Desert Angel Read Online Free Page A
Author: Charlie Price
appeared empty. They missed the vehicle tucked behind mesquite three hundred yards west, missed the brief glint of raised binoculars.
* * *
W HILE C ELINA DROVE TOWARD H OT S PRINGS , Angel looked for landmarks in case she had to flee the car. Right. The desert flats were crisscrossed by hundreds of identical shallow washes cut by runoff from the rare thunderstorms. Houses were farther apart than she remembered. There were no stores, no businesses, and the miles sped by with numbing sameness.
* * *
C HURCH . This was the old woman’s idea of a plan? Angel only went along because she thought there might be a phone to call police or a chance to run again without Scotty seeing her. Angel had never given religion much thought, but it wasn’t like God or prayer had ever helped anything. If there was a god, he was for other people. Scotty was an ugly man. Maybe worse, but similar to several men her mom had hooked up with. Not the devil. There was nothing supernatural in Angel’s world. Nothing was to blame for her mother’s death but persistent stupidity. Angel tried to stay with her anger but she missed her mom with an ache that not even rage could cover. She coughed to stifle an involuntary sob.
After several minutes Celina made a right on a dirt road at the edge of town and skirted the settlement until she reached a whitewashed adobe building with a square steeple. In front, a weathered wooden sign said SANTUARIO DE LA VIRGEN DE GUADALUPE. The gravel parking lot was full of dusty cars and dented pickups. Angel could see families climbing the short steps to an open front door, the older women in dark dresses and shawls, the men in white shirts with cowboy hats or baseball caps.
Abuela drew a scarf out of her bag, put it on, and handed one to Celina. Tío and Matteo wore button shirts and straw hats. Though her jeans would blend in, Angel had nothing large enough to cover her short blond hair. She hated to stand out in a crowd but this was such a dumb idea anyway, it could hardly get any worse.
Once inside she followed Tío to a rough pew in a row near the back, far from the altar. Abuela stayed at the door talking with Celina and several other women. A middle-aged man in a black shirt and white collar stood by the pulpit talking with a young couple holding a baby. Angel closed her eyes and listened to the soft buzz of conversation in the room. Sanctuary. She took a deep breath and enjoyed a rare moment of safety. Scotty would never come in here.
She must have dozed. When someone jostled her awake, she saw the priest and the young couple had now been joined by four gray-haired people. She imagined they were discussing a thing for the baby, a christening, probably. Jostled again, she turned to find Abuela shaking her shoulder.
“Put. Esta camisa .” The old woman held out a large white snap-button cowboy shirt. A stocky square-faced man standing in a T-shirt beside Abuela looked like he might have just taken it off.
Angel looked at Abuela to see if she meant it. The old woman poked the shirt at her again and the stocky man nodded. Angel felt a wave of dizziness. This was crazy. Did she have to wear white for this church or were they giving her clothes like she was a homeless person? Angel didn’t want a scene. She began to take off her jacket.
Abuela stopped her. “No … encima .”
“Over,” the man said. “Leave your jacket.”
Angel gave up trying to make sense of this and pulled on the garment. Like wearing a sheet. She rolled the sleeves up to hand level.
A boy came up behind Abuela and handed her some khaki pants.
Abuela reached them to Angel. “Pantalones.”
Angel couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She braced against the idea and looked around to see who was watching. Though she was in a crowd, everyone including Tío and Matteo was staring straight ahead. What the—
“ Ahorita. Now!” Abuela’s face was grim as she pushed the khakis at the girl.
Was this
* * *
W HILE C ELINA DROVE TOWARD H OT S PRINGS , Angel looked for landmarks in case she had to flee the car. Right. The desert flats were crisscrossed by hundreds of identical shallow washes cut by runoff from the rare thunderstorms. Houses were farther apart than she remembered. There were no stores, no businesses, and the miles sped by with numbing sameness.
* * *
C HURCH . This was the old woman’s idea of a plan? Angel only went along because she thought there might be a phone to call police or a chance to run again without Scotty seeing her. Angel had never given religion much thought, but it wasn’t like God or prayer had ever helped anything. If there was a god, he was for other people. Scotty was an ugly man. Maybe worse, but similar to several men her mom had hooked up with. Not the devil. There was nothing supernatural in Angel’s world. Nothing was to blame for her mother’s death but persistent stupidity. Angel tried to stay with her anger but she missed her mom with an ache that not even rage could cover. She coughed to stifle an involuntary sob.
After several minutes Celina made a right on a dirt road at the edge of town and skirted the settlement until she reached a whitewashed adobe building with a square steeple. In front, a weathered wooden sign said SANTUARIO DE LA VIRGEN DE GUADALUPE. The gravel parking lot was full of dusty cars and dented pickups. Angel could see families climbing the short steps to an open front door, the older women in dark dresses and shawls, the men in white shirts with cowboy hats or baseball caps.
Abuela drew a scarf out of her bag, put it on, and handed one to Celina. Tío and Matteo wore button shirts and straw hats. Though her jeans would blend in, Angel had nothing large enough to cover her short blond hair. She hated to stand out in a crowd but this was such a dumb idea anyway, it could hardly get any worse.
Once inside she followed Tío to a rough pew in a row near the back, far from the altar. Abuela stayed at the door talking with Celina and several other women. A middle-aged man in a black shirt and white collar stood by the pulpit talking with a young couple holding a baby. Angel closed her eyes and listened to the soft buzz of conversation in the room. Sanctuary. She took a deep breath and enjoyed a rare moment of safety. Scotty would never come in here.
She must have dozed. When someone jostled her awake, she saw the priest and the young couple had now been joined by four gray-haired people. She imagined they were discussing a thing for the baby, a christening, probably. Jostled again, she turned to find Abuela shaking her shoulder.
“Put. Esta camisa .” The old woman held out a large white snap-button cowboy shirt. A stocky square-faced man standing in a T-shirt beside Abuela looked like he might have just taken it off.
Angel looked at Abuela to see if she meant it. The old woman poked the shirt at her again and the stocky man nodded. Angel felt a wave of dizziness. This was crazy. Did she have to wear white for this church or were they giving her clothes like she was a homeless person? Angel didn’t want a scene. She began to take off her jacket.
Abuela stopped her. “No … encima .”
“Over,” the man said. “Leave your jacket.”
Angel gave up trying to make sense of this and pulled on the garment. Like wearing a sheet. She rolled the sleeves up to hand level.
A boy came up behind Abuela and handed her some khaki pants.
Abuela reached them to Angel. “Pantalones.”
Angel couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She braced against the idea and looked around to see who was watching. Though she was in a crowd, everyone including Tío and Matteo was staring straight ahead. What the—
“ Ahorita. Now!” Abuela’s face was grim as she pushed the khakis at the girl.
Was this
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