Sooner or Later (16 page)

“He’s a missionary. He has a church and a school there. He’s been missing ever since the coup.”

“I wish you well in finding him,” the old man said
when they reached the water’s edge. The water slapped against the shore like a woman washing clothes by beating them against a rock.

They were going to need a lot more than luck to find Luke, Murphy mused, but he didn’t want to think about the difficulties that faced them in the future when there were enough problems to deal with in the present.

“The soldiers won’t think to look for you on the water,” Aldo said. As he spoke he walked over to the small vessel, powered by a tiny engine. “Take my boat.”

Although the offer had been made casually, Murphy was aware that in accepting the watercraft, they would be floating away with the family’s source of income.

“We can’t do that,” Murphy protested.

“We can’t?” Letty looked at him with round, pleading eyes.

“Please,” Aldo insisted, directing his comments to Murphy alone. “The boat is our gift to you in appreciation for finding Elena’s grandchildren. I have many friends in San Paulo who can return it to me.”

Murphy didn’t budge. It didn’t matter how many times Aldo insisted he and Letty take the boat, it didn’t change the facts. The old man was giving them his only means of livelihood. Murphy would find another way of getting Letty to San Paulo.

“You must,” Elena insisted. “The roads are blocked, and the jungle is full of dangers. How far do you expect to get on foot?”

“Norte has the entire countryside searching for us,” Letty added.

Murphy sighed. If he was alone, he would have handled matters differently; but he had Letty’s safety to consider. “Thank you,” he said, disliking indebtedness, especially where there was every likelihood that he would never be able to repay the kindness.

Letty hugged Elena and the two children.

“You forgot your pack,” Vincente cried, and raced back to the pickup. He returned a moment later with her backpack and handed it to her.

“Thank you, Vincente.”

“The potion worked?” Maria asked.

Immediately they were hustled inside the boat and Murphy had the motor going. Aldo and Elena insisted upon loading them down with food and other supplies. While Letty and others dealt with that, Aldo drew Murphy a detailed map of the river. With luck they could be in the capital city within a day’s time.

Murphy was already several days longer than what he’d hoped to be. This was supposed to be an in-and-out mission. But he’d learned early on that missions rarely, if ever, went exactly as planned.

Not until they were making their way down the dark, silent river did Murphy have the opportunity to address his questions to Letty.

“What did Maria mean when she asked you about the potion?”

“It was nothing,” she said dismissively, but she looked away—a sure sign she was uncomfortable with the inquiry.

Murphy wasn’t fooled. He heard the apprehension in her voice. She sat as far away from him as she
could, which seemed a bit silly after the heated kisses they’d shared earlier.

“What’d you slip that guard?” he demanded.

Her head came up, and even in the dim light he read her anxiety. “I gave him something that would make him fall into a deep sleep.”

“When?”

“Ah…earlier.”

Murphy frowned. The only thing the guard had eaten or drunk had been at dinner. “How?”

“That isn’t important. It worked, didn’t it?”

He wasn’t going to drop this. “Tell me, Letty.”

“Well…” She leaned forward and cradled her middle with both arms. Watching her was like watching a butterfly folding its wings, closing itself off from the world. “You might think that getting you out of that jail was just me, but there were several people involved. It wasn’t easy, Murphy, and you don’t seem to appreciate everything we went through for this.”

“You’re not answering the question.” He didn’t like the scenario his suspicious mind had formed. The guard had keeled over like a felled statue and was out like a dead man. When he woke, Murphy pondered, would the guard be left to wonder exactly what had transpired between him and the hooker? The way Murphy had been left to wonder about his night with Letty?

“You have to understand,” she said, speaking fast and rushing her words together. “We had to get that particular guard into the jail first.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s stupid and weak. Delma said he’d be our best chance.”

That piqued his curiosity. Delma?…Ah, that was the name Letty had mentioned to the guard. “How’d you get him there?”

“I left that part to Elena and her relatives. I didn’t fully understand what they were doing, but apparently they feigned some kind of emergency that involved the bank. That sent the first guard out….”

“Go on.” He started to clench and unclench his left fist, something he did only rarely in an effort to ward off anger.

“Then Mrs. Alamos cooked up her special dinner, only you didn’t eat yours the way you were supposed to.”

“I didn’t get a chance. Mr. Wonderful decided he deserved both dinners.”

“That explains it.”

“Explains what?” he demanded gruffly.

