See the warnings in 2.1. It gets rough in this chapter; you are forewarned.
The watch showed T-70 minutes. I didn't see anyone moving in or around the massive, rectangular house, along the floor of the canyon, or on the horseshoe-shaped mesas surrounding the house on three sides, even with the night vision binoculars. I knew at least two men were somewhere to my left, because Claude and Clay came with me, but they were far too crafty and experienced to be moving around unnecessarily.
The three sentries posted around the mesa on our side were dead, dispatched soundlessly with Clay's knife before he waved us up; it's good to have a special forces veteran on your side. There were supposed to be more sentries scattered around the horseshoe mesa, but I saw nothing moving. Hopefully, that meant our allies were had taken care of the others.
The briefest moment of hope flared up, before I forced it down and returned to staring at the heavens.
During my second week back at the Mountain Lair, we finally got to go stargazing at the nearby MacDonald Observatory. The injuries I suffered during the kidnapping postponed our first attempt, but it couldn't have been better than this one, which featured the Comet Swift-Tuttle and the 'falling stars' it shed across the night sky.
That outing had spurred a second; our vigil at the old air base in the dessert near Marfa, where we waited patiently to see if the Marfa Lights would come out to play. They did, around 11 pm! Sometimes they blinked on and off while moving along the horizon; sometimes they flew straight up like rockets; and sometimes they flew directly toward us before veering up into the night sky. We watched as they were climbed until they were lost among the canopy of stars.
That experience had spurred deep discussions about unexplained phenomena, just as stargazing had led to discussions about the vastness of the universe and phenomena like comets and black holes. My kids may be young, but they are highly intelligent, and I don't say that solely because I'm their proud father. Their proud 'uncles' agree, though they may also be a bit biased.
Our exploration of an old mine that was being restored by the owner at Shafter Ghost Town was both frightening and enlightening; it's hard to imagine what the miners endured working in those hot shafts a century or more ago.
We spent a day at the Museum of the Big Bend at Sul Ross, coming to know and understand the history of this enormous area. Our five guides added details and information at practically every exhibit, and soon everyone in the place was following us from stop to stop.
We even made new friends, and so did Grace and Dos -- although Grace's captivated new friend was far more interested in her then the history. He was at least 12 or 13; she's only nine (I'm nearly 10, Daddy!), and my frown drew an elbow and giggle from her mother, who should have been as appalled as I was!
Instead, she whispered, "Get used to it, Honey -- she's gonna be a looker!"
"She already is," I mumbled, "and I'm not happy about it!" That drew a more pronounced giggle and a pinch.
It was bad enough that Kaitlyn had to wear a short floral sundress with red sandals so every male on campus would ogle her wherever we went, but I'm used to that! My Grace is still a baby!
We spent much of another day at the Chihuahuan Dessert Research Center learning about the flora, fauna, geography, and geology of the immense Chihuahuan Dessert. Our guide wanted to defer to Doc, but he told our guide to inform us, and he would add information he might use when guiding others.
We learned that the dessert is the largest in North America, covering more than 250,000 square miles and extending from Albuquerque, New Mexico, to just north of Mexico City. He told us about the
Altiplano Mexico
in Chihuahua, and about the
Sierra Madre Oriental
and
Occidental
mountain ranges that border the desert to the east and west.
At the time, those were just fun facts; after hiking within it for three days, its immense size, geographic and geologic features, and the inherent dangers had become much more personal.
If this excursion goes badly, we'll all be buried in unmarked graves in this dessert. If we all survive, we still have to escape back through it to Texas, likely while being hunted by armed men. Sigh.
T-57 minutes. To avoid thinking about my body spending eternity in an unmarked grave in this barren land, I search for more pleasant memories to explore.
Kaitlyn had listened, learned, and practiced her 'nursing skills' during my hospital stay, and, once back at home in the mountains, she became an adept and demanding caregiver. No slacking off was allowed on the physical therapy I had to do on my own, or when the occupational and physical therapists worked with me in my home gym.
I did it all under her watchful eye -- sometimes glare -- and she also insisted we go for long walks around the ranch. At the time, I was a bit irritated at her insistence I recover my strength and stamina as quickly as possible; now, I appreciate her efforts.
Unfortunately, business does not take sick leave, so I did plenty of business on the phone, but not in lieu of doing what had to be done to recover completely.
My overseer ensured I drank lots of fruit juice and not much beer, and I ate fresh fruits, vegetables, and lean protein until all I could think of was a plateful of greasy, rat-cheese covered enchiladas! We had to come to an understanding, though, when I was filling my second cup of coffee cup at 7 am and she started telling me the doctor said more water and less caffeine.
Clay, Claude, 'the uncles', even the kids, shied away when she cut those green eyes at them if they attempted to interrupt my workouts. She was a tyrant!
But at night, the sex kitten came out to play! She was considerate of my injuries, meaning she made love to me rather than fucked me, as I could tell she sometimes wanted to do sometimes. Come to think of it, that may have been why she was so single-minded about my speedy recovery!
Regardless, when we flew to Midland and Dr. Wang released me, we joined the mile-high club with the pilot pretending he wasn't watching! He probably couldn't see much anyway, with her long, flowing skirt draped over our legs while she rode my cock and moaned into my mouth. She got off so quickly I didn't, but she promised tonight would be special.
Once in bed, she climbed on top and seated herself as usual, but then wrapped her legs around me, rolled us over, and said, "Your turn on top, and you better give me the fucking of the decade after all the work I've had to do to get you to his point!"
She wasn't pleased when I laughed and broke free of her leg lock, but she was singing my praises for the third time when I crawled back up from between those powerful thighs and stuck my juicy tongue in her mouth.
Challenged though I may be have been by my condition, I tried to pound her through the mattress. I don't know about 'the fuck of the decade', but I had to cover her face with a throw pillow to reduce the volume of her screams. If I hadn't been worried about the ultra-high def video cameras and potential porn stardom, I'd have taken her into the bunker and tried to destroy her cocky, over-sexed self! But I did okay anyway, or so she babbled when I finally gave her a break forty minutes later.
Early the next morning we left the room with arms wrapped around one another, headed to the coffee shop. Clay and Claude were waiting outside our door holding wiring and electronic gear. We both gave them puzzled looks, and Kaitlyn asked, "What is all that?"
"Don't worry about it, Little Buddy," Clay responded, "You'll never know they are there." He held up a box with Ultra-High Definition Miniature Camera written on the box. They smirked at her and started toward our bedroom door.
I was successfully suppressing my laughter until Kaitlyn turned me loose, cut them off from the door, and warned, "Oh no you're not!" in her toughest, most certain voice.
She slipped inside, locked the door, and came out the second door, down the hall. "Tomorrow I'm installing deadbolts! No more taping!"
The three of us collapsed in laughter at the hands on her hips, the determined look on her face, and the adamant sound in her voice.
When Clay finally got under control enough, he managed, "Then we're going to have to move the kids' rooms to another floor; we're worried they have been scarred for life by your antics, Chica Cachonda Insaciable!"
She managed a blush before protesting, "You're lying again - I wasn't loud at all!" She said that declaratively, but gave me a questioning look. We burst out laughing again, and she turned the prettiest shade of pink!
Head held high, defiance in her carriage; she took my arm and pulled me toward the stairs, "Come on! I need coffee and I need to get away from these... these... mean boys!"
She sounded ten years old, and we all collapsed in laughter again!
She left us there and strutted away from the gales of laughter with her chin in the air and a definite sway to that delectable derriere.
