Free Lonestar Homecoming by Colleen Coble Page B

storm created a sandbar across the Rio Grande, and the coyotes found it.”
    â€œYou have someone watching it?”
    Pickens nodded. “Hector Estevez. He was Phil’s partner. He’s assessing how many have come through there so far and is going to give direction to your unit’s watch station.”
    Michael watched the desert landscape zip past the window. He’d never thought to be living here again. They rolled through Bluebird Crossing, and it was like going through a time warp. The place hadn’t changed at all, but he had. He was older and wiser, he hoped, the only one of his original family left now that Philip was gone.As they drove, he caught a glimpse of the old house on the outskirts of town where he’d grown up. It wasn’t possible that his little brother was dead.
    Pickens pulled off into the desert behind a parked SUV with the Border Patrol logo on the door.The other vehicle’s front tires nearly touched the muddy water running past. A stocky man in his twenties squatted beside tire tracks. Another man in his forties stood watching.
    â€œI’ll leave you here,” Pickens said. “I’ve got an important call coming in.”
    Michael nodded and got his dog out, then joined the men. Estevez glanced up when Michael joined him and asked, “You’re Estevez? What’d you find?”
    â€œThree trucks through here so far,” Estevez said. “Loaded.” He stood and looked Michael over. “You’re Lieutenant Wayne? You have the look of Phil. I’m Special Operations Patrol Agent Estevez.”
    The guy was making sure Michael knew his rank. “I hear you were my brother’s partner.” He glanced at the other man, then extended his hand. “Lieutenant Wayne.”
    The man took it. “Senior Patrol Agent George Parker.”
    Estevez put his hands on his hips. “Let’s get one thing straight right up front: I know you’ve got more decorations than a Christmas tree, but I’m the expert here.You need to listen twice as much as you talk for a while. This isn’t Iraq. And you’re on my turf.You National Guards are here in a supplementary position only.You’re to do what I say when I say it.”
    Cocky kid. Michael could have him on the ground in two seconds. “Of course.”
    Estevez’s lips tightened. “I just want to be clear who’s in charge.”
    â€œWe’re clear,” Michael said. He was used to taking orders, but this kid was still wet behind the ears. His irritation faded when he saw Caesar’s ears go up. A low growl emanated from the dog’s throat. “Someone’s out there,” he said. “Hit the ground!” Some sixth sense made him grab the kid and yank him down behind the SUV.
    Estevez tried to shake off Michael’s grip, but the first bullet pinged against the bumper. Both border agents drew their guns and returned fire as a volley of shells hit the vehicle. Michael pulled his revolver. He saw a flash of green and aimed at the movement, then fired.A man fell. He heard a shot, then the sound of an engine. Dust billowed from the tires of an old pickup that sped away.
    A heavily accented male voice floated out the window. “Señor Wayne, you are a dead man.”
    He rose from his crouched position and followed Caesar to the fallen man, who lay behind an agave plant. He was dressed as a Mexican national, in his forties, and his sightless eyes stared at the glaring sun.
    Vargas was wasting no time in trying to kill him.

7
    A PACK OF COYOTES HOWLED IN THE DISTANCE . A NOTHER PACK ON THE other side of the canyon replied. Michael sat in the living room with his Bible in his hand. Only one light pushed back the night.The clock on the mantel read 11:00. After tossing and turning for half an hour, he’d finally gotten up and come downstairs. The nightmares that haunted him had little to do with the unseen faces of his enemies and