unbeknownst to him, he was about to stumble upon a scene straight out of an action movie.'
The setup piece played on the monitor, a rehash of the shooting with video of the ranch and the valley where he had shot the Mexicans, the dead bodies splayed on the ground, and the children looking filthy and pitiful in ragged clothes at the marijuana camp. The video lingered a long moment on Bode surrounded by the kids almost clinging to him, and then the screen switched to Bode surrounded by the kids in the living room of the Governor's Mansion.
'Now, live from Austin, Texas, we're joined by Governor Bode Bonner and the children he rescued. Welcome, Governor.'
Bode tousled the hair of the nearest boy-he thought that'd be nice touch on national TV-then smiled into the camera and said, 'Morning, George.'
'Governor, you look like you're having fun.'
'Oh, we've kind of adopted the kids here at the Mansion, fixing them pancakes in the kitchen this morning, playing out on the lawn… and, boy, they love cable TV. And donuts. Like Carlos here.'
He patted the boy's head again; the boy looked up and said, ' Soy Miguel.'
'Oh, Miguel. Sorry.' To the camera: 'Thirteen kids, I haven't gotten their names down yet.'
George laughed. 'You know, Governor, I knew very little about you before this weekend, and all I had seen of you was a tough-talking, tea-party Texan. But we're seeing a different side of you.'
'I'm the governor, George, but I'm also a father. I can only imagine how much these kids' folks back home are worrying about them. We're working fast to get them back to their mamas in Mexico.'
Bode's usual public voice was not twangy like a country singer or Deep South like the Mississippi governor, but just a soft drawl-of course, since Bush a Texas drawl had not proved popular anywhere but Texas.
The smallest boy turned to Bode and said, '?Mi madre? '
'Your mama's fine, Flaco.'
' Yo soy Ruben.'
'Governor, you're a staunch opponent of illegal immigration, yet you risked your life to save those Mexican children. Why?'
'Saving these kids wasn't about being a politician, George, it was about being a man. I wasn't about to let those cartel thugs kill little Josefina here.'
Now it was time for the big question of the morning.
'Governor, when you shot those men, how did you feel?'
'Pretty damn good. They were dead and she wasn't.'
Josefina turned her sweet face to him as if on cue and said, ' Es el hombre. '
'You're the man, Governor,' George said.
The scene was replayed on the other network morning shows. Little Josefina even repeated her ' el hombre ' line without prompting. On national TV. He needed to put her on the campaign payroll.
Two hundred thirty-five miles south, Jesse Rincon watched the governor's wife pack her black satchel with medicine and supplies and hard candy. He then looked back down at the Laredo newspaper spread across his desk. On the front page was a photo of the governor surrounded by the Mexican children he had rescued from the marijuana farm. Jesse read about the governor then again looked up at the governor's wife. Three days she had been in his life. To see her, to breathe her in, to begin and end each day with her-she had brought hope back to him. Hope for love in his life. But she was married to the governor of Texas.
'El Diablo, he will not be happy with your husband.'
'Now he knows how I feel.'
They kept their voices low so Inez at her desk could not hear them.
'You do not understand. He will seek venganza. Revenge.'
'Against the governor of Texas?'
'They kill governors in Mexico every day.'
'But this is America.'
'Mexico or America, it is just a little river cutting through the land. El Diablo will not be deterred by such formalities.'
'But that probably wasn't the same boy.'
'No. That probably was not his son. But that was his marijuana.'
Lindsay Bonner finished packing her satchel for her morning rounds. The residents did not want to bother the doctor with minor injuries and illnesses, so the Anglo nurse would now make house calls in Colonia Angeles.
It was her third day on the job.
They had worked over the weekend. They had eaten out Saturday evening and in Sunday evening. They had sat on the back porch overlooking the river both nights, and Jesse had told her stories of the borderlands. They had watched the news reports about the governor of Texas killing the three Mexican men in West Texas. No mention was made that one of the men might have been the son of El Diablo, the most notorious drug lord in Nuevo Laredo. The man had a Los Muertos tattoo on his left arm, just as El Diablo's son had; but so did the other two dead men, and so did thousands of other young men in Nuevo Laredo. The man's face had bloated after lying dead for hours in the hot sun, so she and Jesse hadn't been able to make a positive identification from the image they had seen on television or in the paper. But she had called Bode and warned him just the same; he was unfaithful, he was ambitious, he was a politician, but he was still her husband.
He had laughed it off.
She had put it out of her mind. What were the odds that the boy they had saved was the same man Bode had killed? What would El Diablo's son-the son of a billionaire drug lord in Nuevo Laredo-be doing at a marijuana farm on a remote ranch in West Texas? And even if he were the son of El Diablo, what could his father do? Bode Bonner was the governor of Texas, not a local politician in a small Mexican village. He lived in the Governor's Mansion in Austin behind a tall fence. He had a 24/7 security detail of Texas Rangers. He was safe.
But still…
The clinic door opened, and a pretty young woman and a burly man holding a video camera on his shoulder entered. Lindsay turned her back to them and pushed the wide-brimmed hat down on her head. Inez greeted the guests. She had dressed in her best clothes and done her hair and overdone her make-up. She hoped to be discovered and taken beyond the wall, like Cinderella of the colonias. She was a pretty girl, but not that pretty. She came over to Lindsay and Jesse.
'Doctor, she is Gaby Gomez, with the San Antonio TV station. They are here to tape your interview.'
A Houston newspaper had run a story about Colonia Angeles that past Sunday, which had caught the attention of the San Antonio station. They had called Jesse at home and requested an interview, a human interest story for their morning show the following Sunday. Jesse agreed only because it would bring checks for the colonias.
'It is so exciting,' Inez said. 'The doctor, he is famous.'
'Perhaps in a few poor counties along the border, Inez.'
'I hope to be famous one day.'
The poor thing.
'They said it is a 'day in the life of' profile,' Inez said. 'They will follow you around all day.'
'Guess I'll be gone all day,' Lindsay said.
She put two bottled waters and two granola bars in her satchel.
'Can I go with you?' Inez said.
'You want to come with me on my rounds?'
'Not with you, Senora. With the doctor and the cameras.'
'Pancho!' Jesse said.
The dog rose from his position by the front door and trotted over.
'He will go with you.'
Lindsay patted the dog's head and said, 'You want to go on rounds with me?'
Inez watched as the nurse threw the black satchel over her shoulder and slipped out the back door followed by Pancho. She turned back to the doctor.
'The senora, she is shy with the cameras.'
'Bode, you need a wife to win the White House.'