“Why…Never mind.”

“I do mind,” he snapped. “Exactly what did you put in the dinner?”

“Herbs.” Her voice was so small he had to strain to hear it above the noise of the boats engine.

“Herbs?” he shouted.

She nodded.

It didn’t take him long to make the connection. “The same herbs you placed in the dinner you cooked for me the night before we left for Zarcero?”

Nibbling on her lower lip, she nodded a second time.

Murphy’s fist tightened around the helm. “We never made love, did we?”

She didn’t answer him.

“Did we?” he shouted.

She jumped an inch off the rough wooden seat.

“You cheated me.”

“Not exactly.”

“What the hell do you mean, ‘not exactly’?”

“We spent the night together,” she reminded him timidly. “That was what you requested, remember?”

Impotent rage filled Murphy. When he thought about the grief she’d given him over the last few days, he saw red. He should have known better than to trust a woman. Despite the fact she was the sister of a missionary, the daughter of a preacher, and holier than thou, she’d lied and cheated him.

She looked small and scared.

He didn’t trust himself to say a word. Rarely had he been this close to exploding with outrage. It would serve her right if he left her right then and there—docked the boat, climbed onto the shore, and walked away from the cluster fuck she’d created. He would too, if he could figure a way to live with himself afterward.

“You owe me.” He spat out the words, which sounded like sawed-off bits of steel even to his own ears.

Letty said nothing.

“I intend to collect, Letty. Don’t think you’re going to come out of this a virgin. You sold that right a long time ago. I fully intend to collect my due.”

She raised her head, and her large, round eyes revealed her fear.

“Just remember, you owe me.”

Luke gained strength each day
. He hadn’t seen Rosita since his capture. At least he didn’t think he had. There’d been that one night early on when the torture had been at its worst and his mind had been fogged with pain and grief. But he couldn’t trust the memory.

Nevertheless, Rosita’s love was with him. He felt it as keenly as he did God’s. It was his strength. What got him through each day. What gave him the courage to face the unknown.

His cell was dank and dark. Solitary confinement in hell. One thin ribbon of sunlight was all that was allowed him. He waited each day for the sun to move that precious strip of golden light to his bed, then he lay there as it washed over him, cleansing his heart, giving his soul hope. He’d come to feel that those few glorious moments in the sun was God’s hand stroking him.

The days merged one into another. Luke had lost track of time, and because his memory was unreliable, he’d invented his own calendar. Today was Saturday, according to his week.

He missed his books dreadfully. His Bible most of all. He missed his life, his friends, his church. He filled his waking hours with prayer.

The sound of footsteps slapping against the concrete walkway brought him upright on the bed. He hadn’t been tortured in several days and had thought the worst of it had passed.

His stomach knotted, and he tried to remind himself that God wouldn’t ask him to endure anything beyond what he was able. The fear of another beating all but squeezed the oxygen from his lungs.

He couldn’t bear the pain. Not again.

He slammed his eyes closed and prayed the men weren’t coming for him. Immediately he felt guilty. If they didn’t torture him, it would be another man. He’d heard the screams. He knew what was happening because he’d been subjected to those very atrocities himself.

The lock on the thick cell door clicked open.

Luke thought he would vomit until he saw the man who filled his doorway. It wasn’t a soldier. He introduced himself as Luke’s attorney.

An hour later Luke stood before a kangaroo court. His leg ached terribly, but he had no choice. The judge was the officer who’d killed his friend Ramón. A kind, elderly man who’d never hurt anyone. A saint. Luke’s only comfort was knowing that Ramón had left the cruelty of this world for the glory of the next.

The room was crammed full of locals. People Luke knew from Managna and San Paulo, people he’d worked with and helped over the last two years. His gaze skimmed the crowd and he prayed for a glimpse of Rosita, his love, his heart. His disappointment was keen when he didn’t see her.

“How do you plead?” asked the soldier who mocked the role of judge.

“What are the charges?” Luke asked.

The list that was read off by the prosecuting attorney was so ludicrous that Luke almost laughed aloud. He’d been charged with everything from arson to rape.

“Do you understand these charges read against you?”

The formality of the question produced a smile. “Yes.” He almost added, “Your Honor,” but it would have been a travesty of justice to call the man presiding over the court honorable.

“How do you plead?”

“Not guilty,” Luke said without emotion.

A murmur rose from the crowd.

“Bring in the others.”

