On Wings Of Deliverance

Benny was scrambling eggs on Mariela’s ancient stove when Owen came in the back door, carrying a bucket of milk. He plunked it on the table and walked up behind her. “I was hoping somebody would have breakfast going. That smells good.”

She glanced over her shoulder. With golden-brown bristle covering his jaw and a sleepy droop at the corners of his eyes, he looked a little worse for wear. “Where have you been?”

“Negotiating a deal with Gustavo.” He reached over her shoulder and snitched a strip of bacon.

“What kind of deal?”

He leaned on the counter and licked grease off his fingers. “Let’s just say I didn’t get the better end of it. More specifically, my end may wind up whooped.”

Benny had to giggle. “That sounds ominous.”

“I’ll say. Old Gustavo wouldn’t part with his truck, so it looks like Sunflower and I will be taking a little field trip.”

“Sunflower? Who’s that?”

“Not who—it. Sunflower’s a mule, my transportation to Poza Rica. I’ll ride up there, buy a car from Gustavo’s cousin Jorge and come back to get you.”

Benny stared at him. He looked perfectly serious. “You’re not leaving me here.”

He cocked his head. “Benny, I shouldn’t be gone more than a day—two at the most. Mariela will take good care of—”

“No, I’ll go with you. That will save time.”

Owen’s blue-green eyes lost their sleepy look. “What are you afraid of? You know we lost the guy in the Land Rover. There’s no way he could catch up to us.”

“They’ll know we never made it to Laredo. Anybody can look up a flight plan.” Shivering, Benny turned off the stove and shoved the pan full of eggs off the burner.

“I didn’t have time to file a flight plan.” Owen took her by the shoulders when she would have turned away. “Bernadette, who’s after you? Is it more than just this one man?”

She stood stiff under his hands and looked at the strong brown column of his throat. “I’m not sure.”

“This is insane.” Frustration laced his voice. “How can I protect you—and myself, for that matter—if I don’t know what we’re running from?”

He was right. It wasn’t fair to keep Owen in the dark, but if she told him about Paul Grenville, Grenville would do his best to kill Owen, too. On the other hand, she refused to lie.

She made herself relax. “Okay, you’re right. It’s silly to worry like this. Go ahead and take the mule to Poza Rica.”

Several seconds ticked by. Benny felt Owen’s big, gentle hands tighten, the thumbs on her collarbones and palms cupping her shoulders. When she looked up at him his expression speared her to the heart.

“You’ll be gone when I get back, won’t you?” His lips pressed together as he let her go. “I can’t believe you have so little regard for me.”

Benny caught her balance against the table. “Owen, you don’t understand who these people are. I care for you too much to let you—”

“You care for me?” Owen uttered a harsh laugh, the kind she’d never imagined him capable of. “Then trust me with the truth.”

She put her hands to her face and closed her eyes. “Okay, listen. Here’s all I can tell you now. When I was very young, I had some bad experiences and they’ve come back to haunt me. I have to get to Memphis to see an old friend, find out what she knows.”

After another moment’s silence, Owen sighed. “Why not call her?”

“We’ve just been in touch by e-mail because I’m afraid my calls can be traced. I have to see her in person.”

“Memphis,” Owen muttered. “I thought we were going to Laredo.”

Benny lowered her hands. “Will you help me get back to the States? Without asking questions?”

He shook his head. “You are a crazy woman, you know that?”

“I know. Please, Owen?”

“Like I could ever say no to you.” It wasn’t a question.

After breakfast, Owen saddled Sunflower with Gustavo’s old-fashioned tack, then mounted the mule with the confidence of long practice. Getting Benny situated was a bit trickier.

At least he’d talked her into trading in her full, flowery skirt for his extra pair of jeans.

“Come on, Ben,” he’d teased, “you’ll have saddle sores on your saddle sores if you try to ride in a skirt.”

So she’d rolled up the legs three or four times and tied them at the waist with a leather strap Gustavo had lying around the barn. She actually looked pretty cute, in a countrified kind of way.

“Okay, now stand over on the left side of the mule—watch out! He’ll kick if you get too close to his rear.” Owen was sweating already; he could just imagine what the heat would be like this afternoon. He’d give anything for his straw cowboy hat or even his Border Patrol headgear.

Benny looked up at him, hands on hips. “How’m I going to get up there?”

He extended his left hand. “Okay, put your left foot—no, your other left foot,” he said with a grin “—in the stirrup. That’s it. Now grab my wrist with both hands and I’ll pull you up. Hang on. Here you go!”

She swung up easily, fitting neatly behind the deep, old-fashioned cantle of the saddle.

“I did it!”

“Good girl. Now give my stirrup back and hold on.” When she clutched the sides of his shirt, he looked over his shoulder. “You’re gonna have to get a little more aggressive than that.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Whatever you say,” he said with a little smile and a shrug. Waving at Gustavo and Mariela, who stood at the kitchen door watching the show, he kicked Sunflower lightly in the ribs. “Yippee-ki-yo!”

As Owen had anticipated, the mule’s gait would have registered about 5.0 on the Richter scale. Benny was forced to hang on for dear life.

The mule also expressed, at regular intervals, noisy objection to his double load, which kept their conversation to a minimum. Since Owen had nothing to do but keep Sunflower from turning around to head back to the barn, he passed the time mulling over this morning’s conversation with Benny.

Bad experiences when she was very young. What did that mean? Most people he knew had traumatic experiences of one kind or another. He could never understand people who let tragedy dictate their lives. Owen figured you could make your own sunshine.

Not that Benny seemed to dwell on negative things as a rule. He’d always observed her to be a can-do person. She’d tackled issues with a Mexican orphanage that would have made most women run screaming back to the good old U.S. of A.

Now here she was, mounted behind him like Calamity Jane, arms wrapped around his waist and heels bouncing in rhythm with Sunflower’s bone-jarring trot. Wondering what she was thinking, he looked down at her slim hands, clasped under his rib cage. Her skin was the color of coffee with cream, her nails short and unpolished but beautifully groomed. She had a little silver ring with a turquoise stone on her right pinkie, and her watch—a simple bangle—was silver as well.

He took an experimental breath, filling his lungs to make Benny’s arms tighten around him. Sunflower seemed to have settled down. “You okay back there?”

“J-just peachy. How much longer ’til we get there?”