Johnny said, “Nope, but we will in the morning, first thing.” He saw Felipe’s questioning look and said, “Guy owns a trader post here. Does business with just about everybody in town.”

Felipe yawned and suddenly felt very tired. “I think we should start again in the morning. It’s obvious no one has seen her tonight.”

Elvis said, “Yawl can bunk down at mah place.”

“Thank you, E,” said Felipe, and grinned at using an initial for someone’s name. Felipe bought four more beers and they walked down the street to spend the night at Hartbrak Hotel.

***

Mingo led Anda through the hallway and to a large room with comfortable looking chairs and a matching sofa, all in southwestern design and colors. A small kitchen was separated from the living area by a wraparound bar.

“Would you like something to drink or to eat?” Mingo asked.

“Some water, please.”

Mingo brought it, then returned to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. As he pulled out different kinds of foods to place on the bar he asked, “How are you called?”

She placed down the now empty glass and said, “Anda Tumecas de Cordova.”

Mingo closed the door and reached under the cabinet to pull out a large flat platter. On it he put various pieces of lunchmeats and sliced cheeses, several vegetables, a small bowl of ranch dressing in the center, and a large pile of Ritz crackers beside the vegetables. Mingo then put two canned Cokes in his pockets and walked into the living room, placing the platter on the coffee table in front of Anda, then pulling out the cokes and putting them beside it. He dragged one of the chairs closer so he could sit across from Anda and said, “Eat a little, please. I’m hungry and don’t like to eat alone.” Mingo opened the Cokes and placed one in front of Anda. She took a sip and let the cool bubbly sweetness slide down to her empty stomach.

As they ate, Anda told him how she met Bobby Mata. Anda mentioned the woman Agent, Hunter Kincaid, a friend of Bobby’s, and how he was looking for Anda because of the Agent, who was worried about her. She told of Bobby saying he had called Hunter, and they would be meeting with her soon, but until then he would take care of her. Anda’s voice broke a little as she talked, and at the hardest parts her eyes filled with tears and she was quiet until she could regain control and continue talking, but she didn’t cry. When Anda finished with the story, s

he sat quietly and sipped at her Coke.

Mingo slouched in his chair and thought about her tale, reading between her sparse descriptions to get the full extent of what had happened. She named names as well, and Mingo knew them. The Barbosas were often in Outlaw Road and had been in El Longbranch a number of times. Mingo knew them by sight. The Angel, Felipe Godoy, was known as a narcotics smuggler and killer who liked to use his pistol, a custom-made nickle-plated Colt .45 semi-automatic. Mingo and the Colonel had never met face-to-face.

As he thought about what to do, Anda spoke, “I would not bring trouble to a friend of Bobby Mata. I feel they will find me soon. It is best if I leave you.”

She was so small, and so brave. Mingo said, “No, you’ll be safe here with me. It’s the least I can do for such a friend of Mata’s.” He thought a moment, then asked, “What is it you wish to do? What plans did you have when you came to the border?”

“I had hoped to go north, to cross the border and find work and a life in the United States.”

“You have no relatives?”

“They are dead.”

Mingo chewed on his lower lip, then said, “Stay here and rest for a few days, and I will see what I can do to help you.”

“I can’t ask that of you.”

“It is something I want to do. It will cost you nothing, so stay here and rest, eat. This room is yours. I sleep upstairs.”

Anda said softly, “Thank you.”

She looked so tired, Mingo thought. “I’ll leave you now. Pass through the kitchen and your bed is in the next room. We’ll talk again in the morning over breakfast.” He left, leaving her sitting there to finish eating .

CHAPTER 15

Truman Fortis was ready to get out of room 214 in Thomason General Hospital. Since being brought in yesterday morning and having his legs set and placed in casts and going through CAT-scans, MRI’s, X-rays, transfusions, and so many shots he couldn’t count them all, Truman was going crazy from not being able to move around. He looked at himself in the bed. Both legs were in casts: the left from hip to ankle, and the right from the knee down. One hand was bandaged, and his chest was stiff and sore. Tubes ran out of both arms and attached to hanging bottles beside the bed.

He was still taking personal inventory when a voice said, “How are you feeling?” Ronald Kincaid walked in and sat down.

“Like I was eaten by a wolf and crapped off a cliff.”

“I came by yesterday morning, right after they brought you in, but you were still out from the medication. You look better today.”

Truman wiggled a little, and winced with the pain. “What about the trial?”

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