"You never had a chance to be president before."
His eyes hadn't left Bode's hair, and the frown hadn't left his face. He reached his hand up with his fingers spread wide to Bode's head-but he froze in midair.
"Where's Mandy?"
Bode nodded toward the back corner where Mandy stood with little Josefina, whose arms were wrapped tightly around herself. She was only twelve and slight of build and looked more like a skinny boy than a girl. When Mandy reached out to touch her shoulder, she recoiled. Jim Bob called out to Bode's aide and mistress.
"Mandy!"
She broke away from Josefina and arrived with a frown.
"Josefina's terrified of being touched by anyone. We need to get her a therapist. I'll ask mine if he counsels children."
"You have a therapist?"
She shrugged a yes.
"I'm taking the kids to the pediatrician this afternoon," she said.
"Check their eyesight. A couple of the boys sit two feet from the TV. And take them to the dentist, their teeth are terrible. Take Lupe to translate."
"Can I use the campaign credit card?"
"Sure."
The Professor's eyes had returned to Bode's head.
"Mandy, run your fingers through Bode's hair."
She eyed his hair then Jim Bob.
"But his hair looks perfect."
"Exactly."
She shrugged and stepped close enough to Bode that he could inhale her scent. He felt a stirring, then he felt guilty. His wife knew about his mistress, but he still felt guilty. His mistress now ran her fingers through his hair. Jim Bob observed the result in his professorial mode.
"Again."
She repeated the maneuver. This time Bode felt strands of hair fall onto his forehead. Jim Bob framed Bode's face with his fingers.
"Audience for these morning shows is female, so you've got to appeal to women. Mandy, look at this man. As a woman-and God knows, you are a woman-do you want this man?"
"Every day. Every time I see him. In fact, right now. God, I love it when he wears those tight jeans."
Her face flushed as her body temperature spiked, and she licked her red lips then took a step toward Bode as if to embrace him.
"Downshift your engine, girl," Jim Bob said. "We got cameras in the room."
"Oh… yeah."
She blew out a breath and shook her head at the opportunity lost then returned to the kids. Bode and Jim Bob looked after her-her firm bottom encased in the tight form-fitting knit dress-and Jim Bob said, "Naturally horizontal."
"We're live in ten seconds!" the TV producer said. "Children, quiet down."
They were chattering muy rapido in Spanish.
"I feel like I'm at a bullfight in Juarez," Jim Bob said.
"Mandy, give them some more donuts."
She passed out donuts, and the kids quieted down. Jim Bob went back to the corner, and Josefina took her place at Bode's feet.
"We're live!" the producer said.
On the monitor, Bode saw the anchor in New York addressing the camera.
"As all of America knows by now, this past Saturday Texas Governor Bode Bonner went on what he thought would be just another hunting trip on an isolated game ranch in the desolate Davis Mountains of West Texas-but unbeknownst to him, he was about to stumble upon a scene straight out of an action movie."
The setup piece played on the monitor, a rehash of the shooting with video of the ranch and the valley where he had shot the Mexicans, the dead bodies splayed on the ground, and the children looking filthy and pitiful in ragged clothes at the marijuana camp. The video lingered a long moment on Bode surrounded by the kids almost clinging to him, and then the screen switched to Bode surrounded by the kids in the living room of the Governor's Mansion.
"Now, live from Austin, Texas, we're joined by Governor Bode Bonner and the children he rescued. Welcome, Governor."
Bode tousled the hair of the nearest boy-he thought that'd be nice touch on national TV-then smiled into the camera and said, "Morning, George."
"Governor, you look like you're having fun."
"Oh, we've kind of adopted the kids here at the Mansion, fixing them pancakes in the kitchen this morning, playing out on the lawn… and, boy, they love cable TV. And donuts. Like Carlos here."
He patted the boy's head again; the boy looked up and said, " Soy Miguel."
"Oh, Miguel. Sorry." To the camera: "Thirteen kids, I haven't gotten their names down yet."
George laughed. "You know, Governor, I knew very little about you before this weekend, and all I had seen of you was a tough-talking, tea-party Texan. But we're seeing a different side of you."
"I'm the governor, George, but I'm also a father. I can only imagine how much these kids' folks back home are worrying about them. We're working fast to get them back to their mamas in Mexico."
Bode's usual public voice was not twangy like a country singer or Deep South like the Mississippi governor, but just a soft drawl-of course, since Bush a Texas drawl had not proved popular anywhere but Texas.
The smallest boy turned to Bode and said, "?Mi madre? "
"Your mama's fine, Flaco."
" Yo soy Ruben."
"Governor, you're a staunch opponent of illegal immigration, yet you risked your life to save those Mexican children. Why?"
"Saving these kids wasn't about being a politician, George, it was about being a man. I wasn't about to let those cartel thugs kill little Josefina here."
Now it was time for the big question of the morning.
"Governor, when you shot those men, how did you feel?"
"Pretty damn good. They were dead and she wasn't."
Josefina turned her sweet face to him as if on cue and said, " Es el hombre. "
"You're the man, Governor," George said.
The scene was replayed on the other network morning shows. Little Josefina even repeated her " el hombre " line without prompting. On national TV. He needed to put her on the campaign payroll.
Two hundred thirty-five miles south, Jesse Rincon watched the governor's wife pack her black satchel with medicine and supplies and hard candy. He then looked back down at the Laredo newspaper spread across his desk. On the front page was a photo of the governor surrounded by the Mexican children he had rescued from the marijuana farm. Jesse read about the governor then again looked up at the governor's wife. Three days she had been in his life. To see her, to breathe her in, to begin and end each day with her-she had brought hope back to him. Hope for love in his life. But she was married to the governor of Texas.
"El Diablo, he will not be happy with your husband."
"Now he knows how I feel."
They kept their voices low so Inez at her desk could not hear them.
"You do not understand. He will seek venganza. Revenge."
"Against the governor of Texas?"
"They kill governors in Mexico every day."
"But this is America."
"Mexico or America, it is just a little river cutting through the land. El Diablo will not be deterred by such formalities."
"But that probably wasn't the same boy."
"No. That probably was not his son. But that was his marijuana."
Lindsay Bonner finished packing her satchel for her morning rounds. The residents did not want to bother the doctor with minor injuries and illnesses, so the Anglo nurse would now make house calls in Colonia Angeles.
It was her third day on the job.
They had worked over the weekend. They had eaten out Saturday evening and in Sunday evening. They had sat on the back porch overlooking the river both nights, and Jesse had told her stories of the borderlands. They had watched the news reports about the governor of Texas killing the three Mexican men in West Texas. No mention was made that one of the men might have been the son of El Diablo, the most notorious drug lord in Nuevo Laredo. The man had a Los Muertos tattoo on his left arm, just as El Diablo's son had; but so did the other two dead men, and so did thousands of other young men in Nuevo Laredo. The man's face had bloated after lying dead for hours in the hot sun, so she and Jesse hadn't been able to make a positive identification from the image they had seen on television or in the paper. But she had called Bode and warned him just the same; he was unfaithful, he was ambitious, he was a politician, but he was still her husband.