Drug Lord's Gifts

She nodded.

"And you noticed he's always nice to his horse, pats him and rubs him while he's putting the saddle on or taking it off?"

She nodded again.

"I'll bet that horse even whinnies to him when he first arrives, just to tell Mr. Mason he's glad he came to see him that night. Being a horse must be kind of boring, I think. Wouldn't you be glad to see your owner if you stayed penned up in a small pasture all day with only other horses to talk to? And earning an apple each evening? Wouldn't you like that better than just hay?"

A light went on in her expression.

"Anna? Why you think I come home to you and Maria every night?"

"You tired of work? Or you want to fuck?"

"Yes, I am and I do. But there are lots of other places I could go rather than home and you."

"You like us?"

"Bingo!" I said, pointing at her. "The girl understands. I like you both, and I hope you both like me. I hope us liking each other keeps us happy for the rest of our lives. Simple.

"Now ... liking a horse is way different than liking a woman like either of you, yes. But deep down, lots is the same, too, just like you liking me is much the same as me liking that dog I had when I was a kid."

"You miss him, don't you?"

"Yeah, like missing either of you. He was a good dog, but you're better all around."

"We not go away. We like home with you. We stay always, and do what you like."

God, I hoped so!

"So, Mr. Mason's horse likes him because he gets happiness from him, and Mr. Mason likes his horse because he get happiness in return. Sort of like you and Maria and me. We like each other both ways, back and forth."

Understanding shown in Anna's eyes; similar shown in Maria's

"So," Anna said. "I gotta love our man Matt, and this horse, too."

"That's the idea.."

"Anna buy apples, yes?"

I nodded. She had the idea.

***

After supper that night, I cornered Mr. Mason and asked if there was any chance he'd let my girls get acquainted with his horse and maybe ride him. That's akin to asking a grandmother about her grand kids.

He had something already planned but the following evening was a definite go. We met him there in front of the museum barn's huge man door.

Now, I've never been much of a horseman, so I learned plenty from Mr. Mason's beginner's training of Anna and Maria. I knew you always mounted from the left side and only laid the reins against the animal's neck to turn him, not pull the reins like you do those when steering a draft horse. But I needed help when it came to saddling and bridling.

He put neither girl on the horse right off that first evening, only helped them brush the horse, then lead it around the corral and get used to being near an animal that big. Once Mr. Mason had to leave, they'd seen him saddle and unsaddle the horse, both brushed a lot of that fearsome animal, led him several laps of the corral, and to top it off, cut up an apple each and felt the animal's soft lips pick the fruit sections from their hands.

"Oooh!" Anna exclaimed as Brownie nuzzled her forgotten hand, trying to find more apple. She pulled her hand back in near panic.

"Either he likes you, or he likes more apples!"

"He know Anna scared."

Maria came to her rescue with a section of her second apple held to the horse in her open hand. Brownie knew a good thing when he saw it, and with his tactile lips picked it up.

"Oooh!" Maria said, but held her ground in spite of the new sensation. The horse downed that in a moment, before turning to search for the apple's remainder that had to be in her other hand.

"You got a friend, there, Maria," Mr. Mason said, "just as long as you have more apples."

We all got a kick out of that.

"Well, Anna?" Maria said. "Your turn."

I took the half apple Anna still held, cut it again, and handed half back to her. She looked into my eyes. I'd have done anything to make her next move easier for her, but she looked down, then up again and held her hand out to the horse. Right on cue, Brownie emptied her hand without scaring her. When he'd downed that tidbit, he rubbed his nose gently against her hand.

"Here," I said. "Give him this last part."

Anna's confidence held up well to this last. We both held our open palms toward the horse signaling treat time was over.

***

The following evening Mr. Mason saddled Brownie for us, but then had to leave for some sort of meeting. That left me to continue my girls' cowgirl training; he said he'd come back later, put everything away, and feed Brownie, but I'd seen where he kept the bridle, saddle, and brushes, so I felt qualified to contribute that effort. By the time I got the horse brushed down, Anna and Maria had pitched in.

But before that, the girls had accustomed themselves to leading the horse around the corral, Maria had consented to ride while I led, which quickly evolved to Anna riding while I led, both girls riding while I led, and after that with one of them riding while the other led.

