Born Under The Lone Star. Darlene Graham
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The Ramos family consisted of a father, mother and two frightened little boys. The priest in town had directed them here. Hasty arrangements were made to feed and bed down the tired travelers.
Later that night, Justin walked out on the upstairs veranda to contemplate the starry sky and think about his mission. Below him the ranch land spread like a peaceful kingdom. Getting the Light at Five Points going was sure to be hard work, but already he had his first real family tucked in for the night.
His reverie was broken when he heard frantic arguing whispers on the porch below and then the sound of Aurelia hysterically crying, “Don’t go!”
Justin hurried back inside and down the wide stone staircase.
“What’s wrong?” he said as he emerged on the porch.
The Morales brothers stood there, with their shabby backpacks slung over their shoulders.
“We didn’t have nothing to do with no fire,” Juan said defensively. “The man paid us to go there for one night and make noise.”
“What are you talking about?” Justin demanded. Were they talking about the barn fire that killed Danny Tellchick?
“The sheriff is asking a lot of questions. These bad hombres.” Juan’s Spanish was so rushed, Justin had trouble keeping up. “They will lay the blame on us.”
“Shut up,” Julio snapped. “We’re leaving,” he declared to Justin.
“No!” Aurelia wailed, clinging to him. She was wearing a simple shift nightgown, probably something Lorn’s wife had given her.
“But why?” Justin asked. “Why now?” It was practically the middle of the night. What had happened to make them want to run?
“We are sorry, my friend,” Julio said a little more calmly. “We thank you for your kindnesses, but you cannot help us. We have been tricked.”
“Let’s go now.” Juan looked frightened as he tugged on his brother’s arm.
“But what about the stonework?” Justin argued as he followed them down the porch steps. “You’re just getting started.” He didn’t care about the renovations so much as showing Julio and Juan that they could be of genuine value in their new country.
“Sorry, amigo,” Julio called. “Someday I will try to finish it!” And then the two young men disappeared into the night.
CHAPTER FOUR
Tonight I figured out that when Justin’s brows draw together in that frowny way of his, it doesn’t mean he’s mad or anything. He’s just intense, sorta like his dad, only in a good way. I met the congressman finally. Yikes. He’s even bigger than he looks in his pictures, a bull of a man with a tiny little pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. I took a hard look at him. Then I took a look at Justin. Can they even be related? I wondered. Then I realized people could say the same thing about me and my mother. Nothing alike.
Anyway, I think that look just means Justin cares.
Actually, now that I think about it, it’s the look he gets right before he’s going to kiss me. His brows draw together that tiny bit, like he’s in pain or concentrating or something. His eyes squint up a bit, like he’s studying me real hard. Oh, I can’t describe it. All I know is, I love it when he looks at me that way.
Except tonight I think he was frowning because he really was kind of upset. We took a couple of horses for a moonlight ride out on his ranch, way out to the place where that big flat outcropping of limestone looks so pretty. Justin told me there are caves under there, which I kind of knew, but I’ve never actually been in them. He had a flashlight and was going to take me down into one, but right then we saw headlights and this big Cadillac came rolling up. It just drove right up on the limestone.
Justin stopped the horses back in the trees and said that was weird, for his father to be out here so late at night. And then we saw a shadow get out and carry something into the cave.
It was really kind of creepy.
Justin was in a hurry to split, so we turned the horses around and got out of there.
Later I told him about how my mom is weird like that, too, sometimes, and later he really opened up and told me all about his dad. We’re getting that close. When you love someone, you tell them everything, even about your crazy parents.
“ROBBIE AND THE BOYS WON’T be staying here,” Markie announced without preamble as she bounded down the last few steps of the stairway leading from the attic.
She marched through her mother’s gleaming green-and-white kitchen to the dinette table where her laptop and papers were spread out. The southwest sun was high in the sky now, creating a glaring backdrop at the bay window that cupped around the small table. How deceptively comfortable and serene her mother’s fastidious decorating made the spot feel. The room was already filling with the savory aroma of roasting meat.
Marynell turned from the sink with a half-peeled potato in one hand and a potato peeler in the other. “What fool nonsense are you talking now?” She turned back to the sink and resumed her task. “Of course they’re staying.” Her mouth was pinched tighter than the clasp of a change purse as she proceeded to whack at the potato.
“The boys and Robbie are ready to go home.” Markie proceeded to stack her papers. “I’ll be going out to the farm with them.”
Marynell’s jaw dropped, then she quickly snapped it shut again. “I have already put a roast in the Crock-Pot and peeled a dozen potatoes for the boys’ supper. They’ve been instructed to get off the bus down here at the road after school, just like always.”
“Just like always?” Markie frowned. “It’s only been a week since the funeral, mother. The boys only went back to school the day before yesterday. There is no like always in Robbie’s boys’ lives right now, nothing routine, unless it’s the Tellchick farm, their home. That’s where they belong. I’ll be going out there to stay and help Robbie.”
Marynell carefully placed the potato into a large pot at her elbow. She rinsed the slicer and propped the blade over the edge of the sink, just so. As she wiped her hands on a towel, she slowly crossed the room toward Markie. “You always do this,” she started in a low, threatening tone. “You can’t stand to be in this town two seconds without thinking you have to tear everything up. For once, Margaret, think of someone besides yourself. You can’t seriously be considering taking those children back out there to that place, not after…not after seeing their father killed that way.”
“Robbie has decided that’s what she wants.”
“Robbie decided? Robbie is not herself these days, and you know it.” Marynell grabbed Markie’s arm, gripping it somewhat viciously, but Markie was used to her mother acting this way. She stared, unblinking, while her mother demanded, “This is about that damned diary, isn’t it?”
“You had no right to take it, Mother.” Markie jerked her arm away. “And where the hell is my picture?”
“What picture? I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“When did you take it?” Markie persisted. “How? Back when you and Daddy were moving me the last time? From Dallas?”
Marynell wrung the dish towel for an instant before she folded her arms across her chest and steadied herself. “I simply didn’t want you to be reminded of that painful period of your life. I wanted you to have a fresh start in Austin.”
Her gut wrenched as Markie realized that of course her mother had read the entire diary, every last word of it, the parts written after Markie had left Five Points and gone to live with Frankie in Austin—the parts after she moved to the Edith Phillips Home.
Which meant Marynell knew about Brandon. Well, she didn’t know that was his name or where he lived or who his parents were. None of that was in the diary, thank goodness.