The Doctor And The Ranch Hand

 

A Bit of Overlap From Yesterday

            As I leaned there, in relative darkness, I began to hear slow hoofbeats. I waited, watching. I saw a man on horseback riding down Minor Ave, toward the upper end of town. He looked, in the dark, much like Flores from Lorenzo’s café.
            I wondered why he was riding here after dark. It seemed odd, out of place. But I had to admit that really I had no idea.  Maybe it wasn’t odd at all. Maybe cowboys rode home down Minor Ave. after dark all the time.
            I went indoors, locked the door, and got into bed. It sounds like nothing. But it was a monumental disruption. I must admit that I wept.

🤍

 
            When Jenae’s tears dried, and she slept, the night went on without her. The sky turned in its apparently slow way. She tossed in her sleep, first on one side, then the other. The cheap wall clock ticked. The AC breathed.
            Outside, in the very early hours, an impossibility entered the grounds of the Desert Rest motel. It was nearly black in color, about the size of an RV, but flattened and rounded. It levitated a few feet off of the ground. Dull light showed in a few openings. It hesitated for a few seconds before the door of No. 7.
            Then obscurely, secretly, silently, it ghosted to the highway, passing out of town.

    A pair of coyotes standing on the highway in town watched it go.

    

Maybe a little like this one.

    
 
 
 
            It was a ranch house like thousands of others. Low, built for shade, with a large covered porch wrapped around the outside. It sat alone surrounded by many acres of rough pasturage. A few cattle ranged sleepily in the distance. The house lay dreaming in the brilliant light from the nearest star.
            A rider approached on a spotted mare. He wouldn’t have stood out in any way around Luminous. He was dark, dressed in work clothing. His long dark hair was pulled back in one of those ponytails that men do with their hair. His hat was black. He looked to be a ranch hand. When he reached the porch, he dismounted and tied the horse to the railing there, loosely. She wasn’t the type to wander off. She stood patiently beside the cacti. Sweet Lily.
            A closer look would have revealed the rider to be Mike Flores. Half Anglo, half Mexican, though the Anglo half didn’t show.
            Mike walked up the two steps to the shady porch, knocked once, and walked into the house. The large wood paneled living room was dim, cool, and empty. He kept walking toward a hall at the back of the room. At the end of the hall, right side, there was a closed door. He opened it and descended a staircase, which opened into a room that was completely out of character with the house and everything around it. No timbers, no rugs, no Indian artwork, all business.
            The doctor sat at a large desk staring at an oversized monitor screen. He looked up for a moment, and said, “Hi Mike, have a seat.”
            Mike dragged a chair to the area in front of the desk, sat, and put his black hat on the floor at his right side. He waited quietly.
            At last the doctor focused on Mike. “Have you seen anyone in town who looked like the woman we’re waiting for?”
            “Maybe. I saw some fortyish out of town mamacita type in Lorenzo’s chatting up Lucy Phillips. Lucy didn’t see me. I waited until she and that kid she always drags around got into their pickup and took off. Could be her. She sure didn’t fit in around here,” said Mike.
            “Someone is staying at the Desert Rose, someone without a car. Pretty sure it’s her. She was sky gazing out the door of No. 7 last night. She bugged me. She looked at me like I was a museum exhibit, and not a very good one,” he added.
            “City people look hard, Mike, I don’t think it means much,” said the doctor. “Eyes down is a country thing. Or an indigenous thing maybe.”
            “If you say so, Doc,” Mike nodded. “But, yeah, she really stuck out in Lorenzo’s.”
            “We have another situation, unfortunately. Roberts is dead. He messed up somehow. The penny ante coroner out there said it was suicide,” the doctor said dryly.
            “Ellis?”
            “Yeah, Ellis. He got out one message about our girl with the photos. Then nada. No more,” said the doctor. “He was shown the security footage.”
            “Damn it Doc, they don’t mess around do they?” whispered Mike.
            “No. They don’t. I want those photos, Mike. The whole world needs those photos!”
            “Hm. I made a face at her in the café, Doc. But I can try to make nice. Most ladies like me if I act house broken.” Mike grinned, a bit wickedly.
            “All business, Mike. See if you can make peace. That lady has witnessed things that even I haven’t seen!” said the doctor urgently.
            “There’s only one place to eat around here, Doc. I’ll haunt Lorenzo’s until I catch up with her. First thing on my agenda. Then I will shelter her like a lamb.  I bet she is totally freaked out,” said Mike.
            “Try to stay out of Lucy Phillip’s way,” said the doctor. “I’m not sure of her intentions, but she is bloody snoopy! It was probably the other way around; she was probably chatting up our lady in the café!”
            Mike picked up his hat and stuck it back on his head.
            “You got it, Doc!” said Mike, and he walked back up the stairs and out into the light.
            Before riding back into town, he got Lily a bucket of water.