"Well," Maria said when this had run it's course. "Don't you know how to ride, Mattie?"

Yes, I did—a little—but it had been years, and not much even then. She handed me the reins and stepped back. I tossed the RH rein over the horse's neck, found the other, the stirrup and the horn, and none too certainly, launched myself into the saddle. Even I'd have admitted lack of expertise, but I made it.

But the look on my ladies' faces was that of hero worship. If only they knew!

I eased the horse several times around the corral, then eased him into a trot. Yeah, what little I knew returned, including my lack of getting that posting motion right, the one that experienced riders use so the horse's trot doesn't pound their backside.

But, enough of that. I stopped in front of the girls and slid off. No flashy dismount for me today!

"Okay. Who's going to ride with me?"

Both women stepped back.

"Maria? You've done this before. You in front and me behind. How about it?"

She didn't exactly step forward with eagerness.

I stepped over to her, bent and whispered in her ear, "I'll fuck you extra good tonight if you do."

She pulled away from me, toward Anna.

"What he say?"

"He fuck me extra good tonight if I ride with him."

"Not fair! Tonight my turn first!" Anna said.

"Then get over there and get up in that saddle with me."

"But I too scared."

"Anna, you beautiful hunk of womanhood, you already rode this horse with Maria leading him. Now you're going to do the same with me behind you guiding the horse and holding you safe."

"Oh."

"So?"

"I do? And you fuck me extra good tonight, too?"

"Extra good every night, right?"

With that she threw her arms around me and nearly strangled me with a kiss. I'd better make this good!

By the time Mr. Mason returned, both Anna and Maria had ridden double with me, and we'd accomplished more than a walk. You know, both those women let it be known they liked guiding the horse while I guided their frontal endowments.

What we needed now was a second horse so we could take a short ride outside the corral. Brownie's owner had a solution to that: Two more horses, the mare and a second gelding stabled at the other end of the barn.

***

Of course a real man lives up to his promises, no?

As we returned to Mrs. Jenson's that night, the ladies remaining in the lobby all needed reports on our third evening spent with Mr. Mason's horse. Several were ranch-raised, so coaching my girls came naturally, as did fashion tips on how to look even better on a horse than afoot.

And I suspect more than one had, in her younger days, enjoyed having her beau guide her while she steered the horse accordingly.

That first evening riding a horse quickly changed to include progress toward the big reception coming two weekends from then. Us men, as usual, quickly became superfluous; but Anna and Maria held up the male end for my family very well. The rest of the men, all but one being older than me, shuttled us all into the front room away from the chatter about everything having to do with getting married, the reception, and all the rest. I'll bet there was considerable discussion about the wedding night, too. I just hoped Anna and Maria didn't let on just how much they already knew and how much the three of us had done together during my nearly two years living with them.

Several evenings later before Mr. Mason entrusted his horse to us for the evening, he brought out a saddle, the like of which I'd never seen before. As Anna and Maria readied Brownie for a ride, he took me to one side where they couldn't see or hear and said, "I always wondered about saddles like this. I think they use them for jumping, but an old guy like me raised around cattle as a kid, wonders how you ever get any work done without a horn and swell."

I sure couldn't shed any light on that.

"This came to me from my family's estate, but I never used it. Want to try it out on Jamison's horse tonight? I'll help you get it saddled if you do. Maybe after you and your ladies try it out, you can explain it to me." The tone of his tone of voice made me wonder, "Mr. Mason! What are you thinking?" But, he'd been a young man once. Perhaps he only wanted something to refresh his memory? Or encourage his fantasies.

Chapter 5

The Immigration bureaucracy caught up with us much quicker than I expected. Good thing I had our ducks pretty well lined up before our trip to southern Montana. The paperwork that arrived by registered mail was typical of the US Federal Government: You have 15 days to prove you haven't violated a single word of the 33 billion plus words in the Federal Register (as of 2017, probably far more by now) or we haul you away in chains and throw you in jail for the rest of your life.

