One Step Over the Border

by Stephen Bly

  “Did you ever win money at a rodeo?”

  “Yes, we have.”

  “Many times?”

  “Lots of times.”

  “That’s my goal,” Heather said. “I want to win a check at a real rodeo. Just one check. I don’t even care how much money.”

  “That sounds like a reasonable goal. You get a good horse and you keep practicing and you’ll do it, I’m sure.”

  She jammed her hat back on. “That would be so totally cool. Me… winning money at a rodeo.”

  “Sometimes the most important ingredient is having the heart to do it. Sounds to me like you have a heart to win.”

  “Oh, my heart is fine.” Heather grinned. “It’s the rest of me that needs improvement.”

  Loud clanging from the direction of the white awning drew their attention toward the others.

  “What’s going on over there?” she inquired.

  “I believe Hap is fixing the barbecue. How about you and me walking our horses around the barrels. You can tell me what you know about each turn.”

  “Oh, yes. I do fairly well on the sprints, but the turns kind of scare me.”

  “If you train your horse good enough, all you have do is hang on and know when to give him his head.”

  He watched her ride up to the first barrel, tug the reins to the left, and circle the large, dark blue barrel.

  “That was good, Heather. Now, watch me. Tully, here, isn’t a barrel horse, but he follows orders most of the time.”

  Laramie dropped the reins around the saddle horn, then rode Tully forward. He circled tight around the barrel and back. Heather clapped when he rode over to her.

  “You did all of that without holding the reins.”

  “When you have your horse at a gallop, you keep ahold of the reins, but I did that to illustrate a point. You want to train your horse to follow knee commands so you aren’t tugging on his mouth when you turn him.”

  “Knee commands?”

  “I’ve got Tully trained that when I put pressure with my knee, he turns. That’s the best way to do it.”

  He saw her neck stiffen, her cheeks swell, her eyes tear. “But I could never learn that,” she sobbed.

  “Honey, it just takes time. Anyone can learn.”

  “No, I can’t. Don’t you understand?”

  “Understand what?”

  “My legs are paralyzed.”

  Laramie stared at her jeans. “What?”

  “I was in a boat accident five years ago. I’ll never walk and I’ll never give knee commands,” she wailed.

  “But… but you ride so well. How do you stay in the saddle?”

  “Velcro. Mother and Daddy sewed Velcro on my jeans, and Velcro on the stirrup leathers.” She patted her black pants. “I can’t fall off. It takes two of them to pull me loose.”

  Laramie straightened and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, you aren’t going to let a little thing like that keep you from winning that rodeo check, are you?”

  A wide smile broke across her face as she wiped her tears. “No, I’m not.”’

  “Good, let’s do it again. We’ll work on head commands.”

  Laramie and Heather rode the pattern a dozen times before the first guests arrived. Then it was time to give kids rides and demonstrate roping. After an hour in the arena, all the kids and the parents retired to the awning.

  At dark, the guests left.

  Laramie and Hap sprawled on rented white plastic chairs with Heather’s parents, while she rode her horse around the barrels at a trot.

  Toni McKay smiled at them. “I can’t believe how great you two get along with twelve physically challenged girls.”

  “They’re amazin’ little troupers,” Hap said.

  “You know the most natural horsewoman of the bunch?” Laramie said.

  “Seanna?” Toni replied.

  Laramie swirled an ice cube in the bottom of his plastic cup. “Her mother said she’s been blind since birth. Tully loved her. He pouted when she left.”

  “Seanna’s an inspiration to all the girls,” Toni reported. “We love having her come over. They dote on her and forget their own limitations.”

  “Watching these girls laugh and giggle and act like ordinary preteen girls gives us perspective,” Laramie offered. “I’m sure the rest of us whine and complain way too much.”

  Brandon McKay’s butch haircut and broad shoulders gave him an NFL linebacker look, but his blue-flowered Hawaiian shirt softened his appearance. “Guys, I’ve got to head to town and return some things to the rental company.” He shook both their hands. “Your acts of compassion toward our family will never be forgotten. Today was a huge success due to Toni’s planning and your graciousness. But agreeing to the trail ride is a legendary act of kindness.”

