The Remarkable Journey of Coyote Sunrise

by Dan Gemeinhart

  “Why?” I asked, which I knew was totally rude and nosy as soon as I said it.

  Salvador’s face went cold again, but this time his eyes slid away from mine instead of glaring.

  “None of your business,” he said, which was true, but then he added more quietly, “I just hope they don’t come looking over here.”

  Then, my ears picked up a sweet sound, a sound I knew well and recognized in one happy heartbeat.

  Now, most people wouldn’t think that the sound of a 2003 diesel engine roaring up a highway off-ramp is a sweet sound, but then again most folks think it’s gross to put guacamole on pizza, so who cares what most folks think? Guacamole on pizza is amazing, and so is the sound of your home rolling back to you.

  Then, there it was. Or, there they were.

  Yager, in all its ragged beauty, came roaring up out of the darkness, and I tell you it was something to see. Her headlights were on, and for some reason the red and yellow hazard lights were flashing, too. I could see Lester behind the wheel, and even thought I could just make out the gray shape of Ivan hunkered on the dash.

  Rodeo, though? Rodeo was kneeling up on the roof, hair and beard whipping in the wind, holding tight to a safety rail with one hand and holding his other hand to his forehead like a sea captain looking for land, eyes locked on the gas station across the highway. He was flashing from shadow to brightness to shadow to brightness from the blinking hazard lights around him, his skin painted in warm reds and yellows like a campfire.

  Rodeo, crown prince of freaks, had never looked more freakish.

  That man is hopeless. He is wild and broken and reckless and beautiful and hanging on by a thread, but it’s a heckuva thread and he’s holding it tight with both hands and his heart. He was coming for me.

  My smile was so wide my face hurt.

  That man is my hero. Most of the time.

  “What the heck is—?” Salvador started to say, but I was already jumping out of the car and running into the road, waving my arms over my head and doing some sort of combination of laughing and crying.

  CHAPTER

  FOURTEEN

  I suppose jumping out in front of a speeding bus in the dark ain’t the smartest move in the world, and it did take Lester an uncomfortable amount of time to see me and bring Yager to a skidding halt, but he did manage to stop her a full two feet before hitting me, so I don’t see why he gave me such grief about it later.

  Lester cut the engine and ran for the door at the same time that Rodeo whooped and jumped from the roof to the hood and then to the asphalt and then barreled into me, squeezing me in a rib-crushing hug that was darn near painful, but I didn’t wiggle or fight, I just worked my own arms free so I could wrap them around him and return the favor. We stood there in Yager’s headlight beams, right there in the middle of the highway off-ramp, holding on to each other in the darkness and not letting go.

  “Oh, honeybear,” he murmured, kissing me hard on the top of my head. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so—”

  “Shut up,” I said, then pulled back to look him in the face. “It’s not your fault, Rodeo.” Lester was standing a little off to the side, smiling and shaking his head.

  “You gave us a scare, girl,” he said.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Lester wrinkled his brow and looked back and forth between me and Rodeo.

  “We leave you at a gas station and you’re apologizing to us? Y’all are a trip.”

  He stepped forward and held his fist out and I reached out to bump it with my own.

  “Glad you’re all right,” Lester said quietly, then shook his head again. “Can’t believe we left without you.”

  I shrugged as best I could with Rodeo’s arms still wrapped around me.

  “It was no big deal. But I’m glad you morons caught on so quick.”

  “We didn’t,” Lester said, then pointed at the bus’s windshield. “It was that cat of yours. Started going nuts the minute we pulled out, pacing and scratching at the windows and howling. Made a big ol’ fuss. Rodeo kept hollering at you to get your cat under control and when you kept ignoring him, he went back to check on you. So, don’t thank us. Thank that noisy feline right there.”

  Ivan was sitting on the dash, pressed against the glass, eyes on me. He opened his mouth in a meow that rang right through the windshield.

  I pulled loose from Rodeo and stepped forward to tap the window by Ivan’s face. He rubbed against the windshield where my fingers were touching it.

  “Thank you, Ivan,” I said, and my voice cracked just a little. He was purring so strong I could hear it through the glass. I had already loved that cat with a fierceness, but right then … whew.

  That Ivan. The first time he ever used his voice, he used it to speak up for me.

