Molly's Garden

Molly tightened her grip on Nitro. “My dog stays with me, if you don’t mind, Deputy Powell.”

She spoke a low command and the animal relaxed.

“Then see he behaves.” Powell went into the room and waited for her.

She stepped past him and pulled up short. “Ramon. Good grief, what happened?”

Her driver sat hunched over in a straight-backed chair. His hair was matted with blood. One eye was nearly closed and beginning to bruise. His shirt and pants were torn and dirty. Fresh blood oozed from several cuts on his arm and through one pant leg.

“Why is he here and not at the hospital?” Molly asked Powell, who’d gone to sit behind his desk. Nitro sniffed at Ramon and sat. She remained standing.

“Mr. Flores told officers at the scene that he wasn’t sure he had a medical policy. He has no identification. Frankly we contacted you, as the registered owner of the vehicle, not knowing whether he’d stolen your truck.”

“Ramon, where’s your driver’s license?” She turned to Powell. “I provide all employees an insurance card.”

Looking miserable, Ramon continued to clutch his ribs as he spoke. “Three men in a black SUV forced me off the road before I reached the highway. They pulled me out of the cab. One beat me while the others destroyed the crates...and the produce inside. One took my wallet.”

Molly gaped at him. “He plainly needs medical treatment. What do I have to do for you to release him so I can take him to the emergency room? Or, Ramon, do you need me to call an ambulance?”

He shook his head even as the deputy drummed his thumbs on a manila folder. “Can you prove he’s in Texas legally?”

“Prove? Ramon’s parents migrated from Mexico a long time ago. Daddy helped them become naturalized. And you know my father was a straight arrow.” Her voice trembled as she spoke and Nitro sat up. Reaching down, she stroked between his pointed ears.

“It’s been a year since your dad passed. A lot has changed. Rumors say you aren’t as choosey about who you hire as Mike was.”

“What? That’s not true. Daddy supported me and all the farm decisions I had to make after he got prostate cancer. I’ve been at this long enough now...why are there suddenly questions? I was in the Peace Corps, for crying out loud, doesn’t that warrant some kind of respect for my decision-making?”

“Raising cattle is a worthy occupation. Your dad’s wranglers were mostly local cowboys.” The deputy delivered a dark look as he closed the folder. “You should have stuck with raising beef.”

Molly stiffened. “Meaning you don’t think providing fresh fruit and vegetables to hungry families is admirable?”

“Depends on who you’re feeding. You don’t want to be encouraging people to come here who don’t belong.”

“You know what? None of that matters. This man works for me. He belongs and he needs a doctor. I’m taking him to the hospital. If you plan to detain us, I’ll phone Gordon Loomis.”

Molly pulled out her cell phone. Loomis, her godfather, was the most respected lawyer in the area. His name carried weight. He’d been their family attorney even before Molly’s mom died. And she had few memories of her mother.

“Out of curiosity, are you looking for the men who did this?” she abruptly asked.

Powell stood. “I don’t need you to tell me my job, little lady. Your produce truck might’ve been hijacked by the very folks you’ve been feeding. Maybe you should sell your farm and go back to your old job in... where was that again?” he drawled. “Africa?”

“You mean where we were treated with respect?” Pocketing her phone, Molly dealt the deputy a dirty look. Shifting Nitro’s leash to her left hand, she leaned down to help her driver to his feet. “I’ll send someone from the farm to collect my truck to see if we can salvage any of the load. I assume you have no reason to hold it.”

“If you have known enemies, Ms. McNair, I’ll take their names. The mischief-makers were gone by the time a passerby phoned our dispatch.”

Molly indicated Ramon’s injuries. “This looks like more than mischief to me.”

“A lot of old-timers hate the influx streaming across our border. You ought’a be extra careful about who you put on your payroll. I’ll be checking.”

Ignoring the arrogance of the paunchy deputy, Molly slowly led her driver out of the office, through the main room, which had fallen silent, and out the door.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save the vegetables.” Ramon spoke with effort. “I think one man was the same one I told you hassled me at the market on Monday.” He faltered and she stopped to steady him. “I can’t be your driver anymore,” he said slowly, staring down at his feet. “Elena worries. And we have three children. You pay me more to drive, but I’ll go back to hoeing or picking... They threatened to hurt my family.”

