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The second chapter of a seven part series that will run all week.

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Since the shot that fell the feral hog and saved Lucinda from certain death, Lucinda and Delgado had been nearly inseparable. It’s like the separation that had happened in early November had never taken place.  That was probably the best way to handle it for both of them, going back to the way it had been, nearly without interruption.  Some say it is impossible to do such a thing, but what’s impossible to say is that every scenario is the same.

As far as Lucinda’s attitude, staring Death in the face, particularly when it was fanged and bearing down rapidly, changes perspectives.  Being able to smell Death’s breath is sobering.

Neighbors saw Delgado’s Imperial in Lucinda’s driveway frequently after that.  Like everyone else, the neighbors felt good about the two of them getting back together.  Clem and Trudy, retired neighbors in the bungalow next door to Lucinda’s place, in particular were glad to have Delgado back in Lucinda’s warm embrace.  Clem was especially glad when the evenings were warm enough for windows to be open.  Clem had his chair pushed to the window of their spare bedroom, the window closest to Lucinda’s bedroom.  He’d have his iPad in his lap and three fingers of scotch on the small table next to him.

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In the throes of passion Delgado would say things in a loud voice in Spanish.  Of course Delgado didn’t actually speak Spanish.  The words were those he’d heard coming from Deuce Braxton’s room at night when his mother had gone down the hall and crawled into bed with her employer.  Delgado didn’t know the meanings at the time, of course, but he understood the context.  He learned the meanings later.  As did Clem, typing them into his iPad as he heard them.  Lucinda was a verbal processor.  The only Spanish she knew was that which Delgado shouted during coupling, but she considered herself bilingual.

The nights when Delgado’s Imperial was in Lucinda’s driveway and it was warm enough for the windows to be open, Trudy would end up watching Wheel of Fortune and Murder She Wrote all by herself in the living room.  But when it was time for bed, she would find Clem to be in a much friskier mood than he normally was and she knew they’d be sleeping in late the next morning.

The nights that Delgado’s Imperial was not in the driveway, Lucinda’s Wagoneer wouldn’t be in the garage, either.  It would be packed at Delgado’s place outside of town where he owned 50 acres of prime ranch land gifted to him by “Mr. Braxton”.  The Wagoneer would be parked in between the Imperial and Delgado’s Airstream.  With the windows open on the aluminum trailer, only the wildlife would be in a position to note the shouts of Spanish and resulting shrieks of pleasure being emitted from within.  Possum, deer, raccoons, and the occasional fox would stop in their tracks, and hear the coupling taking place in the Airstream.  They would have no understanding as to why, but would suddenly be compelled to rush back to their burrow and enjoy a Rice Krispie Treat, regardless of the season.  Such were the effects Lucinda and Delgado had on nature.  And neighbors.

On the night in question, the driveway and garage at Lucinda’s place were both as empty as Mayor Goodman’s heart.  The Imperial and Wagoneer were parked close to each other under the carport Delgado had constructed to cover the ‘47 Cockshutt tractor Mr. Braxton had given him.  Delgado had prepared a special Honduran meal of Baleadas and snail soup after putting a Ricardo Arjona album on the Crosley turntable.

Delgado had opened a bottle of Monferrato Pinot Noir that was finished before the meal was, necessitating opening a second one.  Lucinda had no idea if it was the Pinot Noir, the snail soup, or Ricardo Arjona crooning from the vinyl spinning atop the Crosley, but in short order Delgado was shouting Spanish verbal porn at the top of his lungs, her fingernails were imbedded in the flesh of his back, and wildlife within hearing distance were heading to their burrows early.  

The next morning, Lucinda was up before the sun was.  The sheets were still wet from the night before.  She gazed at Delgado laying beside her and smiled.  The way the sheet tented at his midsection caused her to ponder waking him up in the way that would put an immediate smile on his face.  But, glancing at the alarm clock next to the bed, she realized there wasn’t the time to do The Act justice.  She would save it for another time.  She showered in the tiny shower and brushed her teeth, and grabbed a clean set of clothes from the cabinet where she stowed such things.

