Chapter 4
It was nearly dark when Sheriff Kenyon's car pulled into the circular driveway and made its way toward the big white house in which Hubert Scarboro lived. The battered pickup, which Merv's newspaper had provided as part of his cover, was right behind the sheriffs car. Merv, tight-jawed and vengeful, drove. Felicia, feeling wretched but a little better now that the medication the doctor had given her was taking effect, rode in the middle. On the other side of Felicia sat Elon Martinez, his eyes blazing and the muscles of his jaws pumping in and out.
"We're not going to get any justice this way," Elon muttered again. "Kenyon belongs to Scarboro and the other big farmers in this county. He's on their side. He helps them all kinds of ways. You'll see, Merv."
As if he'd been expecting company, Scarboro walked out to meet them before they could even mount the steps to his front porch. He was dressed immaculately in a two-hundred-dollar suit and seventy-five-dollar shoes. He paused on the porch, smiling benevolently as he looked down at them. Ignoring the others, he addressed himself to Sheriff Kenyon, "Good to see you, Bob. How's the wife and kids?"
"Fine, thank you, Senator," Kenyon replied a bit nervously. "And how's your lovely family?"
"Having a great time over there in Hawaii. I just got through talking to Ruth on the phone. I'm flying over to join them in a few days. We'll spend a week or so touring the islands, then all fly back together."
"Save the amenities for later," Merv snapped. "This isn't a social call, Sheriff."
"Something wrong, Bob?" Scarboro asked with mock concern as he leisurely descended the steps.
"Buckner raped Miss Gaucin," Elon Martinez growled. "We've come for him."
Hubert Scarboro affected a shocked expression. "I just can't believe it! Why, Buck hasn't given me a bit of trouble."
"He's got a record, Senator," Kenyon said. "I'll have to take him in."
"Then you think he did it, Bob?"
"The girl has been examined by a doctor. She's been raped, all right ... and she seems awful sure it was Buckner who did it."
Scarboro nodded thoughtfully as he lifted a cigarette to his mouth. "Yes, well, do what you have to do, Bob." He lit his cigarette and exhaled with a sigh. "Buck sure had me fooled. I thought he was completely rehabilitated. My God! By all means, arrest him. I don't want a rapist lurking about the place when my wife and girls get home!"
Felicia stood in mortified silence with her father's awkwardly comforting arm around her shoulders. The Chicano leader glared suspiciously at the sheriff and Scarboro.
Visibly relieved, Kenyon asked, "Do you know where Buckner is, Senator? He's not in his quarters. We stopped there first."
"Probably still in town," Scarboro said. "We had to go in today for business reasons. I left him there with the truck to take care of several odds and ends and drove back in my car. That was around three. He should be coming in any time now."
"We'll wait," the sheriff said.
"Whatever you think is best, Bob," Scarboro said, moving off toward his new Chrysler Imperial. "I've got to get to the county seat, so you'll have to excuse me. We're having a political meeting tonight to plan my campaign for the party's gubernatorial endorsement."
"Sure, Senator," Kenyon called. "And good luck."
"I don't believe this," Elon Martinez whispered. "Scarboro is the worst of all these rotten sweatshop barons."
"I know," Merv replied. "That's why my editor picked his farm for the articles. But maybe he's part human after all."
"Don't kid yourself, my friend," Elon warned. "Scarboro doesn't care about a Chicano girl being raped. He's been accused of raping a couple of very young girls himself. It never got to trial, of course, but I'm sure he was guilty. I know one of the children, and she wouldn't lie. No, this is not like him. Oppression is Scarboro's game. He wouldn't sacrifice a field boss who can drive the workers like Buckner does. Not for Felicia. Not for justice."
Felicia kept thinking she'd heard Scarboro's husky voice before, but the medication was making her groggy and she couldn't seem to place it. Probably on TV or the radio, she decided, and let it go at that.
"We might as well make ourselves comfortable," the sheriff said as Scarboro's Chrysler pulled down the drive. "Buckner will have to pass by here to put the truck away. Hub's a stickler on that. Likes to keep his vehicles looking good. Let's go sit in my car and go over it again. A couple more questions have come to my mind, Miss Gaucin."
"She's already told you everything twice," Merv protested. "Can't you leave her alone for now? She's very upset."
"It's all right, Daddy," Felicia said timidly.
"It's not all right," Elon Martinez muttered. "Scarboro is turning around. He's coming back."
Scarboro wheeled back into the drive and pulled to a stop. He stuck his head out the window, and instead of using Kenyon's first name, like he had before, he said, "Sheriff, something just struck me as I was driving away. When and where does Miss Gaucin claim to have been raped?"
"Here it comes," Elon muttered, the muscles in his jaws beginning to pump again.
Kenyon got out his note pad. "Near as I could place it by her description, Senator, it happened by an irrigation pond with some trees around it, in the big carrot field at the west end of your place."
