses and no roads for the last mile. There were none except the lane he was coming up on, the driveway to the Hoopa Lady’s house. He’d ridden into town with Jake and Elizabeth this morning to help unload chairs for the weapons demonstration this afternoon. Jake pointed out her house as they went by.

On impulse, he turned into the lane and trotted up to the house. Quiet. Everything seemed all right.

Not quite.

The front door stood wide open.

Laszlo didn’t get off his horse. Instead, he turned him around and took off at a gallop back to the Old Road. As he came up behind the two men, he noticed the saddles—Mexican military saddles. And he’d seen both of the men before, but in Mexican uniforms.

Chavez and Diego.

Bad news for the Hoopa Lady.

He took the road along the river through El Paso and out to the picnic, where he swung off his horse to look for Jake and Elizabeth.

“Jake! Jake!” he called, waving his arms over his head.

Jake hurried over. “What’s wrong?”

“I just saw him!” Laszlo said, breathless. “He’s here. Diego’s
here
!”

“We’re going to arrest them,”
Jake said.

He talked quietly to six Rangers, the sheriff and his deputy, all circled around the Law Enforcement table. Every man was wearing guns.

Gus shook his head. “Diego and Chavez may just show up here. They think no one knows them. They’re wearing civilian clothes, and both speak English. Even if they didn’t speak English, it wouldn’t be noticed in El Paso. More people speak Spanish than English here, anyway.”

Gus clapped a hand on Laszlo’s shoulder. “My friend here says the general is without his usual mustache. Major Chavez has a scarred right cheek. Let’s spread out, and keep our eyes open. Any doubts, spread the word to Fred or me. Not Jake; they know Jake. But as far as we know, they don’t know us.”

Wide-eyed, Elizabeth pulled at Jake’s arm. “Surely they wouldn’t come here.”

“They might. But don’t worry—we’ll be ready for them.” Jake turned to Laszlo. “Take Elizabeth someplace safe and keep her out of sight.”

“Where can we go, Hoopa Lady?” Laszlo asked, leading her aside.

Elizabeth looked around and shrugged. “Not inside the Kaufman house. There are children in there.”

“There’s no place else around here, except for maybe the barn,” Laszlo said.

“The barn’s too close to other people. Those men have guns.” Her lips pursed. “The woods . . . I see lots of big trees and bushes.”

“Or we could go back to the Annex. There are Rangers there.”

“And meet the Mexicans on the way? Not on your life,” Elizabeth said.

Moments later, Diego and Chavez rode up the long driveway of the Kaufman house.

Gus, the official greeter, welcomed them, gave each a balloon and a small Texas flag. Other than himself, there wasn’t a Ranger in sight.

A drum roll sounded. The leader chinned his fiddle and called, “Yee-HAW! Grab your lady, here we go. Grab her now, boys, and do-si-do.”

Gus said, “You’re just in time for the dance, gentlemen.”

Under a yellow awning next to the barn, the Franklin Mountain Boys, in boots and Stetsons, led into a fast hoedown.

Gus pointed to the trees that lined the side of the big yard. “Tie your horses over there, and enjoy the music.”

The two men looked at each other, nodded, then swung down and began leading their horses toward the trees.

“Look around. Do you see the Evans woman?” Diego asked Chavez.

“No. Not yet.”

As they approached the trees, Diego glanced back at Gus and wrinkled his forehead. “I’m sure I’ve seen that man before. Recently. In Mexico.”

Chavez looked back. “Let’s leave, then. If you’re right, they know us, and won’t let us out the way we came in. I know this area. The woods end at a creek that empties into the Rio Grande, but there’s a drop-off and the water’s too deep. We have to follow it upstream and cross where it’s shallow, then find the Grande on that side.”

Diego got back on his horse and rode slowly into the trees, as if looking for a place to tie the horse. Chavez was right behind him. When they were well into the woods, they kicked their horses into a run.

A shot whistled overhead, tearing through the leaves, followed by another. Jake, hidden until now, ran from tree to tree, chasing them through the woods, firing above their heads. He didn’t want to kill them. The government needed them alive for prosecution, not only in the United States but in Mexico, too.

Dodging the trees, Diego headed for the drop-off to the creek up ahead. As they drew nearer to the creek, they slowed, looking for some way across. There, the creek was deep and wide with steep banks.

Jake jumped out from behind a tree and dragged Diego off his horse. Diego swore and swung at him. On the way down, Diego fumbled for his pistol, but dropped it as he yanked it out.

Jake punched him in the face—a short, hard jab. Diego’s head snapped to the side. Jake pulled back to hit him again.

