Chapter 23

Once we were home and the cars and their larger possessions were enroute to New Mexico, I think Courtney was feeling a little better about her future. Not that it looked that bleak being around us, but admittedly, she was still afraid of just how far the influence of Manuel Dongas could reach. We all might have been, but we tried to take precautions.

The detective had reached out to Lori with news about the case. A grand jury brought charges against the kingpin, but after just a few weeks, news of a technicality that caused all of those charges to be dropped started to circulate. Yes, someone had mishandled the evidence, and yes, there was a problem. Scuttlebutt around the police and district attorney’s office showed that the culprit, the guy that mishandled the evidence, was driving a new car a week after the news broke. It would take another several months for the entire thing to unravel, but since Dongas was probably out a lot of money for payoffs, he most certainly wasn’t going to just let the past go very easily. People like him run on a different set of moral codes than the rest of us.

Flying lessons were going famously, and since she wasn’t involved, Courtney was the self-appointed official lunch maker on flight school days. That meant when the ladies were in Santa Fe at the school, she took them out to eat, and when they brought the instructor, Miss Williams, to the lodge, she made sandwiches and soup, or burgers, or some other tasty endeavor. It was never simple fare, and always good enough to get comments from our guest on how enjoyable it was to be teaching away from the office.

Things around the house were getting more and more fun, and more and more interesting. We found we needed a little tractor to move things around and then getting a tiller for the back of it would help with the preseason and post season soil conditioning for the garden. It also made the thought of having a nice, flat, big grassy yard outside the front door an easy and timely project. The things you can do with a tractor are endless, so the next thing Sylvia thought of was a front mounted eighty-six-inch rotary broom we could use to clean the runway off after a storm or some such. It came in handy, that’s for sure. Since it came with a backhoe already installed, yet removable, we were able to dig several trenches for drainage and sprinkler systems. The rear blades, both straight and boxed, helped keep the roadways smooth in the summer and cleared of the snow in the winter. We even picked up a three-point hitch mounted wood splitter. Much easier than swinging an axe, let me tell you. It was fun to drive, too, so there was no shortage of volunteers to keep our tractor chores completed.

It gets hot in New Mexico, even in the high desert, where we were situated. Being in the valley, with water running through the place helped, but it was still warm on clear and calm summer days. One particularly hot day brought four riders down the hill from the reservation. We weren’t particularly picky about who approached from that side, since Willie told us they’d be watching.

The closer they got, the more I knew we had a problem, though. The front two riders were wearing badges and carrying guns. Long guns in the form of lever action rifles, and pistols in the form of Beretta service pistols. Jicarilla Apache Reservation Police. Behind them were two men who looked like they’d had better days, both wearing gorgeous, nickel-plated bracelets and holding on to their saddle horns for dear life.

Interestingly, the two men were wearing empty military issue style tactical holsters and were dressed similarly, in tactical clothing and gear. They probably found out they weren’t welcome, and that carrying weapons openly in the Apache Nation is pretty much reserved for the Apache people and those with permission from those same Apache people.

“Greetings, Mr. Compton. Chief Longbow sends his regards. It is my duty, as shift supervisor, on this fine day, to ask if you know either of these gentlemen. They have informed us that they were guests of yours and were somehow able to become lost while enjoying equestrian activities around your property. They told us they have your permission to be armed while out on their country stroll and wanted to be released so that they could find their own way back. Actually, I just want you to tell me that they are, in fact, your buddies, sir.”