Chapter 10
Nikki’s breath caught in her throat and she looked at Dylan. He gathered her in his arms, uncaring if it was the professional thing to do or not. As he held her he felt the faint tremors roll through her body and vowed nothing nor no one would hurt her, not if he could help it.
Nikki finally pulled away and gestured at the phone. “Do I call the state police or do you?”
He squeezed her shoulder. “You go ahead and get your shower. I’ll give them a call.”
As he expected, the state police said they’d be a while responding to the call. It wasn’t an immediate injury and they were responsible for patrolling and covering a vast area. He assured the officer he’d not erase the message and then hung up, going for his sat phone instead.
A call to Hank revealed what he’d expected. Both Wayne French and Mark Williams were involved in groups that outwardly campaigned for tightening the borders. That wasn’t unusual in a border state. What was more disturbing was the fact that Mark Williams in particular had been involved in a para-military group in the past that patrolled the border areas of the county. That, in and of itself, wasn’t enough to point a finger, but with his discomfort at the mention of the house burning, Dylan had a feeling Mark knew more about the situation than he was admitting. A good enough reason to talk with him more.
And Nikki had said Wayne French called her a do-gooder. Coincidence? Maybe so. Or maybe not. Maybe Wayne was tired of waiting for her to see his attraction and had decided to do something about her charity work.
Dylan took a breath and stared out the window toward the distant mountains. What did he do next?
Nikki insisted on doing things the way she’d normally do them. She spent her time bottling lotion, mixing and molding soaps, and filling out business forms for her small endeavors. She ignored Dylan’s attempts at small talk, almost to the point of ignoring him as well. Finally, he took himself off on a ramble on the grounds and tried to come up with a plan of his own.
They found out about the poisoned water when they went to the desert that night. Dylan had idly thought about preventing Nikki from taking a trip with her jugs but decided he couldn’t justify it. Nothing had happened so far, despite the threat and the subsequent state police visit. They’d done nothing other than record the threat for their records and caution Nikki to stay away from the water project. She’d been polite but Dylan knew by her expression, as the police probably did as well, that she’d go out again.
They’d just placed the first jug in a small depression when Nikki uttered a small sound of surprise. “That’s odd.”
“What?” Dylan glanced into the darkness, mentally cursing himself for not bringing night vision glasses.
“There’s still a jug out here.” She started walking toward a smudge of lighter gray and Dylan followed her, stopping her from picking up the jug when he saw it lying on its side, the cap off. “Wait.”
“What?” she looked at him in confusion then back at the jug.
He pointed to a damp patch of ground and said, “Take a whiff.”
She leaned closer to the ground and sniffed then straightened. “It’s bleach.”
He reached into his pocket and came out with a square of cloth. With it between his hand and the jug handle, he picked up the container and glanced around the ground. “Do you see the cap?”
Nikki found it a couple of feet away and stooped to pick it up. “Don’t touch it with your bare hands. We’ll need prints.”
She stared at him for a second then headed back to the truck. “It’ll have the migrants’ prints on it.” Her tone was flat, she knew but anger and hurt were boiling up inside her. If she let anything out, she’d start sobbing right now.
She found a gas receipt and plucked the cap from the ground, taking it to Dylan. When he gestured toward the jug, she twisted the cap on and they secured it in the rear of the truck. “Let’s check the other sites.”
Sure enough, all ten of the sites she’d routinely placed jugs of water were littered with bleach-tainted containers. Some were empty, others had dregs in them, as if they’d been tried and found lacking in their life-giving missions. The jugs were loaded into the truck. Those with lids were sealed for testing, Nikki assumed, since Dylan insisted on keeping all of them, and the others were tossed into the bed of the truck without lids.
They drove back to the house, Dylan driving and silent. Nikki cried the entire way back, trying without succeeding for soundless tears.
By the time they’d parked in the compound, the eastern sky was a lighter gray. Each trudged to the house deep in their thoughts. Dylan headed to the office to call Hank and, for once, Nikki didn’t insist on being a part of the conversation. She didn’t need to, did she?
She sank onto her bed and put her face in her hands. Please, God, don’t let anyone be harmed by the tainted water or as a result of my actions, she prayed. For the first time since she’d started leaving the water, in her teens on rare occasions and then weekly after she’d moved back to the ranch, she was unsure of herself. Was she willing to give up the early morning trips to the desert? And was she doing the job for the right reasons? Had the events of the last several days resulted in her pride becoming involved?
How many minutes she sat and dwelled on the subject she didn’t know but she finally shook herself and went to the bathroom to wash her face. Afterwards, she headed to the kitchen and coffee.
Later in the day, the state police came by. No leads on the phone threats, as expected. When Nikki mentioned the tainted water the officer grimaced. “Ma’am, if we report that, we’ll have to report your actions, too.”
“What?” She said, her patience wearing thin.
“You’ve been leaving water for illegals for a while. We all know it, but it’s one of those things we just kinda,” the young man shrugged, “well, we just kinda ignore it. If we fill out a report on the tainted water, then we have to explain why the stuff was out there in the first place.”
“Water. On my property.” She said and he nodded. “It’s a gray area.”
“A gray area?” she sputtered and would have gone into the first tirade of her life if Dylan hadn’t put a hand on her shoulder.
“Let us talk about it for a minute, okay, officer? We’ll be right back.”
