On The Texas Border

“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re volatile?”

“Yes.”

“Heavens, I wish I had some of your grit.”

“If you did, you’d have a divorce behind you and an aunt who thinks you’re loose.”

He tried his smile again. “All right, I’ll help you, but if things get rough, I’m gone.”

“Coward.”

“Yeah, and I have a yellow stripe down my back to prove it.”

“Just keep your clothes on so no one will see it.” She fished in her purse for her cell phone and called the hospital.

“You make me smile, Abby.”

“Remember that and we’ll get through this.”

She talked to a nurse and told her to inform Mr. Brewster that she was on her way. She dropped the phone into her purse and glanced at Earl. “Follow me to the hospital. It’s show time.”

JONAS STOOD AT THE FOOT of Brewster’s bed, trying to figure out this man he’d known for years, but he knew he was wasting his time. There was no figuring out Brewster.

“What are you doing here?” Brewster barked when he noticed him. “Don’t you have trucks to load?”

“Stuart and Juan are supervising the loading, and Perry’s in the office until noon. He has that computer class this afternoon and tomorrow. They can handle things until I get back.”

Brewster pushed a button and raised his bed slightly. A nurse immediately adjusted his pillow. “I’m not sure about Perry. He doesn’t seem to be working out. Fire him and start looking for another accountant.”

Jonas took a patient breath. He had been expecting this. It had been the pattern since Abe left. Jonas had decided he wasn’t going through this again.

“I’m not firing Perry. He’s a good accountant, and he’s returned to Hope with his family to be near his aging parents. He needs the job, and I trust him. Besides, you just paid for these computer courses.”

Brewster’s eyes narrowed. “You take orders from me—or have you forgotten?”

“Not for a minute,” Jonas answered swiftly. “If you want to fire Perry, you’ll have to do it yourself and also find someone to replace him. I’m not doing it again.”

“You’re getting too big for your boots, boy.”

“You can always fire me.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” Brewster asked smugly. “But it’s not gonna happen.” He paused, then asked, “So you trust this Perry?”

“Yes,” Jonas replied.

“I’ll think about it” was the response. “Now, I want to talk about something else.”

“Unless it’s important, I want to get back to the loading docks.”

“Yes, dammit, it’s important. I want you to go with Abigail to Mexico.”

Jonas gritted his teeth. “I thought I made my position very clear on that subject.”

“Yes, you did,” Brewster acknowledged sardonically. “Now I’m going to make mine clear. Bottom line—you’re going. You can buck it, fight it all you want, but you’re going.”

Jonas gritted his teeth harder. But they both knew he’d give in. It was part of their agreement, and Jonas always tried to live up to his word. This time, though, it wasn’t easy.

Brewster broke into his thoughts. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, Jonas. She’s a very nice-looking woman, and I don’t want her crossing the border alone.”

Jonas met Brewster’s eyes. “Abigail Duncan can take care of herself,” he said in a hard tone.

“Yes, yes, she can,” Brewster acknowledged. “But you’re still going.”

Jonas’s eyes never wavered. “Then, why get her involved? I can find the girl on my own.”

“Dammit, Jonas, do you have to question everything I tell you?” Brewster snapped. “Abigail has to be there. It’s the ending to my book, and I want her to witness it firsthand.”

“I see.” Jonas sighed. “Well, I guess that makes sense. Still—”

“Go with Abigail and find Delores, and get back as fast as you can.”

If he had to do this, Jonas reasoned—and there didn’t seem to be a way out—then he would at least get something out of Brewster. “I’m still not sure there is a daughter,” Jonas said, “but since you insist, I’ll go on two conditions.”

“Don’t try to bargain with me, Jonas.”

Jonas continued. “I want a raise for Stuart and Juan. They haven’t had one in two years. And Perry stays.”

Brewster rubbed the metal bars on the bed. “Is that it?”

“That’s it.”

“Don’t you want a raise for yourself?”

“You pay me a good salary. I have no complaints.”

There was a long pause. Jonas waited.

Finally Brewster said, “Okay, consider it done, but I want you to stay until Frank, my lawyer, and Abigail get here.”

This was too easy, Jonas thought. Brewster never gave in without an argument. What was he up to? Jonas didn’t have a clue, so he concentrated on the positive side. If he could keep his accountant, it would be worth putting up with Ms. Duncan.

