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Show All the Variables & Other Love Stories 41 The real Casabon was not an ungraspable wraith, but a form of Esperanza's own design, like happy clay in the master-sculpture's hands. To say she missed him would be false, for she'd spent more time with him the last few weeks than ever before. Esperanza recognized now love for her was not obedience to a force. Love was the answer to a calling Esperanza had left too long in abeyance. "O you saints!" she cried, "What mistake have I made?" Father Aguilar made his phone calls as soon as he returned to his cell, first to Information, then to the estranged parents of William Jefferson Hightower, then to the scorned wife of the same, then to the local authorities of Marengo Township, Alabama, and finally to the Federal Bureau of Investigation. No one would say the nature or scope of Hightower's crimes-not his wife, not the federalis-only that a bounty had been offered for the man's capture. Father Aguilar within an hour of his first phone call had learned absolutely nothing about Hightower and had nevertheless unequivocally defeated him. Anyone who expected a fight was disappointed. None came. The women of Taos formed a human wall the circumference of the manor house. But when Hightower looked out the window and saw the two-score federalis descending on the ranch with teargas and billy-clubs, he came out with hands high as flags and surrendered without incident despite much weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth from his would-be defenders. He doffed to the ladies his best Stetson and thanked them cordially for a pleasant time, a very pleasant time. He said they'd put such tremendous work into the ranch it would be straight pity should it fall into disrepair, and they all promised to keep it |