It Ain't Paranoia if...

There were metal 'gun slots' shoulder high on the wall of each room. The slots opened from the inside, and were there in case someone made it up here and we engaged in a firefight. That was a common feature of homes and forts on the frontier going back hundreds of years, so I adopted it for my 'fortress home'.

When I asked what they liked most so far, the cannon was Dos's favorite feature; Grace's was the big fireplace in the living room; and Kaitlyn's was the 6'x 8' shower in the master bathroom. The shower featured handheld wands as well as Rainshower heads on three walls and a two-foot wide Rainshower overhead. She jokingly asked if I had parties in there, but lost the smile when I arched my eyebrow, shrugged, and smiled in lieu of answering.

The master suite was huge; it went across the entire west wall. The commode, sinks, dressing area, and the master bathroom and shower were along the north wall of the bedroom.

There were two smaller bedrooms that shared a bathroom on the south wall, and a room adjacent to the shower that had a metal door. I showed them everything else, but ignored the metal door.

Of course, my observant daughter asked, "Daddy, what is this room?"

"That's a special room. It has a locked metal door because I keep my weapons in there. We don't have many lawmen down here in the Big Bend, so it's up to a man to take care of himself. Sometimes drug runners and human traffickers come through here, along with other people who don't respect the law much, so I have weapons I can use if they try to come up here and harm me and Duke."

Grace looked interested; Dos was hopping up and down. "Daddy, can we see your weapons? Please, Daddy!" I looked at their mom for approval; she nodded, but did so with a concerned look.

It also had a biometric lock; I pressed my thumb against it and waited for the click.

Had I let him, I'm pretty sure a fascinated Dos would have spent the rest of the day in there examining each weapon and asking what it was used for. I gave abbreviated explanations and let him hold some of them, because his mom's eyes were huge; she looked incredulous and aghast.

"Are you preparing for World War 3?" she finally asked dramatically.

"Not really, but if I get into it with one of the cartels, I don't want to be out gunned!"

"Okay, I understand, but shoulder-fired missile launchers? Are they even legal?"

"I hold to a literal interpretation of the second amendment, I belong to a well-regulated militia, so yes, they are."

She shook her head skeptically, so I invited everyone out, promising I would show them some more stuff. Dos left reluctantly, but Grace's curiosity was satisfied, and Kaitlyn was wondering whether I'd gone doomsday survivalist.

Once we were out and the door was locked, I announced, "I call this my Desert Lair; I have another place in the Davis Mountains I call my Mountain Lair."

"What's a lair, Daddy?" Grace asked.

"A lair is a secluded place you can stay and be safe. Bears, bobcats, cougars, wolves and tigers have lairs where they stay when they aren't hunting and where they raise their offspring. So do Lionesses when they are pregnant and first have their cubs. If you try to enter a lair you can expect to be attacked, so I put the sign up warning people not to enter my lair."

That satisfied the kids' curiosity, but, although she remained quiet, it seemed to feed Kaitlyn's.

I led them outside to the garage and the storage room where the enclosed water well pump and storage tank were located. We talked about the water table here being very close to the surface, and I explained that I chose this site because there is a separation between the ancient domes of granite that allowed me to drill a shallow well and have abundant freshwater.

"The dome of granite the house sits on is actually separated from the taller block that you're looking up at to the north. All of this crumbled rock, gravel, and soil filled in between the two domes over many years. That's why I was able to drill the well and tap into the water table, and why I also a very adequate septic system for the toilet. Those two factors are uncommon, which is the reason you don't see many houses on top of granite mountains like these."

"Where does the other water go? The water from the shower, bath, and sinks?" asked Kaitlyn.

"The 'grey water' is pumped to and stored in the metal tanks out back. I use it to water the plants around the house, and for the garden behind the garage and workshop." She nodded in approval.

The kids and I talked about climbing the taller mountain that stood a few hundred yards north, and hiking in the desert below. I told them hiking and camping on the mountain or in the desert took a lot of preparation and equipment, but we maybe we could start by hiking along the creek bed. They thought that was a great idea, but mom asked, "What about the human smugglers and drug runners?"

"I have a two-seat Mule. We can pack the tent, bedrolls, water jugs, and ice chest in it and drive until we find a good spot to set up our 'headquarters'. We will still be within my protected perimeter, and I'll have weapons along, so we'll be safe."

