The Bootlegger’s Legacy (10 page)

Sally had become an attraction at the lunch counter and was making a nice amount of money in tips. She spent everything she could get on clothes since she knew she had to be “classier” to attract the type of man she wanted.

During her time off, Sally actually fantasized about the type of man she wished she could be with. She developed a mental picture of who this person would be: someone older, in their fifties probably, maybe even married. She knew that Hank would have had a heart attack if she’d said that to him. She wanted someone who would treat her like a lady, but who didn’t want to marry her. Sally had thought about this a lot and thought her best chances of having the kind of success she wanted was as a single woman.

She understood that her plans conflicted with her morals, but it was a very difficult world for young women. She was alone, and
she
was the only one who knew or cared if she was okay. She would look out for herself.

And then there was the number one requirement for her man: he had to be rich. It was obvious that everywhere you looked the only truly happy people were rich, and she was dirt poor. That had to change.

Sally saved her money for several months to buy some special clothes. Then she manipulated one of the younger men who were always chasing her to take her to the Lincoln Club. She had heard people talk about this club, where politicians and big time executives hung out with their girlfriends. Sally didn’t know if that was true or not, but it sure sounded like a place she needed to visit.

Her young date was astonished at the prices. He whispered to Sally, “We’ve got to get out of here, I’m not sure I have enough money for a glass of water.”

Sally gave him one of her amazing smiles, “You go ahead and leave, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry—if I have any trouble I have enough money for a cab. Please, just go before you embarrass me.”

He gave her a look that suggested she was a real bitch and that if she got killed it sure the hell wasn’t his fault. In a totally unnecessary huff, he left.

Sally moved to the bar and asked for a glass of water. She wasn’t entirely sure whether they charged for water or not, but she would risk it. Soon Sally had company and a free drink: champagne.

That first evening she met several gentlemen who were close to what she was looking for, but she chose no one. Sally enjoyed some delicious food at the bar, champagne, and plenty of company. When it was approaching time that she felt she should leave, she excused herself, stepped outside, and asked the doorman to call a cab for her. It cost her several days’ tips to get a ride home, but it felt like she had made a statement.

Within a short time she was being entertained by several men who more or less fit her model. She hadn’t found the right one yet, but she was confident he was out there somewhere, waiting for her.

Oklahoma City, Oklahoma / Las Cruces, New Mexico

It took a couple of days to work out the logistics and circumstances for their trip to New Mexico. Sally could easily get off work—by all accounts she had more real authority at the restaurant than the manager. Pat would collect her and her luggage early in the morning at her apartment, avoiding any issues with her finding the hangar or a spot to park her car. It also meant they could get an early start on their trip. Pat preferred to fly in the morning.

Sally wasn’t thrilled with the airplane. She had never flown before, not even on what she called a “real plane,” referring to large commercial airplanes with a captain and staff in uniform. This little plane, flown by Pat, was causing her some serious concern.

Pat was a good pilot and took his responsibilities very seriously, especially with a passenger. He let Sally watch as he inspected the plane and did his pre-flight checklist. He told her what everything did and pointed out the safety features that were built into the plane and the flight process. They walked around the airplane together as he inspected it and he took time to explain each checklist item and why it was important. The more she learned, the more relaxed she became, and the more excited about the trip she was.

Pat had filed a flight plan that took them to Lubbock, then El Paso, and then Las Cruces. Total flying time would be five or six hours. Las Cruces had a small airstrip with no services, so he would refuel in El Paso before the jump to Cruces. He had made arrangements with Emerson, his employee in Cruces, to meet them at the airstrip and take them to the hotel.

He had packed the plane with a lot of snacks that Sally loved, including chocolate, strawberries, cheese, and crusty bread, along with pastries from the bakery at Browns. The stops in Lubbock and El Paso would avoid any embarrassing issues arising from not having a restroom on the airplane. Pat was used to flying alone, but he was looking forward to having Sally’s company. He really wanted to impress her, and he was hoping everything would go well.

The first leg of the journey, stopping in Lubbock, was smooth. Sally was chatty and seemed to enjoy herself. After the stop in Lubbock, the air was choppier. This was normal as the morning air got warmer, but Sally wasn’t pleased. Pat encouraged her to try to take a nap—that way they’d be in El Paso before she knew it. The turbulence wasn’t too bad, and it finally seemed to lull Sally to sleep.

The landing at the El Paso Airport was smooth. This was a much larger airport, with both civil and commercial operations. Pat was very focused on what he was doing to make sure he didn’t make any mistakes. They taxied to the FBO area and parked the plane as directed by the ground crew. After a bathroom break and refueling, they took to the air again and headed to Las Cruces. This would only take fifteen or twenty minutes, so Pat stayed at a low altitude. Even though this made it a little choppier, being closer to the ground made Sally calmer. She was definitely enjoying the scenery, looking at the mountains to the east that appeared to be higher than they were. She had turned out to be a good co-pilot.

“There’s the little airstrip for Las Cruces—do you see it?” Pat was pointing out of the cockpit window in front of them.

“Oh, yeah, I see it. We’re getting close. This has been great, but I’m ready to be out of this plane for a while. I bet you are too?” Sally gave him one of her great smiles.

“Yeah, I ‘m ready for some libations and maybe some Mexican food.” Pat was tired, but he wasn’t going to admit it. This trip was right at his time limit for flying. Flying a small plane with visual flight rules wasn’t usually stressful, but it was tiring.

