by Stephen Bly
“You’re invited to come along, if you like… you know, providing you have the time,” Laramie offered.
Hap pushed his hat back. “Annamarie don’t want to ride fence with us. Shoot, I don’t even want to ride fence with us. It’s hot, sweaty, dull, boring, routine work. We probably won’t see another soul for three or four days.”
“That sounds wonderful, I’ll do it. I’ve got so many days off piled up, the hospital administrator has been begging me to use them up. I’ll make some phone calls and line it up tonight. Do you have a horse and tack I can borrow? I could get one from my friend in Noche Negra, but I don’t imagine she could be here tomorrow morning.”
Laramie’s grin seemed to be hanging from his earlobes.
Annamarie paused. “Was that a serious offer?”
“Oh, yeah.” he gave her a squeeze.
Daylight flooded in from the east and the air drifting from the river felt almost coastal. From the edge of the dirt road, the range rolled brown and treeless. To the south, the ground leveled out into irrigated farms. Beyond the horizon sprawled a town and further away, the Rio Grande.
The predawn thunderstorm barely sprinkled the soil, but the raindrops cleaned the air and gave it a fresh, misty taste. Luke and Tully sensed a day on the range and shuffled their hooves as they stood tied to the trailer.
Hap tugged the rubber boot off Luke’s left rear hoof. “What in the world are we doin’, takin’ a beautiful, sophisticated lady like Annamarie Buchett with us ridin’ fence?”
Laramie watched the road toward town. “She needs a change of pace, Hap… some downtime. She doesn’t really have anyone to ride with.”
Hap eased Luke’s hoof back to the ground, then pushed his hat back. “So, we’re doin’ this for her?”
“Of course.”
“I thought for a while it was just for you. You’ve been actin’ as blissful as a bull in springtime. But, if it’s for Annamarie’s sake, of course we got to do it.”
Laramie hiked closer to his partner. “She’s a nice lady, Hap. A real nice lady.”
Hap smoothed the white, red, and blue Navajo saddle blanket on Luke’s back. “And she’s tall. With classic long legs. And narrow waist. And good proportions elsewhere. But I reckon that don’t enter into this at all.”
“Partner, you know the feeling when you’re going down a road you never traveled and you think something exciting’s up around the next bend or just over the next hill? An urge pushes you to keep going, to see where it leads. Well, I got to see where this leads.”
Hap set his saddle down easy on the Navajo blanket. When he turned, his eyes locked on Laramie’s. “Seein’ where it leads? Now, that, partner, is somethin’ I know about.” He studied the sky. “It looks like a good day to ride.”
“Yep. And today, I am glad I’m me.”
The blue Mazda Miata pulled up near the trees next to them, the black soft top up. The first one out of the car had black hair, old jeans, and a beat-up straw cowboy hat. The other had short, pointed ears and a flea collar and yelped at Hap.
Laramie led the way, then Annamarie on the paint mare with Sara straddled awkwardly in her lap. Hap held the lead rope for the pack mule. All three had bedrolls lashed to the backs of their saddles.
They rode west, parallel to the dirt road. Laramie divided his time between surveying fence and stealing glances at Annamarie. Her eyes were covered with orange-framed sunglasses. Matching orange earrings dangled from her ears. Her long-sleeved white blouse danced with orange and yellow embroidered daisies.
Laramie admired the way she rode… straight, chin up, reins low, toes barely tucked in the stirrups. The sunglasses hid her eyes and hints of what was going on in her mind. So did Laramie’s. At that moment, he was glad they did.
Throughout the morning, several pickups raced down the unpaved road rolling dirt clouds their way. The air tasted dry, acrid. Even when the wind drifted away from them, they rode in the aroma of sweat and old leather.
About 10:00 A.M., Laramie dismounted in the shade of three mesquite trees.
“If the entire fence is like this first part, it won’t take all that long.” Annamarie waited as Hap lifted Sara to the ground.
Laramie loosed Tully’s cinch and dropped the reins to the dirt. “Fences seldom break down next to the road.”
Annamarie stretched her long legs and rubbed her backside. “Why do you think that is?”
