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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Later that day, Amos met with Hank, and the two reached an agreement. Amos took control of the computers and phones in Sartain's office. He got a warrant to search Enriqueta's electronics. The drug unit would monitor all of its communications.
Although Sartain, Rogers, and Frazier were dead, law enforcement had never released the names of those involved in the shoot-out at the Watson hangar, which was still the hottest topic from Marathon to Marfa. Their excuse? Trying to find next of kin.
They hoped word had not reached Sartain's contacts. With Enriqueta in custody, they couldn't be sure of anything. She was moved from the county jail the same day to an undisclosed location.
Using her email, Amos sent messages to her most frequent contact, saying she had the new virus. Would be back in touch when she got better.
An email came through two days later to Sartain and Enriqueta. "Standard delivery. Thursday 10 p.m."
Amos responded, as Sartain always did, "Standing by."
***
Fall came to the Trans Pecos. Not the vivid autumn palette of the eastern forests. Fall in Alpine involved a more subtle change to mellow yellows and gold. The days were shorter, the nights longer. The air was cool and fresh. The seas of undulating grasslands were golden.
Tillie liked an open house, which was fine with Mendocino. They fell asleep and awoke with a breeze wafting through windows, curtains tied back. Their nighttime lullabies were songs of wind chimes, whippoorwills, and distant choruses of coyotes, sometimes punctuated by a haunting drawn-out howl on a bright, moonlit night.
They were rich in birds. Most North American migratory grassland birds overwintered there, and Mendocino and Tillie awoke each morning to their chatter.
He had never known such contentment. Still without a department, living on his savings, he spent months honing his carpenter skills. Mending, and repairing around the Tomlin house and outbuildings. That squeaky screen door—all it needed was a good dose of WD-40. It made him feel good. Fixing things up. A house needed a man's touch. But he needed a real job.
He didn't want to work for the sheriff's department or city police departments. They wanted everyone to start out on patrol. He'd done that. West Texas Legal Aid offered the job if he'd move to El Paso. No thanks. Hank presented one solution, which he pursued.
"Do you want to go canoeing?" Tillie asked Mendocino one October Saturday. The air was crisp. The last blossoms of summer were long gone, save some lone asters refusing to let go. Soft, big brown leaves covered the backyard, and the big trees around the spring were now bare.
"I'd rather you take me back to where you found me, at Terlingua Creek. Will you? I'm ready now."
"I thought you'd never ask." She smiled. "Let's make a day of it tomorrow. I'll take pictures of you, with the Mesa de Anguila behind you. I've never taken your picture. We'll get there at first light. The sun will be facing you, bouncing off the mesa behind you. It will be beautiful."