Others? Luke twisted around as the door in the back of the room opened. Four boys were led into the room single file. Their faces were swollen and bloodied. It took Luke several moments to recognize them as teenagers who lived close to the mission.

“Hector.” He breathed the young man’s name. Emilio, Juan, and Roberto all stared with blank eyes into the distance.

Luke felt as if his heart would break. The room
started to spin as the charges against his friends were read. Their crimes, from what he could make of this mockery of a trial, stemmed from an effort they’d made to break Luke out of the jail.

“Please,” Luke pleaded. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

A sick, almost eerie smile lit up the prosecutor’s face. “It is too late for confessions.”

“I have nothing for which to confess,” Luke cried.

“Your crimes are numerous.”

“Fine. Charge me with what you wish, but let these innocents go. They’re boys.”

“No longer, señor.”

Luke slammed his eyes closed. The weight of the world felt as if it rested solidly on his shoulders. It was real, he decided. It had actually happened. Rosita had come to him. He remembered how she told him that Hector had a plan to free him. She hadn’t listened when he’d pleaded with her to let him die. As a result, these four young lives would be forever marked. The reason: their love for Luke, their desire to rescue him from this hell.

Hatred filled him, so dark and so black that it consumed him. This was what evil did. This was what greed reaped.

The prosecutor stood, his smile glib as he elaborated on the crimes Luke and the youths were said to have committed. The defense attorney sat at the table beside him and made a number of notations.

By his own estimate, Luke counted seventeen contradictions in the short testimony. Not that it would matter. This wasn’t a trial. It was an excuse.

He didn’t bother to listen as the defense presented its case, weak as it was.

When the time came for him to testify, Luke looked around the courtroom and viewed a sea of anger. One with a tide that swung with popular opinion. One that followed the fickle winds of who was in power and the hope of personal gain.

Disgusted as he was, discouraged and battling bitterness, Luke looked into that sorry crowd and tried to find it in his heart to forgive them.

Forgiveness and love were what he’d been preaching for the last two years. He didn’t know that God would be giving him such a vivid lesson in the virtues.

“Stand.”

The attorney at his side helped Luke to his feet. He wavered slightly, braced his feet apart in order to maintain his balance, and looked the judge square in the eye.

“After weighing the evidence before me, I find you guilty.”

The same verdict was repeated for Hector, Emilio, Juan, and Roberto.

It came as no surprise.

“I hereby sentence you to stand before a firing squad at dawn.”

Luke’s eyes drifted shut as the words fell upon him like stones.

The gavel slammed against the desk, and the room erupted into applause.

Letty could feel the anger
coming off Murphy in waves as they continued down the river. They were guided by the moon and stars and the single light of a flashlight. The heat radiated off him until the tense silence was almost more than she could bear.

She shifted painfully on the hard, wooden seat on the boat, but it wasn’t the lack of comfort that caused her distress. Guilt ate at her like caterpillars chewing away on new plant growth. She had duped Murphy. Cheated him. These weren’t crimes he was likely to forgive.

His accusing eyes ate holes straight through her, his look unwavering. Letty thought to speak, but she could think of nothing to say. Her excuses, which had seemed reasonable and sound back in Boothill, rang false now.

Without him saying a word, Letty knew what
Murphy was thinking. He viewed her as a hypocrite, one who spouted off her beliefs and then fell short of her own ideals when it suited her purposes. She swallowed at the tightness in her throat when she realized that was exactly what she’d done. She’d used him.

Explaining matters would be impossible, but she forced such a list in her own mind. She hadn’t misled him for selfish reasons. Luke’s life was at stake. Her brother was in trouble, and she couldn’t sit idle and not help. Even if that meant cheating Murphy. Until he’d discovered what she’d done, he’d been content. He hadn’t known the difference.

Besides, Letty felt he deserved what he got. That Murphy would demand such an outrageous payment in return for his assistance was nothing short of despicable. The only reason he’d made such an offer was because he’d assumed she’d refuse. He’d been looking for a means of salving his conscience and was furious when she’d thwarted him.

To her credit, she had followed through with the letter of the agreement and spent the night with him. She was willing to agree that she’d broken the spirit of their contract. Nevertheless, their lovemaking had progressed much farther than she’d planned.

Looking out over the dark waters, Letty vented a deep sigh, her thoughts filled with regret and doubt. It would have been better if she’d followed through with their bargain and given herself to Murphy. But she’d barely known him then, and he’d frightened her. The same way he did now. In their time together she’d come to trust him. Now and again, to her amazement, she found herself actually liking him.