But he wasn’t looking forward to it.

AS ABBY AND EARL walked down the corridor to Mr. Brewster’s room, Abby could hear Earl breathing. She stopped to talk to him, then sighed. “Earl, there’s sweat on your brow.”

He whipped out a handkerchief and mopped his face. “I’m sorry. I’m nervous.”

“There’s no need to be,” she assured him. “All you have to do is read a piece of paper. I’ll do all the talking.”

“Suits me fine.”

“Ready?”

“I guess so.”

Abby tapped on the door, and a nurse let them in. Mr. Brewster was in a special unit with round-the-clock private nurses. Today, in addition to the nurse and the patient, there were two other people in the room. A man she didn’t recognize and Jonas.

As she stared into Jonas’s turbulent eyes, something kicked awake in her lower stomach. She knew exactly what it was—desire. She had told her mother that she could coast along without those feelings, but when she looked at Jonas she felt as if she were falling into a void of pure need. Hell, maybe she was a loose woman.

“Abigail, I’m glad you’re here.” Mr. Brewster’s voice brought her sanity back. “This is Frank Foster, my attorney. He’s from McAllen.”

“Mr. Foster.” Abby acknowledged the introduction at the same time that Mr. Brewster noticed Earl.

“Turner, what are you doing here?”

“Earl is my attorney,” Abby put in quickly, “I felt I needed one.”

“Fine,” Mr. Brewster said, to her surprise. “I dictated the letter to Frank earlier this morning and it’s now in his possession. When you return, he’ll hand it over to you.”

“How can I be sure the letter isn’t bogus?”

“You have to trust me.”

Abby shook her head. “No, I can’t do that. This is too important. I want Earl to read the letter to make sure that you have kept your word.”

Mr. Brewster grunted, and the nurse quickly checked the machines attached to him. Then he spoke, “Turner’s your cousin. How can I trust that he won’t tell you what’s in the letter?”

“Earl is my guarantee that the letter is real. That’s all.”

Brewster thought for a minute. “Okay, he can read part of it, but I don’t want him reading the crucial information.”

“Fine,” Abby agreed.

Brewster turned to Foster. “There’s a room down the hall. Take Turner and let him see a portion of the letter.”

“Yes, sir,” Frank said, picking up his briefcase and heading for the door.

“Turner,” Mr. Brewster called, before Earl left the room.

Earl stopped.

“If you tell Abigail anything, I’ll make sure you never work in this town or anywhere else again. Do you get my drift?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Earl stuttered, and mopped his forehead. Abby feared he was on the verge of melting into his shoes and she’d have to carry him out of here in a wad.

“You’d better,” Mr. Brewster warned, as Earl made his escape.

“If that’s all, I’ve got to get back to the office,” Jonas said tightly.

“No, dammit,” Mr. Brewster bellowed. “I want you to talk to Abigail.”

“About what?” Abby spoke up.

“Jonas is going with you,” Mr. Brewster informed her.

Abby glanced at Jonas, saw that stubborn light in his eyes and knew he hadn’t relented on his own. Mr. Brewster had forced him. “When did this happen?”

“Just now,” Mr. Brewster answered.

“Why? He doesn’t want to go, and I don’t need him to—”

“Doesn’t matter what either one of you wants,” Brewster broke in. “He’s going.”

“Then, he can go alone,” Abby shot back. “There’s no need for me to be there.”

“Goddammit, girl, you’re trying my patience,” Brewster shouted. “You have to be there. You’re writing my memoirs. It’s the ending—or haven’t you guessed that, yet?”

Was that what this was all about? An ending to his book? Or did he really want to see his daughter? Abby wasn’t sure anymore.

“And it’s the only way you’ll find out about your father—or have you forgotten that?” he asked grumpily.

For a moment Abby had lost sight of her main goal. She suddenly remembered Holly’s words about it being bull that she didn’t need a man. Maybe she was carrying it a little too far. So what if Jonas went with her. She’d get a chance to learn more about his situation with Mr. Brewster, and she was becoming more curious by the second. She would have sworn that Jonas would never change his mind. What kind of hold did Mr. Brewster have over him?

She suddenly realized they were waiting for her answer. She swallowed. “No, no, I haven’t forgotten.”

“Good, because I’m tired of all this bickering,” Mr. Brewster said in a frustrated tone. “You two can work out the details.”

