LITMIR.BIZ

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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?”

      “About five more hours.”

      “Five hours?” Owen felt a gusty sigh against his back. “I thought I was in pretty good shape, but I’m beginning to feel muscles I didn’t know I had.”

      “Wait ’til you try to get to sleep tonight.”

      “Oh, thanks. You’re such an encouragement. I guess this is no big deal for you, huh?”

      “Well, old Sunflower’s not exactly in the same league as my cutting horse.”

      “You ride the rodeo circuit?”

      “Yup. Three-time amateur calf-roping regional champ. Got the buckles to prove it.”

      Bernadette chuckled. “I’d like to see you ride sometime.”

      Owen felt his chest swell a bit. “You could come this fall, after you get home.”

      There was a short silence. “I’m not sure where home is.”

      “I’m guessing Mexico doesn’t cut it.”

      “Not yet.”

      “Is Memphis your stomping ground?”

      “No.” He thought she wasn’t going to elaborate, but then she said, “I grew up in Collierville. It’s a little bit east of Memphis.”

      “Really? Tell me about your family. You got brothers and sisters?”

      “No, I was in foster care.”

      “Oh.” Kids in foster care generally came from messed-up families that they’d just as soon you didn’t mention.

      Bad experiences.

      He briefly laid his hand on top of hers and felt her fingers flutter against his palm. “I’m sorry, Benny.”

      “One of my foster moms gave me a Bible. She was a nice lady.”

      Owen didn’t find it nearly as easy to talk about spiritual things as his brother did, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get Benny to talk. “Is she the one who taught you about the Lord?”

      “She tried. Her name was Mrs. Coker. How about you? How did you come to know Christ?”

      “The usual. Vacation Bible school. Mom had us in church every time the doors were open.”

      “You’re very blessed, Owen.”

      “I know.” He shifted in the saddle. “But then my dad blew it all at the end. I don’t understand how he could throw our family away for money. I always looked up to him as a kid. He was my hero.”

      Three years ago Owen’s father, a Border Patrol agent, had been involved in a smuggling scheme that had resulted in the murder of two other agents. A year later he’d been killed while trying to cover his tracks. Owen’s mother was just now getting over the tragedy.

      Benny was quiet for a moment. Then to Owen’s astonishment she laced her fingers through his. “Lots of times people self-destruct when they’re separated from God, Owen. Make sure you stay close to Him.”

      Owen could have sworn she laid her cheek against his back for a fleeting second. He decided it must have been his imagination.

      Still, he was strangely comforted, even when Benny released his hand and began to sing, off-key, “Arroz con leche.”

      Rice pudding, huh? He goosed Sunflower with his heels. Poza Rica was a long way off.

      “Wait a minute, Briggs.” Grenville turned off the speakerphone and shut the door of his home office. He sank back into the antique leather chair and swiveled to face the picture window looking out onto his front lawn. “What did you find out?”

      “They didn’t make it to Laredo.”

      “Then where did they go?”

      “Seems they made an emergency landing somewhere north of Veracruz. Some farmers in the area reported it. I must have nicked the fuel tanks.”

      Grenville watched two hummingbirds squabbling over the red glass feeder hanging from the eaves. He found their antics soothing. “Where are you now?”

      “Laredo, their intended destination.”

      “Then you’ll just have to backtrack. Head for the area where the plane turned up.”

      Briggs sighed. “I’m on it.”

      “Briggs…” Grenville paused, picking up the morning newspaper covering his desk blotter. The front page of the editorial section displayed an old file photo of himself, sharing a basketball trophy with his college roommate and cocaptain—now the President of the United States.

      “Yeah, boss?”

      Grenville tossed the paper into the trash can. “Find them.”

      FOUR

      Benny slid off the mule and into Owen’s arms. Her thigh muscles ached, her knees were rubbery and there were blisters in places she didn’t want to think about. To make it worse, her stomach had been rumbling for the last hour. It was past noon and Owen had to be starving, too.

      Owen grabbed the mule’s harness. “Are you okay?”

      “Fine, thanks.” She stepped back, staggering a little. “I’ll get out lunch while you take care of Sunflower.”

      They’d stopped at a small pond just off the dusty, rutted track they’d been following for the last two hours. The sight of the little brown pool had instantly centered Benny’s misery on her parched mouth and throat. Water. Blessed gift of a good God.

      She unbuckled the saddle pack, keeping a wary eye on Sunflower’s broad hindquarters. She extracted a couple of bottles of water they’d brought from the plane and the burritos Mariela had sent. Owen ground-tied the mule, letting it graze on the weeds at the edge of the pond.

      Benny handed Owen a bottle of water, smiling when he twisted

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