Rider on Fire & When You Call My Name. Sharon SalaЧитать онлайн книгу.
cooking,” he said, then puffed out his chest in an exaggerated manner. “My daughter cooks for me tomorrow. If someone had told me I would be saying these words tonight, I would have called them crazy.”
“So it’s a deal?” Sonora asked, and held out her hand.
Franklin shook it. “It’s a deal,” he said.
Sonora nodded and started to leave the room, then she paused and looked back.
Franklin was watching her go.
She bit her lip, then took a slow breath. Revealing her vulnerability was more difficult than she’d imagined it would be. Still, she’d waited a lifetime to say these words and she wasn’t going to cheat herself out of the opportunity because she was afraid.
“Night… Dad.”
Franklin smiled.
“Good night…daughter. Sleep well.”
Soon the house went dark, and both father and daughter slept with a peace in their hearts they’d never known before.
* * *
Adam, on the other hand, didn’t get much sleep. His dreams were troubled with a faceless enemy stalking Franklin’s daughter. Finally, he woke up in a sweat, and abandoned his bed for the swing on his front porch.
The air was cooler and rain washed. Bullfrogs sang from the overflowing creek while their tinier cousins, the tree frogs, contributed to the chorus. The quarter moon hung low in the sky, shyly showing its face from behind the swiftly moving clouds.
Adam walked to the edge of the steps and then looked up, inhaling deeply as he combed his fingers through his hair.
There was a power in the dark that daylight didn’t share. He’d known it since childhood, and it had saved his life more than once during his years with the military. Night was a shield for those who needed it, and kept secrets better than a best friend ever could. It protected but at the same time left the weak more vulnerable.
Adam thought about the creek running out its banks down the hill below. If it wasn’t for the copperheads between him and the water, he’d chance a midnight dip. However, his foolish days were long gone, and he would gladly settle for a cold shower.
He was about to go back inside when he heard a coyote yip. Within seconds, another answered, and then another and another, until the night was alive with their calls. He smiled. It was one of the sounds of the Kiamichi Mountains that he loved most.
He thought of the years he’d spent in foreign countries, living his life for the American government instead of for himself, and said a quiet prayer of thanks that he’d lived to make it home.
He stood on the porch and gave the coyotes their due by waiting until the chorus had ended.
“Good job, boys,” he said softly, then started into the house. He was crossing the threshold when his cat, Charlie, slipped between his legs and darted beneath a chair.
He closed the door, then got down on his hands and knees and grinned at the cat who was peering at him from beneath the small space.
“What’s wrong, old man? Coyotes make you a little nervous?”
“Rowrrr.”
“I feel your pain,” Adam said.
“Rrrpp?”
“Yeah, sure…why not?” Adam said. “I don’t have anyone else fighting you for the space.”
Since he’d been given permission, Charlie abandoned the space beneath the chair for a spot at the foot of Adam’s bed.
Both males were soon sound asleep, taking comfort in the knowledge that, for tonight, they were not alone.
* * *
Miguel Garcia was in Amarillo, Texas, pacing the room of his motel with his cell phone up to his ear. He’d trailed Sonora Jordan this far and then had lost her. At this point, he knew he needed help, and had been trying to contact some of his men in Juarez. But no matter who he called, he got no answer. That alone was enough to make him nervous.
And if he’d known the truth, nervous would have been an understatement. He didn’t know that there was already a big upheaval in his organization that had nothing to do with Enrique and Juanito’s absences. He didn’t know that Jorge was moving in on territory that had been under Garcia control for years. And, he didn’t know that Jorge had given the DEA the description and tag number of the car Miguel was driving. Miguel thought he was the hunter, but in truth, he was also the prey.
* * *
Gerald Mynton was beside himself with frustration. Twice he’d missed phone calls from Sonora. He didn’t know what she was trying to pull, dropping out of sight like this without staying in touch.
Yes, he knew he’d told her to get lost. But he hadn’t expected her to actually do it. As far as he knew, she was in imminent danger and he had no way of warning her about it. So, in order to offset the chance that they might miss connecting again, he was having all of his calls, both personal and professional, forwarded to his cell phone. No matter what time of day or night a call came in, he would get it. With this small assurance set in place, Mynton finally gave up and went to bed. And while he wasn’t a praying kind of man, he still said a prayer of safekeeping for Sonora before he could fall asleep.
* * *
Sonora woke abruptly, and for a moment couldn’t remember where she was. Then her gaze fell on the carving of the kitten and the dragonfly and breath caught in her throat.
Home.
She was home.
She glanced at the clock, then her eyes widened. It was already seven-thirty and Adam was coming for breakfast. She flew out of bed and raced into the bathroom. It was the quickest shower she’d ever had. She dressed in a pair of old jeans and a red sleeveless T-shirt, and as an afterthought pocketed her cell phone. Then she pulled her hair up on top of her head, securing it with an elastic band. She started to put on her tennis shoes, then decided against it and left the room in bare feet.
As she started down the hall, she could hear Franklin moving around in his room, so she knew he was up, but she was going to do her own investigating into what was available in the kitchen without bothering him.
Before she started looking in the fridge, she made a big pot of coffee, hoping that the men liked it strong. Soon the enticing aroma of freshly brewing coffee filled the air as she began looking to see what was available to cook.
It was easy to spot the bacon and eggs, and she found half a loaf of bread and two kinds of jelly in the refrigerator, as well. A set of canisters on the cabinet revealed flour and sugar. After digging through the pantry, she found a partially used bag of self-rising flour, a can of vegetable shortening and a small bottle of sorghum molasses. She was in business.
She turned on the oven to preheat, laid her cell phone on the counter out of the way, then dug through the cabinets and drawers until she found the rest of what she needed. It wasn’t long until the smell of baking bread was added to the aromas drifting through the house.
Sonora was frying bacon when she sensed she was no longer alone. She looked up. Franklin was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She smiled.
“Good morning. How did you sleep?” she asked as he moved toward her.
Franklin touched her shoulder in a gentle, hesitant manner, then kissed the side of her cheek.
Sonora leaned against him for a fraction of a second, then made herself smile when all she wanted to do was cry. This family stuff was harder than she would have thought.
“I slept well,” Franklin said. “And you?”
“Like a baby,” Sonora said. “How are you feeling?”
He shrugged. “Some mornings are better than others.”
She eyed the food she was making. “Does