They retreated beneath the shade of a nearby tree for lunch. He devoured a ham-and-egg torta while she ate some kind of salad out of a plastic container. It had grilled corn, tomato, and avocado. When she didn’t finish it, he polished off the rest. Pretty tasty.
He drove the final hour to Benjamín Hill. She wasn’t as nervous about riding on the back now. Being in control of the bike had eased her anxiety. She slipped her arms around him, holding steady. He planned to pull over on the outskirts of town and scope out the scene. There might be drug cartel members or corrupt federales waiting at the cargo station. He didn’t want to drive into a dangerous situation with Maria.
He’d leave her behind if he had to. He’d tie her up if he had to. Maria’s brother was involved, and she was determined to find him.
Ian wasn’t the only one who never quit.
He stayed on the back roads, avoiding the main drag. There was a water tower at the edge of town that appeared to offer a good vantage point. He headed in that direction. When they got close, he pulled over behind a large prickly pear cactus.
“What are we doing?” Maria asked.
He killed the engine and removed the binoculars from his pack. “We’re doing recon. I don’t know the word in Spanish.”
“Reconocimiento.”
“Yeah. That.”
They approached the water tower, which resembled a rounded barrel on stilts. It was about fifty feet tall. In the United States, there would probably be a safety feature preventing access to the ladder. Here, there was nothing to stop them. Maria proved she wasn’t afraid of heights by going first and climbing quickly. He followed her up, ignoring the twinge in his thigh. That magic potion had taken the infection and swelling away, but the wound still ached.
From the top, they had an excellent view of the cargo station, which seemed to be the lifeblood of the small town. It was right in the center of the main commercial area. There was a large metal footbridge that arched over the tracks. Small businesses lined both sides of the street.
“Someone is on the bridge,” Maria said.
Ian could see an indistinct, shadowy figure. He lifted the binoculars to his face for a closer look. There was a man in casual clothes and a brown cowboy hat, smoking a cigarillo. He could be a freight worker or a professional hit man. It was hard to tell.
He passed the binoculars to Maria. “What do you see?”
She squinted in concentration. “A man.”
“A local?”
Frowning, she examined him again. “I don’t know. His hat is norte?o style, but it looks strange. Too new.”
Ian took the binoculars back, pleased with her assessment. In this dusty town, a pristine hat was suspicious. “Do men from the south wear cowboy hats?”
“Some do. In Mezcala they wear campesinos.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a traditional straw hat.”
While he surveyed the scene, two federal vehicles rumbled down the main drag. They stopped at the cargo station. Federal police piled out and stationed themselves along the tracks. The man in the cowboy hat glanced at them, still smoking.
“We can’t go down there,” Maria said.
“No.”
“What should we do?”
Ian weighed his options. He wasn’t keen on waltzing into an ambush, with or without Maria by his side. He had no idea if the federales were working with the cowboy or not. After a moment, the man pinched out his cigarillo and continued across the bridge. “Maybe we can find somewhere else to wait along the tracks. If you spot Sarai and your brother, you can warn them to jump off early.”
“That will be dangerous.”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” she said, nodding. “I’m in.”
Of course she was. Although it was risky to ask two teenagers to leap from a moving train, it wasn’t as risky as greeting the welcoming committee in Benjamín Hill. Those men weren’t here to help Sarai. They’d do anything to capture Armando Villarreal. If Ian didn’t act fast, Sarai would get intercepted by federal agents and probably end up in cartel hands.
And, as much as it pained him to admit, Ian needed Maria to execute his plan. Sarai and Hugo wouldn’t listen to him alone. Ian needed Maria for other reasons too. She was like the air he breathed, like cool water and sunshine. She was everything pure and good.
He studied her profile, memorizing every detail of her face. He loved the sleek lines and curves. The soft sweep of lashes. Her pretty nose and lush mouth. He even loved the slightly crooked tooth that hinted at her fierce nature when she smiled. She was part lamb, part lion.
He hoped he was making the right decision. If anything bad happened to her, he’d die.
Tearing his gaze away, he climbed down the ladder and returned to the bike. They headed south, away from town. The road didn’t run parallel to the tracks, so he had to zigzag around for a couple of miles before he found his way back. He followed a dirt path across a long stretch of flat, sandy terrain, dotted with green sagebrush and mesquite bushes. They came upon a hilly area that looked promising. There was a dry gulch beneath a cluster of bottlebrush trees. He parked behind the trees and they hunkered down in the shade to wait.
It had been warm all day, but pleasant. Over the past hour, the clouds had disappeared and the temperature had skyrocketed. He took off his pin-striped shirt and put on his shoulder holster. Maria removed a bottle of water from the backpack and shared some with him.
“I will wave my arms and tell them to jump,” she said. “That’s it?”
“Yes.”
She nibbled on her lower lip, seeming conflicted. “What if Sarai won’t jump?”
“You think she won’t?”
“The train goes by fast. She might not trust me.”
“Tell her Armando is here.”
Her mouth dropped open. “That’s a lie.”
“It’s a lie that could save her life.”
After a moment of contemplation, she got up and walked across the tracks. About ten feet away, there was a prickly pear cactus laden with ripe, dark pink fruit. She used a stick to knock off a piece of fruit. It was about the size of a kiwi, and covered with tiny needles. Stabbing it with her stick, she brought the fruit back to the gulch.
“You hungry?”