  “Trail ride?” Laramie asked.

  “Look, guys, I’m going to pay you five hundred dollars apiece for that. I insist you take the money or it’s no deal. You can donate it to charity, or give it away, or go buy new boots, but I have to pay you.”

  “Trail ride?” Laramie repeated.

  Hap cleared his throat. “I forgot to tell you, partner. While you was puttin’ up the horses, Toni, Brandon, me, and some of the parents decided it would be a wonderful thing to take this bunch on a trail ride.”

  “You mean, overnight?”

  “Three nights, actually,” Brandon added.

  “But we will have at least one adult for every child,” Toni explained. “We’ll need a few days to prepare, so you’ll stay with us, of course. We’ll take off on Friday and be back by Monday. Hap said you had the time.”

  “Shoot, partner, it won’t be too tough. We just have to wrangle the horse string, supervise things on the trail, and lead singin’ around the campfire at night.”

  “Singing?” Laramie choked. “I don’t sing in public, you know that.”

  “Now, quit worryin’,” Hap replied. “We’ll do it together. It will be a duet.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  When the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock in 1620, Europeans already dwelled in the northern New Mexico town of La Villa Real de Santa Fe. In fact, Santa Fe was the region’s second capital. Don Juan de Oñate brought his caballeros to the confluence of the Rio Chama and the Rio Grande on July 11, 1598. There he founded the settlement of San Gabriel de los Españoles that overlooked what was then called Rio del Norte.

  There are times when, indeed, the river looks grande… huge. Other times its most important attribute is the direction of its source… in the mountains to the north. Hap figured it was one of those times.

  He chewed on a tough breakfast burrito, but kept a hand on the steering wheel. The windows rolled up, his black cowboy hat pushed back, the sleeves on his black shirt rolled halfway to the elbow, his left foot tapped away in time with a phantom tune that floated across the background of his mind. They crossed the border into New Mexico at Anthony. He glanced at the 1–10 freeway sign. “As I was sayin’, it was a very emotional experience for me.”

  Laramie tried to sip on the minimart cup of coffee that was a tad too hot to hold, let alone drink. He brushed breakfast biscuit crumbs off his chin. “Hap, this highway is full of people going through the same thing every day. It’s no big deal.”

  “I know, I know. I can’t count how many times I’ve done it before. But this one was different. Couldn’t you tell?”

  Laramie repositioned himself in the cab of the truck. “I’ll have to be honest. It was pretty much the same as before.”

  Hap jammed the rest of the burrito in his mouth and felt the hot sauce squirt between his cheek and gum. “You’re wrong there, partner. I could feel it in my bones at the very second that I did it. Something in my body, soul, and spirit wanted to shout, ‘Yes!’”

  Laramie dug in the white paper sack and yanked out a couple of napkins. He shoved them at Hap. “You make it sound like a religious experience.”

  Hap wiped his chin, then picked at his teeth with his fingernail. “Maybe
it was.”

  “Hap, I’m glad you’re feeling good. I’m happy you’re headed in the right direction. But to tell you the truth, I don’t feel any different than I did before.”

  “It don’t matter how you feel. I’m not leavin’ you behind. You’ve been my partner for over ten years. We’ve spent day and night together for months on end. You just hold on. Don’t lose sight of where I am and I’ll take you with me, O ye of little faith.”

  “But I’m sort of an agnostic in this matter. I just don’t have enough evidence to say one way or another.”

  “Evidence? You want evidence?” Hap shoved the rearview mirror to the right. “Look in that mirror. There’s the evidence. Absolute, total proof.”

  Laramie gaped at his own reflection.

  “What do you see?” Hap pressed.

  “Eh, besides the fact that I need a haircut and the desert’s whipping by in the background?”

  “Look on the right-hand sign of the mirror and what do you see?” Hap shouted.

  “A tiny neon-green LED letter N.”

  “Yes! Yes! Yes! You’re right. It is the letter N. And do you know what that letter means?”

  “I have a vague notion.”

