Hank Williams was buried two days later, and Darcy Daniels three. Governor Bode Bonner stood between his wife and daughter as Darcy's casket was lowered into the ground. Becca buried her face in his chest and cried until his shirt was wet. Roped-off barricades manned by Texas Rangers and state troopers kept the crowd back. Security was tight, but television cameras captured every moment. Lindsay Bonner wore a black dress, a black hat, and a black veil.
Enrique de la Garza watched the funeral on the television. Even in the veil, something about the governor's wife seemed vaguely familiar, as if he had seen her before. But like a dream he could not fully recall, he could not place her. He turned back to his abogado but pointed at the screen.
"They bury their people. I want to bury my son."
"Enrique," his lawyer said, "during the last month I have exhausted every possible avenue-diplomatic channels through the American consulate, every political connection I have here and in the U.S., the church… I even called the local sheriff in Fort Davis and offered compensation. But he refused. The Americans, they will not release his body. And they probably have moved the body by now, to El Paso or perhaps Austin." He gestured at the television. "And trying to kill the governor, that did not help matters."
Felix Montemayor had once served as attorney general of Mexico. Born into an aristocratic family in Guadalajara, he had attended college at Stanford and law school at Yale. He had pursued a political career long enough to become connected and then a lucrative career in private law; he now enjoyed a more lucrative career as Enrique's personal lawyer. The press had dubbed him el abogado del Diablo. The devil's advocate. Enrique slid the satellite phone across the desk to his lawyer.
"Get him on the phone."
"The governor?"
"The sheriff."
Felix found the number in his briefcase then dialed. He put the phone to his ear. After a moment, he said, "Sheriff Roscoe Lee, please. Felix Montemayor calling."
Enrique gestured for the phone. He took it and waited for the sheriff to answer. A slow Texas drawl came across the line from four hundred miles away.
"This here's Sheriff Lee. Mr. Montemayor-"
"No, Sheriff. This is Enrique de la Garza."
The phone went silent, but he could hear breathing.
"You know who I am, Sheriff?"
"I do."
"And you know what I want?"
"I reckon so."
"One million dollars, Sheriff. Cash. For my son's body. I can wire the money anywhere in the world you would like."
"But I live here. In Fort Davis, Texas."
"Then I will give you the money there."
There was a long pause and then a heavy sigh.
"Well, I don't know what the hell I'd do with a million dollars anyway, Mr. de la Garza. Guess I'll pass."
"Sheriff, are you a father?"
"I am."
"Then you must understand my desire to bury my son in a proper Catholic service?"
"I do. But I can't let go of the body without the state boys and the Feds giving their okay, and that just ain't gonna happen, 'specially after you just tried to kill the governor. Some folks take offense at that sort of thing. So your boy is just gonna have to sit in my freezer a while longer."
Enrique ended the call and looked at his lawyer.
"His body is still there."
"This one of those unforeseen, unexpected, unpleasant moments?"
Jim Bob turned to the insurance policy named Eddie Jones and nodded.
"But not the kind I figured on."
"You want me to bodyguard the boss from now on?"
Jim Bob shook his head. "From what I hear, you're a little quick on the trigger."
"Maybe. But I never lost a client."
"We brought in more Rangers, SWAT guys carrying more than pistols."
"Good. 'Cause they'll be back."
"Bode killed them."
"There'll be more."
"I knew that was his son," Lindsay said. "Now he wants revenge."
"Which is why you can't go back to the border. It's not safe, Lindsay. He might come after you."
"No one down there knows who I am. In the colonias, I'm just a nurse."
"What about Becca? This hit her hard."
"I'll stay until she's ready to go back to school. She needs a bodyguard."
The Governor's Mansion looked like a scene out of The Godfather after the war between the Mafia families had begun; armed guards patrolled the perimeter and spotters with rifles stood on the roof. Ranger Roy loitered thirty feet away. He apparently had decided not to let the governor's wife out of his sight this time, and he hadn't since she had returned to Austin. She had been gone a month, the longest she had ever been apart from her husband. She had embraced Bode when she had first returned to the Mansion, but not since. She still slept on the day bed. Even nearly getting killed couldn't bring his wife back to their bed. Even though he had banished Mandy to the governor's office in the State Capitol. They now sat outside on the bench facing the south lawn. They had returned from the funeral but had not gone inside the Mansion. They sat close, but he knew better than to touch her.
"It's good to have you back."
"I'm not back."
"You ever coming back? For good?"
"I don't know."
"You're leaving your family for a bunch of Mexicans in the colonias? "
"You left me for Mandy."
"After you moved out of our bedroom."
"I don't want to do this, Bode. Not now."
Bode stared out at the green grass and the blue sky above. Hank and Darcy were gone, and his wife wanted to be.
"I need you, Lindsay."
She sighed heavily, almost a cry.
"You don't need me, Bode Bonner. You just need a first lady."
"When will the senora return?" Inez said from her desk by the door.
"I do not know."
"But she will return?"
"I do not know."
But he knew she would never return.
Jesse had driven her to the airport three days before. When she got out of his truck, he knew he would never see her again. That day had come. She had left him. And he had learned the answer to his question: It was better to have never loved than to have loved and lost.
"I miss her," Inez said.
"I loved her."
Lindsay embraced her daughter.
"I know, honey."
"Why didn't he save her? Daddy."
"He would have if he could. He would have stood in front of her, taken the bullet himself. Your father is a lot of things, Becca, but he's no coward."
"I'm scared."
"You don't have to be, not with your father here. He'll protect you."
"I wish we were back on the ranch."
"I wish we had never left the ranch."
"Mom… are you guys getting a divorce?"
" A divorce? No… I don't think so… I don't know."
"Do you have someone else?"
"No."
