The Nightcrawler Page 5

“Well that isn’t original equipment Thomas,” he said, not caring that he was alone in the car. AM/FM, four-disc CD changer. He turned it on and pressed the scan button. He stopped when he heard “You’re listening to Karen Savelly on 94.7 WCSX and here is Fleetwood Mac.” Then Stevie Nicks started to sing “Gold Dust Woman.” What rock and roll loving American male doesn’t turn up the volume when Stevie starts singing? Thomas’ stereo was up to the challenge. Stevie came through loud and clear.

  Chapter Eight

  It took Roger about five hours to get to the rodeo grounds. He had spent the last hour riding with Bill Hicks. Now there’s a man who can talk. From the time he picked Roger up until the time they got to the rodeo he rambled about everything from the weather to the thrush in his favorite horse’s front feet. Roger made a sympathetic sigh at that news having no idea what thrush was. He just assumed by the tone of Bill’s voice that it wasn’t good. One bonus to catching a ride with Bill was his pass to the rodeo. In addition to getting Roger in free, he also offered to show him around after his calf-roping event. With his horse being lame, Bill didn’t expect to make the second round.

  After Roger adjusted to the smell of livestock, he had a good time wandering around the rodeo. Everywhere the aroma of cotton candy and farm animals hung in the air. The announcer’s voice rang out with enthusiasm from cone shaped speakers mounted high on weather beaten wooden poles. Roger enjoyed the bull riding. He hung on the fence like the real cowboys, some of them with large paper numbers pinned to their backs. They all had a sense of purpose in their gaze, studying how the other riders handled each bull and how the bulls reacted.

  Roger had just heard the bell indicating the release of the next competitor when he heard the voice of a young woman.

  “Hey, you a cowboy?”

  Everyone on Roger’s section of fence turned to see the source of that inquiry. They all looked down on two girls. Neither girl looked a day over twenty. Both had long dark hair that glistened in the sun. They were gorgeous, their tight jeans hugging their hips and thighs then disappearing into cowboy boots. The one on Roger’s left was wearing a white T-shirt that fit like a second skin, the one on the right a denim shirt rolled up in the middle and tied in a bow exposing her flat midriff. They were both smiling and their twinkling green eyes were locked on Roger. Everyone but Roger had returned to watch the end of the current ride.

  Trying to look in control while thinking of a comeback, Roger released one hand from the fence and down he went. His foot had slipped off the metal rung of the fence and he found himself in the dust at their feet.

  Just then, there was a loud rattling bang behind him, followed by four cowboys joining Roger on the ground. The bull in the ring had thrown its rider, lost its footing and crashed into the fence with two thousand pounds of force.

  The girls giggled at the sight of five men floundering in the dirt and walked off, their jabbering interrupted only by the occasional chortle. The cowboys got right back up and dusted off. Roger sat there watching the girls trundle off toward the barrel racing ring.

  “You’re real lucky you fell off the fence when you did. That bull’s head hit right where you was standing. You’da been stuck for sure,” one of the competitors said in a Texas drawl.

  Roger looked up to see the source of the voice. A young man, dressed like the competitors, hat, jeans, denim shirt, boots, and a big number 51 on his back stood over him. Roger recognized him as the kid about his own age standing next to him on the fence. The kid turned and joined the other three cowboys who had already got back up on the fence.

  Roger looked back to see where the girls went. Apparently they had saved him from serious injury, maybe even death. He had to find them to say thank you. The bull riding was entertaining but those two were the best sightseeing he had done so far on this vacation. He doubted the Grand Canyon would be as awe-inspiring. So he got up, dusted himself off and with an urgency in his stride, he headed in the direction he had last seen them.

  “Fella, yer outta yer league.” Roger looked back to see number 51 looking down from the fence. He gave the cowboy a wave and walked away.