After the tender kisses they’d shared earlier, she could only wonder what it would have been like if she’d followed through with their arrangement. Certainly it would have been pleasurable. If for nothing else, Letty would be grateful to Murphy for the surprising gentleness she’d found in him.

Or should she be? Murphy had proven her worst fears that she was like her mother, a slave to her own passions. A wanton. A woman with an inclination to promiscuity.

Letty’s fears multiplied a hundredfold. Once she’d given herself to a man outside of marriage, she feared it would be like opening Pandora’s box. There was no telling where such behavior would lead. If she married, if she gave her body to another, it would be a man she respected and admired. A man who stirred her mind. A man like Slim. The rancher wouldn’t be a demanding lover. For years now he’d been satisfied with the crumbs of her affection. Murphy was dangerous, the least safe man she’d ever met.

It wasn’t his soldiering ways that distressed her, but her ready and often heated response to his touch. The tender exchange of kisses was evidence of his skill to arouse her to a fever pitch. The danger seemed to heighten her desire, and that frightened her all the more.

All at once Letty couldn’t bear this terrible tension any longer. “It’s because of my mother,” she whispered, knowing that probably confused more than helped the situation. She swallowed hard and held her chin at a proud, lofty angle, hoping he’d appreciate what it had cost her to share this.

Murphy ignored her.

“She abandoned Luke and me when we were five. My father was devastated…. He never remarried.”

His eyes flickered once.

“She ran off with another man. Apparently this wasn’t the first time she’d become involved. My father confessed that over the years there’d been several other men.”

She lowered her head, afraid to look at Murphy, afraid of what he’d say if she did make eye contact with him. “My grandmother told me that my mother had a weakness for men. That she was to be pitied.” Her voice trembled slightly, and she paused long enough to regain control.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Murphy responded gruffly.

“I don’t?”

“Trust me, sweetheart, you’re nothing like your mother.”

In essence he was telling her what a cold fish she was, which was as great an insult as the other. Letty bristled but refused to argue with him. She couldn’t very well confess how weak he made her feel. To do so would be handing him a weapon he was sure to use against her. So she held her head high, battled down the emotion, and said nothing.

“So that was what worried you?” He didn’t seem to require a response. His eyes glowed in the dark night, his anger replaced with silent amusement.

“I regret having tricked you.” She felt she owed him that much. “Telling you about my mother doesn’t condone what I did, but I hope it explains why.”

“Does it?”

“I…we have a long way to travel together, and I think it’s important to air this once and for all. You’re right, I lied and I cheated you. You have every reason for being angry. If it’s any consolation, I deeply regret it. You’ve been more than fair with me. I can only imagine what would have happened to me alone. I am sorry, Murphy.”

“Enough to give yourself to me the way we agreed?”

She glared at him. “Does everything boil down to sex with you?”

“Pretty much.”

“Don’t you think you’re being just a little ridiculous about all this?”

“Hardly. I named my price, you agreed. What else is there to discuss?”

The man was unreasonable. “It was a contemptible thing to ask of me. You’re little more than a stranger.”

“You were willing to trust me with your life.”

“I needed your help. I still do. How was I to know what kind of person you are?”

“Rationalize it all you want, sweetheart, but the bottom line is that you cheated me. You sold yourself to me for a price. The terms were set, and you agreed. All I’m asking is for what’s due me.” His anger was woven into each syllable.

“I agreed in order to save my brother’s life.”

“Sugarcoat this any way you want, but that doesn’t change the facts.”

“But I didn’t cheat you, not entirely—”

“True,” he interrupted, “you defrauded your way out of it. Tell me, does that make everything better?”

Letty bristled at the harshness in his voice. “All right, so you want your pound of flesh, and you’ll have it.” It did no good to reason this out. Not with Murphy and his one-track mind. She’d hoped that explaining her past, laying the pain of her fears at his feet, would dent his hard-ass attitude. She should have known better, should have left matters well enough alone.

“You’re going to agree?”

“Yes,” she all but shouted.

“When?”

“Right now.” She stood, and the boat wobbled precariously from side to side. Ignoring the danger she’d be putting them in if she capsized the small vessel, she jerked the elastic-necked blouse over her head and tossed it aside.

“Letty, sit down.” He hissed the words between clenched teeth.

