Michener, James A. (199 page)

But to those who appreciated the Southwest, and the Macnab brothers did, this town, like its sisters along the river, had a persuasive charm: 'Reminds me of how it must have been in 1840. I love these dusty streets, the Mexican women peerin' at me through the shutters, the dogs chasin' their fleas.'

'I wouldn't be able to tell this was the U. S. of A.,' Wolfgang said.

'It isn't,' the Ranger said. 'It's something new. Maybe one day we'll call it Texico.'

'That's a gasoline.'

'No more flammable than this.'

Cletus did not stop in Polk, for he wanted as few people as possible to know he was on the prowl, and at the international bridge, a sorry affair, the customs people, American and Mexican alike, waved him through without an inspection or a question. This confidence in his trustworthiness was a tribute to the years of patient work he had performed along the border: 'I have never failed to accept the word of one of my counterparts here in Mexico. If they say a man I've arrested is a good citizen, in momentary trouble across the river, I drive him down here and kick his ass back into Mexico. They do the same with me if some college yahoo gets into big trouble down in Chihuahua. We live and let live, and they've never gigged me on a heroin shipment or anything like that, so I let their cattle cross, if there aren't too many and if they pick some spot well hidden and away from the bridges.'

Once safely within Carlota, he drove by circuitous back streets to the office of the chief of police. 'We have not seen the plane,' the jefe said in Spanish. He stopped, gaped, pointed at the

Ranger's brother, and cried: 'Wolfman Macnab! Linebacker! Dallas Cowboys!' When his discovery was confirmed, all work in the office halted, as men and women gathered around to question the rocklike man they had seen so often on the American television shows transmitted into Mexico. They wanted to know what he thought of the Pittsburgh and Miami and Oakland teams, and they especially wanted to hear about that covey of wild linebackers which the press had labeled The Dallas Zoo.'

'Well,' he explained, always delighted to talk football with real aficionados, 'we are three pretty tough guys, but the league is full of men like us. WTiat makes us different, our names. They call me Wolfman. Rumsey they call the Gorilla, and Joe Polar, you can guess his name.' Many of the Mexicans could speak English and they translated this jargon to those who couldn't, after which one woman asked in Spanish: 'Is it true, you take the Gorilla to away-games in a cage?' and he assured her: 'He could break your arm like this,' and for three days she would feel the pressure of his hands.

'All-American at Texas?' one of the officers asked, and he replied truthfully: 'One evening newspaper—Wichita Falls, I think it was —they nominated me for All-American. Nobody else, because in my junior year I weighed only two-twenty and opposing offensive tackles ate me up. But in my biography, circulated by the Cowboys, it says clear as day "Consensus All-American," like as if all the papers in the country hailed me.'

'But in the pros? You have been All-Pro five times?'

'Six, and if I make it this year, maybe my last season.'

'Oh, no!' the men protested, but a woman clerk said in great admiration: 'You want to get on with your art, don't you?' and he nodded to her as if she were a duchess.

The men now asked: 'Is it true? You're an artist?' The Dallas management had made so much of this that his skill was known even in distant Carlota, and on the spur of the moment he reached for a pencil and a sheet of paper and completed a good likeness of the woman who had asked the question. As the men applauded the speed and dexterity with which he drew, he asked in English: 'How do you say "To a Beautiful Lady"?' and a would-be poet in the group said: 'A una princesa bellisima,' and as they spelled the words for him he wrote them down and handed the portrait to the woman, who began to sniffle.

'Shall we proceed?' the jefe asked, and when Cletus nodded, the Mexican indicated two assistants, who procured a veritable arsenal of guns and a load of ammunition, which they piled into a beat-up Land Rover.

Since it was some hours before darkness, they drove far south of Carlota to a small cantina, where they had a delicious meal of hot chili and freshly made tamales. As they ate, Cletus explained the situation: 'We got word two nights ago. Thieves in La Junta, Colorado, we have reason to think they're part of a cocaine ring, stole a Beechcraft, two-engine job, flew right down the New Mexico-Texas border, well west of detectors at Fort Stockton, and into Mexico, south and east of here to that field they've used before.'

'The one on the high plateau south of the canyons?'

'The same. From clues we picked up, they've got to be there, because their gas supply won't permit them to go any farther south. And we believe they'll try to make their return flight after dark tonight.'

