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Excerpt
Magnificent Man
Randall Lang
...The heat of the asphalt road warmed her as the sun moved lower in
the western sky. The elongating shadows started a chill that
signaled the approach of the cold desert night. The suitcase felt
increasingly heavy with each step, and the road appeared endless.
She had no idea how far she had walked or how far it was back to a
town.
I can’t stop! I can’t quit! If I have to walk all night, I must
get back to a town. Jake was right. I might not survive trying to
bed down here in the desert. Daddy taught me a lot, but he didn’t
prepare me for this. On damn, when will I get a break?
She couldn’t tell if the sound she heard was out in the desert or
nearby. She looked back to see a car coming toward her.
Oh Jesus, a car. I hope they’ll give me a ride to town. I need to
get to town before nightfall. She stopped and stood on the side
of the road as the car approached. As it got closer, she could see
it was an old van. She raised her arm to flag them down. As they
pulled up alongside, her heart began to sink anew.
“Hey, bonita, jou need a leeft?” The heavy Mexican accent belonged
to the face of a dark skinned, longhaired, unshaven man. The side
door of the van slid open to reveal two more grinning young men.
“Si Mamacita! Jou come with us, and we have a good time.” One of the
men jumped out and took her arm. Then a second man in dirty clothes
got out and took her other arm. “We gonna’ give you a ride, señora.
We gonna’ give you a sweet ride!”
“NO! Leave me alone!” She screamed and kicked as they dragged her
toward the van. One of them snatched the suitcase from her and threw
it onto the road. She kicked at them and struggled as they pulled
her into the open door. Her screams went unheard by anyone except
the thugs. They pushed her to the floor and held her down while the
door closed behind her, and the van sped away. Suddenly they made a
hard turn onto a rough road. Each bump was painful under the weight
of her captors. The floor was dirty and smelled of dust, cigarettes
and vomit. The chatter in Spanish was interrupted only when they hit
a bump, and the van bounced into the air and slammed back down
again. The pain-filled minutes dragged on for what seemed an
interminable time before the vehicle finally skidded to a halt. The
side door opened again, and the driver and passenger climbed out and
walked around. There were four of them all together, staring at her
like predators at a prey. While two of them held her, the largest
approached her, stood at the door and lit a cigarette.
“Eh chica, jou want a cigarette?” His evil smile revealed dirty and
broken teeth.
“NO, let me go, you bastards!” She screamed.
“Muy enérgico esa, eh?” He laughed and looked around at the others
who also laughed.
“Mi chiquita, don’t be like that. We just want to party with jou.
How ‘bout a drink? Jou want a drink? We got some nice tequila. Make
you feel real good.”
“NO! Let me go, you sons of bitches!”
“Chica, chica, chica! Is dis how jou talk to jour new amigos?” One
of the others handed him a bottle. He took a drink and made a
wincing face. “Jou gonna’ have fun with us.” He looked at the men
who held her, “Si hombres?” A cheer came from the others. He handed
the bottle to a grinning man beside him and reached for her. “Now,
peceña, it’s time for the fun to start.”
No matter how much she kicked and thrashed, they held her securely.
She screamed for help but knew it was useless. There was no one else
for miles around. The man climbed into the van and knelt over her,
pulling her tee shirt out of her shorts and working it up her body.
The others cheered and jabbered in Spanish.
“Mira aqui hombres!”
He pulled her tee shirt above her brassiere.
“Que lindas!” he exclaimed as he roughly squeezed her breasts. She
began to cry and begged him to stop.
He slid his hand under the front of her bra and grasped it. Before
he could rip it, off there was a loud noise. A thunderous engine
revving, just behind the van, and a bright light shining through the
back window.
“Paco! Una motocicleta!”
He cursed and withdrew his hand. “Jou wait quietly, chiquita, or mi
hombre Juan there will cut up jou pretty face, entiendes?” She could
hear a knife click open and saw the glint of metal at the corner of
her eye. As Paco stood up, he pulled a handgun from the back of his
pants.
She heard a new voice. “Are you having trouble here?” The hold on
her arms and legs loosened slightly. This is my chance.
“Help me!” she screamed as loudly as she could. She kicked at the
head of one captor and pulled her arms loose from the other. Her
foot met the face of one man, knocking him backward. She lunged from
the van, landing on top of the man she had kicked. Grabbing a
handful of sand from the ground, she flung it into his eyes. The man
screamed and cursed as he rolled one way while she rolled the other.
