On The Texas Border

Abby shook her head. “I’m not sure how this concerns me.”

“I want you to find my daughter,” was his shocking reply.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Mr. Brewster, I’m not a detective. You need a private investigator.”

“No.” He shook his head. “They would drag this out for money and leak tidbits to the papers. I won’t have that. You’re a reporter. You can do this. The mother’s name is Delores Alvarez. Jonas has all the information on her in his files. He’ll go with you.”

A man moved from the shadows, and until that moment, Abby hadn’t even realized Jonas was in the room.

“I’m not going,” Jonas said tersely. “I already told you that.”

“You’ll do what I tell you to do,” Mr. Brewster roared, his face turning red in anger.

“Calm down, Mr. Brewster,” the nurse ordered.

Mr. Brewster took a couple of deep breaths. “I own you, Jonas,” he murmured. “Remember that.”

Abby wondered what the old man meant, but didn’t have time to ponder it. She could see that Jonas wasn’t backing down. A full-fledged argument was about to erupt.

“Mr. Brewster, I’m not searching for your daughter,” she told him before the situation got out of control. “I wouldn’t even know where to start. There are reputable people who can help you. Besides, you should concentrate on getting better and—”

“You have to do it,” he breathed heavily. “You’re a woman close to her age. She’ll listen to you. Tell her I’m sorry. I just want to see her. That’s all.”

Abby inhaled deeply, trying to understand this strange request. “Mr. Brewster, I can’t, but—”

“No,” he cut in, took a breath, then asked, “Why did you agree to write my memoirs?”

Thrown by the question, Abby chewed on the inside of her lip, searching for the right words. Her motive was not altruistic, and she had difficulty telling him that. She didn’t understand why. Mr. Brewster had hurt her father, so she shouldn’t worry about his feelings.

“What’s the matter, Abigail?” he taunted. “You think the truth will hurt me?”

“I…”

“Nothing touches me anymore. My heart is like a rock. I’m not sure what’s keeping me alive.”

“I keep wondering the same thing,” Jonas slipped in.

“You see, Abigail, Jonas knows me, and he keeps waiting for me to draw my last breath. Not because he’s after my money but because he wants his freedom. But he will never be free of me…not even when I die.”

Abby threw up her hands. “Okay, I’ve had enough. This is getting weird, and I’m not getting involved.” She turned toward the door.

“You agreed to write my memoirs to get information about your father.”

She swung around, her eyes huge in her pale face.

“What?” He lifted an eyebrow. “You think I didn’t know?”

Abby swallowed hard. She felt as if she were a puppet and he were pulling her strings, manipulating her. She didn’t like that feeling…not one little bit.

“Here’s the deal, Abigail Duncan,” he went on. “You want something, and I want something. Let’s hammer out the details.”

“You think you can manipulate me?”

His eyes stared into hers. “Yes,” he answered. “And I’ll tell you why. You’re a reporter and you need to clear Abe Duncan’s name. I’m the only one who can do that.” He paused, then added with a touch of cynicism, “Or the town can go on believing the rumors.”

Blood began to pound through her numb body with exhilarating speed. “You’re a cruel old man,” she said angrily. “How can you be so—”

“Enough,” he ordered briskly. “What’s it going to be?”

Thoughts ran riot in her head. This was what she’d been waiting for—to hear the reason her father had been fired. She thought of all the years her father had worked for Simon Brewster, all the hard work and service he had given, only to be tossed aside like an old shoe. And the rumors. Abby would do anything to put an end to the rumors.

She raised her eyes to his. “Let’s hammer out the details,” she said quietly.

“Have you lost your mind?” Jonas shouted.

She ignored him.

“Good,” Mr. Brewster said, as if Jonas hadn’t spoken. “I knew I could count on you.”

Abby wrestled with her conscience. Could she do this? She didn’t know a thing about finding people, and she didn’t understand why he wanted her to find his daughter. There were so many other avenues. But he’d given her no choice. Not if she wanted the truth.

“All you have to do is go into Mexico and find Delores,” Mr. Brewster was talking. “Her family doesn’t live far from the border. They’ll be able to tell you where she is.”

“If it’s that simple, anyone can do it,” she reasoned.

“We’ve been through this. I want someone I can trust. Someone Delores can trust.”

“Are you sure you can trust me?” she fired at him. “After all, I am Abe Duncan’s daughter.”

“Touchе, Abigail.” He sighed with admiration. “To answer your question, yes, I trust you implicitly.”

“Aren’t you the man who told me in his memoirs never to trust anyone?”

“Are you gonna pick at every little thing I’ve said or are you going to help me?”

She didn’t want to help him or have any part in this bizarre mess. But she had to push aside her feelings and remember why she was doing this.

“Why hasn’t Delores come back before now?” she asked. “Wouldn’t she want the best for her child?”

“I told her that if she ever came back, she’d regret it, and she knew I meant what I said. I’m not proud of the way I acted years ago, but…now that I’m near death, I have this need to see my daughter. She’ll be close to thirty, probably with a family of her own.”

This was crazy, and when she heard herself say the words, she knew they were the craziest thing she’d ever said. “Okay…I’ll try to find her.”

“I have your word.”