She started to reply, but Dos complained that his stomach was growling; his mom laughed and said that was because he burned so much energy he had to eat every few hours. I suggested we take my Jeep and go to an eating-place back near the highway. Kaitlyn said she had to use the potty first, and Grace decided she did too. They hurried inside.

Dos asked if he could just pee out here; I laughed, and we both peed out here.

Grace was back in a few; with a roll of her eyes, she said her mom was fixing herself up so it would be a while. We stood on the patio and chatted for a few minutes, looking out over the creek at the winding dirt road that leads back through the desert to the Study Butte-Terlingua highway.

Dos said I lived a long ways down a bouncy road! I told him that was by design because I didn't want a lot of visitors, but I was glad they came; they hugged me and said they were too.

Kaitlyn joined us after a few minutes, looking refreshed and "well put together", if your definition of 'well put together' is 'gorgeous'. She smiled at my careful examination, tossed her hair for effect, and asked if she looked all right for going to the restaurant. I just nodded, and pried my eyes off her.

I tried to picture the effect she was going to have on the locals in her little shorts, form-fitting top, and sandals.

Oh, I still had the passing urge to kill her, but it had faded a bit as the day progressed. After all, she did give me two beautiful kids...and then took them away...and then, what? Brought them for a visit? Who knows; I certainly didn't understand her purpose, unless it was a simple as they wanted to come see me and she was willing to face my ire to bring them.

Yeah, what ARE they doing here? I need to quit getting distracted and find out what the hell is going on! A woman like Kaitlyn doesn't load up two kids in a SUV and drive from River Oaks to "God's Junkyard" in the middle of the Chihuahuan Desert on a whim, so what is her purpose? Perhaps she will disclose it when we have the conversation she wants to have 'later'.

The kids were highly impressed when I backed my Desert Sand Wrangler Rubicon out of the garage. The 6.4L Hemi was growling and the premium sound system was booming country music from Willie's Roadhouse. They climbed in the back with a little boost from Mom, who almost needed a boost from me to climb up into my jacked-up Jeep, even using the side step.

I turned the volume down so we could talk while we wound down the steep road and across the creek. I paused, picked up my phone, activated the laser and motion-activated warning systems, and then continued driving. When the kids asked what I was doing, I explained that I had sensors around my property and covering all the roads to warn me when someone was walking or driving toward the house. Kaitlyn gave me a strange look, but said nothing.

We pulled into the La Kiva parking lot fifteen minutes later. I was going to help the kids out, but they happily jumped off the steps. Kaitlyn hopped down too, and we all sniffed the delicious smelling smoke emanating from the capped tin exhausts sticking out of the ground. Grace asked, "What is this place, Dad?"

"It's a little joint for us locals called La Kiva. Serves really good charcoal grilled burgers, steaks, chicken, fajitas, and tacos; you'll love it." I directed them to the entrance, and they walked down the stairs into the underground rooms that make up the bar and grill.

The normal motley crew at the big table by the bar was giving the kids el mal ojo until they saw their mom in her little shorts and tight blouse. She and Grace stopped when they saw the fearsome-looking crew and waited for me. Unfazed, Dos bubbled, "Dad, this is a really cool place! It's like a cave with tables!"

The leering at Mom ended and was replaced with table-wide confusion when I appeared.

El Coyote loudly exclaimed, "Dad? El Solitario has kids? What the hell? Bring them over here, Sol -- you owe us an introduction and an explanation!"

Upon closer examination, and after my jovial greeting, the kids were unintimidated by the beards, scruffy hair, and general slothfulness of the five characters at the table. After explaining that the Jumanos were the original settlers of the area down here, and that we all used the Spanish version of our Jumano names in La Kiva in their honor, I introduced each of the characters. Rene, the clean, neat, and charming bartender/manager, and his pretty wife, Berta, were excluded from the requirement, although both also had Jumano names.

Like Beauty with the Beasts, Kaitlyn had charmed them all by the time introductions were done, and they insisted we join them.

The kids had another Dr. Pepper and Kaitlyn and I had ice-cold longnecks. Rene took their food orders and went to the kitchen. "Aren't you going to eat?" Kaitlyn asked.

