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As Matt neared the dude ranch, he came upon a car parked sideways across the road, with one man standing behind it and another in front. The one in front was waving at him to stop. He complied and stuck his head out the window.
"What's going on?" he shouted.
"This road is closed for about a half hour, sir. You'll have to come back later."
The fellow had sunglasses on, even though the canyon was completely in the shade of the early evening. He had a black jacket on with the letters "FBI" prominently on the left breast.
"Closed? What for? Was there an accident?"
"Federal matter, sir. Please turn around and try again later."
"Federal matter? What federal matter? I'm a newspaper reporter! That's my press pass on the mirror. I have the right to be anywhere!"
"Not here, you don't, sir. For the last time, please reverse your vehicle and come back later. That's an order sir."
And he pulled back his jacket to rest his hand on a pistol in a holster.
"Well, crap," said Matt. "Someone will hear about this!"
He shifted into reverse, backed around, shifted into drive, and eased back down the highway, rolling his window up.
Back up to speed, and after rounding several curves, he spoke out loud.
"Well, wasn't I lucky that I was flagged down by a hitchhiker two curves before I got to that idiot FBI agent! I bet that guy missed something real newsworthy."
From behind his seat came a quavering woman's voice.
"Yes, he did, but don't slow down—we've got to be there in fifteen minutes!"
"You mind telling me what happened back there?"
"It was more people after me. They almost caught me. They must have been watching the Delbosque's house. It was horrible! I was so scared! I rubbed some refried beans on my face and wrapped a shawl over my head and tried to act like an old woman. When the cat bit the agent, they all jumped, and I ran for the trees. They didn't see me."
"How well I know! I'd have given anything to have seen that! Like we Hispanics say, tú te has hecho humo—‘you turned into smoke,’ poof, like that! ¡Corriste a quemaropas! You ran so fast your clothes were on fire!” But why did you tell me to drive up to the roadblock before turning around?"
"It might have looked funny if you'd turned around before you reached it. Now, they won't suspect you knew anything."
"How true that is," Matt observed.
In less than ten minutes they had left the mountains behind and headed down the long straightaway that descended into Alpine. About midway between the mountains and the town, he turned left at the fancy wrought iron gate to the Bar-S ranch. From his research on the local water situation he knew the ranch occupied many square miles. The main house was barely visible from the highway. This land could only be good for cattle and oil, he figured. There was hardly a tree on the place, or even a hill.
His heart was in his throat all over again as he drove up to a sleek little corporate jet waiting on the end of the runway behind the Bar-S ranch house. Cheryl was there waiting with Coach Pérez and a tall woman wearing pressed jeans and a western shirt. Cheryl gave Darcy another of her huge hugs.
"All right, girl! Here we go!"Stepping back, she looked at Darcy. "You’re a mess, girl! What happened to your face?"
"Oh, nothing. I got splashed with dirt. It'll wash off."
"OK, no big. Let's get going, huh? Woo-hoo!" She climbed up the narrow stairs into the plane.
Coach Pérez stepped over to shake her hand.
“Hi, Ana. This is Rhoda Williams,” she said, indicating the woman at her side. “This is her ranch.”
Darcy shook the woman’s hand. “How do you do, Mrs. Williams. I’m pleased to meet you. Thank you for letting us use your landing strip.”
Mrs. Williams, her splashy jewelry sparkling in the sun, smiled down at her.
“I’m delighted to help, Ms. Darcy. Coach Perez told me you and Cheryl have a good chance at a medal in the Olympic Games. I wish you all the best, you hear?”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Coach Perez pointed at the modest backpack at Darcy’s feet.
"Is that all you've packed?" she said.
"Yes, ma'am. That's it."
"Bless you, Darcy. I hope it all goes very, very well. I want to hear all about it eventually, you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am. You will."
She picked up her backpack and turned toward the plane and there was Matt, with a funny expression on his face.
"Goodbye, Darcy."
Frowning, she thought there seemed to be something wrong with his voice.
"Good luck,” he said. “I'll be thinking about you. If there's anything I can do, please ask, any time."
"I will, Matt. Thanks for your help. You've been a good friend. I'll see you again, some day."
She leaned forward on tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He impulsively wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close. It was similar to what Cheryl had done, yet somehow it was entirely different. She seemed small and fragile in his arms.
"Here,” he said, releasing her with a heavy heart. He handed her an envelope.
“Open this in the air. I'm gonna miss you," he whispered hoarsely.
Then he let her go.
In five minutes the plane was just a blinking light in the fast-fading eastern sky.
It was fortunate the plane had left from the Bar-S ranch. Fifteen miles later Matt had to stop at another roadblock on the outskirts of Alpine. This one was manned by local cops he knew. Even so, they made him get out of the truck so they could poke through it. He remembered to gripe about the feds back in the mountains and asked again what was going on. All he received in reply was a couple of shrugs. That reminded him how lucky Darcy had been, and that made his heart squeeze up one more time.
