AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Wayne Rockman changed from his western boots to his old lace-up military footgear. There was a sharp rap on the door, then the tan suited man came in.
Wayne said, “Mayor, I’m a little busy right now.”
The Mayor looked at the shotgun on the desk and watched Wayne lacing up his shoes. “I won’t be long. This is important, and we need to talk.”
Wayne said okay, and the Mayor talked for twenty minutes about lawsuits by the television studios and by the reporters. Rockman assured him again and again that the matter was settled, that he and the reporter had worked it out. Finally, the Mayor said, “Are you sure?”
“I’m granting her an exclusive interview, and she’ll get some inside information that’ll help her in the future. She’d be crazy not to take it, and she’s not crazy.” Wayne got up, taking the shotgun and shells with him. “I’ve got to go, Mayor.”
“Sure, sure. Thank you, Sheriff.”
Rockman drove as fast down to Presidio as he had coming up, and was in Ojinaga in less than an hour. He was in the thick of it now, and there was no turning back. Driving in Mexico with a shotgun and two pistols, lots of ammunition, and wearing his badge. In most places, they would bury him under the jail for such egregious violations of Mexican sovereignty. But he was going to do it his way, all the way, as Sheriff Wayne Rockman. What happens after that, happens. He turned off Avenida Juarez and headed out the meandering route to Outlaw Road.
***
Raymond could not buy a ride. He had begged the station owner to take him, would pay him, but when the man asked where, and Raymond told him, the man said he didn’t know the place. The man also suddenly decided he needed to close the station, and shooed Raymond out the door, not even letting him use the phone. Raymond started walking, and a mile down the road he saw a small grocery store. He went inside and bought two fresh baked peach empanadas. The small half-moon shaped fried pies were delicious. Raymond bought a cup of coffee to finish off his snack, and started up a conversation with the pretty cashier.
She was a local, born in Ojinaga, working at her father’s store. She was bored, but not ready to go it on her own, at least not just yet. She asked what he did, and he said he was a freelance writer, just traveling the border areas to get stories. He heard one recently about a place of notoriety, near Ojinaga. Perhaps she had heard of it?
The girl paled when he said Outlaw Road, then told him that only murderers and ghouls and devil worshipers lived there. It was a place of evil, where they brought stolen babies and then cooked and ate them, where men and women ran about naked, defiling themselves in every perverted way. Even priests would not go there, she said, for it was a place God had forsaken.
At that point, Raymond thought it best not to ask her for a ride. He told her goodbye and left as she crossed herself, still mumbling about babies and devils. He walked fast along the caliche road, passing occasional houses, and putting his thumb out when cars or trucks passed going his way. No one stopped. He was more worried than pissed, though. Hunter was always bad about charging in and thinking about it later. This time it might get her killed. He picked up the pace as he saw a taxi parked a half-mile ahead, the driver staying cool in the shade of a mesquite tree.
Raymond reached the cab and tapped on the trunk. The driver stuck his head out the window and Raymond asked, ”Are you working?”
“Of a certainty,” The driver said, starting the car. Raymond got in the back, and the cabbie asked, “Where may I take you?”
“Outlaw Road.”
The driver reached forward and cut off the engine. “I don’ go there,” He said in English.
“Look, I’ll pay you double fare.”
“No, get out. Find another fool to take you.”
“A hundred dollars, U S.”
The driver was silent, then said, “I take you close, but not into the town. For the hundred, I drop you a mile away, where no one can see. You walk the rest.”
“All right.”
He started the engine again, “An’ I don’ wait for you neither.” That didn’t need an answer, so Raymond gave him five twenties, and sat back as the car pulled out of the shade.
***
Mingo opened the saloon door and Elvis Guzman, with his charcoal grease-smeared face and wrinkled, white rhinestone jumpsuit said, “Whass shakin’, man?”
“You knocked on my door, you tell me.”
“Say, man, ah got some information for yah,…let me in, okay? Ah don’ want anybody to see me over here.” Mingo opened the door wider and Elvis came in. Elvis looked at the glass windows and said, “You got any place people can’t see in?”
Mingo pointed down the hall, “Back there.” Elvis went ahead and Mingo followed. Hunter and Pepper stared as the tall, skinny man with camouflage face paint and slept-in seventies jumpsuit came into the room. He gave them a crooked grin and a thumb-and-two-finger wave and said, “Mornin, ladies.”
“What do you want to tell me?” Mingo asked.
“Well, man, there’s some people around town, asking lots of questions.” Anda opened the bedroom door and started toward Hunter. She wore a pair of faded Levis, a brown tee shirt, and her huaraches. She stopped when she saw Elvis.
“What say, lil girl? My, she’s a cute one, ain’t she?” Elvis said. “Whass yore name, honey?”
