One Step Over the Border (18 page)

“Annamarie, did you bring a deputy?” Laramie called.

A uniformed law officer stepped out into the headlights. “You catch these girls growing a little weed?”

Laramie stepped back. “No, sir, we caught them growing a lot of weed.”

With the girls in custody and statements given, Annamarie hiked with Laramie and Hap back down the headlight-illuminated road
toward the horses. “And where’s my Sara?”

“Sara!” Hap gasped.

“Don’t tell me you…” Annamarie studied the dark prairie. “Oh, here she is!” She hunkered down as the boxer scampered up. “What
have you got in your mouth?”

Laramie reached down and tugged at the object. “Looks like she found your other bright-neon-green jelly flip-flop.”

All the windows were replaced in the minimart when Laramie and Hap entered Jose’s Git-N-Go two days later. Sam swirled toward
them in a bright red Hawaiian floral print dress and an exuberant smile. “Boys, have you heard the news?”

“We haven’t heard much of anything since they arrested those girls. We had to finish that fencing job,” Hap reported.

“I sold the store.”

“Good for you,” Laramie said.

“Mr. Peter Struckmann bought it. He’s going to tear it down and build a car lot here. Says it’s an excellent location for
his lower-priced used cars. The deal should clear in a month, but he’ll lease it from me and run the store until then.”

“Does that mean you take a little vacation?” Laramie asked.

“Yes, I’m going to visit my brothers in California. Did Annamarie talk to you today?”

Laramie leaned against the counter. “Just for a minute. She said things were hectic and we’d talk tonight. Said to meet here.”

“Good. Do you boys want a burrito or cheeseburger? My treat. I’m in a very happy mood.”

Laramie peeked out into the parking lot. “Thanks, Sam, but we treated ourselves to a steak tonight at the El Grande Vaca.
We’d been eating out of cans for three days.”

Annamarie drove up in her Mazda Miata. When Laramie met her at the door, she slipped her hand in his. He held it tight, relishing
that feel of belonging that brought an armistice to his mind and spirit. “Your mama told us the news.”

“It was your contact with Mr. Struckmann that set it up.”

“I hear she’s headed to California.”

“Yes, tomorrow.” Annamarie tugged him down the potato chip aisle.

Laramie gazed into her hazel eyes. “That soon?”

She clutched his other hand in hers. “I searched the net for some of those last minute ticket deals and found a couple bargains
between San Antonio and L.A.”

“A couple? Are you going with her?”

“Yes. I need the break, too.”

Laramie loosed his grip. “I sort of suspected that was coming.”

“Do you know what’s coming next?” Annamarie refused to release his hands.

“Eh, no, I don’t think so.”

“Neither do I. That’s why I’m taking Mom to Santa Ana. Laramie, my husband’s death hit me hard. I was so in love with him
and content. Ever since that day, I’ve struggled between anger and bitterness.”

“Angry at who?”

“At the oil company. At my husband for going over there. With the president for the war in Iraq. With God for allowing both
my father and my husband to die. I worked day and night in the emergency room to keep my mind occupied. There wasn’t time
to think about myself. I know I was able to help others and for that I’m grateful. But do you know what the best help was?”

“What?”

“You and Hap for the past four or five days. You helped me to laugh, to enjoy the present moment… and to dream about a future
again. I needed that.”

“And now you’re taking off?”

“Yes. I need some space to think… about you.”

“Me and Hap?”

She squeezed his fingers. “No, just you. I like the way your hands feel. I like the way we can sit and talk for hours. I even
like it that you’re taller than me!”

“I like all those things, too. But what does all this mean?”

“I need to set the past aside now… and plan for the future. I don’t know what that means for you and me, but for the first
time in years, I have something fun to think about.”

“How long are you going to be gone?”

“Mother has to return in three weeks to sign the papers. I might be home before that. Laramie, do you know what your future
holds?”

“I don’t know anything beyond chasing Hap’s Juanita.”

“Would you think that through? When I come back to Texas, I want to talk about my future… and your future… and our future.”

“But we won’t be here in Laredo. We’re headed to Del Rio. My aunt’s sister-in-law lives there and we sorta promised we’d help
her with a roof job.”

“You guys do roofing, too?”

“Not really. She claims there’s a Juanita in her church that makes the Zorro chick look like a fencepost. Hap feels the call
to Del Rio.”

“I’ll come there to see you.”

“For sure?”

“Guaranteed. I have to come pick up my dog.”

“Sara’s going to be in Del Rio?”

“Yes, Hap agreed to take care of her while I’m in California.”

“He did? He didn’t tell me anything about it.”