Jonas put his hat on his head. “I’ve got work to do.” With that he walked out the door.

“Insufferable bastard,” Mr. Brewster muttered. “But his bark is worse than his bite.”

Abby stared at the door. “Really, I hadn’t noticed.”

“Jonas is a hard person to get to know, but he’s very loyal.”

Abby glanced back at the elderly man. “I see. So how did you get him to change his mind?”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

She intended to. Yes, she definitely intended to find out what kind of hold Mr. Brewster had on Jonas.

As she pondered that thought, Earl returned and said the letter was authentic. There was information concerning her father and his job at Brewster Farms. It was what Abby wanted to hear. Now she faced the biggest challenge of her life—finding Mr. Brewster’s daughter.

Mr. Brewster seemed pleased, and Abby left with Earl, feeling a sense of elation. She didn’t know why, unless insanity had completely taken over her mind.

Before Earl got into his car, Abby stopped him. “Could you give me a hint as to what’s in the letter?” She didn’t want to cause Earl any problems. She was hoping for a clue to justify what she was doing.

“I’m not gonna slit my throat” was his answer. “Not even for you. Just be careful. Very careful.”

“I will,” she said. “And thanks. I realize this was hard for you.”

“Abby, I—” He seemed to reconsider, and instead said, “Don’t do this alone. Hire an investigator or something.”

Abby rolled her eyes. “Men. You’re all alike. Mr. Brewster is insisting that Jonas go with me.”

“That’s good,” he said.

“No, it isn’t,” she retorted. “I’m not putting up with Jonas’s arrogant attitude, and I intend to tell him so.”

“Abby…”

But Abby wasn’t listening. She got into her car and headed straight for Jonas’s office. They had to get a few things straight.

CHAPTER FOUR

STANDING AT HIS WINDOW, Jonas saw her drive up in a white Accord. She slid out of the vehicle in the graceful movement he was beginning to associate with her. She wore tan slacks and a tan sleeveless top. The slacks covered long gorgeous legs, which he had glimpsed several times during the past month. The top emphasized her slender arms, and rounded breasts that drew his attention like a magnet. The blond hair and green eyes completed a package that his hands ached to unwrap. As long as he knew that and no one else did, especially Abby, everything would be fine.

Soon she’d tire of this absurd quest and go back to Dallas where she belonged. As the thought crossed his mind, he recognized it was wishful thinking. He’d already seen that stubborn streak in her and he knew she’d see this through to the bitter end. And now he was caught right in the middle of the whole blasted mess. A place he didn’t want to be…a place he’d sworn he wouldn’t be. But Brewster was in control—totally. Jonas had given him that control when he was fifteen, and he couldn’t change things now. He fought it at times, but he’d learned early on that fighting was futile. He wished he knew what Brewster was up to, though. There was little doubt in Jonas’s mind that the old man was up to something and Abigail Duncan was just a pawn. Trying to get her to see that was a waste of Jonas’s time, so he might as well accept the inevitable.

ABBY WALKED INSIDE. The big room held three desks and rows of filing cabinets. There was an inner office that she knew belonged to Jonas. Every high-tech innovation was available—computers, fax machines, copiers and a few pieces of equipment she didn’t even recognize. In the way of decor, the place was sadly lacking—right down to the exposed concrete under her feet.

Her eyes settled on the desk in the corner…the one her father had occupied for so many years. She felt a tightness in her chest. Someone else’s things were on the surface, but she could still feel Abe’s presence, his calmness, and she knew she was doing the right thing. No one could stop her now. Not even Jonas’s attitude.

Glancing around, she spotted him at the window. “Could I speak with you?”

“No” was the quick answer, as he turned and went into his office.

Undaunted by the brisk manner, Abby followed. “We have to talk.”

“I can’t right now. I’m real busy.” His voice was abrupt and final.

She chewed on her lower lip. Immovable object. She now knew exactly what that meant. Well, she didn’t need Jonas Parker.

“I don’t want or need you to go. I can do this by myself.” She eyed him thoughtfully, as he shuffled papers on his desk. “I’m just wondering how he got you to change your mind. Last night you were vehemently against it. And today, just like that—” she snapped her fingers “—you agreed to go.”

He kept shuffling the papers as if she hadn’t spoken.

“Mr. Brewster has something on you, doesn’t he?”