He took her arm in a gentle but firm grasp and pulled Nikki out the back door and hopefully out of earshot of the police officer.
“What’s the meaning of that? I have every right to leave water on my property. They don’t know why I’m doing it. I might be leaving it there for my use. I might—”
“They know, Nikki. And whether you realize it or not, the law is a little vague on your actions. I checked with Hank a few days ago. People have been arrested and even convicted of aiding and abetting for what you’re doing.”
“But it’s my own land!” she said, her voice breaking with anger and sorrow.
“I know, honey. I know.” He pulled her to him and hugged her before holding her shoulders and looking her in the eye. “You need to decide. Do you want to let this ride or do you want to make a statement? If you do make a statement with the police chances are the news will get ahold of it, at the least. In the worst case scenario, you could face criminal charges.”
She stared at him, running the possibilities through her head. When she came to a decision, she was a bit surprised at how calm she was. “I want to make a statement.”
He nodded and squeezed her shoulders then released them and gestured for her to lead. She entered the house and met the police officer. “I’d like to make a statement about the water. Would like some coffee while we talk?”
Sure enough, within three hours of the police officer leaving with the record in hand, calls started coming in. First, Wayne French called and gave Nikki a lecture on raising a dust storm over nothing. She hung up on him. Then the small local newspaper called and requested an interview. She hung up on them. When a regional blogger called with the same request, she cast an exasperated glance at Dylan and replied. “I’m not interested in doing an interview. I merely exercised my rights as a citizen and reported an incident that happened on my property. Thanks for the call.” As the man rattled another question at her she calmly disconnected the call then looked at the phone. “I wish I could leave it off the hook like you could with corded phones when I was a kid.”
The phone rang again and Dylan calmly took it out of her hand and, turning it over, opened the battery compartment and unhooked the battery. “You can.”
She smiled and glanced at the old clock over the stove. “I’m late with the milking.”
They finished the chores and went inside for a bowl of cereal and more coffee. Dylan had the notion things were just heating up.
The next couple of days surprised Nikki with their calm. She worked on her soaps and lotions, took care of the ranch, and generally became more and more convinced she was falling in love with Dylan. When he noticed her doing her Bible study he asked about it and they got into a discussion about that evening’s lesson. She was pleasantly surprised at his knowledge and willingness to listen to her opinions. So when the first call came from the trading post in Lordsburg, she was shocked. “You don’t want the order? But I thought the sets were selling well?”
Dylan looked up from the laptop and watched as Nikki accepted the cancellation of the trading post’s standing order for her goat’s milk products. After she’d hung up she looked at him in resignation. “I guess that’s the result of the statement I made.”
“Of you publicly admitting what they’ve known for a while?” he said and nodded. “I’m sorry.”
She sighed. “It’s okay. I’ll just have to go farther afield for customers.”
She hid her disappointment in both the loss of income and in her neighbors” affections but she knew he was aware of her change in mood. Dylan volunteered to make supper that evening and Nikki wandered into the mudroom and surveyed the boxes and crates of product. While she valued her ability to make some extra cash by crafting the soaps and lotions, she’d made her choice a long time ago to help the migrants. A cancellation wouldn’t stop her.
Several more cancellations occurred the next day and Nikki tried to keep her optimism about her. When another call came and the woman on the other line reassured Nikki that they’d keep selling the product, she almost cried but thanked her customer.
The next repercussion of the statement came when they went to town to buy groceries a day later. Nikki was in the trading post with her grocery cart when she overheard a couple of men talking in the next aisle. “Can’t get anywhere when people”s giving ‘em water and letting ‘em cross without a by your leave.”
“You know she’s been doing it for years, Bill.” The other man said, his voice gruff.
“But she admitted it, Mark. She admitted it and it’s going to get out. Every soft-hearted patsy in the state is going to start doing the same thing. We’ll be overrun before you know it.”
“Ain’t happened so far. Ain’t going to happen just cause Nikki Hill’s watering the illegals. Besides, I bet she cuts back, now that she knows people are watching and doing something about it.”
Nikki swallowed a surge of nausea at Mark’s statement. Had he known of the bleached water? Was he involved? She’d grown up looking up to the man and now, he was all but admitting that he knew about the situation.
She left the cart and headed out of the building, the sun blinding her for a minute before she headed to the truck. She’d go to Douglas for groceries, she thought as she stepped down off the sidewalk.
“Nikki Hill?”
The man’s voice was unfamiliar, yet Nikki had heard it before, she was sure. She turned to see the young state police officer who’d been at her house earlier standing before her, his expression bleak.
“Hello, officer.”
“Ma’am, I’m going to have to take you into custody for harboring illegal aliens and aiding and abetting an illegal act.”
Nikki stood stock still, staring at the officer who had handcuffs dangling from his fingers. He looked so uncomfortable she thought maybe he might throw up. “I’m sorry?”
He repeated the charges and held up the cuffs. “I’m supposed to bring you in, Ma’am.”
She nodded and stepped toward him. “You don’t need the cuffs unless you’re required to use them.”
He shook his head. “I’d rather not. You’ll need to ride with me, though.”
She nodded again, glancing around the street for Dylan. Finally, she looked back at the police officer. “Could I leave a note for my friend?”
He shrugged and she stepped back into the trading post for some paper and an ink pen. After a couple of minutes she turned to the officer and said, “Let’s go.”