How do you survive being shot and left for dead in the Chihuahuan Desert? By being found by a beautiful wildlife photographer willing to risk her life to save yours.
A bitter ex-cop fights for his life after he runs to the sound of gunfire on the Ri...
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"Come see my new place," Mendocino called Amos a little more than a week after moving from Lajitas. "I owe you a beer or three."
"Damned straight," Amos said. "When?"
"Let me know," Mendocino said. "Not like I'm busy. I'll text the address. Give me a heads up when you're coming."
He'd begun settling into life in Alpine. At an elevation of almost 5,000 feet, the dry air was ideal for healing. You'd think, sprawling across Texas' wind-swept, open plains, Dallas would have good air but the metroplex had one of the worst ozone problems in the country. And Houston? Every time he went there, he felt like he was in a sauna.
Alpine was a cool, dry, refreshing change and like the desert, it offered plenty of elbow room. Six thousand people. A clean, busy college town, the entryway to the west side of Big Bend, bustling with tourists. Artsy murals on the buildings downtown.
He set about making the RV into a home, telling himself he had an apartment on wheels, doubling down on security. He put several wireless cameras and motion detectors inside and out. His Glock was always near at hand.
He walked daily, in different places—the college, high school, different elementary schools, and neighborhoods. He drove a different route to the hospital daily. Something he'd learned working with the narcs. How do you keep from being tailed? Don't have a routine. Never go anywhere the same way twice. Always, Mendocino watched his rear-view mirror. He could spot a tail, even if they switched vehicles. Make senseless turns. If the vehicle behind makes nonsensical turns with you, pull over. Park. Force the car to pass you. Get the plates. He'd been a careful man long before he was shot.
After his walks, he drove to physical therapy, where they worked his right shoulder. Already, he'd begun to feel improvement. Less pain. More mobility.
Amos called a few days after the initial invite saying he would stop by on his way home after work. Mendocino was waiting under a large canopy shading the west side of his RV. He turned the shaded space into an outdoor living room with a big floor mat, table, and several canvas chairs. He bought a wooden cooler on legs and a bar-b-que pit.
"Welcome to my world." He spread his arms, smiling. "Good to see you."
Amos smiled. "You saw how far I'd go for a free meal. Now you'll see what I'll do for free beer." He nodded. "Looking good, man." They shook hands.
Mendocino offered an icy cold longneck from the cooler to his new friend. The two sat in canvas lawn chairs near the edge of the canopy, watching orange oozing into the pale western sky.
"Hell of a view," Amos said.
Mendocino beamed. "It is, isn't it?"
"Damnedest thing happened this week," Amos said a beer later.
"Yeah?"
"Lady came in with a doll her daughter found in a parking lot."
