Coffee Scoop (6 page)

“How’s the leg, Mama?” he said as the baby’s eyes closed once more.

“Fit and fine,” she said. “I don’t know why Alvaro won’t just take this awful cast off for me. Surely he has something in that tool shed of his that will do the trick. Can you believe he’s instructed the employees not to touch it either?”

“I can,” Ryan said. “He loves you, Mama, and taking off that cast before it is time will not be a good thing. Be patient.”

“Patient? Bah!” She touched the cradle and set it into motion again. “Patience is wasted on the old. I am in a hurry – for walking again, for chasing my babies. This thing, it keeps me sitting when I want to run.”

Across the lawn one of the workers called the children in for afternoon lessons. Ryan watched Mama while Mama watched the children. When the last one had filed inside, her attention returned to the situation at hand.

“So when will I meet this friend of yours?”

Ryan stared down into the baby girl’s sleeping face and smiled. “Soon, I hope.”

“Oh dear,” Mama said. “I hope so as well.”

He lifted his gaze to meet Mama’s. “Why?”

“I fear if this Carrie does not come to Costa Rica soon, you will be bringing Costa Rica to her.”
 

* * *

“Come on aboard,” Mr. Renfro shouted over the whine of the engine and the whirring of the chopper blades.
 

“Are you serious?” Carrie leaned against the wall and tried not to think about how high up she was. As far as she could see the Austin skyline beckoned with not so much as a guardrail to keep someone – or something – from falling between the buildings. The assistant who led her this far seemed nonplussed, but then she had known what to expect.

The Camex executive beckoned her with a wave of his hand. When she refused to move away from the door, he said something to the man sitting next to him then removed his headset and jumped out.
 

George Renfro was taller than she expected, and lean without appearing thin. Striding toward her, the wind teased the coattails of his dark suit and lifted the end of his burgundy tie. His sparse gray hair, however, stayed in place.

He wore a look of concern as he approached. “I guess I should have mentioned we weren’t meeting in my office.”
 

Carrie looked past him to the helicopter and the uniformed man at the controls. Although he sat in the shadowy interior of the chopper, she could have sworn she saw him chuckling. No doubt at her expense.

Clutching her notepad and pen, she searched her mind for a reason to reschedule. Surely there was a standard response for being excused from helicopter rides.
 

“We can go on back downstairs,” Mr. Renfro said. “I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable.”

His assistant leaned over to speak into his ear. Mr. Renfro shook his head. “Tell ‘em I’ve been delayed,” he said as he reached past Carrie to open the door to the stairwell. “Now come on with me, Miss Collins. I’ll show you to my office.”

“No, wait,” Carrie said. “I’m terribly sorry for inconveniencing you. I just wasn’t expecting. . .” She turned to point at the helicopter “. . .this. It will be fine if you want to be interviewed aboard. . .” Her voice cracked and she swallowed hard. “. . .aboard that,” she managed.

Mr. Renfro squinted in her direction. “Are you sure?”
 

Carrie nodded and allowed him to escort her to the helicopter. Once inside, she went through the motions of buckling up while the pilot flipped switches and checked gauges.
 

George Renfro settled in beside her and adeptly fastened himself in. “You ever flown in a whirly bird, Miss Collins?”

“My flights are generally in something a little larger,” she shouted over the whine of the engines. The helicopter lurched and so did Carrie’s stomach. A moment later the helicopter lifted then, as they cleared the roof, abruptly tilted nose down.
 

Her companion offered a warm smile. “It’s supposed to do that.”

Soon the chopper buzzed past the buildings of downtown and headed off westward into the wide expanse of blue/gray sky. Ten minutes later the pilot set down in a grassy field on the edges of what looked to be a farm.

Mr. Renfro released his restraints then helped Carrie with hers. A moment later they both stood on the ground, the chopper blades kicking up a windstorm behind them.

“Over there,” he pointed, indicating a modest barn painted dark red and circled by an odd collection of busses and vans. “I’d like you to see this.”

Carrie followed her host, stepping inside to find a horse arena filled with children in various stages of riding or watching the horses. In the center of the barn, a half-dozen ponies stood at the wait while some children were helped onto saddles and others were eased off. The unifying factor in all of them, Cassie noticed, was their smiles.

