Chapter 2
"I've changed my mind, Buck. You're going to bust that Gaucin girl's bruised cherry, after all!" hissed the husky-voiced owner of the huge Scarboro farm. He stood shaking with rage on the front porch of his big white house, his mind coming up with a scheme even before the pickup bearing Merv Gaucin and Elon Martinez, the Chicano leader, passed through his front gate and moved off toward the migrant workers' quarters.
A grin of lewd anticipation spread over the rapist's boyishly handsome face. He cradled the shotgun in the crook of his left arm and ran the fingers of his right hand through his unkempt blond hair. Knowing his boss' weakness for young virgins, Buck couldn't resist saying, "I thought you wanted to pluck her yourself, Senator."
"I'm not paying you to think!" Hubert Scarboro snapped. "I want that girl raped and raped good ... today! Handle it any way you want to! It's your job!"
"And mighty nice work, too," Buck drawled. "But I'm not eager to get locked up again, boss. What about the law?"
"I'm the law in this county!" Scarboro growled. "All you've got to worry about is witnesses. Make sure there aren't any, and I'll swear you were with me while Gaucin's kid was getting it. Kenyon won't question my word."
"Not if he wants to go on being sheriff, he won't," snorted Jake Coons, Scarboro's hulking, six-foot-four foreman.
"Today, Buck," Scarboro said coldly. "I want that kid raped today!"
"I'm rising to the task already, boss," the twenty-six-year-old flunky assured, lasciviously stroking the bulge in his pants.
"I think I see your reasoning, boss," Jake Coons said. "Since a beating didn't scare Gaucin off ... and with that Chicano sonofabitch drooling to pull the field hands out for a county-wide boycott, if we fire Gaucin or touch him again ... you figure to get to the reporter through his kid?"
"You've got the picture, Jake."
"Yeah," Conna said thoughtfully. "I reckon it'll sour him on sticking around long. After old Buck fucks the ass off his pretty little girl, and Gaucin sees there's not a damned thing he can do about it, I imagine his main concern will be to highball it out of here and take her home. He'll more than likely forget all about them articles he was sent to nose around for. It ought to work."
"It had better work," Scarboro said, his hand still shaking a little as he lit a cigarette. "I've worked too hard and long to get where I am to just stand by and let some Mex pencil pusher ruin everything. Keep Gaucin away from those Mexican nationals. Truck the wetback sonsofbitches over to Hanson's place for now."
"They're the best workers we've got, boss," the foreman protested. "And the cheapest."
"All the more reason to keep them out of sight while Gaucin is here," Scarboro said. "I don't want to be caught with illegal workers. It would tear the hell out of the public image I've been building.
Besides, fines aren't deductible business expenses. And speaking of expenses, lock up both sets of books and shoot Gaucin if he get anywhere near them. I mean that, Jake. Blow his head off if he so much as sniffs around the office. I don't intend to go to prison for income tax evasion."
"I don't want to kill nobody," Jake said, stuffing his ham-like hands into his pockets. "Unless we just got to."
"Then keep that troublemaker away from our records," Scarboro warned. "Because if there is a tax mess, you'll be in it too, Jake ... right up to your ears."
"I'll handle him," Jake assured, nodding, with the muscles in his clenched jaws pumping in and out. "One way or another."
"You'd better," the tough, lean New Mexico state senator said, his five-foot-ten body tensing for the trouble he knew Merv Gaucin could stir up. "If that bastard digs too deep, we could all three go to the pen. You boys keep your eyes on him. Keep him so busy he won't have time to nose around. I don't want him to write even one article, understand? That newspaper he works for goes all over the state, and I don't intend to let Gaucin ruin my political career. I've got the gubernatorial nomination in my pocket, and a damned good chance of winning the election. I'm going to be the next governor of New Mexico, boys ... and I'll piss on that reporter's grave if he gets in my way!"