One Step Over the Border (24 page)

“What?” Her eyes danced on top of her wide smile. “Do you like me?”

Hap felt his face flush. He jammed his hands in his back pockets. “You… you aren’t suppose to ask me that.”

“I like you.” She sailed another rock into the fence post. “Do you like me, Hap?”

He fingered another rock. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“Because I can hit the fence post and you can’t? Or because I said I like you and you know you like me?”

“It ain’t the throwin’ that bothers me.”

“If you say that you like me, I’ll show you how to hit the post.”

“If you show me how to hit the post, then I’ll say that I like you.”

“Raise your elbow higher. When you throw, your arm drops down too far. Try throwing with your elbow parallel to the ground.”

Hap wound up and tossed the rock. It crashed into the post.

“Now say it,” she insisted.

“I liked you before you taught me how to hit that ol’ post.”

“I know. I could see it in your eyes. Some boys think they can hide their eyes with a cowboy hat, but they can’t.”

This time when Hap’s dad crawled out from under the Ford, he signaled Juanita’s father to start the station wagon. The engine
caught and ran smooth.

Hap strolled with Juanita back to the car. “I reckon you’ll be going now.”

“We are supposed to stay with my aunt Lupe in Greeley, Colorado, tonight. I wish I could buy that bracelet. It would always
remind me of my Hap.”

“Your Hap?”

“Yes, I will be your Juanita, okay?”

“Eh… sure.”

Hap’s father and Juanita’s shook hands and slapped each other on the back. “Looks like your daddy’s happy now.”

“He said you and your father were like helping angels. He said he would pray to the saints for you on Sunday.”

“We ain’t Catholic.”

“Well, then you will need his prayers all the more. Do you pray?”

“Eh… I guess.”

She bowed her head, folded her hands, and closed her eyes. “Our Father who art in heaven, keep my Hap safe so that we can
get married when we are old enough. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

“Wh… why did you pray that?” he stammered.

“So nothing will happen to you until we get married. You do plan on getting married someday, don’t you?”

“Yeah… I guess.”

“Good. That’s all settled then.”

Juanita hopped in the backseat of the station wagon where her younger sister and brother slept. She rolled down the window.
“Hold out your hand and close your eyes,” she demanded.

Hap’s eyes flipped open when something bounced in his palm. “A rock?”

“For you to save until we see each other again.”

“I’ll keep it in my pocket.”

“I wish I had that bracelet. How am I going to remember you?”

He stuffed his hand into his pocket, paused… then pulled out a toothpick. “Here, this was the toothpick I had when we first
met two hours ago and you said, ‘You shouldn’t talk to a girl with something in your mouth.’”

“Yes!” She retrieved the pick. “This will help me think of you.” She clamped it between her lips.

As the car pulled onto the blacktop, the girl stuck her head out the window. “Good-bye, my Hap!”

He trotted after the car for a few steps, then hollered, “Good-bye, my Juanita.”

Hap tramped back to his father, who waited by their pickup.

“What was that about ‘my Juanita’?” his father asked.

“She’s a very nice girl.”

“And a cute one, too.”

Hap stared down at his feet. “Daddy, you know that two-dollar bill you gave me after the feeder steer sale last month?”

“Yes, what about it?”

“I said I was going to save it forever… but I was wonderin’… you know… sometime if I wanted to give it to someone else, would
that be okay?”

“It belongs to you. You can do with it whatever you want. Did you give it to your Juanita?”

Hap yanked out the neatly folded bill. “No. My heart wanted to, but my mind made me keep it for myself.”

His father’s arms slid around Hap’s shoulder. “Son, when it comes to ladies, always do what your heart tells you.”

When Bob Wills finished “San Antonio Rose,” Hap turned off the radio.

Laramie sat up and glanced over. “Is it my turn to drive?”

“No, I was just relivin’ that scene with my Juanita nineteen years ago.”

“Do you regret it?” Laramie asked.

“No, but I’m sorry for the turmoil it puts between you and me. You ain’t said nothin’ since Del Rio. How long are you goin’
to stay mad at me for givin’ that money to Juanita Guzman?”

Laramie stretched his legs as best he could. The Cummins diesel engine on the 2003 Dodge pickup harmonized with the tires
on the pavement of the south Texas highway. “I’m not angry. I’m just trying to understand.”

“You tryin’ to understand me givin’ Juanita Guzman that money or Annamarie Buchett?”

Laramie glanced at his watch and wiped the sweat from the back of his neck.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about Annamarie, that’s for sure. I can’t believe how good I feel when I’m with her. You know how
easy it is for me to be discouraged or depressed. But when I’m with her, everything’s different.”

“You don’t mind if I’m a little jealous.”

“You can be jealous if it’s a peaceful jealous.” Laramie picked up the Texas map and swatted a fly on the dashboard.

“Peaceful jealous?”

“Yeah, ever since the day we met, there’s been some kind of crisis brewing all around us.”

Hap tapped his finger on the steering wheel. “Yeah, that was quite a deal. I had to save your tail that day, didn’t I?”

“Save my tail? You got me into that mess. You didn’t even say, ‘Hi, Laramie.’ You just fed me to the wolves.”

“But think of the memories. Shoot, that wasn’t the only time I saved your hide.”

“Hap, you’re the reason my hide needs saving. I never had my life threatened until I started hanging with you. You toss me
in the fiery furnace, then pull me out like a hero.”

“You got a point to all this?”

“I’d like some calm and quiet for once. Let’s just chug along looking for your Juanita and mind our own business.”

“Hey, is that Milt Tryor?” Hap applied the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road behind a long horse trailer hitched
to a one-ton dually.