  “That letter means we have turned north. We are driving north, partner. North! Today it’s the Rio del Norte! Do you know what’s north of New Mexico? Colorado! And do you know what is north of Colorado? Wyomin’! We are headed home, partner. And we are gettin’ closer by the hour. The minute the freeway took a turn north back there I could feel a great relief.”

  “I still say, it was just a right turn. You’ve blown it all out of proportion.”

  Hap pulled around a semi truck, then swung back into the right lane. “It was not merely a right turn as opposed to a left turn. It was a turn north. We are goin’ home, after forty years of wanderin’ in the wilderness…”

  “It was more like a hundred days,” Laramie corrected.

  Hap slapped his hand on the steering wheel. “After one hundred days of wanderin’ in the wilderness, we are headed back to the promised land.”

  “But you said we have a few Juanita stops before we get there.”

  “That’s what Rosa told me on the phone. Her aunt Paula gave her a list of eleven Juanitas, but only a couple seemed worth trackin’ down.”

  “You eliminated all the others?” Laramie shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead as if massaging a migraine.

  “Rosa insists they aren’t right for me. There’s some kind of family reunion this weekend. So, we’re going to meet Rosa in Socorro. She’ll take us to meet the Juanitas after that.”

  “Now, tell me, are you feeling good because you’re pointed toward Wyoming or because you’re headed toward Rosa?”

  “I shouldn’t be the only one feelin’ good. Havin’ Annamarie Buchett flyin’ in to meet you in Santa Fe ain’t some-thin’ to mope over.”

  Laramie sat up. “She said she needed to see me before she made some big decisions. But I don’t know if I’m auditioning for a part in her life or if she wants to tell me face to face that I didn’t make the cut.”

  “What if it ain’t bad news? Laramie, just how big a decision are you prepared to make?”

  “A whole lot bigger than when we rode down out of Wyoming three and a half months ago.”

  “Annamarie changed all of that?”

  “Yes… and sitting through that funeral service in El Paso. I think I buried a few old memories in that grave. I’m grateful for that. But I’m scared I won’t get a chance to make the decisions that I’m now ready for.”

  “I think we’re on a roll. Maybe it’s the fresh New Mexico air, but I’m beginnin’ to see light at the end of the bridge with my Juanita quest.”

  “You mean, ‘light at the end of the tunnel’?”

  “Nah… it’s a long, covered bridge… you knew what I meant. Win or lose, this Juanita thing will be over in a few days. Turn on the radio, partner, I feel like rollin’ down the window and singin’ at the top of my lungs.”

  “I’ll turn on the radio, but you have to promise not to sing. All those campfire songs with teenage girls wore down my tolerance for Hap Bowman serenades.” Laramie spun the dial until a deep bass beat vibrated the speakers.

  “I never met ten sharper girls…” Hap tapped on the steering wheel.

  “Yeah, it’s the first time I ever thought about how much fun a daughter could be.”

  “Laramie Majors ponderin’ havin’ kids? If the sun don’t turn to blood and the stars fall out of the sky today, they never will.”

  “Aren’t you being overdramatic?” Laramie questioned.

  “Maybe… but it is a great day.” Hap smiled. “What song is that?”

  “I don’t know. I thought a song with the line ‘Ain’t it funny the turns life puts you through’ fit us both right now.”

  “I like it, but I’m feelin’ so good right now even opera would sound like real music. Who are those guys?”

  Laramie turned the volume down a little. “The DJ mentioned Tom Boone and Charlie, eh, someone.”

  “They must be new. But, then, we ain’t listened to the radio in months. Turn it up… it’s a long way before the turnoff and I aim to celebrate.”

  Three hours later they took the Socorro exit marked New Mexico Institute of Mining and Technology. Laramie glanced at his watch. “We’re late.”

  Hap studied the tree-lined street. “Road construction zones open for no man.”

  “Where are we meeting Rosa?” Laramie watched an old man with a cane walk a boxer along the sidewalk. “That looks like Sara.”

  “Nah,” Hap replied. “Sara’s cuter. Anyway, Rosa said the reunion’s at a park that’s hard to find. She’s going to meet us at a church and lead us over there.”

