Prologue
Georgios Anathos kept his eyes straight ahead. Low hills and mesas loomed to the left and right. They were of no interest to him. The sky stretched on forever. The highway longer still. San Angelo was 150 miles ago. Sanderson was still 35 miles ahead.
The long and vast empty of Texas was an opportunity. Time to think. The man was used to making decisions in a moment. Time was a rare luxury.
Sanderson was even more dismal than he imagined. He drove past boarded up homes and yards filled with rusted out vehicles. The death of small town America all around. He made a left on US-90. There it was, a tall red signpost. The Ranch House.
Anathos pulled into the parking lot. Killed the engine. Stepped out of the car.
Inside, the diner was quiet. A couple of old-timers enjoyed some country fare. Two ranchers sat drinking coffee. And one lone man in his 60s sat alone. Jacob Pierce. Anathos approached his booth and sat. “Remind me why you decided to retire here?”
Pierce smiled slightly. “I don’t live in town, friend. Got a ranch up in the hills. Fifteen acres, and all the privacy in the world.”
“I don’t even think God could find you here, Jacob.”
A short laugh followed an amused expression. “It is a God-forsaken place, ain’t it?”
The two men ordered coffee. “How’s the wife, George?”
“She’s well. Still the best part of me.”
“Always will be, I say. You married up.”
“A smart man always does. Solomon says not to marry a fool.”
Pierce nodded his head. “I should have listened to that.”
“You walked away with everything, as I recall.”
“Because she was convicted of soliciting minors!”
“Good thing you found that flash drive, then.”
“I always was good at putting out fires, eh?”
“You’d have never made chief if you weren't.” Anathos and Pierce both cracked a smile. They had worked together at the Fort Worth Fire Department for almost 20 years when Pierce retired.
The coffee arrived, and for a moment the two men drank in silence.
“So what’s the story, Jacob? Why the hell am I in Sanderson?”
“Because you’re the best man I know. You have character. Judgment. I need some of that.”
Anathos finished his coffee. “How can I help?”
“There’s a man going about town, trying to sell his daughter. Said he’s been at it for days. Looking for the right buyer.”
Anathos grimaced. “You don’t say.”
“He was just down the street, last I saw. Near the feed supply. Yesterday he hung around the Dip N Dunk.”
“The sheriff can’t do anything?”
Pierce shrugged. “Already talked to him twice. Says he hasn’t broken any law. According to Cleveland, the daughter wants to get married.”
“Has Cleveland spoken with the girl, then?”
“Not sure, George. I think he sent his deputy to check it out. The man’s still out there, so you tell me.”
“What do you want to do, Jacob? Rough him up?”
Pierce shook his head. “Plenty of locals to do that, were that all I needed.”
Anathos understood. He paid the bill, and they stepped outside. It was at least 105 degrees. “Feed store is just down the road. No sense in driving, if you don’t mind the exercise.”
"And the heat." Anathos wiped his forehead. “All right. Let’s go.”
From afar, Anathos spotted him, eyes beady like a crow. The man was diminutive, 5’6 at best. He looked as if he was trying to dress well: a dusty shirt and tie with frayed pants. His hands were blackened with grease improperly cleaned; the clothes failed to make him look more presentable. He was engaged in conversation with a rancher wearing a Stetson. The rancher shook his head. “Why would I pay you $2500 so my son can marry your daughter? Ain’t no one got that kind of money around here.”
“If it’s a pretty penny, I’ll bargain with you.”
The rancher turned his head and spat on the asphalt. “My son can well enough find his own woman. Stop wasting my time.” The rancher disappeared into the feed store, and the beady-eyed man cursed him under his breath.
“Good afternoon, sir.” Anathos tried to make his voice friendly. “It’s a hot day.”
Those birdlike eyes flickered over to the two men. He offered a handshake; the two men accept. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. My friends call me Nabal.”
“If you don’t mind my asking,” Pierce said, “it sounds like you’re trying to conduct business out here. What is it you’re selling?”