He raised his head, his brown eyes so dark that she could feel their heat. “That’s why you take crap from him. That’s why you continue to stay under such unpleasant conditions.” She paused, then asked, “What does he have on you?”

Jonas picked up a clipboard and came around his desk. “As I said, I got work to do.” The words came out curt, and she knew she wasn’t going to get anything out of him…today. She would eventually, she vowed.

“I need the keys to the file room,” she said, before he could leave the room. “Mr. Brewster said you had them. I’m looking for Delores Alvarez’s family’s address.”

He walked back, opened a drawer, threw keys on the desk and pointed down a hall. “Second door on the right and it’s not air-conditioned.”

She picked up the keys. “Is that supposed to deter me?”

“A hurricane wouldn’t deter you, Ms. Duncan.”

So they were back to “Ms. Duncan.” It made her want to smack his face.

What was wrong with her? She’d wanted to smack Earl earlier and now she wanted to hit Jonas. That wasn’t her. She didn’t like hitting. Even when Kyle had hit her, she hadn’t hit him back. Because she’d never hit anyone in her life. So why the sudden urges? Urges! That’s all they were. Urges brought on by the trauma of her father’s death and her divorce. Did that make sense? No, nothing made sense to her these days—especially her interest in Jonas.

She favored men in tailored suits with manners and a sense of humor. Jonas was as far removed from that as one could get. He probably didn’t even own a suit, and his sense of humor was nonexistent. He did have good manners, though. Oh hell, she needed to get a grip.

Without a word, she turned and hurried to the file room. She looked at the key ring. There had to be twenty keys on it. Which one?

“It’s the third key,” said a familiar voice. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Jonas standing behind her with a chair in his hands. “You have to prop the door open with a chair. The lock is old, and if the door closes, you’ll lock yourself in.”

“Thank you kindly for the information and the chair,” she quipped sarcastically.

“No problem,” he snapped, and went into the warehouse.

For the next three hours she searched cabinet after cabinet, looking for the name Alvarez. She had never realized how many people had worked at Brewster Farms over the years—thousands, all dependent on Mr. Brewster for a living. Some workers were permanent legal workers, some seasonal, some migrant. Most were Mexican, and she suspected a lot were illegals. Every name imaginable was in the files. She found several Alvarezes, but no Delores. She grew tired and hungry and decided to go home for a while.

Jonas wasn’t in the office, so she locked the door and took the keys with her. She had a sandwich and iced tea, then wrote her mom a note saying not to wait up for her. Her mother was a schoolteacher and wouldn’t be home until later in the day.

When Abby arrived back at Brewster Farms, she saw Edna’s car at the mansion. That was one woman Abby planned to avoid. When Edna, Jules and Darby found out what she was doing, they were going to be furious. A long-lost daughter could ruin their plans for the future.

When she entered the office, Jonas wasn’t there. He must be working on the farm somewhere. Avoiding her, she decided, which she didn’t mind. She was sure he didn’t do the actual labor. He was the overseer who made sure all the vegetables and fruits were picked, packed and shipped on time. Again she wondered how he’d come to work for Mr. Brewster. He certainly didn’t want to talk about it. He’d made that painfully clear.

She unlocked the door, propped it open and went back to her task, quickly losing track of time. Workers in the warehouse were hooting and hollering. They must have finished loading the trucks, she thought idly. Then her eyes were suddenly glued to the name she’d been searching for. She had finally found Delores Alvarez’s file. Thank God. Excitement darted through her as she sat on the concrete floor and read through its contents. Now she had the address. Delores’s parents lived across the border in Nuevo Hope, Mexico. If they still lived there, it should be easy to locate them or someone who knew Delores. She could do this without too much of a problem.

She glanced at her watch and saw that it was almost seven o’clock. Time to go home. As she rose, she heard a click. She whirled in horror and stared at the closed door. She ran over and tried to open it. It was locked tight. No worry, she told herself, the keys were in her pocket. She withdrew them and noticed there was no keyhole on the inside. Damn! She beat on the door with her fist.

“Hey, I’m still in here. Hey. Is anybody out there? Help.”

Only silence met her frantic cry, and she sank to the floor. Don’t panic, she kept repeating to herself silently. Someone must have assumed she’d left. No one could see her sitting behind the cabinets. A simple mistake. That’s all. Someone would find her. She just had to wait. But she was so thirsty. She licked her dry lips as anger built inside her.

