One Step Over the Border (22 page)

He didn’t squeeze back.

Hap’s legs sprawled out in front of him as he sat on the dirt. Sara limped over to him and he pulled a sticker from her paw
as Laramie sauntered up.

“I told Will we’d do all the pickup work, but if it wasn’t going right, he could fire us. He’s got pickup horses for us to
ride, so Tully and Luke get the night off. You just wake up, partner?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“You worried about her?”

“I guess.”

“Look, Clausen has a vet over there right now looking at one of his saddle broncs. Why not let him give her the once-over?”

“Who?”

“Sara. Isn’t that who you’re moping over?”

Hap shoved the boxer out of his lap. “I had a long talk with Juanita Guzman.”

“Did you go find her?”

“She found me.”

“Did she give us back our money?”

“She’s broke and I don’t know if I believe anything she told me.”

“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?”