  Roger walked the length of the bull riding ring, circled the calf roping enclosure and scanned the grandstand of both events. All the while the announcer’s voice echoed through the grounds. “Let’s have a hand for Tommy” or “That should get the newcomer to the next round.” Roger barely heard any of it. He had a mission, but there was no sign of those girls. He turned toward the concession stand, the line was long. If they were getting anything to eat or drink they would still be in line. Slowly he made his way along the line. Nothing. There were hundreds of people wandering the rodeo. Finding his rescuers would be a needle in a haystack effort.

  After three or four laps around the grounds Roger found himself back at Bill’s truck. He decided it was a sign to get back on the road and opened Bill’s horse trailer to retrieve his backpack. What he saw inside made him weak in the knees. He’d left his pack hanging on a hook at the front where the horses head would be. Now, the pack lay open on the floor of the trailer, his belongings strewn around it. He leaped inside, and began to inventory his things. Everything remained but his money. What he now had in his pocket would definitely not be enough to get him home so the canyon was out of the question. He had no choice; he would have to phone home for money. There would be some “I told you so’s”. He knew his parents struggled hard to get their money and he hated asking for more. What choice did he have?

  Roger repacked his stuff, and then counted the cash in his pocket. He had less than thirty dollars. He would grab a bite at the concession stand then try to hitch a ride into town. He needed to find a phone.

  The line for food looked like it stretched all the way back to Vermont and Roger just didn’t have the heart to join the queue. He leaned against one of those wooden poles with the loud speakers at the top and slid down to the ground.

  He had been there for just minutes, staring at the tops of his shoes listening to the commentator announcing a new record for calf roping at this venue when he heard it again.

  “Why the long face?”

  Roger looked up to see the girl in the white T-shirt. The sun still high in the sky gave her a luminescent glow. He shrugged without speaking. The girl returned his shrug and walked away.

  “I got robbed,” he said.

  She stopped and turned to face him. “Well that sucks.”

  When Roger didn’t offer a response she walked back and prodded him for details. He told her how he got to the rodeo, and what he found when he got back to Bill’s trailer. She reached out to the dejected boy. Roger took the offered hand and she tugged to help him to his feet.

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “I guess I’m going to have to start heading home,” he said, picking up his pack.

  “And where is home?”

  “Vermont.”

  “Vermont, I knew you were no cowboy.”

  “And why would you say that?” He asked the question like it wasn’t obvious to every rancher and competitor at the rodeo.

  “Well, for one thing I’ve never seen a cowboy wearing shorts and hiking boots.” She stepped toe to toe with him. Placed her hands on his shoulders, put her cheek against his and inhaled deeply. Gently pushing him away she added, “Besides, you don’t smell like a cowboy.”

  Roger could feel his ears burning and he knew his cheeks had just gone a deep shade of crimson.

  Undaunted he held out his hand, “Roger Morris. You may have saved my life.”

  “Is that a fact?”

  “Yes, it is a fact. Had you not come along when you did I wouldn’t have fallen off the fence.”

  She paused for a moment, pondering his assertion.

  “How did falling off a fence save your life?”

  He explained the bull crashing the fence story to her, then he added, “Well, you got me. What is the punishment for a non-cowboy attending a rodeo?”

  “For starters you’re going
to have to take me to dinner.”

  “An hour ago that would have been my pleasure, but I have about thirty dollars to my name and I’m about fifteen-hundred miles from home.”

  “Well then, Vermont, I guess I’m going to have to buy you dinner.”

  Roger looked toward the line at the concessions, then back to her. She was shaking her head as if to say “You have got to be kidding”. They both laughed and Roger asked her name.

  “My name is Bethany. My friends call me Beth.”

  She then grabbed him by the arm and led him away from the crowd.

  “There’s a barbecue and corn roast at Buffalo Bill’s house. Would you like to go?”

  “That sounds great, Beth, but I need to get to a town and see if I can get my mom to wire me some money to get home.”

  The way she was pulling him through the crowd, it didn’t appear that she heard him or that he had a choice but to follow.

  Finally she said, “That’s no problem,” looking back over her shoulder in his direction. “I’ll give you a lift to town after dinner. But we don’t need a ride to the cookout. There are covered wagons that shuttle people back and forth during the rodeo.”