Jesse didn't count as someone else, did he?
"Does Dad?"
Yes.
"No."
She couldn't do that to her daughter.
"Then why are you living down on the border?"
"To do something good with my life."
"He's going to be president."
"That's his life, not mine."
"You won't be able to work on the border, when he's president. You won't be able to hide your face anywhere in the world then."
For the first time in five years, Jesse Rincon contemplated leaving the colonias. His time with the governor's wife opened up all the possibilities of life for him. Perhaps the time had come for him to live beyond the wall. Perhaps the time had come for him to make a different choice in life. The thought of being alone the rest of his life now seemed unbearable. He wanted a woman in his life. He wanted the governor's wife in his life. But it was not to be.
"She is gone, Mother."
Jesse brushed dirt from the small flat stone that marked his mother's grave in the colonia cemetery. GRACIANA RINCON… 1952–1973.
"But it is for the best. This border is no place for such a woman. Dirt and death, that is all the borderlands have to offer. A woman such as her, she belongs in Austin, or perhaps Washington. Yes, she will make a fine first lady."
"When Governor Bode Bonner shot and killed three Mexican cartel soldados in West Texas and rescued thirteen Mexican children from a marijuana farm, he became an American hero. But when he grabbed his dead Texas Ranger bodyguard's gun and shot and killed three Mexican hit men- sicarios, they are called-saving his daughter's life and the lives of dozens of diners in this restaurant in the middle of Austin, Texas, he became an American legend. A living legend. The only question is, with a Mexican drug lord gunning for him, how long will he remain living? Reporting from Austin, Texas."
Jim Bob switched channels from network to network to network to catch the evening news reports. One reporter stood in the middle of Guadalupe Street just outside Kerbey's restaurant; another stood just across the street on the UT campus; and a third stood in the parking lot. All were reporting live from Austin, Texas, as they had for the last three days. The national media had descended on the capital of Texas.
"How did the hit men smuggle the weapons into the U.S.?" the reporter asked DEA Agent Rey Gonzales.
"They didn't. The gun laws in Mexico are very strict. So they crossed into the U.S. at Laredo, drove up I-35 to San Antonio, and bought the guns and ammo at a gun show last weekend. The cartels buy all their guns in Texas."
"Fully automatic AK-47s with thirty-round magazines?"
"You can buy a bazooka at a gun show."
"Without a criminal background check?"
The agent nodded. "The 'gun show loophole.' Big enough to drive a semi through. The bad guys buy their guns at gun shows and missiles on the black market."
"Missiles?"
"El Diablo, he bought a Russian-made missile and shot down our Predator drone."
"A drug lord shot down our drone? I can't believe that."
"You'd better believe it."
"Agent Gonzales, do you think the governor's life is still in danger?"
Another nod. "The governor killed El Diablo's son. He won't quit."
"How can you ensure the governor's safety?"
"We can't."
Jim Bob muted the news and turned to Bode with a big grin.
"Do you know how lucky you are?"
"Not getting killed?"
"Getting this kind of press coverage? Favorable pieces on the networks for a Republican?"
The Professor opened his black notebook.
"This poll was conducted after the assassination attempt. The more Mexicans you kill, the higher your poll numbers go. Seventy-six percent total favorable… unbelievable. White males, ninety-one percent. White females, eighty-four. African-Americans, forty-three percent. Hispanics… get this… thirty-nine percent."
"In Texas?"
"In the U.S. This is a national poll. I've never seen anything like it. You're blowing everyone else away across the entire socioeconomic spectrum. The other Republicans are road kill in your rearview. And you're up on Obama by a million Twitter followers and twelve points in the polls. We're talking Reagan-over-Carter landslide."
"Jesus, Jim Bob, they tried to kill my daughter."
"No. They tried to kill you. She was just there."
"Still."
"Are you a 'glass-half-full' kind of guy or a 'glass-half-empty' kind of guy?"
"What the hell does that mean?"
"It means, you and Becca survived an assassination attempt. You can sit back and pout about it, or you can move forward and make the best of it."
"Darcy and Hank are dead."
"You didn't kill them. The Mexicans did."
Jim Bob's phone rang. He answered.
"John Ed… yeah, he's right here. Hold on, I'll put you on the speaker."
Jim Bob activated the speakerphone.
"You're on with Bode."
"Governor," John Ed Johnson's voice boomed from the speakerphone, "glad you ain't dead."
''Well, thanks, John Ed. I appreciate your-"
" 'Cause I need your help on my bill."
— "concern."
"So where do things stand? You got the votes lined up?"
"Goddamnit, John Ed, I've been a little fucking busy lately, shooting Mexican assassins, burying my daughter's roommate and my Ranger bodyguard. I told you I'd work your bill, and I will."
"No reason to get testy."
Bode exhaled. "Sorry, John Ed, it's been a little stressful around here."
"Yeah, okay. You boys have a good day."
The line went dead. Jim Bob chuckled.
"John Ed ain't exactly the touchy-feely type."
"He ain't exactly the human being type."
The Professor leaned back in his chair and smiled.
"No one can stop you now."
"There's a Mexican trying to."
"Kill the governor for me, por favor."
"We could kill his wife and daughter very easily," Hector Garcia said.
"No. His wife and daughter did not murder my son. We do not kill women or children or innocents. We have already killed one innocent, the college girl."
"And the Ranger."
"Rangers are not innocents."
"My men, they were careless, with machine guns."
"Yes, careless and now dead."
Enrique looked Hector in the eye.
"Will you do that small favor for me?"
" Si, mi jefe, I will send-"
"No. Do not send anyone. I want you to go north of the river. I want you to go into Tejas. I want you to kill the governor."
" Si, mi jefe. I will leave tomorrow."
" Bueno. But first, Hector, bring my son home."