'Do you want them, or the cocaine, or the plane?'

'Reverse order. Plane first, the drugs, whatever they are, next, them last.'

'So if we have to shoot?'

'We shoot. We do not let them lift that plane off the ground. My brother and I fly that plane north. This hijacking has got to stop.'

'Understood,' the jefe said. Then he asked a curious question: 'Macnab, can you assure me? I mean, these men are American citizens, not Mexicans?'

'I give you my word, the three airplane men are Americans. Anglo-Saxons, not even Spanish names. The ground men, supplying them, of course they're your turkeys.'

'We'll take care of them, the bastards. But we must not have Rinches killing Mexicans, not any more.'

'Compadre,' Macnab said, placing his arms about the jefe, 'my usefulness along this border is destroyed if I kill even one Mexican chicken, let alone a smuggler.'

i know that, Macnab. So you promise not to shoot at the ground crew?'

'Promise.'

They drove slowly away from the setting sun, trying not to throw dust, and at about nine they dismounted, crept through the low grass, and came to a secluded field on which sat the stolen Beechcraft, shimmering, loading doors open in the moonlight. The three American smugglers, easily identified, were directing the loading of their plane, and it was apparently going to carry a maximum cargo of two types: large bales, probably of marijuana, and smaller packages, most likely of either heroin or cocaine. Cletus, watching the care with which they stowed the stuff, whis-

pered to his brother: 'Like they always say, "with a street value of millions." This batch will not hit the street.'

When the plane was fully loaded, the jefe gave the signal and his men ran toward the field, firing high so that the Mexican suppliers could escape, but Cletus ran right for the plane, guns blazing but with no intent to kill. The American smugglers, frightened by the thunder of gunfire from what seemed all sides, started to fire back, then turned, dodged, and ran to a truck, which whisked them into the night.

As soon as they were gone—no one dead—the Mexican policemen ringed the plane to prevent counterattack while the Macnab brothers scrambled into the pilots' seats. The Mexican officer closed the door and waved, whereupon Cletus opened his window and shouted: 'Send my car to Alpine, like before,' and the officer saluted.

With a skill that amazed Wolfgang, his brother wheeled the plane about, revved the engines to a roar, checked the brakes, and took off into the night: 'Clean operation, kiddo. I could have killed one or two of those bastards, but I shot late. It would mean a lot of paper work for the jefe. We'll catch them up north one of these

nights.

'Are you disappointed?'

'We got the plane. We got the cargo. "Who could ask for anything more?" '

Their course back to the American airfield at Alpine required them to fly directly across those hidden, unknown canyons of the Rio Grande east of Polk-Carlota, and in the silver)' night Wolfgang saw that marvelous display of deep rifts in the earth, tortuous river passages and sheer-walled cliffs that seemed to drop a thousand feet. This was the unknown Texas, the wild frontier unchanged in ten thousand years.

'That is something!' Wolfgang shouted, and his brother replied: 'I recapture about seven hijacked planes a year . . .'

'My God, why don't the police . . .?'

'Who can protect all the American airfields? This plane came from La Junta, God forbid. It's the new rustling on the old frontier.' He flew in circles so that Wolfgang could catch an even better view of the great canyons: 'I like to check them out after each capture.'

When he landed the stolen plane at Alpine in the early dawn the Narcotics boys were on hand to confiscate the drugs and an insurance man was there to take possession of the plane, but Cletus was diverted from such matters by an urgent telephone call from the Ranger at Monahans, north of Fort Stockton: 'Cletus, woman

clerk at the convenience store murdered. About eleven last night. Almost certain it was a wetback, headin' south.'

'Now take it easy. Before midnight? Get much cash? Peanuts, eh? But the woman's dead? Mack, my guess is he'll hitchhike to Stockton, catch that morning bus to Fort Davis, drop down to Marfa, then try to make it back to Carlota, like they all do. I'll intercept the bus.'

'We'll trail him to see if he made it to Stockton. We've got to catch this bastard—she was a good kid.'

'We'll alert Marfa and the folks on the bridge at Polk. I think we can close in on this paisano.'

In a car borrowed from the Narcotics men, the Macnabs sped to Marfa, where they reached the bus stop fifteen minutes before the arrival of the Fort Davis special. As they waited, Cletus asked: 'You want to go aboard with me? In case he tries to run?'