“It’s one of life’s mysteries.” Hap checked the load on the pack mule. “Fences bust where it’s most inaccessible.” He pulled off his black hat and wiped his face and hair with his bandanna. “They bust on rocky ground, edges of cliffs, or in the middle of a cactus patch. It’s a cinch you’ll have to tote a full roll of wire on your back for a mile uphill. It’s as if they have a mind of their own and an evil, unrelenting hatred for cowboys.”
“Boy, you’re a pessimistic cuss today.” Laramie drove a staple into the fencepost to pin down a dangling strand of barbed wire.
Hap squatted to scratch Sara’s ears. “I’m still fumed about losin’ my truck.”
Annamarie gazed across the road at a distant green field. “What are you guys going to do after you get Hap’s truck back and finish this job?”
“Head toward Del Rio, I reckon.” Sara jumped up and licked Hap’s cheek.
“Chasing Juanitas?”
Laramie pulled the canteen off the saddle horn and ambled over to her. “I promised Hap we’d scout the Rio Grande from Brownsville to Creede, Colorado. If we don’t find his Juanita, he has to give up the hunt and live a normal life.”
“Yeah, but I don’t have a clue what normal is.”
Annamarie tugged off her sunglasses and dangled them from a black nylon braided strap around her neck. The bright sunlight illuminated her hazel eyes with foxy tints. “Neither do I.”
Laramie pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head. “How about you, Annamarie? Do you aim to be an emergency-room nurse in Laredo the rest of your life?”
“Not really. I moved down here three years ago when my husband was killed. I thought the two widows could take care of each other. It was the right thing to do at the time.”
“Your mamma is a widow, too?” Hap poured water into the palm of his hand and held it out for Sara.
“Daddy died from cancer about five years after he got back from Vietnam.”
“Was it caused by Agent Orange?” Laramie asked.
“That’s what we think, but back then no one would tell us.”
Hap took a swig from the canteen. “That’s tough losin’ your daddy and your husband.” He handed the canteen to Annamarie.
“I’m trying not to lose my mother as well. I struggle to talk her into selling the store.” She wiped the mouth of the canteen on the sleeve of her blouse and took a swig.
“What would she do if she sold the minimart?” Laramie quizzed.
“Maybe move to Santa Ana, California. Her brothers own a catering business. She could work for them or just retire.”
“If your mamma moves,” Laramie took the canteen she handed him, “where does that put you?”
“I’ll be in a hospital somewhere. It’s who I am. I like being a nurse, but I wouldn’t mind slowing the pace some. Mother says I was born to wear white, crepe-soled shoes.”
“You look good on horseback, too.”
Hap grinned. “Shoot, she’d look good anywhere, doin’ anything.”
Annamarie rubbed her long, thin nose, then grinned. “You guys have no idea how great those compliments sound.”
They worked the southern fence line, then turned north along the western boundary by midafternoon. The sky hued a thin blue, weakened by the constant heat rising off the ground. No breeze. The air tasted stale, used… like that above a dance floor after the crowd has gone home. As far as they could see, there wasn’t another person or animal on the prairie.
Most of the repairs could be handled by one man. Where two were needed, Annamarie dismounted to walk Sara and stretch o
ut her stiffness. The boxer constantly tugged at the leash as she ran to investigate one bush after another.
Hap set the wire puller. “You don’t think Sara would get along out here on her own? You don’t have to cradle her all day.”
Laramie spliced in a short section of wire. “Don’t go telling someone else how to raise their dog.”
“I’ve been thinking about it.” Annamarie squatted and stroked the panting dog’s head. “It does seem a little weird to bring Sara out here, then force her to ride in my lap. But she’s such a house dog. She even acts nervous in Mother’s fenced backyard. She’s never had this kind of freedom. I don’t know how she’d do and I’m a little scared to find out.”
“That’s exactly what Big Jim Mayes said.”
“Hap, that is not a fair comparison.”
“What isn’t fair?” she pressed.