“I’ve got to get back to town and get things ready to open at the Grounds for Divorce.”  She spoke in a quiet voice, waking Delgado up but not startling him.  She pulled the sheet down to his knees, making them both smile.  “I look forward to enjoying more of that later this evening.”  Those weren’t the words he was hoping to hear as he awoke fully.  “Get up and get showered.  You’ve got pies to bake before we open this morning.”

And with that, Lucinda grabbed her keys and headed out to the Wagoneer for the drive back into Fort Stockton and the day that was just beginning.

It wasn’t like him not to be right behind her.  He was usually one to shower quickly and wait till he got to the cafe to have his first cup of coffee.  As Lucinda flipped the sign on the front door from CLOSED to OPEN, she was irritated he still hadn’t arrived.  Thirty minutes later, there was a pretty good crowd already and she could really use his help.  She figured he’d fallen back asleep, exhausted from the night before.

Of course, Lucinda had never seen the black 1999 GMC P3500 Step Van parked down the highway, off to the side of the road, a ways from the gate to Delgado’s property.  It was still dark when she’d left and the van was ebony and nondescript, even if she’d noticed it.  The body was finished in black and outfitted with sliding side doors, truck mirrors, rooftop loudspeakers, curb-side spotlights, and power outlets. An awning frame was positioned on the right side, and other details included a diamond-plate equipment box, a rear step, and a receiver hitch. The paint was peeling around the grille, and scratches and remnants of removed lettering were visible on the body panels. In other words, as nondescript as any other van in Fort Stockton.  The Carfax report indicated seven accidents occurred between 2000 and 2002, all of them probably a result of similar operations.

The crew inside the step van knew Lucinda was in the Airstream.  They’d been watching her house and knew the pattern as well as Clem and Trudy did.  The decision had been made days earlier not to perform the extraction in Lucinda’s neighborhood.  Too many witnesses would complicate the process, and those in command knew of Clem’s proclivities involving keeping tabs on his neighbor.  No, waiting until Delgado was alone and secluded was by far the best scenario to attain the objective.

Delgado was in the shower when the black-as-night van pulled up silently and parked next to the Airstream, its backend just feet from the door to the trailer.  He was in the shower, letting the slow trickle of warm water land on his head and flow down.  Still in the state of early morning arousal Lucinda had left him in, he had a difficult time turning around in the narrow stall of the shower without  dragging himself on the sides. As he lathered himself, he looked forward to getting back home later in the evening and picking up where they’d left off.

Turning off the water and stepping out of the shower and into the hall, he was met with a crowd.  There must have been five men in the trailer, all dressed in the same black uniform and weaponry.  All had night vision equipment covering their eyes, making it impossible for Delgado to know the envy they each felt as they stared at him, naked and dripping wet.

The one in front, the one with the biggest badge and largest insecurities, shouted for Delgado to put his hands in the air.  Of course, the ceiling of the Airstream was only six inches above his head, limiting his ability to comply with the order.  Despite his willingness to comply, Delgado was manhandled as he attempted to get dressed, the one with the large badge being the roughest.  The others, wanting to appear busy and justify their presence, turned over cushions on furniture, dumped the contents of jars out on countertops, and went through Delgado’s trash, making note of the empty Honduran wine bottles and snickering.

“What are you even doing here?” Delgado managed to ask as he struggled to get his pants up.  “I haven’t done anything!”  

“Shut up,” Big Badge said.  “Finish getting dressed.  Leave everything here.  You’re being deported.”

“DEPORTED?” Delgado laughed.  “I was born in Fort Stockton!  I’m as American as you are!”

The officer behind Big Badge grabbed the empty bottle of Monferrato Pinot Nero out of the trash and held it up in front of Delgado’s face, as though it was a smoking gun.  Then he tossed it back in the trash and emptied the entire contents of the waste basket all over the dinette table and upholstered benches on either side.

They drug the half dressed Delgado out the front door of his Airstream and took him to the back of the black van.  The walk-through rear compartment measured approximately 6.5′ wide and could be accessed via the cab or the rear barn doors. The walls were covered in gray fabric, and open shelves were positioned aft of the cab. Further details included residential-style power outlets, wall-mounted power strips, ceiling vents, and side-mounted cargo anchors. A freezer located at the rear of the compartment clearly did not work.  The crew shoved Delgado into the van through the double back doors and handcuffed his wrists to the pole above his head.

His mother sat across from him.

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