Annamarie led Laramie to the counter where Hap and Sam debated the merits of Texas-made salsa. “Hap, I’m going to California
with my mother for a couple of weeks. Would you take care of Sara for me while I’m gone?”

“Yes, ma’am… eh, your dog? You want us to keep a house dog?”

“I want you to teach her some responsible freedom. Then I’ll come pick her up in Del Rio.”

Hap turned back to Sam. “Have you noticed them two sportin’ the same silly grin?”

“I see Annamarie with life in her eyes. For three years, when she comes home, her eyes look dead. She is very plain-looking
with dead eyes, trust me. But now, she looks alive, animated. She might even be considered somewhat attractive. What kind
of man is this tall, skinny cowboy?” She pointed at Laramie.

Hap rocked back on his heels. “He’s an honest man, true to his word. He’s the one man on earth I’d entrust with my life. Kind
of quiet at times, sometimes extremely shy… but everyone likes him. He don’t sleep good at night and sometimes spends hours
sittin’ in the dark, tossin’ poker cards in the trash can, and he never chews his peaches, but swallows ’em whole. Let’s see,
what else?”

“If these two insist on embarrassing us, let’s go get a blue Icee.” Annamarie tugged Laramie toward the soft-drink machines.

Out of her mom’s sight, she hugged Laramie’s neck, then pressed her lips against his. “You will wait for me to come back from
California, won’t you?”

He wrapped his arms around her thin waist.

“Oh, I’ll wait. I’m just debating whether or not I’m ever going to turn you loose.”

“I like the way you tease, cowboy.”

Laramie pulled her closer, felt her warm, soft arms around his neck. He closed his eyes when their lips touched again. The
chronic gnawing in the pit of his stomach disappeared.

T
he two-lane, paved road north of town turned to gravel about a mile from the arena. The rolling brown foothills flattened
to wide open pasture. For most of the year, the wooden bleachers perched like ancient ruins on some long-deserted plain. But
this was rodeo week. Pastures converted to parking lots. A three-day camper city appeared out of nowhere. Concession booths
and horse trailers circled the grounds.

Inside the loose dirt arena, most eyes focused on two mounted cowboys.

Rope coiled in his left hand, loop in his right, Hap backed his black horse into the roping box at the west end of the arena.
While Luke’s hooves pawed dirt, he studied angus-cross steer number 341.

The chute boss attempted to aim the animal’s head forward. Hap glanced at Laramie in the heeler’s box, but his partner’s eyes
were fixed on the steer.

Hap spurred Luke forward, spun him in a circle, and backed him in the corner again, in hopes of settling him down. In the
roping box to the right, Laramie clutched a light green, medium-hard nylon rope, poised on a bit-fighting Tully, waiting for
the steer’s release.

On the far side of the arena, the rodeo clown entertained the crowd with a joke about a mouse and a mule as the 2,259 paying
customers at the Del Rio, Texas, Summer Classic Rodeo waited for one stubborn steer to play the game right.

“These Wyoming cowboys need a 6.9 to take the lead,” the announcer boomed.

The steer kept his eyes on Luke, Hap’s horse. The bovine brain knew what was supposed to happen next.

Hap spun two quick loops above his head, then lowered his arm. He realized the steer had been roped a number of times in the
previous three days and showed no hurry to leave the safe confines of the squeeze chute. “Just wait, boy, he’s got to turn
his head sometime.”

Luke shuffled his hooves.

Hap’s rope idly spun.

The chute boss cussed.

Then, like a miracle dropped out of the sky, the steer turned his head forward.

Hap nodded.

The gate clanged open.

The black horse galloped at the barrier string.

“Don’t break it, Luke… wait… wait… now!”

The barrier string snapped aside a split second before Hap crashed through. The steer sprinted straight ahead.

One loop. Two loops. Toss.

Hap’s rope circled the short, leather-wrapped horns of the steer. He cut his horse sharp to the left as his white-cotton-gloved
hand dallied the rope around the saddle horn. Laramie leaned forward in the stirrups and tossed his rope at the steer’s rear
legs.

The animal was jerked to the left. Its rear hooves hopped into Laramie’s loop.

Hap watched as his partner yanked the rope.

Dallied.

He backed Tully until both ropes were taut.

The black-and-white vested judge’s flag dropped.

Above the crowd’s applause, he heard the announcer blurt out, “Looks like these Wyoming cowboys will take home some day money
and earn a slot in the short go on Sunday.”

Hap gave Laramie a quick nod.

A two-mile procession of red taillights marked the exit of the crowd after the last rodeo event concluded. But like backstage
after the curtain dropped, there was plenty left to do.