For the first time, she saw the face of the new voice. In the fading
light, she saw a large man with shoulder-length hair standing at the
back corner of the van. His heavily muscled arms extended from the
leather vest that hung open across his bulging chest. Several
colorful Indian necklaces hung from his neck.
Suddenly Paco grabbed her hair and pulled her tightly against his
leg. The pain left her immobilized as he cruelly shook her head.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the gun in his hand pointed at
the rider.
“Gringo! Jou best get back on that bike and get the fuck outta’ here
if jou know what’s good for jou. I can shoot jou right here and
leave jou for the buzzards.”
“Let me take the woman, and I’ll leave.”
“Chinga te’ Gringo! The woman is ours. Maybe I shoot you and keep
your shiny motocicleta.”
She turned her body slightly to lessen the pull on her hair. It’s
now or never! She closed her hand into a fist and swung as hard
as she could, landing her hand solidly between Paco’s legs. He
screamed and doubled over as she fell off his lap and rolled away.
She saw a blur as the rider swung something and knocked the gun from
Paco’s hand. Paco screamed in pain and fell to the ground as the two
other men burst from the van. The blade of the knife glinted in the
remaining sunshine as the man holding it lunged at the rider. Again
the blur crashed down into the attacker’s arm with a sickening
crack. The man screamed and crumpled to the ground, writhing and
crying out in Spanish. From the ground, she could see the weapon was
a baseball bat that again came up, catching the third man under the
chin. With a dull thud, he fell to the ground with blood and bits of
teeth spreading out in the sand.
The rider stepped forward and kicked the gun away from Paco then
pressed the last man against the side of the van with the end of the
bat. He quickly threw up his hands and begged, “Por favor señor! No
mas! No mas!”
Cassie jumped up and ran to the rider, pausing only to pick up the
gun. It felt strange in her hand, but her finger found the trigger,
and she waved the gun at the four. She moved behind the rider.
“Go get on the bike,” he ordered, his voice stern and definite. She
moved to the bike and was surprised to see her suitcase lashed to
the high bar at the back of the rear seat. The rider slowly backed
away, holding the bat in a threatening position. “Take your friends
to the hospital, entiendes. Os’pital! And don’t follow us,
entiendes?”
“Si! Si señor! No follow…o’spital!” The man stood shaking in fear at
what he had just seen.
Cassie tucked the gun into her waistband and climbed onto the cycle.
The rider pushed the bat into a saddlebag and kicked his large leg
over the bike. The bike straightened and roared to life an instant
before the big man kicked it into gear and pulled away, leaving a
cloud of dust behind. Cassie threw her arms around him and hung on
tightly as they bounced down the rugged dirt trail. The asphalt road
looked like the road to heaven as the rider leaned and entered the
smooth road. In seconds, they were speeding away from danger.
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” She repeated into the rider’s
ear, her body still shaking after the terror she had experienced. He
made no reply. It was nearly five miles before he pulled off at a
wide spot in the road. He shut off the bike and stood, holding the
bike up.
“My lady, would you please dismount?”
My lady? What the hell is this? She followed his orders and
climbed off the motorcycle. His heavy boot brought down the
kickstand, and the other leg swung over the bike. He stood before
her, and for the first time she clearly saw his face. She found him
strikingly handsome, with deep brown eyes and shoulder-length
hair that fell over his leather vest. When he took a step toward
her, fear shot through her. Her hand rested on the handle of the gun
before a glance into his eyes assured her that he meant no harm.
He stood for a moment facing her before taking her hand and dropping
to one knee. “My lady, I am Coyote, and I am at your service.”
She was startled. What the hell? “Coyote? Please, what is
your real name?”
“I am called Coyote, my lady. That is how people address me.”
She was uncertain how to respond. “I am…Cassandra Taylor…and that is
how people address me.”
“I am honored to meet you, my lady.”
“Please stand up. Thank you for saving me from those animals. They
might have killed me if you hadn’t come along. And why did you come
along? Why were you on that back road in the desert?”
He rose to his feet, towering over her. “I found your suitcase in
the road and saw the dust cloud. I thought perhaps you had lost it,
and I wanted to return it so I followed the dust.”
“You just wanted to return my suitcase? Most people would have
ignored it or stole what they wanted and thrown the rest away.”
“But, my lady, that would be wrong. You may have needed your
things.”
She was surprised at his innocence. He was a grown man yet he had
such a childlike virtue about him. What kind of a man is this?
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