"It occurred on the farm, then?" Scarboro asked.
The sheriff looked at Felicia. So did Scarboro. She nodded and mumbled, "Yes sir. On the farm."
"At what time, Sheriff Kenyon?" Scarboro asked tensely.
"Shortly after noon is what I've got written down here. Can you by any more precise than that, Miss Gaucin?"
"No, sir," she answered. "I didn't have a watch."
"It doesn't really matter, Bob," Scarboro said, feigning relief. "I'm terribly sorry about what happened to Miss Gaucin, and I sincerely hope you capture the one who raped her, but she's mistaken, I'm afraid. It couldn't have been Buck. You see, he was here at the house then, with me. He arrived at twelve on the dot, just like I'd told him to, and we were preparing to leave for town."
The sheriff seemed suddenly nervous again and confused.
"You lying bastard!" Elon Martinez hissed. He was a large man, and shaking with rage.
"I've taken about all I intend to from you, Martinez," Scarboro snapped. "This is none of your affair, anyhow. Get off my land!"
"I'll plow the whole miserable farm with your lying face!" Elon raged, doubling up his fists and approaching the driver's door of the Chrysler with his eyes narrowed to glowering slits.
"Get back, Martinez!" Kenyon warned, and unsnapped the cover to his gun holster. "We'll have none of that!"
"Don't do it, Elon!" Merv called as he rushed forward and blocked the Chicano's progress. "I see what you mean now, but don't ruin everything. I've got to write those articles now! I'll need your help!"
"He's a madman!" Scarboro goaded, wanting Elon Martinez to attack him, so he could pick up the pistol in the seat beside him and kill him, with the sheriff as a witness that he'd done it in self-defense. "Martinez, you're insane!"
Martinez was an angry man with a cause, and he had a short temper, but he was no fool. He didn't want to go to jail for assault and battery. In jail, where he'd been several times already, he could do little for his people. But Merv Gaucin could do much through his articles. Martinez considered Merv a godsend, and he wasn't about to let his fury spoil Merv's chances of finishing his work.
"You are right, my friend," Martinez said through clenched teeth. "Let's get out of here, before I get us both locked up."
"I'll bring you Buckner's balls," Elon Martinez offered as he and Merv sat outside the cabin in the migrant workers' camp later that night. "Just say the word, my friend, and I'll castrate him with pleasure."
Merv smiled ruefully and shook his head. "We'll get him, Elon, and Scarboro, too! I swear it! But not that way. I've learned enough already to obliterate Scarboro's chances of becoming governor. A few more days is all I need, then he can forget about being reelected as senator even. If only I could get at his books, I think maybe we could send the sonofabitch to prison!"
"I'll help you. I have trusted men. You won't forget to write about the oppressive conditions under which we are forced to live and work in this county, will you, my brother?"
"I won't forget," Merv promised. "It's the reason I came, and things are even worse than I thought! I've already taken pictures and mailed the film to my editor."
"You should send Felicia home," Martinez said. "Ernesto has a keen mind and a strong back, and he is brave and loyal, but he can't guard the girl every minute of the day."
There was an odd sensation, a sort of a tightening down in the lower part of Merv's stomach. He felt it every time he thought of his daughter sleeping in the same cabin with the strapping Armijo youth, who Martinez had assigned her as a bodyguard. Elon had assured him that Ernesto could be trusted implicity, but Merv hadn't agreed to the arrangement until the little Vigil girl, Amita, had volunteered to sleep in the cabin with them.
"This is no place for your daughter, my friend. Felicia is too soft for field work, too naive about our way of life, too attractive, and much too vulnerable. They may try to harm her again. I fear for her safety, even with Ernesto watching over her. Could you not do your job better if you didn't have to worry about her danger as well as your own?"
"Perhaps," Merv admitted. "But I am a father as well as a reporter. I'm ashamed to admit that my daughter has never shown much sympathy for those less fortunate than she. Put it bluntly, she's half Anglo. Her mother was a bitch! Nearly all of her friends are middleclass Anglos, and their soft-headed attitudes have made more of an impression on her than mine have. I brought her along for a purpose-to show her what it means to have to struggle for equality, to instill in her, if it's not too late, some pride in being a Mexican. No, I won't send her home! And I won't back off one damned inch!"
Elon Martinez nodded. This he could understand.
"These bastards will pay for what they've done to my little girl," Merv said coldly. "I'll expose Scarboro and his ilk publicly. I'll also see Buckner in prison for what he did to my child," Merv hissed, "or die trying!"
"You will not die, Merv," Martinez said with equal vehemence. "We are not as strong here as the brothers in California, but I and a few of my men are not afraid to cause the unexplainable death of a corrupt state senator. Scarboro knows this. He will try desperately to prevent you from writing your articles, but he wouldn't dare kill you. Chicano power will not allow him to get away with it. He'd better know it! Christ, how I hate that man!"