Whitewater (Rachel Hatch #6)(34)

"This is Letty," Hatch brought the girl under her arm. Letty nuzzled in closer, accepting Hatch's kindness. "But she may not be up for any hugs anytime soon. This tough girl has been through a rough time."

"Of course."

Josefina Cruz stepped into view. Her English was not as good as her husband's, but it was easy enough to understand and Hatch was grateful. "Don't just stand there all night. Get in here and get something in your bellies. You've got to be starving."

Ernesto led them inside to the quaint surroundings. The entire house itself couldn't have been bigger than six hundred square feet, and even that was generous. The living room, and what appeared to be what doubled as an office, connected to a kitchen with a card table. Four chairs matched the table in color and design. A fifth chair, a metal folding chair, like the ones from the front porch, was wedged in. The out-of-place chair had a blue porcelain plate in front of it, as did all the other chairs encircling the table.

The smell of cooking onions alongside chopped potatoes and ham greeted Hatch’s nostrils. Josefina went about cracking several eggs into the black cast iron skillet on the other burner. Hatch's stomach was having a conversation with Letty's. The incessant gurgling was starting to sound more like an argument.

"It sounds like we need to get somebody something to eat," Ernesto boomed.

"My friend, you didn't have to go through all this trouble. We're fine. I actually just gave Ms. Nighthawk some of my wife's bread," Ayala offered.

Ernesto cocked an eyebrow at Hatch and paired it with a quirky grin. "Did you try to get the recipe?" Without giving Hatch time to respond, he continued. "Nope? Even if you'd tried, he wouldn't tell. He never does. My wife's been asking for Rosa’s cornbread secret for years. I think we'll move on to the next life before he tells. And he never comes around enough for me to get my fill."

Ayala jogged back to his Nissan and returned a moment later holding a brown box stamped with a rose and the words Rosa's Café on top.

"I said I wanted the recipe."

"You said, you wanted the recipe because I never come around enough to keep up with demand. Consider this box the first of many personal deliveries. It has been too long." Ayala's chuckle was joined by Cruz and his booming laugh which shook the tin in the roof above.

Cruz opened the box and inhaled deeply. Hatch found herself leaning in for another sniff of the sweet cake bread. Letty just stared into the kitchen at the sizzling food on the stove top. "I'll take this as a temporary concession. And only under one condition." Ernesto said.

"And what's that?" Ayala asked.

"You stop chewing on the end of that cigar."

"Now why would I go and do something like that?" Hatch watched the men in their strange yet familiar banter.

"Because your lips are going to fall off with cancer. I've told you this a thousand times."

"You smoke."

"That's different."

"How so?"

Cruz pawed his chin. "Because it's in and out of my mouth. Doesn't just hang off my lip like a wet dog turd."

"Ernesto Cruz! A child is present," Josefina barked from the kitchen.

"I said turd. Not shit." Cruz winked at Letty. A weak but genuine smile broke the girl's placidity.

Cruz chuckled and offered his closing remarks. "But you breathe it into your lungs."

"True."

Hatch watched the stalemate unfold before her eyes in what proved to be one of the most bizarre debates she'd seen in a while. Each man kind-heartedly at odds with the other.

"It is good to have you in my home again friend. And Josefina and I are overjoyed at the company you've brought." Cruz walked the group further into his quaint home.

"Enough of your talking. Ernesto will have you standing there all day. Now, grab yourself a seat. The food will be ready shortly."

Hatch pulled out the folding chair and sat. Letty took up next to her, staying on her right and keeping herself close enough that the hairs of her arm tickled the scar tissue of Hatch's. The girl was latched to Hatch like a newborn puppy to its mother. The contact didn't last. As soon as huevos rancheros hit her plate, Hatch went to work devouring the meal. She finished her plate quickly and washed it down with freshly brewed coffee made by Josefina. The air still held the hint of the fresh grinds used to make it, although the scent of the recently cooked breakfast overwhelmed it.

With bellies full, the conversation shifted to Letty and her circumstances. Letty ate slowly and quietly. By the time Hatch finished her plate, Letty still had barely eaten four, maybe five bites. Whatever drug they'd been giving her had begun to wear off and she was starting to feel the effects of its withdrawal.

Ayala began, "Ernesto here kind of runs what you call an underground railroad of sorts. He, and many like him, have formed a pact, an alliance, to work together, to use their skills and the resources at their disposal, to help victims ravaged by the cartels.

“Young girls like Letty aren't the only ones forced into servitude. Older men and women are used as mules to bring drugs across the border, oftentimes inside their bodies, hoping that their age and infirmity cause inspectors and border agents to pass a blind eye over them. At least those agents who haven’t already been bought and paid for.