Winning Texas by Nancy Stancill Page A

another language. Like most Texans, he spoke some Spanish, but the women ’ s rapid-fire conversation daunted him.
    He was relieved to find that the women, introduced as Angela, Sara and Isabel, were older, perhaps in their mid- to late twenties or early thirties. They looked more Spanish than Indian, with light skin, nice faces and well-padded bodies. As Daria had observed, Juliana would applaud her choices. He couldn ’ t remember their last names, but knew that Angela and Isabel were sisters and Sara their cousin. Perhaps because they were older, they seemed more at ease with themselves than the young, high-strung women who auditioned at his clubs. He was glad Daria had talked to them about the workings of the ranch because he didn ’ t want to have to explain anything – in English or Spanish.
    The morning passed quickly and Krause pulled into a rest stop for lunch. The women looked pleased when they saw the voluminous basket of food Daria had packed. He took out the sandwiches, drinks and cookies and everyone picked out what they wanted and ate in contented silence. They piled back into the car and lapsed into an afternoon torpor. Krause drove steadily and by mid-afternoon, he ’ d reached the guard gate of his ranch. He spoke briefly to the man on duty and drove inside.
    Something about the place, which they ’ d called Krause Ranch in the absence of a clever name, had always made him uneasy. He couldn ’ t quite put his finger on it, but the ranch had never felt welcoming. Perhaps he and Juliana had snapped up the densely wooded property too quickly. It had been listed at a good price, but he wondered now if the previous owners had just been in a hurry to get rid of it. The trees and heavy underbrush were thick and gloomy, especially after Juliana had installed fencing and barbed wire. He didn ’ t much care for the people Juliana had hired either, especially Maria Espinosa, the part-time director who worked when Juliana couldn ’ t be there. Espinosa, a heavyset Hispanic with a broad forehead and grayish skin tones, came up to meet them. She looked and acted like a prison matron.
    The modest assortment of one-story buildings looked as innocent as a summer camp, but Krause could sense that the Salvadorans also felt the odd chill of the place. They ’ d stopped talking and all three seemed reluctant to gather their belongings. He wanted them to hurry up so that he could leave, but he tried to hide his eagerness to get away. The three women stood together, as if supporting each other from unseen dangers. He introduced them to Espinosa in his limited Spanish and handed her a stack of paperwork Daria had sent. Espinosa began talking with them in Spanish and they nodded in comprehension. He smiled, waved, got back in the SUV and drove without stopping through the guard gate. He felt sorry for the women who watched him drive off, but after all, they ’ d known what they were signing up for when they agreed to come to the ranch.
    After a few minutes on the open road, he was breathing easier. For the first time all day he relaxed. He deserved his treat, so he headed toward San Antonio.
    Six years ago, he ’ d built his first Texas Gas Emporium off I-10 outside the Alamo City and had been astounded by its immediate success. It was his iteration of the gigantic places that had sprung up in recent years to attract hordes of gas-guzzling motorists and truckers. The emporium boasted twenty-five gas pumps and a glittering convenience store that offered everything from warmed-up hotdogs and burritos to Mexican pottery and flavored condoms. There was an ice-cream counter and a game room to entertain the kids and a motel behind the convenience store where truckers could rent showers, rooms and if they went about it discreetly, women. Krause ’ s business concept was designed to fill every need of the modern road warrior.
    When Juliana joined him in Houston, she ’ d been so impressed with the Texas Gas Emporium and its