I'd already discussed Anna and Maria's situation with my Mustang car-club, attorney friend Jason, so I knew what I was taking on—and yes, even though I'd gotten a cut per hour rate from him, he told me I still should expect a $7500 hole in my wallet for getting green cards for both girls .

And that didn't include the possibility the INS might look at me as a criminal in this matter, and haul me to jail for assisting illegal aliens to stay in the USA.

For documentation, we had:

Six copies of the of the Golden Times-Sentinel showing our marriage announcement,

Numerous pictures of my wife at our wedding reception at the boarding house,

Numerous pictures of both of us at our wedding reception at Mrs. Jenson's

Numerous photos of Anna with veil and me saying I Do at the park and museum, with Maria looking on as if she wished more than anything in the world to be saying so also,

5 weeks of receipts covering our stay at Mrs. Jension's boarding house, (To substantiate our claim to be residents),

A list of 31 places in and around Golden Canyon where I'd submitted my resume',

Several copies of the newspaper article about Senior Espino's death,

Documentation from St. George's Catholic School showing Anna and Maria as volunteer 'student coaches,'

A letter of appreciation from the St. John's Catholic School for Anna and Maria's help at the school,

Photographs showing Anna and Maria clowning around as they crossed the Montana and Idaho borders (to head off questions of the Mann Act applying to me),

Five weeks of receipts for purchases made in the Golden Canyon area during our stay, which included jeans, work shirts, boots, and that sort of thing,

A written history of Anna and Maria's stay in the US, their kidnaping when underage, etc. as well as could be remembered by two scared little girls of the age they were then,

And of course we certified-mailed copies of all this to the INS, attempting to demonstrate our position.

As Jason and I anticipated, INS tried to say Anna and I weren't really married, and therefore Anna had no priority over the 2 Million other Mexicans trying to get USA green cards, and was a prostitute and all other sorts of nasty criminality to boot which showed up as a whole list of black marks against her. If they made that stick, that put Maria on the same shaky ground. In spite of Montana Law, we weren't married, and we weren't residents of Montana because I had no job in the state, and the fact we had moved back to my old home when I couldn't find work in Golden Canyon, only proved our lack of residency.

Along with this documentation, Jason sent them a registered letter telling them simply they had it all wrong and to let us know when to meet them in court. If his request that court be held in Golden Canyon for convenience of our witnesses held sway, then this should be interesting, considering the only judge in Golden Canyon was a cousin to one of the Boarding house tenants with whom we'd lived for five, full weeks. The woman most responsible for our marriage reception had been that District Court's stenographer.

The INS balked about the court venue, as you'd expect. No bureaucrat wants to be stuck long in a town of population 623 like Golden Canyon, Montana, particularly over the question of two harmless Mexican girls who looked to have better than a fifty-fifty chance of winning their case, even in a San Francisco court. Jason made certain our assigned judge got a full set of our documentation, so actual court time took less than an hour.

The INS representative handling the case must have never handled anything similar before. She seemed to know nothing that wasn't written in a notebook she referred to for every answer.

One by one the judge questioned and demolished the INS' positions. Jason, I, and my girls only sat there and added clarifications when asked.

At the end of the hour, the judge summed it up for the record:

Any prostitution committed by these girls was against their will and most of which had occurred before they became of age.

The girls had adequately demonstrated their intent to become productive citizens, shown by their gratis work at St. John's School and attested to by the school's administration. Same for St George's School.

Anna and I were legally married, according to Montana State Common Law. The judge directed the State of Montana Departmentof Records to issue a valid marriage license for us, complete with a Certificate of Marriage.

The INS was therefore instructed to issue green cards to both Anna (Sanches) Worden and Maria Sanches post haste', and to provide whatever assistance INS required to produce documentation, identification and Social Security Numbers for them.

The state border photographs along with the girls' obviously enthusiastic testimony demonstrated to the court that no Mann Act violations had occurred, so I was off that hook.

That I, through my relationship with the two of them, demonstrated very well my willingness to sponsor both women until they worked their way to citizenship.

And finally, that any of our 'living together' details the INS tried to say was cause for their rejection on morals grounds was less than as commonly practiced by half the population, and so should not be held against them—ever.