  Laramie scanned the horizon for steeples. “Which church?”

  Hap pulled a note from the pocket of his black shirt and studied his pencil scribblings. “Eh… St. Somethin’-er-other. It’s a Catholic church.”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “Maybe it’s St. Ignatius. How many Catholic churches can there be in town?”

  “In Socorro, New Mexico? There could be a dozen.”

  Hap pulled off his sunglasses and squinted at the paper. “Shoot, maybe it’s St. Stanislaus.”

  “Let me look.” Laramie plucked the note out of his hand. “I can’t read any of this.”

  “Maybe it’s upside down.”

  Laramie turned the note. “This is worse.”

  “It was dark in the hallway of that truck stop. I’m sure it was a saint. What are some other saints?”

  “Hap, I don’t know any other except St. Louis, St. Petersburg, and St. Bernard.” Laramie tossed the note on the dash.

  “Look on the other side of that park. Was I right?” Hap swung in front of a small church built with used brick and a steep shake roof. Hanging pots of red, white, and almost-blue petunias lined the covered entrance. “St. Andrews. I’m sure that’s it.”

  “It’s an Episcopal church, Hap.”

  “Are we goin’ to argue over theological distinctions?”

  “Then where’s Rosa? Is she driving her aunt Paula’s white Oldsmobile?” Laramie gazed at the tree-lined park across from the church. Bright-colored playground equipment stood like horses at the rail, waiting for someone to ride.

  Hap still peered at the brick building. “She’s not here. But now we can say we went to the wrong church.”

  “Pull over by the gal in the convertible,” Laramie ordered.

  “Are you cruisin’?”

  “I’m asking directions.”

  The woman with straight blonde hair and red-framed sunglasses focused on her cell phone conversation when they slowed down next to her.

  Laramie rolled down his window. “Excuse me, ma’am… we were supposed to meet…”

  “Never mind, they’re here,” she said to her phone. She hopped out of the convertible. “Park your pickup and trailer. Quick, you’re late.”

&
nbsp; “Eh, we were lookin’ for…”

  The lady with cherry-red fingernails waved her hand. “She got tied up with logistics, so she sent me to pick you up instead. Now hurry, it’s already begun.”

  Hap pulled in front of the convertible. “I didn’t know they were holding up the reunion for us. I figured we could just pop in anytime.”

  “Maybe your Rosa has a bigger surprise for you than you planned on.”

  They slipped out of the truck and moseyed toward the convertible.

  The blonde stomped up to them as if stalking a naughty dog. “I certainly hope you aren’t planning to ride your horses at this late juncture.”

  Hap tipped his hat. “Eh, no, ma’am.”

  She pulled off her sunglasses and surveyed them from head to toe. Her blue eyes seemed to be rearranging everything she viewed. “Do you need to change?”

  Hap grinned. “No one’s perfect. I reckon all of us have some things we should change. But if you’re talkin’ shirts, we’ve been on the road a while. This is as good as we have with us that’s clean. It’s not a formal affair, is it?”

  She jammed her glasses back on and spun around. “Of course not. Get in the car.”

  Laramie and Hap followed her to the convertible.

  “Eh, I’ll crawl in the backseat,” Hap offered. “My legs are a little shorter.”

  The blonde slid behind the steering wheel. “You will both sit in the back. That will be best.” She grabbed her red cell phone. “We’re on our way! Stall them.” She stepped on the accelerator. The gold Chrysler shot into the street and roared through the intersection. Laramie clutched the seat in front of him. Hap grabbed his hat.

  Without looking back, the blonde jabbed her right hand toward them. “My name is Char, but everyone calls me ‘Cheery.’”

  They shook her hand, a cautious handshake, the kind given when you aren’t too sure what germs the contact will bring.

  “I’m Hap. This is Laramie.”

  She peered into the rearview mirror. “I like that. I’m sure in your position you need nicknames for privacy. At least you don’t go as Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble.”

  Laramie shrugged at Hap. Both cowboys clutched the side of the car when she whipped around the corner.