'W r hy are you so sure he's coming this way?'

'Averages. We play the averages.'

It was agreed that the huge linebacker would accompany his brother onto the bus, but behind, in hopes that his sheer size would cow the murderer. Cletus would keep his gun at the ready, but every precaution would be taken to avoid shooting.

'Here she comes!' Quietly, purposefully, the two Macnabs pushed aside those waiting for the bus, and as soon as the brakes took effect, sprang aboard like cats and moved immediately to the rear, where a very frightened wetback cowered in a corner of the back seat. Without touching his gun, Cletus said in good Spanish: 'All right, paisano. Game's up.' And when they frisked the man they found the murder weapon, the small amount of money from the store and two candy bars.

They were with the Marfa police for about three hours, making telephone calls back to Monahans and Fort Stockton, and as Macnab worked, rabid supporters of the Dallas Cowboys crowded about, and one man asked: it's confusin'. Sometimes they call you Wolfman, and other times it's the One-Man Gang.'

'Don't you see?' the star explained. 'They used both halves of my name. Wolf and Gang. Two for the price of one.'

It was obvious that the capture of a Mexican murderer on the main street was an event of some importance in Marfa, but to have a linebacker for the Dallas Cowboys in town, so close you could touch him, that was something to be remembered.

The sleepy brothers returned to Alpine to recover their car, and found that the Mexican driver from Carlota had delivered it safely; however, when Wolfgang inspected it he was appalled by its condition: 'Looks like a chain gang of sixty slaves had been ferried

north,' and Cletus explained: 'The jefe down in Carlota, he probably loaded twenty wetbacks into this car. Cigarettes, sandwiches, tortillas.'

'For what?'

'To bring them up near the big road. The jefe probably got ten dollars a head, the driver five.'

'You allow that? Isn't that criminal?'

'Little brother, it's how we operate down here. Do you think I could go into Mexico, a Texas Ranger, and bring out a stolen airplane—no permission, no papers, no clearances—unless I gave them something in return?'

'But . . .'

'Little brother, you play a tough game, football. I play a tougher one, life and death, and when I go down there next time, it'll be the same. The jefe will shoot high so he doesn't kill any Mexicans. I'll shoot late so I don't muddy up the place with any American corpses. I'll get the plane, and the jefe will get twenty safe passages into the United States for his wetbacks on which he will pick up his usual mordido.'

'What's that?'

'The most useful word on the border. Means little bite. And sometimes not so little. It's the oil that makes Mexico run. Payola. Graft.'

'Isn't this entire scenario illegal?'

'Sure is, and if I spot my car coming north with those wetbacks, I'm supposed to arrest the lot and call the Border Patrol. But when the car comes through I arrange to be far distant. Never spotted it once.'

'That's a hell of a way to run a border.'

'It's the only way. Grampops would understand, and so would Old Otto. In fact, it's how they ran their border. And it's how my grandson will handle Polk and Carlota in his day. Because there will never be any other way.'

'To HELL WITH BURMA!' The SPEAKER WAS RaNSOM RuSK SITTING

in his mansion in Larkin with a world atlas in his lap. He had been trying to determine what foreign country was a few square miles smaller than Texas, so that he could say in his next address to the Boosters' Club: 'Texas is a country in itself, bigger than . . .'He had hoped it would be some prominent land like France, but that comparison would belittle Texas, which had 267,338 square miles, while France had a meager 211,207 and Spain a miserable 194,-884. No, the true comparison was with Burma, which had 261,-789. But who had heard of it?

Rechecking his figures, he slammed the atlas shut: Hell, the men in our club would think it was in Africa!

Africa was much on his mind these days, for he had spent his last three vacations in Kenya collecting trophies for his distinguished African Hall: elephant, eland, zebra. Of course he knew that Burma was not in Africa, but it pleased him to dismiss it in that insulting way: Who could imagine Burma giving Texas competition? Kills my whole point.

Fortunately, he had devised another way of making it, and now he took out the mimeographed sheets his secretary had prepared, one page for each man who would attend, and this study pleased him. It was an outline map of Texas, with five extreme points marked. El Paso, for example, stood at the farthest west, Brownsville farthest south, and radiating from each point in Texas thus identified were dotted lines to cities in the other fifty states and Mexico.