Pat lined the plane up with the runway and settled in for a slow descent into Las Cruces. The landing was smooth. The small airstrip was well taken care of and had good markings. He followed some flags that guided him to an area where he could park the plane. As he looked out of the cockpit he saw Emerson standing by an old car, waving.

Once the plane was parked, Pat told Sally he was going to walk over and talk to his man and she should wait there for a minute.

“Hey, Pat—you’re right on time. How was the flight?”

“It was good, Jim—no problems with weather and not very bumpy.”

“Great. I made reservations for you at the Meson de Mesilla—they have a great bar and restaurant right in the hotel in case you’re too tired to go out.”

Pat had heard of the hotel and had been wanting to try it. That was a plus for Emerson, taking the initiative to make reservations. Maybe he was going to work out after all.

“That sounds good, Jim. I need to tie down the plane and lock it up, but once I’m through you can take us to the hotel. I’d like to meet with you in the morning to go over some things, but I think for tonight that we’ll just stay in. Maybe tomorrow we can have dinner together.” Pat still wasn’t sure about Emerson—didn’t even know if he was married. He told himself he would decide on this trip if this was the right guy or if he should look for someone else. There was a lot of sensitive information he would have to share, so he needed to be sure.

Emerson helped Pat secure the plane and load the luggage into the car. Pat didn’t recognize the make of the car, but he thought it might be a late thirties Buick. Anyway, all the luggage fit into the large trunk and Sally slid into the back seat. Pat caught a glimpse of her great legs and wanted to follow her, but he got into the front and carried on a meaningless conversation with Emerson as they took about ten minutes to reach the hotel in Old Mesilla. Emerson never acknowledged, or mentioned Sally. What a dumb son-of-a-bitch. Was he blind, or afraid of offending Pat?
I guess that might actually make him smart.

Old Mesilla consisted of the remnants of an old town right next to Las Cruces, the original settlement in the region and part of the land acquired from Mexico in the Gadsden Purchase in 1853. The United States had bought the 30,000-square-mile region, which included southern Arizona and southwestern New Mexico, for $10 million, establishing the border between the two countries, and history was all around them. What was left of Mesilla was mostly an old town plaza with an even older church.

The area had become a tourist attraction, with Mexican goods and some of the best Mexican food Pat had ever eaten. The hotel was small, somewhat hidden under towering trees, with a lot of charm—he thought Sally would like the feeling of the place, and she did. The colors were like a festival. Of course the main attraction for Pat was Sally herself.

The exterior of the Meson de Mesilla lived up to Pat’s expectations. It was an adobe structure that could have been located in Santa Fe. There were beautiful red flowers blooming around the hotel’s entrance, and soft music in the air.

“Pat this place is wonderful. If feels like we’re in a foreign country.” Sally was enchanted and eager to get out of the car. She explored the hotel while Pat and Emerson unloaded.

They checked in without any hassles. Pat said goodbye to Emerson, reminding him about the next day. Sally wanted to take a bath in the beautiful suite and have a siesta. Pat said he would go to the bar for a quick drink, then come back and take a shower before they went out to dinner. Even though he’d told Emerson they were going to stay in, Pat was looking forward to a night out with his beautiful Sally. And he certainly didn’t want the evening to be spoiled by Emerson’s attitude.

Pat told Sally, “We’ll go to La Posta—some of the best Mexican food I’ve ever tasted—plus some of the biggest and best margaritas in the world. How does that sound?”

“Pat, it sounds wonderful. What was with that guy? He acted like I wasn’t there.”

The more Pat thought about it, the more he thought that maybe Emerson didn’t approve of Sally. He knew Pat was married, and Emerson was probably one of those people who could rob and murder all day long, but didn’t approve of sexual infidelity. To hell with him.

“I know—not sure what that was about. But let’s not think about him. I want you to have a great time. I also know a little place right on the plaza where they play great music that we can dance to—how about that?”

“Are you sure you’re okay with doing all of this after a day of flying the plane?”

“Is that an old man comment?”

“Shut up, Pat.”

Pat made a little face, then smiled. “Take your bath and I’ll be back in a little while. We’ll go have some fun—until I collapse. Then you can bring me back and have your way with me.”

“Oh my goodness, how did I ever get mixed up with you? Now go!”

Dinner at La Posta was fantastic. Everything from the décor to the food was authentic. Sally enjoyed her margarita and consumed an unbelievable number of red enchiladas. Pat was right with her on both the margaritas and the food—he had the chili rellenos, a La Posta specialty. After almost two hours of eating and drinking, Pat was questioning the logic of going dancing but, of course, by this time Sally insisted. She felt the music in her feet and was eager to try some of the steps she had been watching other dancers do.

It was a short walk to the El Patio Bar, just a little off of the plaza. Obviously not the swankiest of bars, but the music was loud and the crowd was happy. They settled in and ordered drinks while listening to the music. After a few songs, awareness set in quickly that you can’t be in a small plane all day, have a gigantic meal of Mexican food and a prodigious amount of alcohol, and not be close to dead tired. They glanced at one another and smiled. “Maybe we can come back tomorrow a little earlier and try the dancing—that okay?” Pat said with a certain amount of pleading in his voice. He was absolutely beat.

“Sure. I was just about to ask you if we could call it a night. I’ve had a full day.” With that, Pat got one of those famous smiles and he decided it was a wonderful night. They headed back to enjoy a little loving time and some heavy sleeping.