Free His Temporary Wife by Leslie P. García Page A

and a half-finished bottle of beer beside him, near a high-crowned
     cowboy hat.
    Before the woman at the bar could answer, an elderly woman came out of the hall beneath
     the large sign pointing to the restrooms. Western shirt and jeans, boots with ornate
     embroidery. Hair the color of mountain snow, framing a face that showed age, but was
     still striking.
    Esmeralda had never seen the woman, but she knew. “Lillie Mae. Hi,” she said in greeting.
     “I’m …”
    “Tina’s niece, Esmeralda.” The lady nodded with assurance. Of course you are.” She
     closed the distance and held her hand out. Fringe dangled down the sleeves of her
     long-sleeved shirt and tickled Esme’s hand as her own was pumped energetically. She
     must have flinched away from the spidery-tickling sensation, because Lillie Mae laughed
     and let her go.
    “My Sunday duds are a mite annoying,” she said. “And don’t tell me what day it is,
     ’cause I know.” She leaned her head forwards and lowered her voice. “I just ain’t
     washed my workday clothes yet.” She winked and grinned. “Asides which, tourists would
     rather see the Sunday me.” She waved a hand at the table. “Join me for a bit?”
    “But … it’s not open …”
    Lillie Mae snorted. “It’s open to me and my guests. Kind of like my office, this place.
     Come on, sit with me.”
    “Sure.”
Isn’t that the plan?
As the women reached the table, the man stood, removing his hat and holding out a
     hand.
    “Hondo, ma’am. You’d be Tina Cervantes’s little girl?”
    “Uh … her niece,” Esme corrected. “I’m sorry … Hondo? Didn’t I drive through Hondo
     on the way here?”
    “Yes ma’am. I’m named after the town, or maybe just the river that runs through it.
     Didn’t ever ask.” He grinned affably. “Figured one of the reasons I used to get chosen
     a lot to play extras in cowboy movies was the name.”
    “Hondo, would you go check on Babe? Can’t be too careful these days. Someone might
     just try to lift him, even though everyone in the Hill Country would recognize that
     worthless old critter on the spot. Almost as famous at the UT longhorn, Babe is.”
    He nodded at both of them, then replaced the hat. “Nice to meet you, Miss Esme. Lillie
     Mae, I think I’ll hitch ol’ Babe on the cart and run by the feed store. He gets a
     kick out of it ’n’ so do I.”
    Lillie Mae didn’t really reply, just watched as he wandered away. “Good man, Hondo,”
     she said eventually. “Just wish he got it—this boat’s sailed. Buried four husbands
     and there ain’t gonna be a fifth, but he keeps tryin’. Sit down, girl. I bend a little
     slow these days.”
    Esme sat.
    “So, spill it. What brought you here?”
    “Didn’t you … isn’t it … part of Rafael Benton’s plan? Didn’t he send you here to
     meet me?”
    “Now, see, a few years ago, if I’d seen Rafael, I wouldn’t have been talkin’ about
     any ships sailin’ ’less he was right there on it.” Lillie Mae chortled, and Esme smiled
     a little in spite of herself. This woman was something else, for sure. But she didn’t
     know what, or why Rafael Benton—the devil, according to Andy—had sent her here after
     he propositioned her. Then the mirth left Lillie Mae’s face and she lifted her beer
     bottle, finished it in a gulp, and pointed it at Esme. “Nobody sends me here. I come
     sit a spell here every day. Sort of my office, you could say. Now—what you do for
     a livin’, girl?”
    Lillie Mae’s question caught her off guard, and for a moment, she just stared in surprise.
    “Come on, girl, that ain’t one of the hard questions.” The older woman giggled, and
     Esme’s anger started building. This was “dear” Lillie Mae? “Sweet” Lillie Mae? She
     drew herself up and breathed deeply.
    Before she could answer, though, Lillie Mae did. “You’re one of them counselor workers.
     For a school.”
    “I am a counselor,” Esme said coolly. “I have a