From behind, hard steel struck the back of Jake’s head and buckled his knees. A red burst of fire and pain exploded behind his eyes. He knew it was a pistol butt from the way it felt.

The world tilted. The sky swirled, a blur of clouds and treetops. Slowly he fell onto his face.

“Get back on your horse, General,” he heard Chavez say, the words sounding distant.

“After I kill him.”

“No! A shot will give us away. We’ll come back later, and you can finish him off then.”

“Don’t you give me orders. I’ll do as I please.” Then, cursing and rubbing his jaw, Diego mounted up, and the two rode off.

Hearing them leave, Jake moaned, struggled to move.

On her stomach under a thick, scratchy bush, Elizabeth put a finger over Laszlo’s lips. She placed her mouth against his ear. “Go get the others,” she said.

Laszlo pushed himself out backward, then ran for the clearing.

Elizabeth rushed over to Jake. “Lie still. Let me see what’s wrong.”

He looked up into her eyes. Elizabeth, her arm around his shoulders, bent over him with a concerned frown.

“Don’t look so worried, darlin’. I’ll live.” His broad Texas accent thickened, dragged out as slow as sorghum. “I’ll be all right.”

But the skin around his eyes tightened as he winced in pain. He clenched his teeth, and then his face relaxed, his eyes glazed over and he passed out.

She went down on her knees beside him. He lay deathly still, his face the color of chalk. The back of his head was bleeding and a knot was growing. He was big, heavy, and out cold. She jerked her head up at a noise in the trees, and the stumble of her heartbeat raced in her ears. They were coming back to kill him. Her too.

Her mind jumped from one idea to another. Think! Think! They were close to the top of the high bank, maybe six feet above the water.

She stretched his arms down straight at his sides and pulled and tugged until he was at the brink. She looked at the creek below. Farther than she’d realized. She put one hand on his belt, the other on his shoulders.

“Sorry, Jake,” she said, then pushed him over the edge.

Like a log, he rolled down the bank, gaining momentum until he splashed into the creek. And sank.

He wasn’t supposed to sink!

She grabbed up her skirt and leaped, landing hard on her backside, and slid the rest of the way down, her skirt riding halfway to her middle.

She jumped into the creek and dove down, following the air bubbles. She found an arm, pushed off the bottom and shot for the surface, pulling him up with her. When his head broke the surface, his eyes were still closed.

Creek water poured down his face.

Bobbing beside him, she fished a foot down, feeling for the bottom. The creek was surprisingly deep and cold. Holding Jake, she pushed away from the bank and looked for a place to hide. A short distance away was a tall patch of bulrushes.

“Good enough for Moses, good enough for you,” she muttered to him.

Both of them would be hidden and out of sight, especially with night coming. But big as he was and completely dressed, he was weighing her down. Her wet skirt had tangled around her legs. She had to push to keep her own face out of the water.

With hardly a ripple she rolled onto her side, her left arm around his chest, towing him, and keeping that blond head of his out of the water.

He groaned a deep, breathy sound she could feel in his chest.

“It’s all right, Jake. Stop squirming. I’ve got you. Don’t fight me or we’ll both go down.”

“God . . . help me,” he whispered, as though just realizing where he was. He raised his chin, panic in his eyes.

Quickly so as not to tip off the Mexicans, she lowered her face and kissed him full on the mouth, shutting off any sound from him. Under her mouth, his eyes opened wide.

She slid her mouth sideways a fraction. “Shhh, they’re back. I hear them up there. Don’t make a sound. If they find us, they’ll kill us both. Understand me?”

He nodded. “Yes, but—”

Her mouth covered his again.

She bent the stiff green stalks aside and peered through, swimming and working deeper into the rushes. She shifted Jake around in her arms and hugged him tight, wondering if he was going to die and how she could live with herself if he did.

She fisted a handful of rushes and wrapped a leg around the stalks, floating upright in the water and holding Jake against her. He couldn’t reach bottom, either. The creek was over their heads.

Her breath caught when shots rang out, followed by curses and shouts coming from the top of the bank.

A loud, deep voice yelled, “Hold it right there, General. One move and you’re dead. Under the laws of the state of Texas, you are under arrest.”

It was Gus!
Thank you, God.

“Gus!” she called. “Jake’s down here in the creek with me. Please, help us. Jake is hurt.”

There was a long pause. “I don’t see you.”

“Off to your right, in the creek. Hold on a minute. We’ll swim out so you can see us.”

“Jake can’t swim.”

She made a face. “I know that now.”

“If I throw you a rope, can you tie it under his arms?”

“Yes. But hurry. He needs a doctor.”