“We rode with Big Jim one year in Nevada. After that he up and got married. Now that surprised us, since Big Jim was… well, he didn’t seem like the marryin’ type. Anyway, this short little gal from Korea who didn’t know any English showed up in town. They got the mayor to do the service and he took her out to the ranch. No one saw her again for months. He never let her off the place.”
“Oh, my,” Annamarie said.
“I saw Big Jim in at the feed store one day and I said, ‘You need to let that new wife of yours out the door. Don’t you think she can get along on her own?’ He said somethin’ to the effect that she has never had that kind of freedom. He didn’t know how she’d do and he was a little scared to find out.”
“So, what happened?”
“He let Kimmie out from under his thumb… and sure enough, she ran off.”
“Oh, dear, I had hoped for a better answer.”
“But she came back the next day and didn’t run away again. They have four kids now, so I reckon things worked themselves out.”
The rest of the afternoon, Sara dashed ahead of the horses. But she never let Annamarie out of sight as she explored every clump of grass, rock, and mesquite.
Laramie and Hap mounted up after driving wire staples into a railroad tie post. Annamarie led her horse.
“You give up ridin’?” Hap asked.
“My heart wants to ride, but other body parts need a break,” she admitted.
A little after 6:00 P.M., they crested a rise and spotted a row of four stunted poplar trees along a dry sandy creek-bed.
“Looks like camp.” Laramie stepped down and took Annamarie’s reins. “I’ll tend to the horses. Hap will unpack the mule and set up camp.”
“What can I do? So far, I’ve just walked the dog and sat on the saddle. I haven’t been much help.”
“That’s not true. Having you along made it a good day,” Laramie said.
“How’s that?”
“Well, for me and Hap good days are measured by two factors. How much work did we get done? How fast did the time fly? We covered over one-third of the fence line… that’s quite a bit. And having you to visit with made the hours hum. So, it’s been a great day.”
“I take it you don’t often work a crew with a woman along?”
Laramie slipped the bit out of the paint mare’s mouth. “Other than the boss’s wife cooking chuck from time to time, we’ve never had a gal on the crew.”
“That ain’t entirely true.” Hap eased the cook sack to the ground. “We did take along that red-haired girl you befriended in Douglas.”
“I wouldn’t call her a member of the crew,” Laramie sputtered.
“What would you call her?” Annamarie asked.
Laramie scowled at Hap. “A hitchhiker.”
Annamarie rolled up her long sleeves. “Can Sara and I gather some firewood down there?” She pointed to a brush-lined draw that dropped off to the east.
“Oh, no,” Hap protested. “Firewood is my detail. As soon as I get the mule unpacked, I’ll head down there myself.”
“No, you won’t,” she insisted. “Those aren’t just bushes. That’s the ladies room.”
“Eh, yes, ma’am. Like we said, we ain’t used to a gal on the crew.”
Luke seemed at home grazing on tall dry grass alongside the paint mare and the mule. But Tully, as usual, preferred to eat by himself, and Laramie picketed him on the other side of camp. The rise of the prairie to the south cut off the line of sight of farms and town. The place had a feel of total isolation.
Laramie dug through his saddlebag while Hap blew on the fire.
“What are you lookin’ for?” Hap asked.
“I wish I’d remembered to bring some clean shirts.” Laramie tossed down the saddlebags.
Thick smoke made Hap’s eyes tear up and he wiped them on his shirt. “I reckon you’d like a shave, haircut, and your nose hair trimmed, too. Have you got a date tonight?”
“I just want to look my best.”
Hap shoved a couple more dry sticks in the fire. “You ain’t known her any time at all.”
“Are you jealous?” Laramie poured water into his hands and splashed his face. “You know, partner, there are times that I’m glad you have your Juanita to chase. It cuts down the competition.”
“And there are times I start considerin’ the stupidity of it all. A gal like Annamarie can make a man change his plans. You got good taste, partner.”
“Isn’t she something? Polite. Smart. A beautiful nurse who can ride.”
“But don’t it seem a little foolish of her to ride off with a couple of rounders who she barely knows? I mean, we could be a couple of perverts who drift around the country kidnappin’ beautiful women. Makes you question her wisdom.”