  It’s something to have someone who misses you when you’re gone. And it’s something to have someone who fights to get you back.

  I turned back toward Rodeo and saw Salvador and his mom behind him, standing by their car.

  “Oh, hey,” I said, then grabbed Rodeo’s hand and dragged him over toward Salvador and his mom. “Introductions!” Rodeo was still in a bit of an emotional daze, and Salvador’s mom was giving Rodeo and Yager a look that was doubtful at best, but we were still parked in the middle of the road, so I didn’t have a lot of time for a warm-up.

  “Salvador, this here is Rodeo. Rodeo, this is Salvador. And this is…” I trailed off, hand held out toward Salvador’s mom, realizing I probably shouldn’t just call her “Salvador’s mom.”

  “Esperanza,” his mom offered with a smile. “Esperanza Vega.”

  My mouth dropped open.

  “Esperanza,” I whispered. “Like from the book! Esperanza Rising!”

  Ms. Vega just kinda smiled and shrugged, but I was blown away. That was one of my favorite books ever, and here she was … It was a sign, for sure. I got goose bumps. I shook my head and got back to the business at hand.

  “And this is Esperanza Vega. She’s Salvador’s mom. They looked out for me while I was waiting for you.”

  Rodeo held his hand out and then so did Salvador’s mom and they shook. Ms. Vega looked up into Rodeo’s eyes and I saw that magic work and saw her soften up just a bit.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Rodeo said in his bone-deep genuine way, and Ms. Vega smiled and said, “My pleasure,” and then Rodeo shook Salvador’s hand and they had pretty much the same exchange and then the idea hit me and I pulled Salvador off to the side, off into the shadows of the ditch.

  “You should come with us,” I said, and Salvador opened his mouth to protest but I beat him to it. “It’s not help,” I said, holding up my hands. “I know you don’t need it. It’s repaying a debt. You saved my butt, and I owe you one. I know you don’t wanna mess with those cops over there and it’s only a matter of minutes before they come over here snooping around and no offense, but I don’t think this car’s gonna make much of a runaway vehicle. Y’all are heading that way, right?” I pointed up the highway in the direction Rodeo and Lester had just come roaring back from. Salvador sniffed and nodded. “Well, so are we. It just makes sense, man. Once your aunt calls, we can drop you off at the nearest bus station. Come on. It’s the least I can do. Please?”

  As Salvador’s eyes darted around in thought, I went through it in my own head, too. I couldn’t take my eyes off the prize—which was still waiting for me buried under a tree a couple thousand miles away—but having the Vegas on board for a day or two wouldn’t interfere with that at all, as far as I could see. It was a win-win, and I’m all for win-wins.

  Ever since I’d gotten Ivan, I’d been seeing the world a little differently. He was like that first sip of cold water when you didn’t even know you were thirsty, and now I didn’t wanna stop drinking. I’d made that decision for me, and I’d also made the secret choice to head home, no matter Rodeo’s no-goes and hang-ups. I’d spent a long time mostly worried about Rodeo and what he wa
nted. Maybe it was time to start worrying about someone else.

  I liked Salvador. It’d be fun to have a friend on board. I wanted it. And what I want matters, too, right? I nodded to myself.

  Salvador looked at me, then away up the highway, then over at our bus.

  “Don’t you have to, like, ask your dad?”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll talk to Rodeo, you talk to your mom.”

  So that was it. Salvador shook his head, but he walked over and pulled his mom to the side and started talking with her while I walked over to Rodeo.

  “Hey,” I said. “We got room for two more.” I didn’t ask it, just said it.

  “Two more what?”

  “Two more passengers,” I said, and pointed a thumb at the huddling Vegas. “They’re going our way and their car is broke down.” Rodeo opened his mouth just like Salvador had, but I was on a roll and getting good at not giving other folks a chance to kill my momentum. “I know what you’re gonna say, but save it. We owe ’em, Rodeo. I was alone. And they saved me. From the cops.”

  Rodeo’s head jerked back.

  “Wait a minute, what? What did you do? We were gone for, like, fifteen minutes!”

  I waved his words away and shook my head.

  “That’s not important right now. What is important is us returning the favor and giving ’em a lift. It’s only right and you know it.” I blew out a breath. “Okay. Now go ahead and say whatever you were gonna say.”

