The Last Ranch (42 page)

“Why did I know you'd dress as a cowboy?” she said.

“It seemed only right,” he replied grinning. His chaps, hat, belt, boots, and spurs were the real McCoy, seasoned by his work at the ranch. Even his blue jeans had seen better days. Only the sparkling white, starched cowboy shirt was brand-new.

“What a pair we are,” Isabel said with a soft smile as they made their way outside.

“You look spectacular.”

“Thank you.”

At the party, Kevin introduced Isabel to Erma, who'd dressed as a go-go girl in a miniskirt and boots. His date earned him a big wink of approval. Gabriel Morales and his wife were there as Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo, along with a packed house of costumed revelers. Tables were laden with food and drink, and Beatles music poured from the hi-fi. Sue Ann Bussey was nowhere to be seen.

Isabel was the hit of the party, thus Kevin had little time with her. He entertained himself by jumping into conversations about art, the war, the peace movement, Aggie football, and complaints about some of the local politicians. When the party wound down, he rescued Isabel from a graduate student costumed as a turbaned sheik who had her cornered in the kitchen. As they walked to his truck, she took a long look around before getting in.

“You live here?” she questioned.

Kevin's hand froze on the ignition key. “In an apartment above the garage. Want to see it?” he asked hopefully.

“No, I just want to know where to find you.”

He waited, hoping for clarification, but she was silent. He was still trying to figure what she meant when he got home.

***

K
evin's suspicion that Isabel was more interested in meeting Erma at her Halloween party than dating him was confirmed when she turned him down twice to go to the movies. He let the idea of anything more than a passing friendship slide, although he continued to remain intrigued by her. After their one date they always sat together in Spanish class and chatted briefly after, but never about anything personal. He didn't probe, nor did she seem interested to learn more about him. Occasionally he'd catch her looking at him as if she was trying to figure something out, and a moment of embarrassment would pass between them. She seemed to live inside herself more than anyone he knew.

During finals week they studied together for several hours the night before the Spanish exam. On their walk from the library to her dorm, she asked him when he'd be going home.

“Probably by the end of the week,” he replied. “I earn most of my rent helping Erma with house projects, and I've fallen a little behind. And you?”

“Soon,” she answered obliquely. “But I'll see you before I go.”

Again mystified, Kevin said good night and watched her disappear through the dorm doors. When he saw her at the exam the next morning, he figured she only meant that she'd see him during the final. But it hadn't sounded that way the night before.

She finished the exam long before he did and waved at him as she left the classroom. He waved back, wondering if she'd be in his Spanish class in the second semester. If not, he'd miss seeing her.

Between studying and the exams, the days passed quickly. With his last final out of the way, he turned his attention to finishing the rock wall enclosing the circular planting bed in front of the house. The day started out mild and sunny, and he was making good progress until a fast-moving snowstorm blew in at noontime.

He'd promised Erma, who'd gone to Mexico on vacation, to finish the wall before he left for the ranch in the morning, so he put on his old barn coat, jammed a hat on his head, pulled on his gloves, and kept at it in the cold and wet until it got done. In the last flicker of twilight under a slate-gray sky, he admired his work briefly before putting away the tools and climbing the stairs to his apartment, eagerly anticipating a hot shower and something to eat.

When he emerged from the bathroom the wind was rattling the front-room window. He looked out to see heavy, wind-driven flakes pelting down and wondered if it was snowing at home. He wolfed down a can of warmed-up baked beans and a hot dog for dinner, too hungry to care about his culinary choices. He dumped the dirty dishes in the kitchen sink just as a knock came at the front door. He opened the door to a wintery blast. Isabel Istee, dressed in a heavy winter coat covered in snow, stepped quickly inside.

“I came to see you,” she announced, shedding her coat. Under it she wore blue jeans and a bulky sweater over a blue cotton shirt.

“I'm surprised,” Kevin said.

“I said I would.” She looked him over. “Remember?”

“I wasn't sure what you meant. Did you walk here?”

“Yes.”

“I could have come to get you.”

“No, I needed the time to decide.”

“Whether or not to come?”

“Yes.” Her smile was almost playful.

“Well, here you are,” Kevin said, still taken aback, wondering if he should do something, say something. “Now what?”

Isabel laughed and her face lit up. “I confuse you.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Take me to your bed,” she said.

He opened his mouth to speak and she put her forefinger to his lips. “No talking.”

In the bedroom, she undressed, let her hair down, stretched out on the bed, and waited for him. Nervous and a little shaky, he turned out the light and joined her. Within minutes, the quiet girl, the seemingly shy girl who lived so comfortably within herself, overwhelmed him with raw sexuality.

They did it twice again before she asked for a ride back to the dorm. It had stopped snowing and the desert town glistened under a blanket of white in a clear night sky.