Laramie’s grin was soft and easy, like a man with a cool, crisp slice of sweet watermelon. “She’s a good judge of character.”
Hap brushed back his mustache. “But can she cook?”
“Does it matter?”
Hap studied the limber, olive-skinned woman as she sauntered with the boxer toward them. “Oooweee. No, sir. It don’t matter at all.”
“Look at what Sara found down there.” She held up a bright green object. “It’s one of those neon colored jelly thong sandals that just came out last May. I almost bought myself a pair.”
Laramie peered around. “Then someone’s been down here since May.”
“Doesn’t this land seem too rugged to be wearing light sandals?” she asked.
Hap fingered the thong. “I figure the invasion of flip-flops is a terrorist plot to weaken the morals of American women. Maybe this is where they cross the border into the States.”
Annamarie burst out laughing, then slapped her hand over her mouth. “He was joking, wasn’t he?”
“Don’t get him started talking politics,” Laramie cautioned. “It’s not a pretty sight.”
She grabbed the flip-flop. “Maybe a coyote dragged it back here from the road and just gave up on eating it.” Annamarie held it up to her foot. “I wish I’d found two of them.”
The ground heat lessened with the coming of darkness. When the fire flickered out, the three reclined in the shadows as the sky turned from blanched blue, to charcoal gray, to black. Smoke still hung in the air, but the bugs seemed to retire.
Annamarie huddled between Laramie and Hap, an arm’s length apart.
Laramie picked his teeth with a stiff weed straw. “Well, the beans were fairly tasteless, but the Twinkies stayed fresh. It was nice of your mamma to send them along.”
“Mother believes Twinkies will solve any problem.”
Hap brushed crumbs off his thick, black mustache. “She might be right.”
“Do you have a list or journal of all the Juanitas you’ve known?” Annamarie asked.
Hap chuckled. “Nope. But me havin’ such a photographic memory, I can remember ever’ one.”
“Okay, which is your favorite? You must have found some you liked better than others.”
“Are you sure these stories ain’t borin’ you?”
“No, this has been a hoot. I usually run on pure c
affeine and adrenaline. It’s one crisis after another. I love helping people, but it’s one hundred percent stress the whole time. Now, here I am, out in the wilds on a warm summer night and I feel no stress at all.”
“Well, my favorite is Juanita DeCampos. A couple of years ago, I got this packet in the mail. A pal in Colorado we call Two Lip got to blabbin’…”
“Why did you call him Tulip?”
“T-w-o L-i-p… I reckon it had to do with his looks. Anyway, he talked up my hunt for Juanita and I get a brown manila envelope in the mail from a girl named Juanita DeCampos. She had heard about the Juanita search and wanted to apply.”
“Apply?”
“She had some professional photos and a six-page dossier all about herself.”
“Wow, she was serious. Did you like what you saw and read?”
“Laramie claims she’s the most perfect Juanita he ever met.”
“Oh, yeah…” Laramie added. “I mean to tell you this gal was a winner. Smart, cute, talented, aggressive, polite, hard-working. I told Hap she only had one flaw that I could see.”
Annamarie pulled the rubber band from her ponytail and swished her hair loose. “Wow, one-flaw girls are difficult to find.”
“Yes, ma’am, they are.” Laramie stared at her through the shadows, trying to imagine her one flaw.
“So, what was it?” she pressed. “What was the defect?”
“Her age. She was thirteen years old,” Hap said.
“Yes,” Laramie hooted, “but she said that people often mistake her for seventeen or eighteen.”
“She was a cutie,” Hap replied.
“I suppose you broke her heart.”
“I tried to convince her to wait a few years, that she could do a whole lot better than me.” Hap caressed the sleeping dog. “Sara’s tuckered out. All that freedom drained her.” He unrolled his sleeping bag and tugged off his boots. “The two of you can keep guard. I’m goin’ to sleep.”
“What threat shall we look for?” Annamarie said.
Hap yawned. “International terrorists sneakin’ into the country totin’ hand-held nuclear weapons or lead buckets brim full of biological plagues.”