Michael McGarity - Mexican Hat

"That's what you want to do?"

"You bet. I have my eye on a section just north of Mountainair on the east side of the Manzano Mountains, south of Albuquerque. It comes with BLM grazing rights. The owner will carry the mortgage if I can come up with the down payment."

Kerney was surprised at himself; talking about dreams sometimes vaporized them into extinction.

"Do you know the area?"

Karen finished the melon slice, licked her fingers, wiped her hand on her jeans, and nodded.

"I've driven through it. It's pretty country. What fun it would be to build a house just where you want to. I bet you're looking forward to it."

"I am."

"I hope it happens for you."

"Me too." Kerney heard a board creak and looked at the open door to the porch. Omar Gatewood stood in the doorway with a revolver in his hand and a nasty smile on his face. Kerney pushed Karen to the floor, flung himself across her, and reached for the pistol under the belt at the small of his back.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?"

Karen snapped, her fist balled, ready to punch him in the chops.

Before Kerney could free the weapon he felt a muzzle dig into his neck.

"Don't," Phil Cox warned, standing over Kerney.

Slowly, hands empty, Kerney moved both arms away from his body. Pinned under him, Karen's expression changed from a look of indignation to one of incredulity.

"Are you totally fucking nuts, Phil?" she yelled.

"I know exactly what I'm doing," Phil answered.

He poked the rifle barrel against Kerney's neck, secured the handgun, and stuck the weapon in his waistband.

"Get up real slow, Kerney," he ordered.

"The charges against him have been dropped," Karen snarled.

Kerney pushed himself upright. Gatewood had a clear shot at him from across the room. He was boxed in nicely.

"Stay where you are, Karen," Gatewood ordered.

He covered Kerney while Phil Cox cuffed him, hands at his back.

With Kerney secured, Omar reached down and pulled Karen to her feet.

"I decided not to take your advice, Karen. I got that warrant you wouldn't approve signed by somebody else," he explained.

"Everything's nice and legal."

"Are you crazy, Omar?" Karen snapped.

"Or just plain stupid? I'll have your badge for this."

"I don't think so."

She struggled to pull free of his grasp, but Gatewood held her tightly.

"Get that gun out of my face."

"Can't do it," Omar answered, wrapping his arm around Karen's waist and pulling her closer.

"You both need to come with us."

"Where?" Karen demanded.

"You'll see," Gatewood answered.

"Why?"

"You'll find out." Gatewood backed up to the door, taking Karen with him.

"At least let me leave a note for my children," Karen pleaded.

"No," Gatewood said.

"Phil?" Karen implored.

Phil looked at Gatewood over Kerney's shoulder.

"It might be a good idea," he said.

"It could buy us time."

Omar considered it.

"All right." He holstered his weapon and tossed a pair of handcuffs to Phil.

"I'll take Kerney on ahead. It's best if we don't travel together. Cuff Karen after she writes the note and bring her along."

With Karen pinned to his side, Gatewood walked to the middle of the room and exchanged her for Kerney.

Karen searched Kerney's face for a reaction as Gatewood walked him to the door. He remained expressionless except for a slight shake of his head that was barely noticeable. It told her to do nothing foolish.

"Write your note and give it to me," Phil told her as soon as Gatewood and Kerney were gone.

"Can I put some shoes on first?"

Phil waved the rifle toward the bedroom.

"After you, cousin." He followed her and watched as she slipped on socks and cowboy boots.

Finished, she sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at him.

"Why are you doing this?"

"According to the sheriff, you've been harboring a fugitive. It's my civic duty to help him, isn't it?"

"Help him do what?"

"Just write the fucking note," Phil replied.

She found pencil and paper in a nightstand drawer.

"If I tell them I'll be working late, will that do?"

"Fine. Just do it."

Karen wrote quickly and held up the note for Phil to read. He had his rifle pointed at her stomach, his finger on the trigger.

He scanned it and nodded an okay.

"Put your hands out," he ordered.

She stuck her hands out hoping Phil would be dumb enough to cuff her to the front. He complied and double-locked the cuffs with a key that he dropped into his shirt pocket.

"If I don't leave the note on my mother's refrigerator, my father won't see it," Karen explained.

"Let's go."

Phil marched her to her parents' house and into the kitchen, where he watched her attach the note to the refrigerator with a magnet. Karen held her breath, hoping he wouldn't read it again. He didn't.

"What's this all about, Phil?" she asked, trying hard to sound innocent and obliging.

He prodded her with the rifle barrel.

"Get going."

Molly took over the wheel just west ofLordsburg near the Arizona border.

Off the interstate, on the state road to Silver City, she punched the car hard through the Big Burro Mountains and slowed only when they hit the city limits. Once rid of the city traffic, she floored the Mustang again and passed everything in sight, driving with superb coordination.

She loved to make the Mustang fly when Jim was with her to take the heat in case she got stopped. He had saved her from many speeding tickets during the two years they had been dating. It was, according to Molly, one of the few benefits of dating a cop.

Flying along the road to Glenwood, Jim quietly watched her drive. Molly said nothing until they reached the last long curve before the village.

She slowed the car and flashed him a brilliant smile.

"We made pretty good time, wouldn't you say?"

"You are good behind the wheel," Jim admitted.

"Swing by Karen's house." He gave her directions.

"We'll see if she knows where Kerney is."

Molly hit the turn signal as they approached the turnoff to Dry Creek Canyon. A truck entering the highway swerved onto the road in front of them, then accelerated quickly.

Stiles sat upright, his eyes riveted on the truck.

"Keep going," he said.

"Why?"

Jim nodded at the truck as it pulled away.

"That's Phil Cox up ahead, and Karen is with him."

"What's so strange about that?" Molly asked.

"I'm not sure, but he's in a hell of a hurry. Stay back a little. Do you have that handgun I gave you?"

"It's under my seat."

Jim reached and got the holstered 9mm semiautomatic.

"What do you need a gun for?" Molly demanded.

"I don't know if I need it," Jim answered.

"Drop back a little more."

"He doesn't know my car," Molly said.

"He knows me," Jim answered.

"Let's see where he's going."

Molly slowed down to almost the speed limit.

They followed Phil to Old Horse Springs and barely got there in time to watch him turn in on the Slash Z ranch road.

"What do we do now?" Molly asked as she parked on the shoulder of the highway.

"We wait," Jim said.

"It's five miles to the ranch from the highway, and I don't want to jump to any conclusions. Damn, I wish I could get to a telephone."

"Why?"

"So I could call around for Kerney. This may be nothing more than paranoia on my part."

"Open the glove compartment," Molly suggested.

Jim punched the button and found a cellular phone.

"When did you get this?" he asked, holding up the telephone.

"A couple of months ago."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Was I supposed to? It's only for emergencies. I hardly use it." Molly smiled winningly.