Beauty Queen (43 page)

Matt picked it up. Russ Erwin, the Man with a Conscience, it said. The tree-huggers anthem Were the only ones who care. Socialist Assholes.

He tossed it in the trash can without another thought.

Rebecca worked hard to rid herself of the trappings of the old Rebecca. She rearranged her furniture, let Jo Lynn change things around in the kitchen (even though she had to go out on the porch, unable to watch), and boxed up all her self-help books and mailed them to Rachel. She even went to Ruby Falls one afternoon with no makeup, wearing shorts and a T-shirt.

And one morning when Bud proclaimed loudly on the radio, No one can beat a deal at Reynolds Chevrolet, so come on down to the motor mile, she went. Not to Buds dealership, of course, but to a rival Ford dealership. She had decided that her Range Rover was perfectly pretentious, and what she really needed was a pickup truck for hauling dogs (which now numbered five with the addition of Cookie, although Jo Lynn had dibs on Cookie, just as soon as she quit eating shoes).

The truck salesman had nothing but smiles for Rebeccas breasts, and talked her into a red king cab pickup, the one with the heated leather seats and a surround-sound Bose speaker stereo. When Rebecca finally said okay, he ushered

her into his cubicle to do the deal. Only he hadnt counted on Rebecca having once been married to a car dealer, or having done her homework. He certainly hadnt counted on the fact that she was no longer a doormat and was, at that very moment, visualizing herself kick-boxing him around the cubicle as she politely, but firmly, maintained her ground.

A few hours later, mentally high-fiving herself, Rebecca pulled off the lot with a brand-new, cherry red pickup, knowing damn well that Bud couldnt beat the deal she had just gotten. With her new radio blaring country-western music (it seemed fitting somehow), she drove north to a neighboring county seat, where a candidates forum was being held.

Rebecca groaned when she saw the arrangement in someones deranged opinion, it wasnt too hot to have an outdoor forum. Nothing could be further from the truth, but nonetheless, a raised stage and podium had been built at one end of the town square for Pioneer Days. The candidates sat on the stage beneath a canopy, fanning themselves, while the people who had come out to hear them stood in the sweltering sun beneath umbrellas and big panama hats. Rebecca managed to squeeze in with some others to share the thin shade of a little tree, and from there, she could see Gilbert standing off to one side, making last-minute notes on a piece of paper.

Candidates for the legislature went first, all of them promising great things for the future of the state and their district. No new taxes was a common theme, and several seemed to think bigger pots on the state lottery was the answer to revenue problems. All of them, to a candidate, promised program cuts. But not programs to do with children. Or the elderly. Or teachers. Or criminal justice. Or special needs populations. Who exactly that left, Rebecca wasnt sure.

When it was at last time for the candidates for lieutenant governor to speak, Tom was up first. I urge you to look at my record in the senate, he said, and stabbed his forefinger against the podium to make his point. My

opponent has made a mess of the state budget with all his special interests, and now he wants to take the dollars out of your pocket to pay for his special interests! he bellowed as his opponent shook his head vehemently. I promise you, as the next lieutenant governor of this state, I will provide the leadership necessary to make sure that does not happen!

That earned him a huge round of applause. I will make commerce a top priority! More commerce means more revenue for our state coffers! he said, getting another thunderous round of applause.

His Republican opponent, Phil Harbaugh, was next up. He thanked the crowd for coming out, said hed rather have worked for special interests than not to have worked at all, like his opponent, and would continue to work to improve funding for education and competitive insurance rates. He took his seat to a smattering of applause.

Up last was the Independent candidate, Russ Erwin. He unwound his lanky self from his seat, stood up, and strolled to the podium. He wasnt wearing a suit like the others, but had on boots, Wranglers, a rodeo belt, and a cowboy shirt. He respectfully removed the cowboy hat from his head, and bent over the microphone.

