On Wings Of Deliverance

The voice growled out a series of Spanish words. Then the boards in front of them began to splinter and fall away from the outside. Owen and Benny found themselves staring into the myopic brown eyes of an elderly Mexican gentleman carrying an equally ancient shotgun. He had apparently used it to pry loose the wall.

“You are scaring my chickens,” he said in surly Spanish, moving back so Benny could squeeze through the narrow opening. “I should charge you a hundred pesos’ compensation.”

“Reckon he’s gonna send ’em to poultry therapy?” Owen sucked in his breath to follow Benny.

She gave him a quelling look, then batted her long, curly lashes at the farmer. “We are so sorry for the inconvenience.” She glanced at the plane, stuck in the doorway of the barn for all the world like an alien spacecraft in an Ed Wood movie. “We’ve got a problem with the fuel tanks, and one of the wings is broken. We can’t move it right now. If you would be so kind as to let us leave it here until we can have someone come repair it, we’ll be glad to pay you a storage fee.”

“How am I supposed to get in to feed my animals?” The farmer folded his skinny arms without lowering the gun.

Owen decided he’d been quiet long enough. “You’ve got a nice new opening started right here. I’ll help you straighten it up and build a door.”

“I won’t pay you one peso.” The farmer’s gaze fell on Benny’s face and softened. “However, my wife will give you a good dinner before you—” he glared at Owen “—go away.”

Owen had no desire to impose himself on the farmer’s dubious hospitality any longer than absolutely necessary. He pulled Bernadette aside.

“The least I can do is repair the old guy’s chicken coop. While I’m doing that, why don’t you sweet-talk him into giving us directions to Poza Rica?”

“But that’s a big city. I think we should avoid crowds. We need to go around—”

“All right, all right. I’ll let you make that call. But sooner or later, we are going to talk.” He searched her face. Avoiding his eyes, she stood there with arms folded and one toe drawing circles in the dirt. Owen had never had any patience for puzzles. “Benny—”

“Okay, Owen.” She sighed. “I owe you an explanation. But not now.” She glanced at the farmer, whose gray brows beetled in patent suspicion. “You fix the door and I’ll see if I can come up with some other mode of transportation.”

Benny turned her beautiful smile on the farmer, who unbent enough to lower the muzzle of the gun to the ground. With Benny jabbering in enthusiastic Spanish, the two of them headed toward a small adobe house sitting on a lumpy hill about a hundred yards away.

Owen slipped back into the barn and climbed into the cockpit of the plane. Benny wouldn’t like it, but he was going to try the radio again. They’d taken off without filing a flight plan and he had to let somebody know what had happened. Otherwise, people were going to worry.

His brother, for example. Eli was a Border Patrol agent, too, and hadn’t been wild about Owen taking this little jaunt. The prototypical big brother, Eli had become a total worrywart since a month ago, when he’d taken on a wife and a couple of kids.

As if flying medical supplies across the Gulf of Mexico was any more dangerous than chasing illegal aliens and dope peddlers through the desert.

Settling into his seat and adjusting the headphones, Owen paused in the act of flipping the radio on. Come to think of it, things had turned a little dicey in the last few hours.

Oh, well. Eli would just have to get over it.

After supper, Benny sat beside her hostess on the sagging sofa in the family room, where the only light came from an oil lamp and a string of multicolored Christmas bulbs strung along the ceiling. Mariela, a tiny butterball of a woman distinguished by a gray-streaked black bun and an enormous wart on the side of her nose, had given them coffee and empanadas for dessert.

Benny wished she’d had a video camera to record Owen dealing with Gustavo and Mariela de Oca. Over a simple meal taken at their kitchen table, Owen had piled on lavish praise for the good señora’s frijoles and tamales until she wouldn’t hear of her guests continuing their odyssey without a good night’s sleep. Furthermore, he’d apparently done such a good job with the barn door that even crusty old Gustavo was ready to apply for membership in the Owen Carmichael fan club.

Trying not to wince as she sipped the strong coffee, Benny watched Owen playing el juego de damas—checkers—on the bottom of a cardboard box with their host. Gustavo sat cross-legged on the tile floor, while Owen reclined on his side, his long legs taking up most of the floor space. He could make himself at home in any situation. He’d make a wonderful missionary.

“Your husband is a handsome young man.” Mariela straightened her flowered housedress. “You have been married for long?”