That inexperienced INS representative obviously knew she'd been sacrificed as dog-meat by someone in her home office who knew the situation: ie, with a just judge, there was no winning that case for the INS. I wondered if she might quit the job after she gave the whole case an honest evaluation and realized the bottom line.

As we walked from the courtroom, it happened we met at the door.

"They gave you a tough one, " I said. "When the law allows no leeway to do what's right, and you get a judge determined to do the right thing, you're sunk. Don't take it too hard."

"I'm ...," she started to say, and then stopped, looked down, turned and smiled up at me. "You're right," she said. "I'm glad I didn't win."

"But you did, in a way. You saw justice done."

For that she only shook her head gently. "I could see it in your wife's eyes ... and your sister-in-law's. I wish I'd married a man like you."

"Maybe you will."

"Not many around."

"I think for you there is at least one. Somewhere."

"I'll keep looking. Thanks for the vote of confidence."

So, early the following day we moved out from Mrs. Jenson's Hotel and Boarding house again. I think half the residents were there for the goodbye and good luck wishing ceremony at the front door.

When we'd all waved our last goodbye as I herded the van out of sight, I looked over at my wife and my sister-in-law. Both had tears in their eyes. I, being a guy, was too dumb to understand. No tears in my eyes, I'll tell you. For me it was the happiest day of my young life.

"What's the matter?" I said, blundering into unknown territory.

Neither woman answered, but neither looked away, either. I set the van's cruise control the highest the law allowed and headed full speed for the best future any guy could imagine.

***

A phone call tracked me down at work, a year or so later, one I had no inkling I would ever receive. It took me a moment to connect the name who announced his presence from the other end.

"Matthew Worden?"

"Yes?"

"This is Father O'Reilly. We met when you were looking for a teacher's-aid situation for your ladies?"

Boy, now there was a voice from the past! Two years ago?

"How are you sir? This is a surprise!" Suddenly I was worried something had gone wrong at one of the schools, something neither Anna nor Maria had mentioned, nor even hinted.

"Fine. And you and your ladies?"

"Well, Anna and I are now married, so that's good. And both are well on their way, studying toward their citizenship."

"So I hear. Yes, that is good. And far as I know, the schools are still quite pleased with their help."

With that, my stock of conversation ran out, so I shut up for a moment. But the priest had more on his mind.

"Yes, Matthew, The schools are quite pleased. How about you? Are the girls maturing as you hoped?"

"Yes. I would say so."

"Good. So, could you come by St. Michael's here on your way home, one of these evenings?"

"Sure. Tonight?"

"That works good for me. What time?"

"Five thirty?

"Good. Come in the main entrance, there on Eucalyptus Street? I'll be right inside figuring out how to rearrange our choir loft for the Thanksgiving Concert."

"Fine. See you, sir." Now, what the hell could this be about?

Right on time—it doesn't pay to keep a man with an inside track to heaven waiting—I grasped the wrought iron door latch, took a deep breath, and pulled the heavy, right hand door open. It creaked ominously, dragging on the left door as it moved toward open.

"Ah, Mister Worden. Right on time. Must have not gotten delayed by our little street improvement project three blocks south."

"Nope. Came the other way."

"Good. Hope I haven't put you out. I may have you running up a blind alley, but let's talk it over, anyway."

I gave him my 'well, let's hear it' expression.

"Let's go to my office so we don't get interrupted."

I nodded. That sounded even more ominous.

"Don't look so scared, Mister Worden," he said with a chuckle.

I wasn't scared, but I certainly wasn't exactly comfortable, either. Sitting in one of his soft chairs in the 'conversational' corner of his office helped.

"This has been very discomforting for me, too. Things like this aren't supposed to happen, although I know this is far from the first."

I nodded. Something that could so shake up a middle-aged priest must be really something! I saw his throat quiver as he swallowed, and knew he'd reached his 'go for it' point.

"One of our nuns at the hospital is pregnant."

I saw, 'there it is,' take over his expression.

So? This was no isolated event. My college roommate's mother had been a nurse at a catholic hospital, and somewhere during his growing up, she'd mentioned that nuns were just as capable of pregnancy as other women. And this did happen more often than the church certainly 'preferred'.