El Gato laughed at that, "He doesn't order; he has a standing order. If for some reason he wants something else, he signals Rene, but that don't happen often."

"Hey, Catman, didn't you see me signal him just now? I'm breaking my norm, but I think my kids need to try the stuffed jalapenos here, don't you?"

Gato laughed, nodded, and asked, "Why don't you buy us all a round, deep pockets?"

"He just did; he gave him a two and a swirl. You know Sol takes care of his compadres!" offered El Chaparral, aka Roadrunner.

El Toro laughed at that. "Hell, he owns the joint! He can afford it! Look at all the money he makes off us!"

"Bull, if I had to live off what I make from you perros perezosos I'd starve! Luckily, some of the honest, hardworking folk will show up in a few hours. That's when we make enough money to stay open!"

Kaitlyn was watching our jovial exchanges with a frown of consternation. "You own La Kiva?"

Bull explained. "He bought it two years ago. The owner got shot and his kids didn't want to run it, so it closed. So did the RV park ol Glenn operated out to the side. Sol bought the whole thing, took down all the signs, built a tacky tin fence so no one could see the RV slots, and reopened the bar and grill as a 'private club'. He didn't know much about operating it, but he knew what he likes, and he was smart enough to hire Rene and Berta. They make this place the main place for locals.

"Sol don't advertise it's open because, well, the Big Bend is the most popular tourist destination in Texas, and Houstonians were taking the damn place over. Still, as bad as they were, they paled in comparison to the damn Yankees parading around and calling everything 'cute' while bitchin about the heat. So far we've been able to keep this place a secret, thanks to our benefactor there, and his requirement that you have to have a member sponsor you before you can apply for membership in this 'private club'!"

"Alright Doc, enough about that!" argued Coyote." Hell, your voice might carry out of the Kiva and down the creek until a gaggle of noisy tourists from Connecticut hears you and comes rushing up here to see the cute hole-in-the-ground café!"

The kids were bored by the adult talk and wandered off to explore 'out on the veranda', as we jokingly called the shelf that extends out of the cave along the bank of the creek. I had installed an 'air curtain' to keep the cool inside and heat outside, but it was mild weather now so it wasn't needed.

"Are there fish in that creek?" Dos yelled.

"Not hardly, son." Bull answered loudly. "Stays dry ten months a year and no fish can grow fast enough during the rainy season to get big enough to catch. Talk your paw into taking you over to the Rio tomorrow; he knows all the fishing places along there. He always comes back with some big uns when he goes fishing, which ain't often enough!"

"Hell, yes, Sol, when ARE we gonna have another fish fry?" asked Gato.

"Won't be too soon; I'm heading up to the Davis Mountains and points north this weekend. I'll be gone a week or two; maybe after that."

The conversation around the table turned to the unusually cool spring weather, the abnormal number of flowers, and what that combination portends for the future, if anything. When chatting animatedly, the colloquialisms and affected West Texas accents of the characters ebbed and flowed, and their education and intelligence shown through, which Kaitlyn noticed.

She turned to me with a furrowed brow, so I quietly explained while the others continued the conversation.

"Not really what they seem, are they? Bull, AKA Doc, has a PhD in Geology; he recently retired from Sully. He's my close friend and oil investment advisor. Nobody knows more about what lies above and under the surface of West Texas than Doc.

"Coyote is a Houston oilman who says he made and lost seven fortunes before the last one. He moved to his ranch near Terlingua where the paltry millions he had left go a lot farther than in River Oaks. He sold me his plane after his wife died; told me he had no one left to go see, and he wanted it to go to someone who had use for it.

"Gato -- Catman - was a major land developer around DFW; he retired down here twenty years ago, but couldn't help but buy some land he got a great deal on between Fort Davis and McDonald Observatory. He then sold it in chunks to his friends, including me. That's where I'm going this weekend.

"Chaparral is a Mexican whose residential status is unknown, but he is invaluable because he knows what is happening across the river, and warns us when trouble is coming. Plus, he probably has more military toys than I do, and isn't afraid to use them.

"The burley, quiet one is called El Saguaro, like the cactus. In slang, it means something like sentinel, because he's always on alert. He sees and hears everything, and we've all seen him react when things went bad. Doc says we need to rename him Peligroso, which means dangerous, because he is hell on wheels in action. We assume he's military or law enforcement, but he has never said and it's impolite to ask."