Benny choked and wiped coffee off her skirt. “He’s not my husband.”

Mariela frowned. “But you travel together without a chaperone?”

How wonderful to meet a lady with scruples as antiquated as her own. “We’re traveling together sort of by accident. We’d planned to reach our destination before dark. I’m happy you and Gustavo can be our chaperones.”

Mariela pursed her lips. “For one night. What will you do after that?”

Benny shrugged. “Owen’s a gentleman. I never have to worry about him.” She lifted the coffee cup to shield her face but couldn’t help glancing at Owen. There was something powerful and magnetic about the way he’d looked at her while he was in Agrexco this week. His usual teasing expression had been thoughtful. As if he saw into her thoughts and feelings.

Thoughts and feelings she hid pretty carefully. After all, she wanted to present an impression of a godly young Christian woman. Which was, of course, exactly what she was.

Lord, with Your help, I’ve escaped so much tragedy, she thought as she watched Owen jump three of Gustavo’s black checkers. Why? Why let that man stir it up again? So many men in her life had sent her down destructive paths. She couldn’t help lining Owen up with the lot of them, measuring to see how he fit.

He suddenly grinned at something Gustavo said and Benny hastily dropped her gaze to watch him jingling a handful of checkers. He had beautiful hands—long, deft fingers with neatly trimmed nails—and he wore a big college class ring with a blue stone on his right hand. She noticed a gash across his thumb, probably from his impromptu carpentry work that afternoon. He could do pretty much anything that came his way.

She stood up. “Owen, is there a first aid kit in the plane?”

“Sure, it’s in the cockpit, in the compartment between the—hey, where are you going?”

“Your thumb’s bleeding.” She handed her coffee cup to Mariela, who blinked in surprise. “I’ll be right back.”

Owen caught up to her as she pushed open the screen door. “I don’t want you going out there by yourself.”

She paused, wishing he’d stayed put but not entirely surprised that he hadn’t. “Why not?”

“Because it’s dark. And…there’s a killer goat out there.”

“Ooh. You’re gonna protect me from the big bad baby goat?” She patted her chest as if overcome. Owen grinned and she smiled. “Look, Mariela already thinks we’re into scandalous behavior. We need to be careful.”

His eyes narrowed. “Good grief. What a busybody.”

Benny shrugged. “She asked if we were married. When I told her no, she assumed…Well, I said I was glad for her to chaperone.” She looked up at Owen, relieved to have this discussion out in the open. She didn’t want any misunderstandings. “Listen, Owen, my credibility as a single female missionary hinges on my reputation. I’ve got to make sure we’re not alone at night. Ever.”

He stared back at her, his jaw shifting. “Okay. I guess I can see that. But for the record, you know I’d never…you know you can trust me, right?”

She weighed her words carefully. “I don’t think you’d do anything on purpose, but…” She sighed. “Well, I know when a man is looking at me a certain way.”

His mouth opened and she fully expected him to blast her for her conceit, but then his gaze unexpectedly wavered. “There’s nothing wrong with looking at a beautiful woman,” he muttered.

Benny couldn’t help the little thrill of pleasure his words—and his confused expression—sent through her midsection. Oh, Lord, forgive me. I thought I was past that hunger for approval….

She crossed her arms over her stomach. “That’s very sweet of you to say that, but I really need you to help me be…circumspect. Do you know what I mean?”

She had to endure the intense blue-green gaze scanning her face, touching her lips. Finally, he smiled a little. “No looking, huh?”

She shook her head. “And we’ve been in here by ourselves long enough. Go play checkers with Gustavo and I’ll get the first aid kit. I can’t have my pilot coming down with gangrene.”

“Yeah, that would be inconvenient.” Owen pushed away from the doorjamb. Placing his hands over his eyes, he backed away. “Just call me See No Evil.”

Benny laughed and headed out into the moonlit yard. A flashlight would have been nice, but they’d left that in the plane, too, along with Owen’s luggage and some stuff the Garretts had sent back to the States. Benny herself had no personal items whatsoever. She’d left in such a panic she hadn’t even had time to grab her purse.

She shuddered, remembering the zip of the bullet whizzing over her head to plant itself in the concrete wall behind her. Had it really happened less than twenty-four hours ago?

Now she had no cash, no credit cards, no ID, no phone—nothing but the clothes on her back. Getting safely across Mexico was going to stretch her faith and intellect to the limit.