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Monday, May 30
Echo, Texas
After a few more long strides, the corridor opened into the oversized, brightly lit kitchen. Large windows along one side offered a different, more expansive view of the ranch. From here, Pilar could see a pasture with horses near another barn painted dull red.
Ranch personnel were exercising the horses. She watched a few moments, mesmerized. Pilar’s knowledge of horses and ranch work in general was limited. She hadn’t known anyone in Mexico rich enough to have horses or enough land to keep them.
A long table was laden with dirty dishes, suggesting that the ranch hands had already had breakfast and headed out to work. An older woman with bright red hair was seated at the head of the table. And one clean plate was left nearby.
“Pilar Mendoza, this is my mother, Rusty Greer,” he said, introducing them as if they might one day be friends. Which was preposterous.
Pilar nodded. “Senora.”
Greer gestured toward the clean place setting with an open palm, clearly inviting Pilar to sit.
“Sit, sit. Let’s talk a little,” Rusty Greer suggested. Her voice was raw, raspy. Not like a smoker. Like a weak old soul. She was thin and pale, and a strong wind could easily blow her over. She lifted her coffee and sipped while Pilar made up her mind.
“Ms. Mendoza,” the woman cooking at the big stove said with a firm smile and a quick nod. “I’m Isabella.”
She was Mexican. Maybe fifty years old. Comfortable both in her role and in her skin. She seemed healthy and well fed. Like Pilar’s mother might have looked under better circumstances.
“We have eggs, bacon, biscuits, and coffee. Will that suit you?” Isabella asked.
Pilar looked from the cook to both Greers and back, twice. She didn’t know these people. Didn’t trust them. But she was hungry and the food smelled better than anything she’d eaten in a long time.
“Have a seat,” Greer said again. “You’ve got enough time to eat before your ride gets here.”
Pilar didn’t need to be asked again. She plopped her duffel onto the floor and sat at the table. Half a moment later, the cook brought an overflowing plate of food and a big mug full of hot coffee.
“Cream and sugar on the table,” Isabella said with a smile. “Plenty more food on the stove, if you want more after you eat this.”
“Gracias,” Pilar tilted her head and offered her appreciation. Isabella patted her shoulder for comfort before she started cleaning up.
Greer continued to watch her as if she was a science project.
After a few bites, Pilar’s hungry stomach quieted down. She said, “Do you know why I’m here?”
Greer nodded. “Don’t you?”
“Not really. No one told me we’d be making this stop.” Pilar said, after swallowing a mouthful of the best scrambled eggs she’d ever tasted. “When will Miguel be back?”
“A week? Maybe two?” Greer said. “But your ride is coming this morning. Should be here in another hour. Give or take.”
“He won’t come any faster just because you want to get away,” Rusty spoke up again.
“Why isn’t Miguel coming back?” Pilar asked after chewing and swallowing more of the delicious eggs.
“He wasn’t going your way, I guess,” Rusty shrugged. “Besides, it’s better if you don’t stay in one place or with one group too long.”
She put the fork down and stared at Rusty. “Why not?”
Pilar heard the diesel engine of a big pickup truck as it drove up and stopped outside the open kitchen door. The driver’s side door opened and a pair of heavy work boots hit the ground when he jumped down from the seat.
The boots clumped heavily up the wooden steps to the porch and stopped at the screen door. A deep baritone voice said, “Morning Ms. Greer. Mr. Greer. They ready to go?”
“Morning, Felipe,” Bobby Greer nodded and replied. “Four men out in the barn. And this one here, Ms. Mendoza.”
Felipe opened the screen door. “Come on, Ms. Mendoza. We’re running late.”
Pilar widened her eyes and looked at Rusty Greer. “Me, alone, trapped with five men I don’t know? Going to a place I don’t know? Does that seem like a smart idea?”
Rusty shook her head. “Not to me. But orders is orders. And it’s kinda late for you to be worrying about that, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” Pilar’s breakfast was churning in her stomach. She worried it might come back up.
She took another sip of the coffee, hoping to keep everything where it should be.
“Look, honey, you’re illegal. You’ve been on a collision course with trouble since long before you left Mexico. You wouldn’t be here otherwise. Surely you know that,” Rusty said flatly.
Pilar narrowed her eyes to glare at the old witch. Rusty laughed.
Bobby Greer stood up and pushed his chair under the table. “You’ve got nothing to worry about from these guys, Pilar. Until you finish the job you came here to do, you’re still under your patron’s protection. No one will lay a finger on you.”
“That’s right.” Rusty cackled, “And if they do try anything, honey, just shoot ’em!”
Pilar’s blood ran cold as Bobby Greer and the driver laughed along with the old witch.
Isabella gave Pilar a stare that straightened her spine. The kind of look her mother gave her to get Pilar moving when she refused to perform as she’d been told.
Pilar nodded toward Isabella. She rose from the chair.
“Thank you for the breakfast,” she said to Isabella. She picked up her duffel and headed toward the screen door. “I’m ready.”
She walked past Felipe and went outside.