by Stephen Bly
“Are you doin’ okay, partner?”
“Yeah, actually it was good. Maybe I can forget it all now.”
“You got to let it go, that’s for sure, but don’t get sucked back in.”
“No, but hatin’ takes a lot of work. It was wearin’ me out.”
The arena lights blazed.
The evening sky cleared.
And the Uvalde Mounted Twirlers performed their big routine as Laramie and Hap rode up to the arena gate on Will Clausen’s paint pickup horses.
“We look like bull-ridin’ rookies with these dang red and white chaps,” Hap intoned. “But you look good in a hat.”
“Yeah and you can sing opera,” Laramie grumbled.
The bleachers filled as the grand entry continued. It was not until the last rodeo princess exited the arena that they announced the stock contractor and introduced the pickup men. The twelve-foot-wide arena gate swung open, and Laramie and Hap rode out into the lights.
Bareback riding led the events. Once the first rider nodded and the gate swung open, the seconds ticked away fast. Of fifteen contestants, seven got bucked off. Two tried flying dismounts. The other six grabbed onto Hap’s back without much effort or complaint.
One horse, a bay mare from Calgary, pitched a fit about clearing the arena, but the delay gave rodeo clown Tennessee Tommy Reynolds a chance to do his routine with a monkey and a can of tomato soup.
Laramie and Hap watched the steer wrestling and the tie-down roping from the sidelines as the Del Rio Rodeo Royalty ushered the steers and calves out of the arena. The contract act of Pecos Flower Trick Riders performed to the gasps of the crowd as they rode Roman style, standing tall and straddling the backs of two galloping paints.
The saddle broncs proved easier to ride than the bare-backs. Hap sat down eleven cowboys; the bucking horses dethroned the other four. He studied each of the steers in the team roping event, wondering which they would draw the next day. They rode the pickup horses back out behind the barrelman, as the Clausens, father and son, loaded the first pen of bulls.
Eight cowboys in a row slammed into the dirt after a couple of bucks. All limped out of the arena, but none looked permanently injured. The crowd yelled and groaned as each man lost his grip on the bull rope.
The hornless black bull dropped his head, spun right, bucked his rear to the starry night, then circled with violent jerks to the left. An eighteen-year-old kid named Tater Doogan earned himself a 91-point ride.
After that came a 71.
Then an 80.
Followed by a pair of 82s.
The fourteenth and fifteenth riders hit the ground before the buzzer.
The first pen of bulls finished with five qualified rides. Everyone exited the arena while a tractor harrowed the dirt before barrel racing.
Laramie sauntered to the Lions Club hamburger stand, but Hap stayed by the fence to watch. Brick Trotter found him there. “Keep your eye on that brunette with bobbed hair and turquoise-sequined blouse. She don’t have the fastest horse, but she’ll make the tightest turns. Juanita Guzman probably runs the fastest horse, but he’s been bumpin’ barrels a little too hard.”
Fifteen girls ran the cloverleaf pattern around the three fifty-five-gallon drums. One Hap scrutinized.
Juanita ran deep in the dirt as the next-to-last contestant. She needed a time of 17.08 seconds or better to make the finals. Her red roan turned tight on the right-hand barrel, then dashed to the left one. That barrel tilted as she made the turn, but plopped back in its upright position as she rocketed to the far end of the arena, the circle a little too wide to the right. When she brought him back close to the barrel, her knee crashed its rim. It tilted. The crowd offered a collective gasp. She reached back and righted the barrel, as her horse bolted to the finish line.
After a long pause, the time of 17.07 seconds flashed on the scoreboard. Juanita sailed her black hat in the air as she rode out of the arena.
The second pen of bulls behaved similarly to the first. Only a third of the cowboys made qualified rides. Most of the bulls trotted out of the arena as fast as the battered and bruised bullriders.