  Rodeo took a step closer to me. A little smile played at his lips.

  “What I was gonna say, sugarbug, is that after this whole shebang, I’d do just about anything you ask me to.” Then he smiled wide, and I smiled right back. “Of course they can hop in if they want to. They brought my honeybird back to me. They can have the whole doggone bus if they want it.”

  I heard a throat clearing behind me and saw Salvador waiting, his mom standing beside him.

  “We, uh, good?” he asked.

  I looked at Rodeo and he nodded, still smiling.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said. “Absolutely.”

  “You gonna ask them the questions?” I asked.

  Rodeo shrugged.

  “What the heck. But we should make it quick.” He took a step toward Ms. Vega and Salvador and squared up to ’em. “So, lady and gentleman, we got three questions we ask new travelers. You ready?”

  “Uh, I guess?” Salvador said.

  “All right. First, what’s your favorite book?”

  “Serious?” Salvador asked.

  “Serious. Favorite book.”

  Salvador thought for a second.

  “Well, last year in school I read Ghost, by Jason Reynolds. That one was pretty great, I guess.”

  “Yes!” I shouted. “That book is amazing!”

  “Okay, sounds like you passed that one,” Rodeo said. “How about you, ma’am?”

  Ms. Vega twisted her mouth for a second in thought and then answered, “La muerte de Artemio Cruz,” and then added, “by Carlos Fuentes.”

  “Fuentes.” Rodeo nodded. “Nice. Next question: What’s your favorite place in the whole world?”

  This time Ms. Vega answered first.

  “A kitchen, cooking with my family. Any kitchen. As long as my family is there.”

  Rodeo shook his head and looked down at his feet and then smiled up at Ms. Vega.

  “Great answer. Great answer. And you, Salvador?”

  Salvador sniffed.

  “I don’t know.”

  Rodeo shrugged one shoulder.

  “Give it a shot.”

  “We been lots of places, me and Mamá,” Salvador said. He looked at his mom, who was standing there in the day’s-end darkness looking back at him, and his face softened. I saw it.

  It’s funny how sometimes when a face goes gentle, it ends up looking stronger somehow.

  There was powerful love there, between Salvador and his mom. A love that spoke for itself.

  He looked back at Rodeo and shrugged.

  “I guess my favorite place is just wherever she is.”

  Rodeo nodded. A slow nod. He looked Salvador in the eye, then looked at me, then looked back at Salvador. He held out his hand and Salvador took it and they shook.

  “No more questions,” Rodeo said. “The ride’s yours if you want it. We owe you.”

  “What was the last question?” Salvador asked, cocking his head.

  “What’s your favorite sandwich.”

  Salvador snorted.

  “For reals? Aren’t you gonna, like, ask us if we’re criminals or something?”

  Rodeo laughed.

  “You never asked if we were criminals,” he said.

  “True. But I kinda want to.”

  Rodeo guffawed at that.

  “Fair enough, man. Well, we’re not criminals, and I get the feeling you ain’t, either, and that’s good enough for me if it’s good enough for you. You need a hand with your suitcases and stuff?”

  “Sure.”

  As we all walked over to the Vegas’ car and started grabbing their stuff, Rodeo asked, “So, just curious, what is your favorite sandwich?”

  Salvador thought for a second and then asked back, “You ever eaten a torta from a taco truck?”

  “Oh, brother, are you kidding me?” Rodeo slapped Salvador on the shoulder. “You and me are gonna get along just fine, man.”

  Their stuff was loaded and Lester fired Yager back up and we were ready to roll when all of a sudden Salvador jumped up and shouted “Wait!” and flew out the door. He crouched down for a minute by their dusty old car and when he climbed back up the steps, he was holding a dented hubcap in his hands.

  He looked around at us, sitting there staring at him.

  “Wanted something to remember her by” is all he said.

  I looked at Rodeo and he was looking at Salvador and he had a wide-open expression on his face, and then he looked at me and I looked away quick, but I tell you I really dug Salvador at that moment. That kid already had some things figured out.

  And that, right there, is how Salvador and Esperanza Vega joined our adventure.

  CHAPTER

  FIFTEEN

  So here’s what I learned about Esperanza and Salvador Vega.