  “Covered wagons? Like circle the wagons?”

  “Yes, just like that, Vermont. So what do you say?” She had stopped and turned to wait for his reply.

  “I don’t feel right, letting you spend your money on me,” he said looking down at his feet.

  “We won’t need any money. The meal and drinks are included with the entry ticket; my sister gave me her ticket. She hooked up with a cowboy. He’s taking her to some hoe-down.”

  “What’s your hurry?” Roger asked. He didn’t really care but she did seem to be itching to get away from there as if she were in some kind of trouble.

  “What’s wrong, Vermont, can’t you keep up with a little girl?” She stopped and stood hands on her hips and smiled innocently.

  “I had a sausage about an hour ago and I’m not all that hungry.”

  “Well shit, Vermont, why didn’t you say so? What do you say about going for a swim? The dinner can wait; they will be there until eleven or twelve.”

  “Now that sounds awesome. But where do we swim around here?”

  “You leave that to me.” She took his arm again and dragged him toward the exit.

  The cheering of the crowds and the narration from the speakers faded with each step. Beth led them through the gate and into a large temporary parking lot. They walked down aisles of pickups and livestock trailers parked on grass that had turned brown in the hot, dry summer, then beaten into submission by the abuse of hundreds of heavy vehicles pounding it down.

  Beth stopped next to a Hemi-orange Challenger. It seemed so small and out of place surrounded by all the trucks and trailers. She took a single key out of her pocket and handed it to Roger.

  “Here, Vermont, you drive.”

  Roger just stood anchored to the ground, staring at the car.

  “You do know how to drive, don’t you?” Beth was now standing at the passenger door waiting. Roger walked around to her, pushed a button on the key then opened the door and Beth slid into the car.

  He popped the trunk, stowed his pack closing the lid gently, then settled into the driver’s seat and turned to Beth. “Whose car?”

  “Mine. Daddy gave it to me for graduating high school.” Noticing the look of amazement on his face she added. “It’s just a car. Now if you’re going to see me in my new bikini you’re going to have to start the engine and get us the hell out of here.”

  Eagerly Roger started the car and left the rodeo behind in a cloud of dust. The announcer’s commentary faded to garbled noise then it was gone.

  Several lefts and rights and an hour later Roger was thoroughly lost. A sudden gloom had come over him. Could this be a practical joke or maybe something much worse? A girl like Beth isn’t going to pick him up out of the blue. She was leading him out into the middle of nothing. Her sister hadn’t hooked up with a cowboy. She recruited a bunch of friends, they were going to turn him loose out here and hunt him down like it was a rich kid’s game reserve, and he was the game.

  Letting his imagination, or was it paranoia get the better of him he looked over at her. His anxiety must have been visible because she put her hand on his thigh and asked if he was okay.

  “I’m good,” he said. “I just get a little nervous when I have no clue where I am.”

  “Well shit. You’re in Nebraska.” And she giggled in an innocent way that made him feel more at ease. “See that gate about a quarter mile up on the left? Turn in there.”

  Not realizing how fast he was going, he had to brake hard when he got to the gate and the tires moaned their disapproval as he turned into the driveway of the Three B’s Cattle Ranch still going thirty-five. An ironwork gate that looked like something from a John Wayne movie marked the entrance.

  “I’m guessing you are one of the B’s. What do the other two mean?”

  “My sister Bobbie, you sort of met her at the rodeo, and my brother Billy. Can you believe it? Bobbie, Billy and Bethany, how lame sounding is that?”

  Roger had been captivated by this girl. He was so rapt by the sound of her voice and the way she tilted her head when she was trying to be flirtatious that he failed to be impressed by the biggest house he had ever seen. He was imprisoned by emotion and he didn’t want to be let out. He turned to her and she motioned for him to drive around back. Just as they cleared the side of the three-story stucco mansion, a white garage sporting six bays and a green hip roof with three dormers came into view.

  “Just park over there.” Beth motioned to the side of the garage.