Northstar steamed out last. Leif O’Day rode him two jumps before he overcompensated and lost his seat with his glove hand hung up in the bull rope. For a few frightening seconds he flopped back and forth like a rag doll. The rodeo bullfighter, Kenny McMillen, dove into the spinning bull as the crowd hooted and hollered. He pulled the bull rope loose and Leif tumbled to the dirt. Kenny took a horn to the hip and was flung out toward the middle of the arena.
Hap plunged the pickup horse between Kenny and the bull. Northstar blustered in front of the other chute, causing the cowboys in the arena to scamper up the fence rails. The triumphant bull made a wall run like a victorious general returning from war.
The crowd cheered him on as he demonstrated no inclination to exit the arena. Most in the stands stayed to witness his attemps to jump the gate into the roping boxes. Laramie and Hap couldn’t get behind him. Every time they moved in close, he charged.
Will Clausen mounted an extra horse, but even with three riders, they managed only to corner the bull in the far end of the arena. With his rear slammed against the fence, Northstar took on all comers.
“If there wasn’t kids in the audience, I’d shoot him right now,” Clausen muttered.
From the safety of the clown barrel, Kenny McMillen hollered, “You talk to him, Hap. You and him is pals.”
Hap rode slowly toward the bull and mumbled, “There are a lot of things a man regrets after he’s done them. This is one I regret even before I do it.”
He punched his spurs into the horse’s flanks. The bay pickup horse bolted toward the bull, then, as if coming to his senses, wheeled a hard left. Grabbing the saddlehorn, Hap whipped the entire coil of stiff nylon rope into the bull’s nose.
Northstar charged him at full speed.
The horse galloped at a panicked gait.
The crowd roared as cowboys and animals thundered across the dirt.
As they neared the livestock exit, the gate flew open. Hap yanked a hard left. Northstar rumbled straight ahead.
The gate slammed.
The crowd stomped their boots so loud the bleachers rumbled.
Laramie and Will Clausen rode up beside Hap. Laramie handed him his hat. “Do you always have to show off like that?”
“That was one of the stupidest things I ever did.”
Clausen laughed. “The folks in the stands loved it. I’ll pay you extra to do it every night.”
Hap and Laramie scooted through the darkened contestant parking area to the rig. Dim, battery-operated lights illuminated a few of the campers and trailers. On the far side of the field, a Coleman lantern blazed and a sledgehammer striking an anvil echoed through camp. A fully recovered Sara enjoyed the evening freedom by sprinting from one shadow to the next.
Laramie nodded to a figure standing next to the poplar near the back of the rig where Luke and Tully waited. “Looks like you got company. You want me to stick around or shall I exercise the horses?”
“You stretch the horses’ legs, I reckon.” Hap strolled over to the woman.
“Nice ride, Juanita,” Hap murmured.
“Thanks. I thought that third barrel was going down for sure.”
The humble tone in her voice caught Hap by surprise. “Looks like you’ll stick around another day.”
“Yeah, I picked up some day money, too.” She handed him a folded piece of paper. Her warm fingers lingered on his hand a moment before she pulled them back.
“What’s this?”
“An IOU and a hundred-dollar bill.”
Hap shook his head and shoved the money back. “But you’ll need…”
“What I need is a clearer conscience more than anything. Turn on your headlights and read the note.”
He jammed it in his pocket. “I believe you.”
“I know one hundred dollars isn’t much compared to what I owe you, but it makes me feel
like I’m doing something. I won enough to pay the vet, buy some feed, and gas up for the rodeo in Midland.”
He tried to study her eyes, but couldn’t make out her features. “You got enough to drive all the way home?”
“I wish.” Her tone fell somewhere between a plea and despair.
He pulled out the folded paper and bill. “Why don’t you keep the hundred dollars?”
“I really need to give you something. If I win tomorrow, I’ll pocket nearly eight hundred bucks. That will buy tires on the truck and send me home with a few decent meals and maybe even a motel and shower. I know my horse isn’t the best one here, and the chance of winning is remote, but it’s the best shot I’ve had in a long time.”
When a truck swung around, the headlights provided temporary illumination. Hap was drawn to the long, black eyelashes that framed her eyes. “And if you don’t win?”