Nabal cleared his throat. “Strictly speaking, I’m not selling anything. I am trying to…procure…a husband for my daughter. She can cook and clean, if nothing else.”
“Procure?”
Nabal smiled, revealing a mouth full of yellowed and missing teeth. “It’s hard to meet honest men in this part of the world. No one appreciates the…value…of a wife.”
“And what is the ‘value’ of a wife?”
“A submissive wife, who cooks, cleans and never talks back? I’d say that’s worth $2500! Are either of you interested?”
Anathos began to clench his fists, so Pierce spoke up. “Is that supposed to be a dowry or something?”
“Absolutely. I think I’m entitled to some kind of compensation for keeping her alive and virginal. I could have taken both if I wanted to.”
The men were stunned. Whatever else Nabal was, he was evil.
“But I didn’t do that. No sir, though it’s my right. God would have been angry with his servant. But I am blameless before the Lord.”
Not just evil. A lunatic.
“I’ve gone to Alpine, Sheffield, Marathon. Even as far as Fort Stockton. Nobody wants her. Maybe i should try my luck in Acuña.”
Pierce and Anathos exchanged knowing glances. Small West Texas podunks were one thing. A Mexican border town was another entirely.
“I have a son who is 20. But I’d like to meet her, make sure she’s suitable.”
Nabal rubbed his hands together. “I can understand that. If you care to follow me” - Nabal jerked his head towards a rusted-out Chevrolet - “I can show you the girl.”
“We’re parked at the Ranch House. We’ll follow you if you want to meet us there.”
“Sure thing, gentlemen.” His tone was obsequious insincerity.
The two firefighters walked back to the café. They climbed into Pierce’s truck, and Anathos saw a rifle on the floor. “I hope we won’t need that,” he said.
Pierce only nodded, and they followed the smoke cloud billowing from the tailpipe of the Chevy.
“Talk to me, George. What are you thinking?”
Anathos shakes his head. “Not sure yet. Nabal is as repugnant as they come. We may have to do something.”
“He takes that girl to Acuña, she’s as good as dead. A lot of unscrupulous bandits across the border.”
“The girl may be sincerely hoping to find a husband. If not…”
The county road took them over a mesa and into a draw. After a few miles, they reached a dilapidated old house. It looked to have been built in the Dust Bowl era, when the railroad trains used to stop and refuel in the nearby town. The yard was littered with trash and rusted metal. Most of the windows were busted, and no attempt was made to repair them.
“I don’t think anyone has maintained this place in 50 years,” Pierce observed. “Look, the roof is caving in!”
“Squatters, probably,” Anathos observed. “This far from civilization, nobody really cares.”
“I’ll stay in the truck and keep it running,” Pierce told his friend. “And if I need to, I’ll step out.”
Anathos nodded agreement and exited the vehicle. Nabal had already entered the crumbling home, and could be heard yelling at someone. Broken bottles covered the porch, and the chipped paint was yellow from the residue of cigarettes.
Then Nabal emerged, pulling a young woman along with him. She was thin - too thin. She was very small, maybe five feet tall. Her brown hair was matted and dirty, as was her face and clothes, a plain floor-length dress that went out of style a century ago. Her eyes were turquoise and terrified. Anathos could tell that she was pretty even with her unkempt appearance. By the way Nabal held her arm, abused as well. Her nose looked to have been broken and healed. It was too petite to look like that naturally.
“Looks like we may have found you a husband after all, girl.” Nabal’s voice was gleeful.
The young woman’s eyes went wide at her father’s words. Georgios Anathos was a physically imposing man. He was 6’5, with a stern face, shaved head, broad shoulders and massive arms. She began to tremble.
Anathos’s eyes softened when the girl began to shake. “Your father tells me you want to be married. Is that true?”
“Of course it is!” Nabal interjected.
“I didn’t ask you!” Anathos boomed. Nabal practically jumped out of his skin.
“Yes—yes sir,” came the timid reply. The girl looked at her father and not Anathos when she spoke.
“There is is! That’s consent!” Nabal was practically squealing, almost more caricature than man.