  They were pilgrims on a quest, just like me and Rodeo.

  Salvador didn’t seem to like talking about family stuff too much, so it was tough prying details out of him. They’d left their home in Orlando a few days before. His mom and his aunt had worked together, but they’d both lost their jobs somehow. His aunt knew someone who said she might be able to get them both jobs in some little town outside St. Louis, Missouri. She had left a few days before them, and they followed her once they’d gotten everything figured out and packed up their stuff. His aunt had told them to just head north toward St. Louis and she’d work out the details on the job and let them know where she was … but then their car had broken down at the same time that his aunt had mysteriously stopped answering her phone.

  That’s when me and my watermelon slushy entered the story.

  “How’d they lose their jobs?” I asked.

  “None of your business,” Salvador said after a second. He didn’t say it all rude or mean or anything, but there was a definite don’t-push-it edge to his voice, so I shrugged and rolled with it.

  “Fair enough,” I said. “So … you really have no idea where you’re going?” It was about an hour after Rodeo and Lester had swooped back and picked us all up. The bus was dark, lit only by the drifting headlights of other cars on the highway. Ivan was sitting on the couch between me and Salvador, and we were taking turns petting him.

  Salvador shrugged.

  “Well, we don’t not know where we’re going. We’re going to St. Louis. Kind of. Missouri, at least.”

  “You don’t not know where you’re going?” I repeated, raising my eyebrows. “Missouri’s a big state, man.”

  “My aunt’s gonna tell us where to go,” Salvador muttered, scowling. “Her frie
nd’s cousin had some connections at a hotel or something, but she didn’t know exactly where. That’s all. She’s gonna call and tell us once she finds out, and then we’ll go there. That’s it. No problem.”

  “All right, all right,” I said, putting up my hands in surrender. “No problem here. Rodeo and I haven’t known where we’re going for, like, five years, so I got no room to judge. At least you’re heading somewhere. Theoretically, anyway.”

  Salvador had his backpack sitting next to him, and an ID tag hanging off one of the straps caught my eye. It said, “Property of Salvador Peterson.”

  “Why’s that say Peterson?” I asked. “Isn’t your last name Vega?”

  Salvador’s jaw clenched.

  “Peterson is my dad’s last name.” He said the word “dad” like it was a curse word. “I don’t go by that anymore.”

  “Oh. How come?”

  Salvador chewed on his upper lip, his eyes narrowed. His nostrils were flared. I wasn’t an idiot. I’d had enough experience with no-goes to know I’d just bumped into one.

  “Never mind,” I said quick. “None of my business, right?”

  “Right.” He looked up toward the front of the bus and pointed at the driver’s seat with his chin.

  “So why do you call him Rodeo? Why don’t you call him Dad?”

  “Because that’s what he wants to be called.”

  “Okay. But he is your dad, right?”

  “Shhhh,” I said, dropping my voice to a hush. “Keep it down. He’ll hear you.”

  Salvador’s eyebrows lowered.

  “Who cares?”

  “I do. He gets upset. It’s hard for him.”

  The look of confusion on Salvador’s face was clear as day, even in a dark bus.

  “All right. Yes, he’s got another name he don’t use, and, no, I don’t ever call him Dad, and both those things have the same reason behind them.” I took a second, thinking how best to explain. Life’s a tricky tangle to unwind sometimes, and Rodeo’s a heckuva knot to throw into it.

  “So, I used to have two sisters and a mom.”

  “Used to?”

  “Yeah. They died, like, five years ago.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Salvador’s mouth drop open but I kept on talking, saving him from having to try and say something thoughtful and sympathetic. “It was real tough on Rodeo. Darn near killed him, I think. He was … He was…” My words left me for a minute, remembering. How Rodeo had been, back then, back after it happened. How everything had been. I shook my head. Going back there in my head wouldn’t do any good. “Once he kinda got his feet back under him, he couldn’t stand to stay there, where we lived. Too many memories, I guess. So we sold the house and all our stuff and bought this bus and we been on the road ever since. No looking back. One big adventure.” I tried to put plenty of pep in my voice at the end, but somehow it came out wrong and flat, like a week-old balloon. So I propped it up with a smile, showing my teeth in the headlight glare.