My name is Russ Erwin, he said to the crowd. Im a rancher. Got me about a three-section spread out by Lam-pasas. I mostly run livestock, but I grow a little sorghum, too. He paused, shifted the hat to his other hand, and bent over again. Now, I never set out to tie a politician, thats for darn sure, and until a year or so ago, I wouldnt have given you a plugged nickel for em. Then I got a little notice on my gate one day, delivered by the State of Texas, telling me they was gonna run a superhighway and gas pipeline from about Fort Worth all the way to Old Mexico, and that it would bring jobs to the area, and all of us in Lampasas County would prosper because of this highway. He paused again, ran his palm over his temple, then leaned over the microphone again. Now, had I known all it took was a highway to prosper, Id have said yes a long time ago.

The crowd laughed; several of them nodded. Of course,

Rebecca had heard Tom mention this on more than one occasion, always as the next best thing since sliced bread.

Anyway, I got that piece of paper, and I guess I had a slightly different take on it. I could see what they had planned was going to displace a lot of ranchers whose families had been working that land since before Texas was even a state. And I could tell that superhighway was gonna flat out ruin our landscape. Course, there wasnt a word about any of that on the paper, he said, chuckling ... as did the crowd. So I called up my representatives, said I had a problem. I went through the whole darn list and not one of em could help me. Id call up one, and hed say, Well, now, Mr. Erwin, Im not on that committee, you need to call So-n-So, and this went on until every last one had pointed to the next guy. That was enough to get my dander up, so I started looking into these committees and such, and the more I looked, the more I saw stuff happening that I didnt much care for.

Now, Mr. Masters here, he said, indicating Tom with his hat, he says, just look at my record. Well, I did. And about the only thing I could find was a resolution he got passed naming chips and salsa the official state snack. I like a good bowl of chips with some salsa like anyone, but I dont see what that has to do with protecting our land, or making sure we get teachers paid enough to educate our young, or even making sure that the fine people assembled here today in this heat dont have to spend every last dime they got.

Tom laughed with the few hearty members in the crowd, but shifted anxiously in his seat.

Theres plenty of stuff like that for Mr. Harbaugh, too, but I wont take your time now, because its too damn hot to listen to a bunch of political talk. Dont get me wrong Im not trying to cast aspersions on these two gentlemen. I figure they done the best they knew how to do. But like my ol daddy used to say, if you want something done right, you just bout have to do it yourself. So folks, I am running for lieutenant governor of this fine state because I figure if I want it done right, Im gonna have to do it myself. Thank

you kindly for you time. The crowd went wild with applause; Mr. Erwin stepped back, put on his hat, and sauntered to his seat, where he sat with his legs crossed and his hands folded neatly on his lap.

Both Tom and Phil Harbaugh looked like they wanted to bolt.

This was the fourth candidate forum Rebecca had been to, the fourth time shed seen the plainspoken. straightforward Mr. Erwin, and she liked his style. When the event was over, Rebecca pushed through the crowd to the stage, slipping behind a couple of men so Tom wouldnt see her as he tried to get off the stage and into air-conditioning. But there were several people standing around Mr. Erwin; he was taking the time to speak to them all. When at last he turned to her, she stuck out her hand. Mr. Erwin, I heard what you said and Id like to help in some way if I can.

Well, now, Mr. Erwin said with a grin, shaking her hand. We always got room for one more.

That weekend, Matt asked Rebecca and Grayson to come to town for a change. Rebecca arrived at his building and parked in the second of his two parking spaces, but her truck was so big that it left just a slip of a space for his Jag.

She and Grayson were already in his loft when he came in, looking chagrined. Im sorry, he said, after greeting Grayson with a high five and crossing the room to kiss her. Ill call the management right now and get someone to move that monster thing. Thats never happened before it must be a new tenant, he said, reaching for the phone.

Dont you like it? she asked, shoving her hands in the faded work overalls she had worn all day.

Like what?

My new red truck!

Matts jaw dropped; he paused in the reaching for the phone. Your new what?

Mom got a pickup, Grayson informed him, so we can take our dogs with us.

A look of panic came over Matt, and he quickly looked

around the room. Rebecca laughed. Not here, silly! Jo Lynn is looking after them.

Wait you bought a king cab truck! he demanded as his gaze swept her from head to foot. And overalls?