She took a sharp breath before nudging him forward again. “None of this makes sense. Why would anyone be so upset that I’m selling fresh vegetables at local farmers’ markets?”

Frowning, Molly unlocked the doors to her old SUV. She removed Nitro’s leash and he bounded into the backseat. Carefully she helped Ramon into the front passenger’s seat.

“I don’t want to get dirt and blood on your upholstery.”

“This is a working farm vehicle. The seats will come clean. I’m sorry this happened. I should have paid closer attention when Danny Ortega quit. To be honest, he griped about everything so I assumed he’d finally had enough or had heard they were hiring in Brownsville for an offshore oil rig that paid more. Maybe he was being harassed, too.”

She circled around, climbed in and started the motor. “You don’t suppose the guys who jumped you were FDA vigilantes or food safety activists? I’ve complied with the new rules of organic agriculture. We even installed water filters to the irrigation that the government won’t require until next year.”

She knew the FDA had become more aggressive in its inspections. But what grower wanted to sell tainted food? She’d gotten her degree in agriculture because she wanted to grow crops that helped families be healthier. It had been her main mission in going to Africa.

At the hospital, she found a shady spot and parked. Again assisting Ramon, she rolled the windows down a few inches and told Nitro to stay. The hospital only allowed service dogs inside. But the sun was waning and a nice spring breeze had sprung up. Later, when summer arrived, she wouldn’t be able to leave him in the vehicle.

The emergency waiting area overflowed with moms and crying children. Molly found Ramon a seat and then went to the counter to check him in. A harried clerk gave her a clipboard with a sheaf of papers, which she handed to Ramon to fill out while she phoned her insurance agent.

“Lawrence, Molly McNair. I have an employee in the emergency waiting room.” She quickly explained the situation, including the news about Ramon’s missing insurance card, and was advised to pay the bill and the agent would arrange for reimbursement.

“Do you happen to know anyone looking for a truck-driving job?” she asked Lawrence. “Someone big and burly? Or, failing that, someone proficient in martial arts?” She laughed, but there was truth in her statement.

“You need to work with the police, Molly. And be extra careful. Last time I visited your dad, Mike was concerned about you being left alone out there.”

“Dad carped on that,” she said, a smile in her voice.

“I understand why he’d worry. The ranch is about as remote as they come. Considering the increase in Rio Grande crossings...well, it’s dangerous for anyone alone.”

“Rather than lasso a husband, Lawrence, I got a Doberman.”

The man chuckled. “I’m just saying, when jobs get scarce some men get aggressive. I hope Roy Powell finds who ran your driver off the—” He broke off, then added, “Listen, I have a call coming in on another line. I’ll have my secretary see to Mr. Flores’s replacement card.”

“Thanks.” Molly clicked off and went back to Ramon, picking up the clipboard from the empty seat beside him. Looking at him for permission, he nodded, and she quickly scanned the paperwork. Uncapping the pen, she filled in the lines Ramon had left blank, showing him before returning it to the clerk.

Back in her seat, she called the farm to ask Henry Garcia, her dad’s long-standing ranch manager, to drive another of her hands out in the Jeep to collect the delivery truck. “Henry, see if there’s anything salvageable of the load. Maybe there’s stuff we can give to the food bank.”

She hesitated before adding, “Watch yourselves.”

She signed off and idly picked up a tattered magazine. She tried to think what next steps she could take to keep what had happened to Ramon from happening again. She remained at a loss as to why anyone would do such a thing.

While he was being examined, Molly stepped outside to call the weekly newspaper to place an ad for an experienced truck driver. She added a line about having to be able to heft fifty-pound crates. A crate rarely weighed that much, but maybe it would net her a brawny guy capable of holding his own against miscreants.

Going back inside, she sat again until Ramon came out of the examining room.

“The doctor didn’t find any bad injuries. He cleaned my cuts and gave me an antibiotic cream. He says I should do light duty for a week because my ribs are bruised.”

“I’m glad it’s not worse.” Molly paid with her farm credit card and they left.