One Step Over the Border by Stephen Bly Page B

Hap’s stirrup. “She was my sister’s daughter.”
    Hap yanked off his hat. “I’m truly sorry about the girl. She was a very purdy young lady and I’m sure her family grieves for
     her.”
    “Where is your
cinta
?” the man asked. “Your hatband.”
    “We were roundin’ up strays a few days ago down in that barranca. I stumbled across the memorial your family made for her.
     I dusted off the picture, but didn’t have any flowers to leave, so I pulled off my hatband. It’s black and turquoise horsehair.
     I braided it myself. Took the hair right out of ol’ Lukey’s mane. I thought it looked nice.”
    The man’s voice cracked. “You are the one who did that? My sister thought an angel had stopped to visit the site.”
    “How did she die?” Hap asked.
    The man wiped the corner of his eyes on his shirtsleeve. “Miranda liked to ride a black stallion. For some reason, the horse
     panicked and stampeded toward the arroyo. She stayed in the saddle and tried to turn him. But the stallion didn’t stop until
     he crashed into the barranca. By the time my brother-in-law got there, both my niece and the horse were dead.”
    “I’m truly sorry.” Hap shoved his hat back on.
    The ranch owner lowered his carbine.
    “That was a kind thing to do. I won’t shoot you, but I am taking you to jail. This rustling has to stop right now.”
    “Mister,” Hap said, “if you eliminate me and Laramie, will you abolish your rustling problem?”
    “Not with Greene on the prowl.”
    “That’s what I’m thinkin’. I reckon you’re smart enough to figure out once we cross that border, we aren’t comin’ back. But
     what if we send him over to you? What have you got to lose? We aren’t much of a threat anymore, and there’s a chance we can
     deliver E. A. Greene to you.”
    The stocky man cleared his throat, then stared down at his battered boots. “I would like to tell my sister that a cowboy…
     not a cow thief… visited the shrine.”
    The boss stared hard at them for a long moment. “Get out of here…” he growled at last. “If you show up on this side of the
     river, we will shoot you. And if you don’t deliver Greene in the next twenty-four hours, we might come over and shoot you
     anyway.”

    The mesquite tree next to the brush corral offered slight shade as Laramie and Hap lounged against its trunk.
    “We ain’t exactly takin’ south Texas by storm,” Hap observed.
    Laramie watched two ants crawl across the toe of his boot. “We’re alive. After last night, I consider that real progress.
     You know why I stayed? I thought,
If I leave Hap in Mexico and he gets killed stealing cattle, I’m going to have to be the one to go to Wyoming and tell his
     mamma
. So I reckon neither one of us has the nerve to disappoint that sweet lady.”
    “Well, our safety might only be a temporary condition. You think those Mexicans might come over and track us down?”
    “If they have more cattle stolen, and we don’t deliver Greene, they’ll regret the decision to turn us loose. Sort of makes
     me wish we were riding for a ranch up in the Wind River range.”
    “You reckon that dust cloud comin’ this way is Mr. E. A. Greene?” Hap eased himself into the saddle, then tugged his hat a
     little lower in the front.
    Laramie yanked the cinch tight around Tully’s stomach. He swung up as easily as most men drop into a recliner in front of
     the TV. “Are you ready for this, partner?”
    “Oh, yeah.”
    The dually towing the long gooseneck stock trailer pulled up to the brush corrals. E. A. Greene bounded out of the cab. “Boys,
     am I glad to see you. I ran into some vaqueros last night and led them downstream to give you safe passage back here.” He
     stared out at the empty brush corrals. “Were you able to sort them out and push my cows across?”
    “We took care of things for you,” Hap said.
    “You did?” Greene rubbed his hands together. “This calls for an extra bonus… two hundred dollars