Maybe it hadn’t been a mistake. Had Jonas done this to scare her? No, he wouldn’t use that kind of tactic. He told her to her face how he felt and didn’t mince words. So who had locked her in? Where was everybody? She began to beat on the door again.

“Help. Help. Let me out of here.”

JONAS SAT in Mick’s Tavern downing Coke. He’d spent most of the afternoon in the sheriff’s office getting two of his workers out of jail. Lupe and Miguel were two young hotheads after the same girl. They had gotten into a fight and someone had called the sheriff. Jonas would have left their sorry asses in jail, but he had a crop to pick and he needed them. Besides, they were good boys, who’d simply let their raging hormones get the better of them.

They were eighteen and illegal. That’s why the sheriff had called Jonas instead of having them deported. The sheriff never interfered with anything that went on at Brewster Farms. A person working for Brewster only had to worry about Border Patrol and Immigration. Brewster didn’t have any control over those departments.

At least the afternoon’s activities had kept Jonas busy and away from Abigail Duncan. That was one obstinate, intuitive woman, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle the next couple of days. He’d given Brewster his word, so there was no way out. But Jonas had a bad feeling about the whole thing, and her prying didn’t help. The woman never knew when to stop. And that wasn’t the worst of it. He didn’t like the way she made him feel. She threatened the control he had worked hard to master. As long as he could stay away from her, everything was fine. But now…

“Drowning your sorrows in Coke, Jonas?” Mick asked as he took a seat.

“Just drowning my thirst.”

“You got a different kind of thirst.”

Jonas stared at him over the rim of his can. “You think you know me?”

“Sure do, my friend. I’ve known you since you were a kid, and I can tell you exactly what you’re thinking and feeling.”

Mick was right. He’d been Jonas’s only friend for a long time. “So what am I thinking and feeling?” Jonas asked slowly.

“Abigail Duncan has you all riled up. Ain’t seen you this troubled since—”

“Leave it alone, Mick.”

At the tone in Jonas’s voice, Mick shifted gears. “Brewster has a daughter? Ha.”

Jonas’s eyes narrowed. “Where did you hear that?” he asked sharply, then answered his own question. “Oh, yeah, you have a daughter and a sister-in-law who work in the hospital. If Brewster finds out they’re spreading rumors, they could lose their jobs.”

“But he won’t find out, will he, my friend?”

Jonas leaned across the table. “Tell them to keep their mouths shut.” He settled back in his chair. “Besides, I’m not sure the story is true.”

“You got doubts about Brewster?”

“Yep, and there ain’t a thing I can do about it.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Nothing” was his quick answer. “I don’t want anything to do with the damn situation, but Brewster is insisting that I go with her.”

“Ah.” Mick nodded, chewing thoughtfully on his cigar. “If Brewster is sending you, what does he need the Duncan woman for?”

Jonas twisted the Coke can. “It has to do with the memoirs she’s writing. Finding the long-lost daughter is going to be the big ending, and he wants her there to witness all the little details.”

“I see.” Mick nodded again. “And you’re going along as a bodyguard.”

“Something like that, but Ms. Duncan doesn’t want my help.”

“But you’ll go, anyway.”

“Yeah.” He swallowed some Coke. “I told Brewster I would.”

“It’s probably not a bad idea.” Mick rubbed his chin. “A woman alone in Mexico, poking her nose into family matters—it could get dangerous.”

Jonas knew that. Mexicans had a strong sense of family, and they didn’t like outsiders interfering.

Mick stood. “I gotta get back to work.” He patted Jonas on the shoulder. “Good luck, my friend.”

As Mick walked away, Jonas watched the activity in the bar. It was after nine and the place was filling up. Jim Colson, the bank president, was dancing with Teresa Gomez. Their bodies were welded together, and soon they’d be in one of Mick’s rooms upstairs. Jim had a wife and three kids, and Sunday morning he’d be on the front pew in church singing his praises to the Lord. Jonas, who’d never been part of a real family, didn’t understand a man who was willing to jeopardize everything he had.

Of course, no one ever breathed a word of Jim’s infidelities. His bank owned the mortgages on most of the homes and titles to most of the vehicles in this town. And Brewster owned the bank. For the first time, Jonas wondered if Brewster really had had an affair with a Mexican girl. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, he supposed.