On The Texas Border. Linda Warren
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barked when he noticed him. “Don’t you have trucks to load?”
“Stuart and Juan are supervising the loading, and Perry’s in the office until noon. He has that computer class this afternoon and tomorrow. They can handle things until I get back.”
Brewster pushed a button and raised his bed slightly. A nurse immediately adjusted his pillow. “I’m not sure about Perry. He doesn’t seem to be working out. Fire him and start looking for another accountant.”
Jonas took a patient breath. He had been expecting this. It had been the pattern since Abe left. Jonas had decided he wasn’t going through this again.
“I’m not firing Perry. He’s a good accountant, and he’s returned to Hope with his family to be near his aging parents. He needs the job, and I trust him. Besides, you just paid for these computer courses.”
Brewster’s eyes narrowed. “You take orders from me—or have you forgotten?”
“Not for a minute,” Jonas answered swiftly. “If you want to fire Perry, you’ll have to do it yourself and also find someone to replace him. I’m not doing it again.”
“You’re getting too big for your boots, boy.”
“You can always fire me.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” Brewster asked smugly. “But it’s not gonna happen.” He paused, then asked, “So you trust this Perry?”
“Yes,” Jonas replied.
“I’ll think about it” was the response. “Now, I want to talk about something else.”
“Unless it’s important, I want to get back to the loading docks.”
“Yes, dammit, it’s important. I want you to go with Abigail to Mexico.”
Jonas gritted his teeth. “I thought I made my position very clear on that subject.”
“Yes, you did,” Brewster acknowledged sardonically. “Now I’m going to make mine clear. Bottom line—you’re going. You can buck it, fight it all you want, but you’re going.”
Jonas gritted his teeth harder. But they both knew he’d give in. It was part of their agreement, and Jonas always tried to live up to his word. This time, though, it wasn’t easy.
Brewster broke into his thoughts. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, Jonas. She’s a very nice-looking woman, and I don’t want her crossing the border alone.”
Jonas met Brewster’s eyes. “Abigail Duncan can take care of herself,” he said in a hard tone.
“Yes, yes, she can,” Brewster acknowledged. “But you’re still going.”
Jonas’s eyes never wavered. “Then, why get her involved? I can find the girl on my own.”
“Dammit, Jonas, do you have to question everything I tell you?” Brewster snapped. “Abigail has to be there. It’s the ending to my book, and I want her to witness it firsthand.”
“I see.” Jonas sighed. “Well, I guess that makes sense. Still—”
“Go with Abigail and find Delores, and get back as fast as you can.”
If he had to do this, Jonas reasoned—and there didn’t seem to be a way out—then he would at least get something out of Brewster. “I’m still not sure there is a daughter,” Jonas said, “but since you insist, I’ll go on two conditions.”
“Don’t try to bargain with me, Jonas.”
Jonas continued. “I want a raise for Stuart and Juan. They haven’t had one in two years. And Perry stays.”
Brewster rubbed the metal bars on the bed. “Is that it?”
“That’s it.”
“Don’t you want a raise for yourself?”
“You pay me a good salary. I have no complaints.”
There was a long pause. Jonas waited.
Finally Brewster said, “Okay, consider it done, but I want you to stay until Frank, my lawyer, and Abigail get here.”
This was too easy, Jonas thought. Brewster never gave in without an argument. What was he up to? Jonas didn’t have a clue, so he concentrated on the positive side. If he could keep his accountant, it would be worth putting up with Ms. Duncan.
But he wasn’t looking forward to it.
AS ABBY AND EARL walked down the corridor to Mr. Brewster’s room, Abby could hear Earl breathing. She stopped to talk to him, then sighed. “Earl, there’s sweat on your brow.”
He whipped out a handkerchief and mopped his face. “I’m sorry. I’m nervous.”
“There’s no need to be,” she assured him. “All you have to do is read a piece of paper. I’ll do all the talking.”
“Suits me fine.”
“Ready?”
“I guess so.”
Abby tapped on the door, and a nurse let them in. Mr. Brewster was in a special unit with round-the-clock private nurses. Today, in addition to the nurse and the patient, there were two other people in the room. A man she didn’t recognize and Jonas.
As she stared into Jonas’s turbulent eyes, something kicked awake in her lower stomach. She knew exactly what it was—desire. She had told her mother that she could coast along without those feelings, but when she looked at Jonas she felt as if she were falling into a void of pure need. Hell, maybe she was a loose woman.
“Abigail, I’m glad you’re here.” Mr. Brewster’s voice brought her sanity back. “This is Frank Foster, my attorney. He’s from McAllen.”
“Mr. Foster.” Abby acknowledged the introduction at the same time that Mr. Brewster noticed Earl.
“Turner, what are you doing here?”
“Earl is my attorney,” Abby put in quickly, “I felt I needed one.”
“Fine,” Mr. Brewster said, to her surprise. “I dictated the letter to Frank earlier this morning and it’s now in his possession. When you return, he’ll hand it over to you.”
“How can I be sure the letter isn’t bogus?”
“You have to trust me.”
Abby shook her head. “No, I can’t do that. This is too important. I want Earl to read the letter to make sure that you have kept your word.”
Mr. Brewster grunted, and the nurse quickly checked the machines attached to him. Then he spoke, “Turner’s your cousin. How can I trust that he won’t tell you what’s in the letter?”
“Earl is my guarantee that the letter is real. That’s all.”
Brewster thought for a minute. “Okay, he can read part of it, but I don’t want him reading the crucial information.”
“Fine,” Abby agreed.
Brewster turned to Foster. “There’s a room down the hall. Take Turner and let him see a portion of the letter.”
“Yes, sir,” Frank said, picking up his briefcase and heading for the door.
“Turner,” Mr. Brewster called, before Earl left the room.
Earl stopped.
“If you tell Abigail anything, I’ll make sure you never work in this town or anywhere else again. Do you get my drift?”
“Y-yes, sir,” Earl stuttered, and mopped his forehead. Abby feared he was on the verge of melting into his shoes and she’d have to carry him out of here in a wad.
“You’d better,” Mr. Brewster warned,