One Step Over the Border (13 page)

“You’ll need to be. My motives get so confusing, I can’t even figure them out. Would you believe this is the best talk I’ve
had in three years?”

Hap ambled into the minimart, hat pushed back, broom over his shoulder. “Don’t bother comin’ out to help me, partner. I got
the parking lot swept up.”

“Annamarie and I got busy visiting. Sorry about cutting out on you.”

“We were comparing college courses.” Annamarie’s teeth were straight and bright, like an ad for whitening gel.

“College? What’s there to talk about? He was an ag major in junior college.”

“I had to take organic chemistry,” Laramie announced. “Same as nursing majors like Annamarie.”

“Well, us weldin’ majors had to study the density of metal. At the moment my dense brain feels like an exploded burrito. If
you’re through with intellectual pursuits, I reckon it’s time to head back to the motel. I’ve got to phone my insurance company
and figure somethin’ out about my truck.”

Annamarie reached over and clutched Hap’s elbow with her long, thin, ringless fingers. “I think what you are doing is terribly
romantic.”

Hap stared at her hand. A grin crept across his face. “You do?”

“Looking for your Juanita and all. Laramie told me all about it.”

“Some days it seems foolish.”

She broke the jerky in half and handed a piece to Laramie. “In a way, it reminds me of something my husband did when he was
young.”

Hap glanced over at his partner.

“Annamarie’s husband got killed in Iraq.” Laramie bit off a bite of jerky that burned his lower lip.

Hap yanked off his black, beaver felt cowboy hat and held it over his heart. “Was he in the service, ma’am?”

“No, he worked for a Texas-based drilling company. He went over to help get their oil wells up and running. It wasn’t war-related.
Not directly, anyway. The derrick collapsed. Stress tests on the steel used are not the same all over the world and this one
just gave out.”

“I’m sure the pain is just as severe.” Laramie detected that when she talked about her husband, her eyes didn’t look as sad
as they did numb. It was as if the grief had already wearied her.

“Nate volunteered to go over and work because he wanted to do something that mattered. Drilling’s what he knew how to do.
I think he would have worked for free.”

“When did it happen?” Hap asked.

“Three years ago. But what I wanted to say, the summer Nate turned sixteen, he worked on a long letter to the girl he would
someday marry. He explained what was important to him and how he envisioned his future. It was a twenty-page typed letter.
When we were in our senior year at Southern Methodist he proposed to me. He said, ‘Before you answer yes or no, you need to
take this letter home and read it.’”

Hap rubbed his forehead. “So, what did you think?”

“I cried and cried. I got to see his sixteen-year-old heart. When a man is twenty-three, he’s covered up most of that vulnerability.
I knew when I read the letter, he was the one for me.”

“You think I should have written a letter to Juanita when I was twelve and saved it all these years?”

“No, but don’t lose the fervor of that twelve-year-old heart.”

With the restrooms scrubbed, the coffee machines cleaned, and the gas pumps read, Sam shut down Jose’s Git-N-Go and locked
the front door. “I would sell the store, but who would buy a place that has been robbed twice in the last two months? Annamarie,
you give Laramie and Hap a ride home. It’s the least we can do, since they refused any money.”

The three watched Sam drive her white Volvo out of the dark parking lot and turn right on the quiet Laredo street. They strolled
to the parked Mazda.

“Oh, dear…” Annamarie sighed. “My convertible is a little small. I’ll take two trips.”

“It’s the middle of the night and you’ve worked all day. Hap and me will scrunch in here somehow.”

Hap studied the two small pale blue leather bucket seats. “There’s only so much scrunchin’ a man can do.”

With his hat screwed down tight, Hap sprawled across the concealed rag top and the chrome luggage rack, his boots hanging
down between Laramie and Annamarie just above the gearshift lever.

“Are you sure you’re okay up there?” she asked.

“It’s kind of like sittin’ on a rank bronc at a rodeo. You ain’t sure you’re goin’ to live through it, but if you do, you’ll
have quite a story to tell. But I’d prefer you don’t hit speed bumps goin’ fifty miles per hour. Other than that, I’m okay.”

The one-story, single-family houses lined the street behind scraggly lawns and cracked sidewalks. Distant red lights slowed
and stopped phantom traffic. A rubber and asphalt aroma still radiated from the daylight-warmed blacktop. The only sounds
were the Bridgestone tires rolling along and the conversation in the front seat.

“It was foolish to buy such a small car,” she said. “I’m only comfortable with the top down. I traded in my Subaru and Nate’s
Ford truck and bought this about three months after he died. I guess it sort of symbolized my feeling at the time. I needed
something fun… but I wanted to be alone.”

Laramie’s struggles with his past paled as he considered Annamarie’s. “I like the car. It makes you look good… I mean, it’s
a nice match. You and the convertible. Did it accomplish its goals?”

“Driving fast with the wind in my face is just about my only joy. I don’t think there’s been one or two other guys who’ve
ridden with me. I guess it has done that much.”

Laramie fought back the urge to ask who the other guys were that rode with her and whether she was dating anyone. “I never
owned a convertible, but the breeze is sort like the time I raced Tully along the Oregon beach.”

