Page 37 of Mouse Trapped

When I stop for gas I check my phone, no one’s called to tell me Drew’s lying dead or dying from falling off a horse, so at least I’m expecting to find him alive. Unlike Billy who won’t have much longer to live if he’s endangered him in any way.

It’s into the evening by the time I arrive and pull up outside the hogan. Unusually, the sound of my engine doesn’t draw anyone out. But as I shut it down with a sense of uneasiness and pocket the key, I don’t have to look hard to find the reason why. Loud shouts of laughter are ringing out from inside. My gramma, my mom, Drew’s voice, and a couple of my uncles too.

I grin, the kid’s alive. In good spirits too by the sounds of it. I was going to have a chat with him tonight, guess if he’s having fun, I’ll leave it until the morning.

First person I see on entering is that fucker Billy. I pause to clout him around the back of his head.

He turns fast, his hand rubbing his skull, his eyes blazing. “What the fuck?”

“You take my boy riding?” I growl.

“Yeah. He’s a natural.” Billy’s shaking his head as though trying to shrug off the pain. I barely touched him. He’s putting it all on.

“A natural? What fuckin’ unbroken beast did you put him on to prove that?”

Billy smirks. “Actually, the same paint horse as I put you on.” As my eyes widen, he continues. “Gelded now of course. Tame as a fuckin’ lamb. I looked after the kid for you.”

Hmm. Sounds like he might have done just that. That mustang must be twenty years old now, must have calmed over the years.

“Tse!” Drew’s on his feet. Well, fuck me, he looks pleased to see me.He’ll probably think I’ve got news of Mariana.“I got an A in computer science.” I’m pleased as fuck at his grade, and also that’s what he was bursting to tell me.

Mom gets me a plate of stew, and as I sit cross-legged on the floor to eat it, I know coming here was the right thing to do. If I can’t be watching out for Mariana, having eyes on her brother will have to suffice. Both of us can support each other.

In the morning Drew’s getting ready as usual, but I stop him. “Need a word.”

“You want me to skip school?”

It’s not that I do, but that I think he needs to. We’ve got things to talk about. I’m relying on the fact he’s got an old head on young shoulders. “Yeah.” I wave him through the doorway. I shiver, the weather’s cooler here than in Tucson, but not as cold as some parts of the Rez. “Let’s take a walk.”

His eyes crease, but he raises and dips his chin. “You want to talk about Mariana.”

It’s obvious, so I don’t reply. “No beating around the bush. I don’t think there’s a chance of anything else. Got to deal with the fact she’s going to be deported.”

Suddenly his hand’s on my arm, his eyes flaring. “Don’t say that, Tse. Please don’t say that. There’s got to be a chance.”

“Worst-case scenario.” I give him that. I lean my back against a tree. “But we’ve got to be prepared for it.”

“What does that mean?” He’s paled.

“She stays out of the US for at least five years before she can apply to come back.”

“I’ll go with her,” he offers without hesitation. “She can’t go back on her own.”

Raising my head, my eyes focus on his. “You’ll stay here. Complete your education.”

“She can’t go alone.”

“She won’t be.” It’s now I take a deep breath and jump into the unknown, the decision I know is the only one I can make. Would have preferred more time to date her, get to know her, but I know I don’t want her with anyone else. That’s enough to base a relationship on, isn’t it? Under the circumstances. “I’ll go with her. Marry her.”

His eyes widen. “You’d do that?” Suddenly he’s almost bouncing with excitement. “If she’s married to a US citizen, she can get a green card, can’t she?”

I hate to dampen his spirits. “It’s not as easy as that. Married or not, if she’s deported, the five-year limit will apply.” Could be ten or twenty years. I force my mind away from what I’d be giving up. We’ll have to prove it’s not a marriage of convenience.Remembering the feeling of her behind me on my bike, consummating the marriage would not be a problem.I’m offering up my life here. To a woman I don’t know.I don’t even know what she’d think of my proposal. Would she want to shackle herself to me?

“Thing is, Drew. If she leaves under a deportation order, it will be harder for her to return. Much as I hate to say it, if sheleaves voluntarily and pays her own way, that would go in her favour.”

He stills. “Voluntary deportation? That’s what you’re suggesting? That she agrees to leave.”

“I’d be with her,” I remind him. The vision of riding away from my club is painful, but I couldn’t stand the thought of her being alone. I’d survive. We both would. Five years isn’t so bad. It could be an adventure.Or not.

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