“Special needs kids,” Mr. Renfro said. “Inner city girls and boys whose only contact with the country was what they saw on television. Now, they get riding lessons and a picnic once a week.”

“Hey, Mister George,” a snaggle-toothed girl called. “Watch me. I’m a cowgirl.”

“That’s great, Jenny,” he said as he clapped.
 

As Mr. Renfro walked her through the barn, he stopped every few feet to speak to a girl or share a high-five with a boy. In most cases, he knew their name. In all cases, they knew him.
 

Finally they reached the other side of the building. Mr. Renfro opened a wide door and motioned for her to go inside. He followed, snapping on the lights in what turned out to be a modest office. Three walls stood covered with pictures that looked to be drawn by the very children now populating the barn. The fourth wall was a large window that overlooked the interior of the barn and the scene unfolding there.
 

Carrie watched with a smile then jumped when her host cleared his throat.

“Can I get you something before we begin?” he asked as he shrugged out of his suit jacket and settled behind the desk.
 
“I have it on good authority that there’s a fresh baked peach pie to be had in the kitchen.” He winked. “I think my housekeeper’s got a thing for Sandy, my pilot.”

“No, thank you.” She sat across from him and pulled her notebook out. “I must say this is one memorable interview.”

Rather than comment, her host lifted the receiver on an ancient black telephone. “No, nothing for us, thanks,” he said. “But tell Sandy to get himself a cup of coffee and some pie. Miss Collins and I will be heading back in about half an hour.” He hung up the phone and returned his attention to Carrie. “So, are we going to talk about my past, present, or future?”

CHAPTER NINE

“Do you have a preference?” Carrie balanced the notepad on her knees, her pen poised inches from the page. Her attention, however, was focused on the corporate executive on the other side of the desk.
 

Her reporter’s eye went from the owner of the office to the details of the space. Other than the children’s art, the lone framed item in the room sat directly behind Mr. Renfro. It was a page from a book. Upon closer inspection she noted that the book from which this yellowed page came was a King James Bible.

“No,” Mr. Renfro said without the slightest hesitation. “Within limits, my life is an open book, some chapters better than others.” He paused and seemed to be assessing her. “But then if you’re any good as a reporter, you know all about the bad chapters. So why don’t you start by telling me what you know?”

Carrie leveled an even stare at her host. “Born in Brooklyn, raised in New Jersey. Married. One son, two daughters,” she recited from memory. “Influence peddling, stock manipulation, and a half-dozen white collar crimes that added up to a stint in a minimum security prison back East. How am I doing?”

“All true so far.” He smiled. “Is that all you’ve got?”
 

She shook her head. “Born again after a visit from a prison minister. Left prison to start a company that eventually became Camex. Gives large but unsubstantiated donations to Christian charities.” She paused. “Did I miss anything?”

He leaned back and the big leather chair groaned in protest. Swiveling to stare out the window at the merry scene unfolding beyond the glass, Mr. Renfro seemed to be deep in thought. Finally he whirled back around and leaned forward. Amusement danced in his dark eyes.

“Did you miss anything?” Her host asked the question with a contemplative tone, as if he too were wondering. “Miss Collins, if I may say so, you’ve researched me quite well.”

“Thank you.”
 

“As to whether you missed anything, if I might be so bold, I think you missed the most important thing.” Mr. Renfro shrugged. “Haven’t you wondered why I brought you all the way out to Wimberly today?”

Good question. Carrie pondered the possibilities. “My guess would be that you wanted to show me what a good person you are.”

“I suppose I can see how it might appear that way.” A smile tugged at the edge of his lips. “Unfortunately, you’re wrong. I brought you out here to show you what a good person Ryan Baxter is.”

Carrie dropped her pen then scrambled after it. “I don’t understand. What does Ryan have to do with anything?”

Mr. Renfro cast a glance out the window at the happy chaos going on inside the barn. “Miss Collins, do you see that mare right over there, the black and white one?”

She followed the direction of his stare to see a magnificent horse plodding slowly in a circle with two laughing girls on her back. “Yes, I see her.”

