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

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Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.  Except Lucinda when someone has illegally kidnapped her man and sent him south under the auspices of illegal immigration.  “Mayor Goodman  knew damn well Delgado was an American citizen before he sent those thugs out to the Airstream,” she said.  “If he can come for Delgado, he can come for any of us.”

She was loading the back of a 2016 Toyota Sequoia Limited B3 Armored SUV.  She bought the thing on Bring a Trailer and somehow got it delivered overnight.  “It’s Lucinda,” Sister Thelma said.  “Don’t put anything past her.”

The 2016 Toyota Sequoia was fitted with B3-rated armor and glass by Blindajes Goldman in Tijuana, Mexico, ironically. The truck was initially sold in California and remained registered in the state under original ownership until 2024. It appeared to be finished in Magnetic Gray Metallic over gray leather and was powered by a 5.7-litre V8 linked with a six-speed automatic transmission. Equipment included four-wheel independent suspension, antilock disc brakes, 20″ alloy wheels, Bridgestone tires with Tyron run-flat inserts, running boards, a sunroof, a power-operated tailgate, 8-passenger seating, heated power-adjustable front seats, a power fold-flat third-row bench, three-zone climate control, Blu-Ray rear-seat entertainment, a rearview camera, navigation, and touchscreen infotainment linked to a JBL sound system. 

“Work since 2023 included changing the oil, flushing the fuel injection system and brake fluid, servicing the driveshaft, and replacing the air filter,” Sister Thelma said.  “Lucinda is going to Mexico to get Delgado back.  She’s going to kick ass and chew gum.”  Thelma looked me in the eye.  “And she’s all out of gum.”

I helped her load the stack of supplies and equipment stacked outside the front door of the Ground for Divorce.  “Do you really need to take the Bunn-O-Matic to Mexico?” I asked her.

“Don’t worry so much about that,” she said.  “Just load.”  She was obviously in no mood to be questioned.

The truck was finished in Magnetic Gray Metallic and featured Level B3 armored body panels and glass applied by Blindajes Goldman. Exterior details included fog lights, power-folding side mirrors, running boards, a sunroof, roof rails, a rear spoiler, a rear window wiper, a power-operated tailgate, rear parking sensors, and a receiver hitch. “The selling dealer said that the armor package added approximately 800 to 1,000 pounds to the factory weight of the vehicle,” Sister Thelma said quietly.  “I just pray she doesn’t need any of that protection.”

Just one more time Sister Thelma was advising against protection and it didn’t make any more sense this time than all the others.  But, just like with Lucinda, I was darn sure not going to question her.

I packed up the box of Larry McMurtry novels Mason had given her.  “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone,” she said.

“I’ll go down with you.  You’re going to need help to get Delgado and his mother.  I’ll follow behind in the Fairlane 500.  Plenty of room for supplies and any other help we might need,” I said.

“I can’t afford to take the chance with fuel pump issues.  Too risky,” she said.  “Stay here and look after the Grounds for Divorce.  Keep your phone on and close by.  I’ll call you if I need anything.  Right now I’m flying blind, and anything could happen.”  The comment about the fuel pump was a shot.  But I let it go.

Pastor Peterson pulled up in his Taurus.  “I just got word you’re heading south. It’s going to be dangerous.  I threw a few things in the back of the Taurus; I’ll follow you down for backup. You’re going to need all the help you can get.”

“The Captain already offered.”  Lucinda didn’t stop packing the armored Toyota.  “It’s too dangerous,” she said.  “You stay here.”

“But I’ve got a fuel pump that works,” Pastor Peterson replied.  “You might need my help.”  Again with the fuel pump shots, and from a man of the cloth, no less.  I looked over at Sister Thelma.  It was the first time she’d smiled in 24 hours.  I didn’t see the humor.

“You and Sister Thelma stay here and pray.  We’re going to need it.”  Lucinda was as determined as anyone had ever seen her.  “God only knows how Delgado is fairing.  He doesn’t even speak Spanish, except for . . . . Well, let’s just say it’s very limited.  And his poor mother. . . .”  Lucinda’s voice trailed off as she spoke.

Of course, people all over Fort Stockton knew by now what had taken place.  Some were shocked, others weren’t surprised at all. They called Delgado a casualty.  “If you’re going to make an omelet, you’ve got to break some eggs,” folks were heard to say at the K-Bob’s.  K-Bob’s didn’t even serve breakfast, so the analogy was lost on the people who supported Mayor Goodman.

I fully expected Deuce Braxton to show up.  After all, it was his own son who had been kidnapped and deported.  Delgado’s mother, the Honduran housekeeper that had lived with Braxton, his wife in every way but name, had been taken, as well?  Nobody even knew what her legal status might be.  How could he just sit by and watch and not lift a finger for their return?

Of course, we only knew what we could see, and even what we could see was tainted and cloudy.  But all over Fort Stockton, people who knew Lucinda or Delgado, people who had coffee and pie at the Grounds for Divorce, or people who just felt compelled to stand up for what was right were moved to action.

Earl, out at Earl’s Salvage Yard and Formalwear, was busy with a welding torch, steel plating, and several rolls of duct tape.  In the Quonset hut behind the Rusty Hammer Hardware Store, Rusty was busying himself with bags of fertilizer and cow manure, while loading the back of his truck with all the supplies he could think of.  Becky from the Ben Franklin was tearing cloth off bolts of fabric and ripping them into long strips, packaging them into bundles to serve as bandages, hoping they wouldn’t be needed.  Rex Hall, down the street at the pharmacy, was gathering up medical supplies in the event they might be needed.

There was a palpable feeling of emotion swirling around town.  A cross between muted anger and hopeful optimism.

I went into the Grounds for Divorce and found a back up Bunn-O-Matic, the old two burner model that hadn’t been used in years. I set it up on the counter to replace the one that Lucinda had taken.  The phone started ringing with people who wanted to help and were asking what they could do.  Sister Thelma came in, put on one of Lucinda’s aprons and started making coffee.  Old classmates of Delgado’s from Jim Bowie High School, “Home of the Fightin’ Knives,” came in and volunteered to do anything they could to help out.

Outside, Lucinda finished loading the last of the supplies into the back of the armored Sequoia she thought she needed for the journey .  “Who knows how much this weighs now,” she commented.  New Guy offered to calculate it, if she wanted to wait that long.  She rolled her eyes, slid into the heated power-adjustable front seat, turned the key and started the 5.7-liter V8 was factory rated at 381 horsepower and 401 lb-ft of torque.  She hoped she wouldn’t actually need the  armored protection for the engine, radiator, fuse box, and battery that came with the hulking SUV, but knew she’d rather have it and not use it than need it and not have it.

New Guy noted the 20″ alloy wheels were wrapped in 275/55R20 Bridgestone Dueler LX tires with Tyron MultiBand run-flat inserts and that the truck was equipped with four-wheel independent suspension and four-wheel disc brakes with ABS.  Lucinda’s foot never touched the brake, however.  She slammed the accelerator to the floorboard and was doing 70 MPH before she hit the Piggly Wiggly, 80 MPH when she passed Franklin Danbury’s office overlooking the courthouse square.  He looked down from his window, then at his watch.  She was right in time.

The Sequoia was struggling to hit 100 when Lucinda hit Highway 10, bogged down by the extra weight of armor and raw female emotion.  She was on a mission, headed straight for Mexico and Delgado. And danger.

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