Page 20 of Desert Angel

“What?” She said, her patience wearing thin.

“You’ve been leaving water for illegals for a while. We all know it, but it’s one of those things we just kinda,” the young man shrugged, “well, we just kinda ignore it. If we fill out a report on the tainted water, then we have to explain why the stuff was out there in the first place.”

“Water. On my property.” She said and he nodded. “It’s a gray area.”

“A gray area?” she sputtered and would have gone into the first tirade of her life if Dylan hadn’t put a hand on her shoulder.

“Let us talk about it for a minute, okay, officer? We’ll be right back.”

He took her arm in a gentle but firm grasp and pulled Nikki out the back door and hopefully out of earshot of the police officer.

“What’s the meaning of that? I have every right to leave water on my property. They don’t know why I’m doing it. I might be leaving it there for my use. I might—”

“They know, Nikki. And whether you realize it or not, the law is a little vague on your actions. I checked with Hank a few days ago. People have been arrested and even convicted of aiding and abetting for what you’re doing.”

“But it’s my own land!” she said, her voice breaking with anger and sorrow.

“I know, honey. I know.” He pulled her to him and hugged her before holding her shoulders and looking her in the eye. “You need to decide. Do you want to let this ride or do you want to make a statement? If you do make a statement with the police chances are the news will get ahold of it, at the least. In the worst case scenario, you could face criminal charges.”

She stared at him, running the possibilities through her head. When she came to a decision, she was a bit surprised at how calm she was. “I want to make a statement.”

He nodded and squeezed her shoulders then released them and gestured for her to lead. She entered the house and met the police officer. “I’d like to make a statement about the water. Would like some coffee while we talk?”

Sure enough, within three hours of the police officer leaving with the record in hand, calls started coming in. First, Wayne French called and gave Nikki a lecture on raising a dust storm over nothing. She hung up on him. Then the small local newspaper called and requested an interview. She hung up on them. When a regional blogger called with the same request, she cast an exasperated glance at Dylan and replied. “I’m not interested in doing an interview. I merely exercised my rights as a citizen and reported an incident that happened on my property. Thanks for the call.” As the man rattled another question at her she calmly disconnected the call then looked at the phone. “I wish I could leave it off the hook like you could with corded phones when I was a kid.”

The phone rang again and Dylan calmly took it out of her hand and, turning it over, opened the battery compartment and unhooked the battery. “You can.”

She smiled and glanced at the old clock over the stove. “I’m late with the milking.”

They finished the chores and went inside for a bowl of cereal and more coffee. Dylan had the notion things were just heating up.

The next couple of days surprised Nikki with their calm. She worked on her soaps and lotions, took care of the ranch, and generally became more and more convinced she was falling in love with Dylan. When he noticed her doing her Bible study he asked about it and they got into a discussion about that evening’s lesson. She was pleasantly surprised at his knowledge and willingness to listen to her opinions. So when the first call came from the trading post in Lordsburg, she was shocked. “You don’t want the order? But I thought the sets were selling well?”

Dylan looked up from the laptop and watched as Nikki accepted the cancellation of the trading post’s standing order for her goat’s milk products. After she’d hung up she looked at him in resignation. “I guess that’s the result of the statement I made.”

“Of you publicly admitting what they’ve known for a while?” he said and nodded. “I’m sorry.”

She sighed. “It’s okay. I’ll just have to go farther afield for customers.”

She hid her disappointment in both the loss of income and in her neighbors' affections but she knew he was aware of her change in mood. Dylan volunteered to make supper that evening and Nikki wandered into the mudroom and surveyed the boxes and crates of product. While she valued her ability to make some extra cash by crafting the soaps and lotions, she’d made her choice a long time ago to help the migrants. A cancellation wouldn’t stop her.

Several more cancellations occurred the next day and Nikki tried to keep her optimism about her. When another call came and the woman on the other line reassured Nikki that they’d keep selling the product, she almost cried but thanked her customer.

The next repercussion of the statement came when they went to town to buy groceries a day later. Nikki was in the trading post with her grocery cart when she overheard a couple of men talking in the next aisle. “Can’t get anywhere when people's giving ‘em water and letting ‘em cross without a by your leave.”

“You know she’s been doing it for years, Bill.” The other man said, his voice gruff.

“But she admitted it, Mark. She admitted it and it’s going to get out. Every soft-hearted patsy in the state is going to start doing the same thing. We’ll be overrun before you know it.”

“Ain’t happened so far. Ain’t going to happen just cause Nikki Hill’s watering the illegals. Besides, I bet she cuts back, now that she knows people are watching and doing something about it.”

Nikki swallowed a surge of nausea at Mark’s statement. Had he known of the bleached water? Was he involved? She’d grown up looking up to the man and now, he was all but admitting that he knew about the situation.

She left the cart and headed out of the building, the sun blinding her for a minute before she headed to the truck. She’d go to Douglas for groceries, she thought as she stepped down off the sidewalk.

“Nikki Hill?”

The man’s voice was unfamiliar, yet Nikki had heard it before, she was sure. She turned to see the young state police officer who’d been at her house earlier standing before her, his expression bleak.

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