Rebecca looked down at her overalls. You dont like them?

Matt shook his head. God, you never cease to surprise me. I love your overalls. I think you are the best-looking Farmer Fred I have ever seen in my life, he said, folding her into a big hug.

That night (after Rebecca changed into something more suitable for town), Matt took them out to his version of a gourmet meal, to Gueros Taco Bar. As they helped themselves to the fajita fixings and Grayson built a volcano made of cheese and guacamole Rebecca mentioned the candidates forum.

You went? Matt asked, only mildly surprised, having grown accustomed to her attendance at all the candidate events. I thought about going up, but I had a hearing I couldnt get out of.

It was interesting, she said as she carefully selected a strip of chicken from the cast iron skillet. Toms really pushing revived commerce.

Matt glanced up. Thats a little odd, seeing as how the partys primary platform is education.

Rebecca shrugged. The best speaker of them all was Russ Erwin, the Independent.

Oh yeah? Matt snorted before taking a swig of his beer. Now theres a tree-hugger looking for an audience. But as he drank his beer, he saw that Rebeccas fork had frozen in midair, and slowly lowered his bottle. What?

Hes not just a tree-hugger looking for an audience. Hes a rancher who is fighting big governments encroachment on his life.

Matt was groaning before she could even finish. Rebecca, honey, youre kidding, right?

I am so not kidding, Matt, I am dead serious. Russ Erwin makes the most sense of any of them, and I like him. I think he has what it takes.

Takes for what?

To be lieutenant governor! she exclaimed with exasperation.

Mom, are you gonna eat that? Grayson asked, pointing at the chicken on her plate.

Matt sighed, planted his elbows on the table, and leaned forward. Rebecca. I admire the fact that you are learning about the issues. But that tree-hugging organic fruit is not the way to go.

Well, hello, Mr. Arrogant Ass, back so soon? For a moment, Rebecca could only glare at him.

What? he asked, seeming genuinely clueless as to how patronizing he could be. Do you understand what Im saying?

Oh, I understand, all right, she said, barely able to speak. I understand that when you told me I should get involved, you really meant, Rebecca, youre just a former beauty queen, which makes you stupid, so let me give you my expert guidance and maybe you can begin to understand

Rebecca! he said quickly, laughing a little as he reached over to put his hand on her wrist. But Rebecca moved her hand just as quickly so he couldnt do it. Matts eyes narrowed; he slid a look at Grayson, who was busy sticking meat in his volcano, oblivious. I am not telling you what to think. All I am trying to say is, that . . guy you think is so great is an old hippie with a message for a bunch of fruitcakes who like to eat pigeon ... poop in their Wheaties! And if you listen to him for more than a moment, you will probably hear him advocate something that comes real damn close to socialism.

Okay, so she didnt really remember from tenth-grade government class what socialism was (but shed definitely be looking it up as soon as she got home), yet as far as she knew, this was a free country. She sniffed, straightened in her chair, looked away from him.

So what, youre not talking to me now?

Of course I am talking to you, Matt, she said in the same patient voice she often used with Grayson. I just

believe, being an American and all, that / can listen to whomever I want, and you can go straight to hell. Or listen to Tom if you choose, providing, of course, youre ready for a superhighway-slash-pipeline in your backyard. And in the meantime, we can go on our merry little way, being a little democratic unit, each of us free to think and vote as we please. And with that, she folded her hands primly in her lap and glared at Matt, daring him to argue.

He sat for a long moment as if he was actually debating whether or not to argue, tapping his fork against the side of his plate as he considered her. But then he suddenly grinned, stabbed more chicken, and put it on his plate. You win cant argue with an impassioned plea for the right to vote our conscience. So lets change the subject for now, all right? Tom says that we have almost three hundred affirmative replies to this shindig youre throwing.

If he thought she missed the for now, then he really was a moron. Three hundred and twenty-five, she said pertly. And about fifty calls from people wanting to get their friends in. I cant believe it, but I think this is going to be one very cool and hip event.

What about your dad? Matt asked, rolling a tortilla.