Molly's Garden. Roz Fox Denny
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next day.
One at a time the others filed in to be paid. The entire exercise took only fifteen minutes.
Leaning a shoulder against the wall, Adam asked, “Why do you pay people every day?”
“I don’t pay everyone. Only the pickers. The farm crew get checks each Friday because they make a set wage. As you will, too. I trust that works for you.”
“Sure. Whatever,” he said.
“Henry,” Molly called. “Could you put this away and lock the safe? We need to hit the road. I’ll post to the computer when we finish. Since you volunteered me to ride along with Adam, I’ll collect the market receipts and do the banking. It’s only a few blocks out of the way of our last stop.”
Henry bustled into the office. “I figured you’d show him the ropes. I’d do it, but when I finish here I’m needed in the east pasture—sorry, old habits die hard. I mean the east garden. Rick phoned. Someone stole our irrigation heads.”
Molly stopped short of the door.
“Good thing you bought extra when you upgraded the filtration system,” Henry added. “I’ll take him new ones and help install them. I think we need to get water on the onions.”
“Who on earth would steal irrigation heads?” she asked.
Henry shrugged as he stacked her paperwork back in the safe. “Dunno. Maybe migrants who think they’re worth selling for junk.”
“Are they copper?” Adam asked. He’d moved into the conversation and now stood directly behind Molly. “It’s been all over the news lately that thieves are stripping every possible shred of copper wire and fixtures. Apparently that’s a lucrative black market.”
“I think our fixtures are brass,” Molly said, her brow furrowed. “Do we even have a dozen new heads, Henry?”
“I checked. We have exactly twelve. I’ll pull the paperwork so you can reorder. With the weather turning warmer, you’ll lose crops aplenty without regular irrigation.”
Molly’s frown deepened. “Who would steal sprinkler heads?”
“You already asked that.” Adam shifted his gaze from Henry to her.
“Yes, and I may ask it again. Let’s go.” She whistled for Nitro and he bounded out of the shadowy barn.
Lengthening her stride, she reached the truck before Adam, and she had the passenger door open with the dog inside by the time she felt his big hands close around her waist. She jerked away in shock. “What are you doing?”
His expression turned puzzled. “Helping you into the cab.”
“I’m capable of climbing into a truck. Get in your own seat and start this beast.” She tried to prove her agility, but her right boot slipped off the high step. Had Adam not still been in a position to steady her, she probably would have fallen on her backside.
To the man’s credit, he didn’t say a word. He gave her a boost and put his sunglasses on as he rounded the white cab of the Ford F-650.
“Uh, thanks,” she muttered. “That’s what comes from being too cocky,” she added, nudging Nitro over so she had room to sit and buckle in. Still, she glanced at Adam out of the corner of her eye. He seemed fully engaged with starting the truck, shifting it into gear and driving toward the gate.
Point in his favor. No matter that she’d like to think, under similar circumstances, likely she would’ve rubbed it in. Or laughed at least.
He pulled out a cell phone, set it where he could see it on the dash, and tapped it a few times. “I took the liberty of loading the market addresses into my GPS.”
Downshifting, Adam passed through the gate and pulled onto the county road.
“Ramon always ground the gears. Have you driven commercial big rigs?”
Adam spared her a glance that fell away when Nitro flopped down and used his thigh as a head pillow.
“I’ll move him if he’s bothering you,” Molly said. “It’s really odd. We took classes so he’d be my guard dog. He growled at Henry for months. Yet you’re his instant buddy.”
“I haven’t got an explanation. I haven’t had a dog since I was a kid. But he doesn’t bother me. And to answer your previous question, I’ve driven more kinds of vehicles than I can name, including some with the steering wheel on the right.”
Molly studied him. “You didn’t give me any references from abroad. I assume the company you worked for was based in Dallas.”
“Yes.” Slowing, Adam swung onto the freeway on-ramp.
“According to Henry, your boss in Dallas was light on specifics. His guess was that you did government work.”
His eyes on the side-view mirror as he merged with traffic, Adam mumbled, “Some. Yeah.”
“Sounds like that job would be way more exciting than bartending in rural Texas. Why did you leave?”
Silence stretched between them for several seconds. Long enough for Molly to look directly at him and see his jaw tighten and throat muscles working. She thought he wasn’t going to answer.
“I left Dallas for personal reasons,” he said with a ragged edge to his voice. As if to put a defined period at that end of his statement, he stabbed a finger at his phone. “My GPS indicates I should exit at the next ramp. What’s the procedure at the first market?”
“Oh, uh...” Molly felt she’d crossed some line she hadn’t meant to. Quickly she gathered herself. “There’s a road of sorts that runs behind the stalls. Vendor vehicles enter at the north end. You can stop behind our booth. Pull up as close as possible to give other trucks room to pass. Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”
This time he didn’t remark but concentrated on driving, navigating the poorly marked streets that led to the outdoor market.
By then the sun had burned through the morning smog that hung over Laredo. Molly directed Adam down an alley and told him where to stop.
Her two helpers were already at the booth. “Eva, Inarosa, meet Adam, my new driver.”
He left off unhooking bungee cords and touched two fingers to his head by way of a greeting. The women knew Ramon had quit. Still, they gaped at him a moment, said, “¡Hola!” in unison and took the crates he handed down.
“Adam doesn’t speak much Spanish,” Molly told them. “Be patient. Look at it as a great chance to practice your English.” The pair nodded. Then, because people had begun to gather at the booth, they worked to unload, and Eva went to help customers.
Adam loaded the empty crates stacked at the back of the booth without being told. Inarosa handed Molly the bank bag. She exchanged it for an empty one and they were ready to head to the next market.
“That’s a well-oiled operation,” Adam said. “It puts me in mind of—” He broke off and checked his phone GPS. Clearing his throat, plainly he changed what he’d started to say. “I assumed everyone shopped in grocery stores like me.”
Molly wondered what he’d held back. He was obviously a man who kept his private life and thoughts close. She could respect that. Even as it made her more curious about his past. When someone claimed to have left a job and a city for personal reasons, it smacked of something like a bad romance. Or was that a woman thing? Maybe men weren’t so sentimental or vulnerable. Men were more likely to pack up and leave over a disagreement with a boss. Except Adam had given his old boss as a reference. And Henry had said the guy had given Adam a glowing one.
Deep in thought, she missed his next comment until he poked her arm. “I asked if my GPS is correct. Is our next stop Laredo?”
“Sorry. We’re going into the heart of the city. This market caters to foot