“Not until the agreement is met. You’ve been terribly wronged. If you want me so damn much, take me.” She started to remove the skirt, lifting it over her head the way she had the blouse. Somehow, when the material covered her face, she lost her footing. Her arms shot out in a desperate effort to maintain her balance, waving madly about. She could feel the boat rocking dangerously from side to side.

Murphy swore loudly and shouted, “Damn it, sit down!”

Before she had time to think, before she could save herself, Letty tumbled backward into the dark, cold water. As she hit the surface, the loose skirt fell over her face.

The last thing she heard before she went under was Murphy’s fury.

Immediately her mouth filled with water and she started choking. Fear paralyzed her, and the current carried her, somersaulting her one way and then another, twisting the material of her skirt around her face.

When she surfaced, she screamed, terrified she would drown. Terrified she’d be lost before she saved Luke. She’d read that a drowning person’s life flashed before his eyes. She felt nothing, only a crippling, horrible fear. Not even this last final rundown of her life was to be granted her. The pain in her lungs from lack of oxygen burned like nothing she’d ever known.

Seemingly out of nowhere, she felt herself being lifted out of the water. One moment she was convinced she would die, and in the next her head was above the water and she was breathing again.

She coughed and spat, then choked some more. Murphy’s hand manacled her wrist. Somehow he managed to control the boat and at the same time hold on to her.

“Give me your other arm!” he shouted.

It demanded every ounce of strength she possessed to comply. His grip on the second wrist was as tight and firm as on the first.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he challenged, “you’ve got to help me.”

She heard the extreme effort it cost him to hang on to her.

The river swirled around her as if to say it had been cheated and wanted her back. The waters pulled at
her from one end and Murphy from the other. She felt as if she were on a rack, being stretched apart by two opposing forces.

Once he was able to lift her shoulders above the waterline, Murphy worked on getting her back inside the motorboat. The task was incredibly difficult. The boat was in danger of flipping a number of times. Letty was able to prop one foot onto the side, but when she attempted to lift her full weight inside the vessel, she discovered she was too weak. Finally Murphy was able to fit his arms beneath hers, and with the two of them working together, he hauled her out of the murky water and back into the boat.

She fell like a dead fish into the middle of the craft, which continued to teeter precariously.

Exhausted, Murphy fell back against the helm, his breathing ragged and deep. His chest heaved with exertion.

It didn’t take long for reaction to set in and for Letty to start weeping. She hated tears and the weakness she experienced when she succumbed to the emotion, but she couldn’t help herself. It wasn’t the first time she’d broken into sobs in front of Murphy, and each time it was more embarrassing, more difficult.

She expected him to rant and rave at her for being so incredibly stupid. She’d risked both their lives because she was hurt and angry and outraged.

She’d stripped her soul bare for him and been subjected to his sarcasm. For all the good telling him about her mother had done, she might as well not have spoken. Sitting, she draped her arms around her
bent legs and hid her face in her knees. Silent sobs shook her shoulders.

The last thing Letty expected was for Murphy to take her in his arms. He sat in the bottom of the boat next to her and wrapped his arms around her nakedness.

Sobbing, she clung to him, accepting his warmth, his solace, his nearness. He repeatedly ran his hand over her wet head, saying nothing. The thunderous sound of his heart pounded into her ear. He’d been as frightened as she, perhaps more so.

She felt him press his cheek against the top of her head and then forcefully release his breath.

“Go ahead,” she whispered when she was able to control her emotions.

“Go ahead and what?”

“Yell at me. I deserve it.”

“I think the river said it far more eloquently than I could.” Somehow in the craziness that followed her near drowning, Murphy had managed to cut the engine and steer them to the bank.

Wordlessly they clung to each other. After a long time, Murphy spoke. “You don’t need to worry that you’re like your mother,” he said. “Any man would treasure a woman as loyal and faithful as you. It’s not every sister who would risk what you have to find her brother.”

She lifted her face to look up at him. He swept a wet strand of hair away from her brow. “My own mother wasn’t any paragon of virtue,” he admitted hoarsely. “She made her mistakes and paid dearly for them. I imagine your mother did as well. We’re each our own person, we live our own lives, make our own mistakes, learn from them, and move forward.”

“Does this mean you’re absolving me from our agreement?” she asked hopefully.

His laugh was filled with wry amusement. “Hardly. I look forward to collecting what’s due me, but all in good time. All in good time.”