“That’s Mercy and she’s a real prize. If I hadn’t been trying to outbid Ryan Baxter for that mare, I would never have come to really know Jesus. That prison minister gave me the head knowledge but Ryan, well, I guess you could say he gave me the heart knowledge. Now that’s the real story. I dare you to tell that one to your readers.”

Carrie gripped her pen and formulated her question. “So you’re saying that Ryan Baxter and a horse called Mercy caused you to find your faith? Would you mind elaborating?”

Mr. Renfro chuckled. “It would be my pleasure.” He
 
laced his hands behind his head and leaned back again. “It all started four years ago during the horse auctions at the rodeo. I had my heart set on that little filly. Saw her early on and knew I’d be taking her home. So I’m sitting there all confident just waiting for her number to come up. Time comes to bid and I figure it’s a done deal. Next thing you know I hear someone in the back outbid me.”

Scribbling as fast as she could, Carrie noted Mr. Renfro’s description of the moment he turned around and saw Ryan Baxter standing behind the last row of seats.
 

“I looked right at him and doubled the bid. Well, he smiled real big and outbid me again. This went on a time or two more until I called a time-out to the auctioneer then stood right up and asked the impertinent kid in the back row what it would take for him to cut out his foolishness and let me have that horse. Would believe he had the gumption to tell me he would let me win that horse if he could have an hour of my time?”

Smiling, Carrie nodded. “Yes, I can believe that.”

Mr. Renfro paused and looked away. When he returned his attention to Carrie, his eyes looked misty. “I thought he was the biggest fool I’d ever run into. I took him up on his offer and told him I’d buy him dinner too.”

Carried turned the page. “I think I see where this is going.”
 

“Maybe you do, but I sure didn’t. I bought that snot-nosed kid a steak dinner thinking I’d soon be seeing the last of him.”

“Obviously that didn’t happen.”

“No.” Again he paused. “No, it didn’t. About midway through the best rib-eye I’d ever sunk my teeth into, Ryan starts asking me questions. Well, I didn’t like the answers but he sure did. For everything I said, he had something in response. Pretty soon he’d given me more to chew on than steak.”

“So was that the night you were changed?”

Her host stood and laughed. “Hardly, although I wish I could say I listened and learned right then. No, I’m a hardheaded man. I’d heard all about the Lord in prison and I thought that religion was a nice thing for people with lots of time on their hands. Once I got back into the real world I began to fall back into my old ways. Now I can see that the Lord used Ryan Baxter to head me back down the right road. Ryan didn’t have any idea what he was doing that night. He told me later he was just being obedient.”

“How so?”

Mr. Renfro touched the glass and seemed to contemplate her question. Outside the muffled squeals of the children floated past. Behind her host, a large utilitarian clock ticked off the seconds.
 

“Seems as though your friend Ryan had something like a hundred dollars to his name: ten in his pocket and another ninety in the bank. He’d been working with a street ministry group in the parking lot when the Lord laid it on his heart to go inside that arena and bid on a horse called Mercy.”

Carrie swallowed hard and rested her pen against the paper. “So you’re telling me that Ryan Baxter is the reason . . .” She paused to clear her throat and collect her thoughts. “. . . the reason for all the good you do?”

“No, Miss Collins,” he said softly. “The Lord is the reason for what I do. Ryan Baxter was the messenger.”

“Wow,” she said softly.

“Wow, indeed.”
 

The phone rang and her host picked it up. While he spoke, Carrie wandered to the window. Her gaze flitted from child to child, horse to horse, until it landed on Mercy.

What kind of man would walk into a horse barn and bid for a prize-winning mare with only $100 to his name? Perhaps there was more to Ryan Baxter than she anticipated.

Perhaps her instincts were wrong.

“Forgive me, Miss Collins, but it’s time to head back to town.”

Carrie turned to reach for her bag. “It’s been lovely, Mr. Renfro. Thank you for being so candid.”

“Yes, well, I don’t see how being any other way serves any purpose. The Lord gave me the experiences I had to either teach me or show others. I’d like to think a little of both, really.”