“Tully is your horse?”

“Yeah, he’s a pain and a pal. But it’s hard to imagine a day without him.”

Annamarie roared through a dip in the street. Laramie glanced back to see Hap clutch his hat and the luggage rack.

“Sorry,” she called back. “I forgot you were there.”

“That’s all right,” Hap called out. “Bein’ a quiet and shy fella, I’m often overlooked.”

“You’ve been too quiet back there, cowboy,” Annamarie replied.

“I’ve been prayin’ a lot.”

“Praying?”

“That I’d live to see daylight. Besides, I ain’t a big fan of eatin’ bugs.” Hap glanced around. “Whoa… there’s a black Dodge
truck down there.”

She yanked a hard right. Laramie reached back and held on to Hap’s boot as she sped down the side street. An exterior supplemental
chrome fuel tank was tucked in the bed and the rig displayed Texas license plates.

“Sorry about that,” Hap said as Annamarie zoomed back to the main street. “I had to take a look.”

She did come to a complete pause at the stop sign, but spun her tires as she zipped around the corner. “Tomorrow, I’m off
at four. I’ll drive you two around and we’ll search Laredo for your truck.”

“That’s great,” Laramie said. “Other than the feedlot and the minimart, we don’t know anything about this town. But we hate
to interfere with your life.”

She laid her hand on Laramie’s arm. “Trust me, you are not interfering with my life.”

Annamarie slammed on the brakes when the light changed. Hap slid forward between her and Laramie, catching his hand on the
windshield.

“I don’t mean to show ingratitude, but I don’t reckon I can ride up here many nights,” Hap said. “I’m sure my insurance company
will rent me a truck. Why don’t we drive it tomorrow night? I reckon Laramie’s right. We surely could use a guide.”

Hap parked behind the blue Mazda convertible in the driveway of the sprawling ranch house. When he turned the engine off,
the motor continued to sputter. “I’m get-tin’ new insurance.” With a loud explosion and a puff of smoke, the engine died.

“Well, they did provide a rig. I think the quality of the rental is reflected in the coverage you have.”

“This ain’t funny. How can a 1995 Ford Fiesta with 120,000 miles and busted air-conditioner be a replacement vehicle for a
two-year-old Dodge pickup?”

“I bet it gets good mileage.” Laramie scrunched down so his head didn’t rub against the top of the cab, then slowly pulled
himself out. “This isn’t so bad, Hap. Just depends on your comparison.”

“What are you comparin’ it to?”

The passenger door closed with a bang and a rattle. Laramie leaned down and stuck his head through the open window. “How about
the back row on that commuter airplane we took between Greeley and Rapid City?”

Hap tilted his head sideways and tried to slide on his hat. “A coffin would have been roomier than that plane.”

“You see, this is feelin’ spacious already. Plenty of room for four.”

“What do you mean, four?”

Laramie stood up and leaned against the side of the car. “Annamarie is bringing Sara.”

“Who’s Sara?”

“Her roommate.”

“This is the first time I heard of this. I thought she lived here with her mamma.”

“She has her own apartment in the basement. Sara lives with her. You don’t mind a little female company, do you?”

“Laramie, you know I ain’t lookin’ for a girl named Sara.”

“This isn’t a date. We’re just searching for your truck. Four sets of eyes might be better than three. Annamarie didn’t think
it was polite to leave Sara all alone tonight.”

Hap kept an eye on the front door of the house. “What’s this Sara like?”

“Annamarie said she’s outgoing and friendly.”

“Laramie, I ain’t feelin’ real sociable tonight.”

“I’ll talk; you drive. The ladies can sit in the backseat, if you want.”

“I’m not that unsociable. You and Annamarie take the backseat. Sara can sit up front with me, providin’ she ain’t too talkative.”

“I doubt she says much. I’ll go get the girls.”

Ten minutes later Annamarie and Laramie hunkered down in the backseat of the mostly white Ford subcompact, while Hap chomped
on a wooden toothpick and glared in the rearview mirror.

Sara stuck her head out the open window on the passenger’s side and barked.

“What kind of dog is she?” Hap asked.

Annamarie reached up and scratched Sara’s ear. “A boxer.”

“I thought boxers were big.”

“She’s a runt. That’s why I love her. The day I heard of Nate’s death, I went out running. I had to do something before the
grief consumed me. I jogged about five miles and decided I’d keep running and never stop.”

“Like Forrest Gump?” Laramie probed.

“I suppose. I thought maybe I’d collapse along the road and be lucky enough to have a semi flatten me. But instead, Sara showed
up and decided to run with me. No matter how I tried to lose her, she trotted right along. So I gave up punishing myself and
went home. I posted flyers and tried to find her owner. She’s a house dog. I know someone missed her. But no one claimed her,
so I moved her down here and we’ve been roommates ever since.”

Laramie studied the brindle dog’s head hanging out the window. “She likes to go for a ride.”

“She probably thinks we’re going to Dairy Queen. She likes the hotdogs there.”