"I like them!" she said quietly.

That added a good number of points to the good side of her ledger, but she was still down a couple of million for her treachery.

The food came, the kids returned, and they ate like hungry wolves. I ate my center cut sirloin with asparagus and a salad, and nodded to the chef, who grinned and came out of the kitchen.

Dos raved about his hamburger and bun; Grace said her fajitas were the best she'd ever tasted, and she didn't know tortillas could taste that good! Kaitlyn joined in: "Berta, this is the best grilled salmon I've ever had! And the grilled veges are unbelievable! What ingredients do you use to get that flavor?"

Berta soaked it all in, thanked the kids, and then told Kaitlyn, "I could tell you, but then the boss would have to kill you! Those are HIS secret ingredients."

"Best you don't tell me, then. I don't want to give him another reason," Kaitlyn replied forlornly.

That little ploy immediately gained her the sympathy and support of the entire table as well as Rene and Berta. They all glared at me.

I shrugged. "It's a long story, best left untold. Besides, she knows I wouldn't kill her for that if I didn't kill her for the other."

The table got uncomfortably quiet; it was strange to watch all the loquacious people speechless. I don't offer many glimpses into my personal life.

Fortunately, at that moment we heard the noisy clatter of children running down the stairs, with parents yelling, "Don't run! You are going to hurt yourself!"

Three excited kids, ranging from six to eleven, raced into the underground room. The younger two ran straight to Tia Berta and Uncle Rene, who scooped them up. The ten-year old girl, dressed in a white peasant dress and white sandals, came to me, kissed me on my cheek, and settled herself in my lap. Only after she was seated did she look around and notice the new kids at the table, both of whom were frowning at her.

"Tio Rob, who are they?" she asked.

"Yolanda, meet Grace and Logan, who we call Dos. This is their mom, Kaitlyn. Grace and Dos are my children, and their mom is my ex-wife. Grace, Dos, Kaitlyn; this is my girlfriend, Yolanda Villarreal, and this is her mother, Rosa. The two scamps over there are Juan and Pancho; they belong to Ymelda, Rosa's sister, and Francisco, who is standing beside them.

Everyone got it?"

I don't think they did, but Yolanda got off my lap, walked over to Dos and Grace, curtsied, and properly introduced herself. She then invited them to go explore with her, offering to show them all the secret rooms and caves of La Kiva. They quickly accepted, and all five took off running.

I got up from my seat on the end of the table, and helped Frank move a table over so they could join us. I remained on the end, with Rosa next to me on one side and Ymelda on the other; Frankie sat next to Kaitlyn. Kaitlyn eyed Rosa warily, and Rosa reciprocated; I sipped my cold longneck and maintained a bland expression.

The newcomers ordered "my usual", and we drank beer or margaritas and visited about upcoming events in our remote little chunk of Texas. Kaitlyn commented, "You guys have a lot going on, for a place that looks so desolate and uninhabited."

Doc smiled and gave her a lesson in geography. "There are somewhere around 9300 permanent residents of Brewster County, with the vast majority living in Alpine, Marfa, Marathon, Lajitas, and Terlingua. Alpine has about 6000, Marfa nearly 2000, and Lajitas, Terlingua, and Marathon have 200-300 each, so that leaves about 600 hardy souls scattered across area bigger than the state of Connecticut!

"When you don't have many neighbors, you appreciate the ones you've got, even if they are cranky and hardheaded like El Sol, or any of these other old rascals. I'm just thankful there are young people and young families mixed in; sometimes this place feels like a bear cave with all the snarling and growling until Rosa, Ymelda, Pancho, and their kids arrive."

Kaitlyn gave him her patented mega-watt smile and replied, "Oh, I doubt that! All of you are charming and pleasant, each in his own way!"

That got her headshakes and exclamations of "You don't know us very well!" But it also spurred Doc to buy a round.

The newcomers ate, and we kept the rounds coming. At some point, Frankie put a quarter in the jukebox and invited his wife to dance to a Tejano classic by La Mafia, Ahora Y Siempre.

Rosa immediately invited me to dance, and snuggled against me as we did. Vida (En Vivo) was next, so we stayed and swayed some more, giving her a chance to ask about the presence of my ex-wife and children.