“Then there’s Midland… then Odessa, Big Spring, Lubbock, and Amarillo. Some place my luck will turn. When it does, I’m going home to settle things with my dad and others.”
“What’s the turning point, eight hundred bucks? Is that what it takes to get you to go home?”
“Yeah, that’s what I figure. The tires are real bad.”
Hap shoved the hundred-dollar bill into her hand. “Now you only need seven hundred.” She held it, then handed it back, crumpled. “Please, Hap, let me do this.”
He slipped the money back into his pocket.
“I want to go home so bad, I can taste it. Seeing you here reminded me of everything I’ve missed. I have the feeling if I don’t do it now, I never will. I’ve just got to win tomorrow.” She clenched his hand. Her grip felt warm, yielding. He didn’t turn loose. He remembered a two-hour hike along the rim of Wind River Canyon when they held hands the whole time.
“You were the best thing that ever happened to me and I threw it all away. I don’t know how to say this right, but seeing you down here in Texas jolted me out of a rut. I’ve lived day to day with no goal except the next rodeo. For years, it’s been survive one week at a time.”
She wove her fingers into his. “But now I can remember the good times. Like when we took that houseboat out on the reservoir at Flaming Gorge. We meant to fish until dark, then stayed out until morning, with that mild summer breeze and ten thousand stars above. Those were real times, Hap. My life seems so unreal now… but when I saw you, I began to think of those things. I got homesick for feeling normal. I have to find something real again.” She squeezed his fingers. “You understand, don’t you?”
He squeezed back. “I know ever’one needs somethin’ to live for… some dream or plan or goal that keeps them going. Is that what you mean?”
“I think so. You make it sound so… philosophical.”
“I reckon.”
She leaned into him and brushed her lips against his, then paused for a soft, quick kiss. “That’s not philosophical. That’s real,” she whispered, then pulled back. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. I was thinking this afternoon… what if Hap wasn’t looking for that long-lost Juanita? What if that had never happened and we had met back then and I’d known you would stay with me and not keep looking for another Juanita. I keep wondering, would it have all turned out different if we’d driven all night to Nevada like we teased and gotten married?” Her arms swung around his chest; his circled her back. “Hey, we’d have kids by now… Little Hap Junior and Teresa.”
He rocked her back and forth. “The ‘what ifs’ of life can haunt a person.” He turned her loose. “We are here, Juanita. And a whole lot of stuff has gone on since then.”
“I know… I know… but just for a split second, I forgot. Did it seem like old times, just for a minute?”
“Yeah, I reckon so.”
“That’s one more moment of contentment than I thought I’d have. Thank you for that, cowboy. And you know what? I do have a goal… a dream, something to look forward to.”
“What’s that?”
“The day when you and me are both living in Wyoming and you stop by to see me and I place all that money in your calloused but tender hand and say, ‘I’m sorry, cowboy.’ That’s a dream worth following, don’t you think? Maybe you’ll have your very own Juanita by then.”
“I promised Laramie if I didn’t find her after we get to Colorado, I’m givin’ it up.”
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard. “Then I really have something to dream about.”
Hap tucked his hands in his front jeans pocket. His left hand rested on her note and the hundred-dollar bill. “Sometimes dreams need a little help.”
“Do you know Suzanne Pearson? She’s originally from Lander.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“She opened a café in Jackson called the Waxed Turtle. Anyway, she phoned me this spring and begged me to come work for her. I was too proud to admit my condition and turned her down. I’ll bet she’ll still hire me.”
“Next time I’m over that way, I’ll stop by.”
“Oh, Hap… that would be so great to look up and see my cowboy swagger in with that to-die-for grin.”
“What about those old boys with the video?”