  Roger parked the car and quipped. “So does your dad supply the whole country with beef?

  “Well not Alaska and Hawaii.” Giggling again, she got out of the car and Roger followed. “I changed my mind, Vermont. I’m not going to show you my new bikini.” She turned and walked around back of the garage.

  “Hey. Wait up.” Roger called as he double-timed after her. When he caught up to Beth, she was standing at the edge of the pool. It was a big pool. Olympic-size, Roger figured. The sun reflected off the water like a barrage of sparkling jewels rising out of the blue depth. It was surrounded by white columns topped with lamps. Several stone statues of naked men and women guarded the perimeter. In the far corner a hot tub was being tended by another statue of a nude woman holding a large decanter. The decanter was tilted and water poured endlessly into the hot tub. The pool area looked more like a scene from Greece than a backyard pool in Nebraska. Ivy climbed up many of the columns adding a splash of green to the picture. As impressed as he was with the scene, it all paled in his eyes when he shifted his gaze to Beth. She stood motionless on the cut stone deck surrounding the pool. Her hair framed her face and hung over her shoulders. Her eyes seemed to be smiling although her lips were not. Roger would have never thought anyone could be so completely captivating. If she looked this good in a T-shirt and jeans, could he hold it together when she changed into a swimsuit? He approached her slowly and she held up her hands motioning him to stay where he was. He stopped his advance without removing his eyes from the vision in front of him.

  Beth smirked at him as if to dare him to move without permission. Almost like he were a dog being tempted out of a stay command. He didn’t move. Mostly because he had no idea what the rules of this game were, or what game he was playing for that matter. She was beautiful, confident and definitely in charge of this encounter. Without warning, she bolted toward the side of the garage. A steel staircase painted the same green as the roof lead to a loft above.

  When she reached the base of the stairs she called back, “Well Vermont, are you coming?” She had about a twenty-yard head start on him but he climbed the stairs three at a time and gently bumped into her at the top before she could open the door.

  They entered the loft and Roger couldn’t believe what he saw. He expected some old farm equipment and maybe a small change ro
om. This was a lavish apartment, bigger than his parent’s house. The furniture was contemporary. A huge TV mounted on the wall came to life. It was loud, and the channel was set to MTV. Beth seemed to notice Roger’s confusion.

  “We had it connected to the motion sensor. When we walk in the room the TV comes on. Isn’t it cool?”

  “You do have a swimsuit in that pack, don’t you?”

  He looked over his shoulder toward the door. His pack was still stowed in the back of the car. She pointed toward the last room on the right at the end of the hall. “You can change in there.”

  He stood, watching her saunter down the hall, unable to believe this was happening to him. His eyes followed her every curve gliding away from him. If an expression could define happiness, it was the one on Roger Morris’ face as he gawked at Beth’s retreat.

  “You better haul ass, Vermont, you don’t want me to change my mind about treating you to dinner, do you?”

  He turned and bolted from the room taking the stairs three at a time to retrieve his pack and two at a time on the return trip. A quick look around told him he had entered a guest room. An oak four poster covered with a patchwork quilt, a matching oak bureau and some paintings on the walls, all depicting some old west cattle drive. Two doors on the wall opposite the window opened to a full bathroom and a small closet. He tossed the backpack onto the bed and explored the room. Closet empty, bureau empty, a cabinet behind the bathroom mirror empty. Roger walked over to the window and looked down on the pool. He began to wonder if Beth’s dad owned all of Nebraska. Just then his thoughts were interrupted by Beth’s voice through the door.

  “What the hell, Vermont, did you fall asleep in there?”

  “Sorry, I’ll be right out.”

  When he opened the door, Beth stood leaning on the opposite wall. Roger was stunned. Sports Illustrated would not be able to print a better cover for the swimsuit edition than what he was looking at.

  She held her arms out in a runway model pose and said. “Well, what do you think?”

  Roger searched for an answer but all he could muster was a boyish grin. She returned the smile and he followed her to the pool.