“Be quiet, Nabal! Let me speak with her!”
Nabal glowered, but nodded. “Of course, whatever you say.”
“What is your name?”
The young woman didn’t answer. She merely stared at her feet.
“Speak up, girl!” Nabal barked. “He can’t hear you.”
“K…K…Katherine.”
“How old are you?”
Another long silence. Then, “Nine…nineteen.”
“You are certain you wish to be married?”
Nabal tapped his feet in irritation. His gaze burned into the woman.
“Y-yes. Yes sir.”
“Nabal.” Anathos glared at the goblinesque man. “Are all her documents in order? Birth records? Social security card?”
“Uh…uh…I don’t have her birth certificate. I think I have her social security card somewhere.”
“I’m sure you do,” Anathos’s voice was cold. The young woman likely had a mountain of debt attached to her name, of which she was completely oblivious.
“I need her birth records, or we will not be able to come to any kind of agreement.”
“She was born in Alpine. They should have her records.”
“They do not hand those out to anyone who asks, Nabal.”
“I can call the hospital! If you give me your address, I can have them mail the records to you.” As Nabal talked to the hospital in Alpine, the two men consulted with one another.
“Well?” Pierce asked. “What do we do?”
Anathos shook his head. “What we’re talking about here is a crime. There’s no way this payment is a legal dowry.”
“And if we do nothing? Just look at her, George. The real crime is walking away and leaving her to her fate. A couple thousand dollars between you and me ain’t shit.”
“It’s not that simple, and you know it. We can take her with us, but what then? Where does she go from here? A women’s shelter?”
“Maybe she has family somewhere who will take her in.”
“Maybe she doesn’t.”
“Maybe she doesn’t. It comes down to one thing, George. Are we heroes or not?”
Anathos closed his eyes and muttered to himself. “God damn it, Jacob. Let’s get her out of here.”
A few minutes later, the certificate was requested. The girl was Katherine Wilson, born March 11th, 2005. Nabal reemerged from the house with a piece of paper. “I can’t find the card, but this is her social security number.”
“We can request a new one,” Anathos replied curtly. “She will make a good wife for my son.”
“You won’t be disappointed. You have the cash, or do we need to go back to town?”
“We have cash. $2000.”
“Now now,” Nabal said with a snarl. “Her…dowry…is $2500.”
“No one else is interested, Nabal. You could probably find someone in Mexico to take her off your hands, but you’d be lucky to get 2000 pesos.” It was a bluff, but an effective one.
Nabal’s face contorted in an ugly way. “All right. You make a point. She’s all yours.”
With a pained expression, Anathos handed over the cash,
The goblinoid man turned to the girl, standing helplessly on the porch as her fate was discussed in front of her. “Get moving, girl. You’re getting married. You’re not welcome here anymore.”
“My…my monkey.”
“What nonsense are you talking, girl?”
“My monkey. The one…the one my mother gave me.”
“You entitled brat!” Venom spat from Nabal’s mouth. You have clothes on your back, and yet you’re still not satisfied?”
Anathos had withheld his wrath. He withheld it no longer. He grabbed Nabal with both arms and lifted him clean off the ground, until their faces were almost flush.
“Get your toy, Katherine.”
The young lady was surprised, but wasted no time running inside. There was a sound of giggles and whispers, and then the faces of five children appeared in the broken windows, laughing and pointing at their father suspended in the air.
“You! You’ve made a mockery of me to my family!”
“I’m sure you’ll beat the laughter out of them soon enough.” Anathos made no effort to hide his disdain.
Katherine emerged from the house holding nothing but a ragged plush monkey and a spare dress. Pierce helped her into the backseat of the truck. Only when the young woman was safely secured in the vehicle did Anathos put Nabal down.
“Enjoy your money,” Anathos snarled. He climbed into the passenger seat. The truck took off in a cloud of dust.
Katherine’s voice was timid. “What are you going to do with me?”
Her rescuers didn’t have an answer. But they would find one somehow.