“They’re both in prison in Arkansas. I don’t know who owns the tape now. I’m guessing it’s in some porn lover’s library. But he doesn’t know who I am or where I am… I hope.” She rested her hands on his hips. “I feel incredibly better after getting to talk to you. Maybe we can visit tomorrow in the daylight. And wish me luck. I want to win tomorrow more than I ever wanted anything. Sometimes you don’t know what’s a life-changing event until it happens. But this one, I know about beforehand. My whole future will be sprinting around those barrels.”
Hap pulled out the contents of his right pocket and mashed them firmly into her hand. “Maybe you already won.”
“I won’t take that money back.”
“I didn’t give that money back. This is different money. And it will get you where you want to go. Go home, Juanita. Go back to Wyoming.”
“You can’t do that…”
“Go home…”
“But… you…”
He thought he heard Laramie ride up to the back of the trailer.
“Go home right now, Juanita. Get in your truck and leave.”
“You are crazy.”
“We are both crazy. Are you going home?”
“Yes.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
He kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you in Jackson Hole,” he whispered.
“I’ll expect more than a kiss on the cheek then.”
“So will I.”
The sun sprayed through high, scattered clouds as Laramie stomped around the horse trailer. “You did what?”
“I sent her home.”
“I heard that part when I rode up last night. That’s when I went to sleep, innocent and happy. I figured you told her to get lost. Tell me the eight-hundred-dollar part.”
“I gave her eight hundred dollars to buy some tires and get back to Jackson Hole and settle down.”
“You gave her more money? This is insane. What part of ‘naïve sucker’ don’t you understand?”
“You don’t got to holler about it. It was my money. I can do whatever I want with it.”
“You got any left?”
“I got the hundred dollars she left me last night and we’ll probably add to the poke today.”
Laramie combed his fingers through his short hair. “This is beyond belief.”
“Well, thank you.” They both spun around.
“Annamarie?” Laramie took a moment to drink in her crisp black jeans, white silk blouse, and the wide, easy smile on her full lips, even as she raised her eyebrows.
Sara, on the other hand, immediately scrambled over. “Hi, baby…” She wrestled the boxer by the ears. “What are these cowboys arguing over?”
“An act of kindness…” Hap insisted.
“A complete mental breakdo
wn,” Laramie argued.
Hap whipped his hands around as if swatting horseflies. “Look, I forgave someone. So I gave her better than she deserved. I tried resentment and bitterness for six years and I didn’t like it.”
Laramie’s neck reddened. “And now you’re going to start six years of insanity? Hap, what’s going on here? This is beyond idiot obsession. This is like a horrible plague.”
“Whoa… time out, guys,” Annamarie interjected. She slipped her hand in Laramie’s, then pecked him on the cheek. “You better fill me in on what I missed. Back me up two weeks ago to when I last saw you in Laredo.”
Laramie brushed a kiss across her lips. “We’ve got to back you up a whole lot farther than that.”
The Sunday finals burst into the arena, then flooded back out to the parking lot. The most exciting part of the day’s activity was the rodeo queen getting bucked off during the grand entry and the 94-point bull ride on Northstar.
Laramie and Hap finished team roping in second place, .38 of a second behind Teddy James and Cash Filer. While they didn’t ignite fireworks in the arena, plenty of sparks simmered in the contestant parking lot.
“Annamarie, you talk to him. Facts don’t seem to matter. I truly think he’s having a mental collapse,” Laramie intoned.
“And I don’t see why he’s overreacting. I know what she’s like. I know that was all sweet talk. I didn’t believe it. I just truly wanted to help her be different. She acted like she wanted to turn her life around.”
Annamarie lounged on the tailgate of the black Dodge pickup as Sara slept in her lap. “Hap, let me review. Your Juanita admitted conning you out of $6,150.”
“She’s not ‘my Juanita.’ And she had a good explanation of why she did what she did six years ago.”
“Which you don’t want to tell us?”
“It’s very personal and reflects poorly on her past judgments. I don’t reckon I should. It’s not the kind of thing I would repeat about any woman.”
Annamarie unfastened the collar button on her blouse and rubbed her long, thin neck. “Then, last night, she gave you one hundred dollars and talked you out of another eight hundred dollars?”