by Stephen Bly
“You don’t say,” Laramie murmured. “Mighty pretty…”
“My car?”
Laramie cleared his throat. “Yes, ma’am.” He watched her disappear into the store, hoping, somehow, she favored shy, pathetic bumblers.
With all the boards in place, they toted the tools and ladders around to the shed in the back. Hap snapped the padlock. “I ain’t never seen you tongue-tied like that.”
“I spent most of my early years too scared to talk. This is different. Real different. It all became clear to me in an instant.”
“What became clear?”
“For weeks I’ve been trying to figure out why in the world I am down here in Laredo, Texas.”
They hiked back around to the front of the store and watched as an ambulance, lights flashing, but no sirens, raced down the street. “We’re searchin’ for my Juanita,” Hap reminded him.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t explain why I’m here. Now, I know. It’s divine providence that I meet Annamarie.”
“Are you claimin’ the Lord led you here? What about Koni in Gillette? Or Martie in Lander? Or Sara in Cody? Or the Cainette twins in Encampment that you were too shy to even speak to twice? You said they were all divine providence, too.”
“Hap, Annamarie has a classic beauty. She could pose for one of those Greek statues.”
“Statues? You ain’t just ponderin’ her… sports car?”
“I was talking about her face. And her eyes. Have you ever seen eyes like that? They make a man feel alive and important and… and…”
“Yeah… right. Laramie, she’s just a diversion. We’ve got to clean up out front. Then we’ve got to figure out somethin’ about my truck, how to get back to the motel, how to go pick up our pay at the feedlot. Where are you goin’?”
“To get diverted,” Laramie said.
Laramie leaned his backside against the counter close to where Annamarie sat, legs drooped over the edge. She rocked back and forth and chewed on a long round stick of pepper-spiced beef jerky. A one-sided phone conversation filtered out from the office in back where Sam had retreated with a stack of forms and receipts.
“Anyway, that’s the short version of my life story… and Hap’s… and what we’re doing in south Texas.” He fought to keep focused on her eyes and wished he had his dark glasses on to filter his enthusiasm. “Thanks for listening. I appreciate your graciousness after my brain freeze in the parking lot.”
“I enjoyed the visit. Mother is the only one I have time to talk to much anymore. It’s nice to hear someone else’s voice.”
“I want to hear more about you. You just got started when I interrupted.”
“Now, that will take a while. But you heard the most important parts. The more I talk about it, the more complicated it sounds.” Her cheeks dimpled with her smile.
“I don’t have many plans for the next few decades, other than Hap’s idiot obsession, and I’m a good listener.”
“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 t
ruck 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.”
At 9:00 P.M., they scooted into a booth by the window of the Caliente Café and ordered three number 12s with extra salsa on the side. Hap sat across from Laramie and Annamarie.
Sara waited in the car.
With a new toy from Dairy Queen.
High, padded red vinyl seatbacks in the booth gave them a sense of privacy. A six-pack of various hot sauces and a stack of paper napkins perched on the table below a window overlooking a street filled with lowriders and mind-thumping bass notes.
“I guess this was sort of stupid, tryin’ to find my truck by drivin’ all over town,” Hap said. “I just feel like I have to be doin’ somethin’.”
“Sara enjoyed it,” Laramie remarked.
One glare from Hap silenced him.
Annamarie spun the ice in her Coke with her long finger. “And I got to hear some wonderful stories. So, how did you decide that Fernando’s Juanita Elaina Cortez in Zapata was not the right Juanita?”
“The wide gap in her front teeth, plus the birthmark under her ear turned out to be a tattoo of Mickey Mouse,” Hap reported.
“I thought you turned her down because she cussed like a rookie bull rider and told you her mother had a better mustache than you.” Laramie dumped red Tabasco into the salsa.
“That, too.” Hap stabbed four tortilla chips into the bowl, then popped them into his mouth.
“What now, guys? You said the work was done at the feedlot. Where do you go from here?” Annamarie asked.
“Can’t go anywhere without my truck,” Hap said. “I ain’t goin’ to haul a horse trailer behind a dadgum Ford Fiesta. I reckon we’ll stay around here a while.
One of the cattle buyers offered us a few days’ work.”
Laramie eased his arm to the back of the booth and slipped it around Annamarie’s shoulder. He felt more like sixteen than thirty-one. “Do you know a man by the name of Pete Struckmann?”
The stiff, open collar on her white, long-sleeved blouse covered most of her long neck, except for a small silver heart that dangled from a delicate silver chain. “He owns a car dealership, radio station, plus some other businesses. He’s on the board of directors of St. Mary’s Hospital. He seems like a nice man… you know, in a rich sort of way.”
Laramie felt muscles that had been taut for months, perhaps years, begin to relax. “Struckmann bought four hundred head of steers at the feedlot. According to him, he purchased himself a nice spread and wants to go into the cattle business. He said the ranch he bought has been tied up in an estate contestation for five years. The bank he purchased it from assured him the fence was in great shape, but he’s not real confident in their assessment. He’s going to corral his cows by the stock tanks until we check it out and repair the fence. It might take us a few days.”
When Annamarie glanced at Laramie’s arm, he pulled it back.
“That sounds so nice and peaceful. On horseback, out in the hills… a time to relax.” She tugged Laramie’s arm back around her shoulder. “What size is this ranch?”
“Over twenty thousand acres. Bigger than a five-mile square.”
“My, it really does sound serene. No emergencies. No panic. No danger.” Her hazel eyes took on a greenish hue as she leaned back against his arm.
Laramie felt as if an electroshock had restarted his heart, rekindling the memory of how good the attentions of a classy lady can make a man feel. “Do you ride?”
“I used to ride twice a week without fail. I have a friend that runs a stable down at Noche Negra. But since I started working overtime in the emergency room, I’m too exhausted to do things like that.”
The sound of dishes crashing to the floor spun their attention toward the kitchen door. A teenage boy in white jeans scurried to clean up the mess.