Hunter took the lead as they stepped into a dusty Quonset hut, empty but for various tools and gas cans scattered around the sides. The hut’s large, front sliding door stood open, and Hunter trotted to it, looking everywhere for movement. They were in Pasqual Osorio’s compound. Hunter remembered the mountain began just behind this building, so she slipped out the opening with Raymond and Maria close behind, and circled the building to climb the six-foot rock wall and hide behind several large boulders and slabs of stone at the mountain’s base.
Hunter said, “Keep an eye out for men and drones,” She pointed at the air on the last word. “We’ll go fast, angle up and away.”
“But stay behind cover,” Raymond said.
Maria shielded her eyes, squinting as she said, “I haven’t been in daylight for a week, it’s gonna be a while before I can see right.”
Hunter said, “We’ll guide you. Stay close.”
They used cover wherever it appeared on their path, changing their forward movement to take advantage of Spanish daggers, greasewood, and varieties of cactus, as well as whatever rock and stone lay on the mountainside.
Raymond stopped behind a head-high boulder and said, “Let’s check Osorio’s, make sure they haven’t spotted us.”
Hunter nodded and took out her Swarovsky binoculars. The Osorio compound seemed peaceful, with several people walking across the grounds, doing this and that. One man with an AK slung from his shoulder lounged in the shade beside the hacienda entrance. Hunter could see part of the swimming pool, like a blue sapphire in the desert, with no one swimming in it. “We’re good.”
Raymond nodded. “Let’s get out of here.”
They continued along the mountainside, but never went to the ridgeline. Hunter tried the sat phone once, but it didn’t work. She stored it in her backpack and knew that now, remaining hidden was more important than anything.
When they reached the river crossing, Buck was there. He held his hunting rifle in one hand, his foot resting on the edge of the flat-bottomed aluminum boat at the bank. “Picked up some company, I see.”
Hunter pointed at Buck and said, “Maria, meet Buck Ward. He’s our ferryman today.”
Buck had them in the boat and standing on United States soil in less than ten minutes. He said, “We get back to the house, you can fill me in.”
“We need to make some calls, too.”
Buck said, “The sat phone?”
“It was dunked, along with me.”
“Mine water’s sure cold.”
“Tell me about it. Raymond and I both. It tires the heck out of you, too.”
Buck patted her shoulder, “Wait here and I’ll bring back the truck.”
He returned in fifteen minutes and loaded the boat and his three passengers, then drove to the ranch house.
“Y’all go on inside. There’s coffee on, and some pan dulce on the table that can hold you till I cook up something.”
They didn’t argue, each pulling out a chair and sitting at the small table. Maria got a pastry, but only nibbled on it. She sighed after taking a sip of coffee. “I’m so tired I can barely sit up.”
Hunter said, “Eat, take your time. After you eat a little, you can go lay down while we make some calls, then we’ll get you home.”
Buck returned to the house to prepare the meal, “I’ll heat up some stew and cornbread, unless you’d rather have tortillas.”
Maria said, “Cornbread for me, thanks.” Hunter and Raymond agreed, and Buck put it in the oven.
Hunter called Art, who answered on the first ring, “Everybody safe?” He asked.
“We’re good. We have Maria with us, and we’re going to send you some images, too. Buck has a computer we can use, but be patient because his internet’s slow.”
Art said, “I’m patient, send ‘em.”
Hunter typed a quick report and downloaded it and the images on Buck’s computer, and sent it out. The email completed sending the material two minutes later.
When the stew was hot, Buck put the pot on the table, complete with large ladle. Everyone had a bowl, and Buck put the cornbread, already sliced into healthy-sized squares on a plate.