Laramie rolled down his window. “Milt, you need some help?”

The wide-shouldered, tanned man with a drooping handlebar mustache gawked at them, then whooped. “Laramie? Hap? What are you
boys doing in south Texas? It’s like seein’ a pair of armadillos in the Arctic.”

“Just working our way along the border, looking for Hap’s lost woman,” Laramie said. “You need a lift anywhere?”

“No, I got the cell phone. A tow truck’s headed this way, but I’m kind of in a bind. I’ve got to get these ponies to a horse
race in El Paso. I’ll get towed into Fort Stockton and fix my rig there, but I won’t have time to come back.”

“Somethin’ you need to do down here?” Hap asked.

Milt waited for two semis to pass. He leaned into the window. “My little sis is living in the Chisos Mountains in Big Bend
National Park. My family’s had a place down there since Sam Houston was governor. She needs some legal papers and other stuff.
I told her I’d bring them down; now I can’t make it.”

Hap surveyed the open hood of Milt’s truck. “You want us to run them papers down to your sis?”

“That would be a lifesaver. It’s about two hours from here. I know it’s out of your way.” He pulled out his wallet and opened
up a series of photos. “Here’s my little sis. She’s purdy like our mamma.”

“Milt, you ugly old cuss, she’s a beautiful lady,” Laramie said.

“And stubborn as Mamma, too. She’s thirty-one years old and too smart and opinionated to get a husband. So, don’t hang around
too long. Just leave the box and get on down the road or she’ll sign you up on some political action cause. You’ll find yourself
in a canoe off Alaska protectin’ baby seals.”

“Spunky, huh?” Hap said.

“Compared to her, spunky’s purt’neer comatose.”

Hap studied the picture. “Brown eyes, brown hair… she surely is purdy.”

“She gets that from Mamma, too. Mamma’s Mexican, you know.”

Hap glanced at Milt’s fair complexion and blue eyes. “I never knew that.”

“Will you go down there, boys? It would mean a lot to me.”

“What’s her name, Milt?” Hap inquired.

“Rosa.”

“We’ll go,” Laramie said.

S
omewhere to the north… or the east… or on the West Coast… zoning commissions battle late into the night to resolve the conflicts
of urban sprawl. In those regions, traffic backs up for miles on the freeways. Smog settles over school grounds. Acre after
acre of farmland is consumed by asphalt and concrete.

Laramie and Hap were not in that part of the country.

They drove south through Brewster County, Texas, where four million acres house a population of ninety-two hundred. Every
man, woman, boy, and girl could own 430 acres of ground. Bare, dry ground. Of those nine thousand plus residents, more than
sixty-five hundred lived in Alpine, the county seat.

Laramie and Hap were not in Alpine, either.

They hadn’t seen a soul outside of the few vehicles they passed, for over ninety miles.

Hap locked his Dodge pickup on cruise control until they arrived at the park entrance. There were no trees taller than the
squat, scattered buildings.

The uniformed blonde at the Persimmon Gap gate flashed white teeth in a suntanned face. She seemed the typical college student
working summers at a national park. Her short-sleeved shirt was starched and pressed. No lipstick. No mascara. No eyeshadow.
Small silver feather earrings dangled from her dainty lobes. “Are you going to camp with horses?” she asked.

West Texas dry heat chafed at Hap’s already chapped lips. “No, ma’am. We’re not spendin’ the night. We just wanted to swing
through the park and visit a friend of ours who lives here. Then we’ll take Highway 170 to Presidio. We’re on our way to El
Paso.”

“You have vet checks on the horses?”

Hap handed her the papers.

She glanced at them, then transferred them back. “You picked a hot time of the year for a visit. Make sure you and your horses
have plenty of water.”

Perspiration trickled down Hap’s neck as he surveyed the peeling paint on the small, rectangular building. “This is our first
trip to the park. We thought we’d find trees and shade.”

“If you’re looking for trees, drive up to Basin in the Chisos Mountains. Here are some maps. Most of the park is in the Chihuahuan
Desert. I noticed your license plate. Are you guys from Wyoming?”

Hap glanced at the rearview mirror. The road leading into the park stretched as empty and barren as the land around it. “I
was born and raised there, but he’s originally from Texas.”

“I grew up in Rapid City,” she said. “I’ve spent a lot of time in Wyoming, especially in the Torrington area. My grandparents
live there. They have a saddle shop.”

“Claude Hankgrin?” Hap asked.

Her blue eyes brightened. “He’s my grandpa.”

Laramie leaned forward, his T-shirt sweat glued to the seat back. “He’s a good saddlemaker. We haven’t seen him in a few years.”

“Neither have I. This will be my senior year at the University of Oklahoma.”

She flipped her blonde bangs back with a toss of her head. “Did you say you were going to visit someone who lived in the park?
I know all of the staff. Who did you come to see?”

When Hap rubbed the back of his neck, dirt rolled under his fingertips. “Rosa Tryor. You know her?”

She jerked her head back to the tall, red-haired man who shared the kiosk. “Did you hear that?”

He nodded and picked up the telephone. “I’ll tell him.”

“Tell who what?” Hap asked.

She leaned out of the kiosk and lowered her voice. Hap could smell fruity perfume or bubblegum, he couldn’t tell which. “Our
superintendent, Mr. Davenport, demands to know if anyone asks for Rosa Rodríguez Tryor. He’s kind of strange that way. But
I have to follow orders.”

“What’s the deal?” Laramie asked.

The red-haired male attendant scooted up and the blonde stepped back. “Would you please pull over to the open parking place
in front of the office?”