“You can spend the night,” he offered.

“No.”

They dressed and left for the dorm. When he stopped at the front door, she looked at him and smiled. “You won,” she said.

“Won what? Oh, you mean the contest.”

Isabel nodded.

“But I didn't care about the contest.”

“That's why I picked you.”

“Now what?”

Isabel shrugged. “I'm not sure. I'll think about it while I'm at home.”

“So will I,” Kevin said.

“Good. That's the right answer.” She got out, closed the truck
door, and walked into the dorm looking prim, proper, and totally unaffected by their bout of incredible lovemaking.

***

A
t the start of the spring semester, Kevin returned to campus eager to see Isabel. He looked for her at registration, asked for her at her dorm, and left messages for her to no avail. Her roommate, a girl from Espanola, told him she would be returning to school late because of a death in the family. That was all she knew. Kevin asked her to have Isabel call him when she arrived. She said she would.

He worried perhaps some terrible tragedy had happened. She'd told him very little about her family. All he knew was that her parents were Ralph and Blossom, and she had a younger sister, Ramona. Her father was a high-ranking officer in the fire department and her mother was a member of the tribal council. She lived with her family in a house on a hill behind the tribal hospital near the village center.

He impatiently kept waiting for her to show up or call. After a frustrating week without hearing from her, he made another trip to the dorm hoping to find out more information. A resident assistant told him Isabel was back and attending her classes. The death in the family had been a cousin.

He wrote out a hurried note asking Isabel to call him at Erma's. The assistant put it in her mailbox behind the desk. Two more days passed with no response. He tried one more time to reach her by letter.

Dear Isabel,

I guess there really was a contest as to who would sleep with the “Indian” girl, only it was your contest, wasn't it? I
was sorry to hear of your loss and I am sad if you feel we can no longer be friends.

Sincerely yours,
Kevin

He mailed it without a return address, hoping she'd be inclined to open an anonymous letter out of curiosity. Several days later between classes he saw her in the Student Union Building drinking coffee with her roommate. He approached their table.

“Did you get my letter?” he asked.

The roommate quickly gathered her books and slipped away.

Isabel nodded. “Yes.”

Kevin sat across from her. “And?”

She studied him with her dark eyes. “We can be friends.”

“Just casual friends, I take it.”

“Yes, if you'd like that.”

As he rose, Kevin stifled a sigh. “I'll see you around campus.”

“Kevin.”

He paused, waiting.

“I'll see you.”

Holding back tears, Isabel watched him go. Over the holidays, she'd told her parents about Kevin Kerney, and how he was like no other White Eyes she'd ever known. She'd hoped, because of his family's long history of kindness and friendship shown to the tribe, they would be amenable to meeting him. It was, after all, the middle of the twentieth century and times were changing. She discreetly failed to mention that she'd seduced him and found him to be an intensely passionate lover.

Their reaction was immediate and harsh. They would not hear of it. The White Eyes were not brothers or sisters to the people. She could not make any pretensions of friendship to him; it would only damage her reputation at home. Should she persist, they would make her transfer to another college, perhaps the University of New Mexico in Albuquerque.

The forcefulness of their rejection stunned her. She argued with them for days, until she realized they were unyielding. Her mother was forever bitter about the White Eyes' internment of her Chiricahua grandparents at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, and her father, a good man at heart, instinctively and often with cause, distrusted all outsiders.

She considered abandoning her dreams, leaving the tribe, forging a life somewhere else with Kevin, if he would have her. Becoming part of the larger world. But her ties were too strong to break and she had made promises.

She had stood before the tribal council and asked to be sent to college so that she could return and serve her people as a nurse. With the support of the tribal president, they had agreed to pay for her education with the understanding that she would keep her promise. To break her vow would bring disgrace to herself and her family.

It would be hard, but she had to bend her will to the path she'd chosen. Seeing Kevin had unleashed an immediate desire to be with him. To stay strong she had to avoid him.

***

F
orgetting Isabel wasn't easy. About the only way to do it was to buckle down, and Kevin did exactly that. He concentrated on
classwork and finishing Erma's landscape plan, which was gradually taking shape. When he had a free weekend he went home to the ranch, where he was always happy no matter what.

He saw Isabel around campus and got a lump in his throat whenever they stopped to chat. The girl made his palms sweaty, but he pulled off nonchalance like a champ. At least he hoped he did. He often wondered if she felt a bit of regret for breaking it off, but her cool exterior gave nothing away. Either that, or he was just lousy at reading women.

One weekend at home, Dale was back stateside on leave and they went out drinking. Bartenders in T or C took a very liberal stance on underage drinkers, and in a smoky haven for drunks, they sipped longnecks, Dale doing most of the talking about his tour in Vietnam. He told tales of taking fire from enemy mortar rounds and fighting off VC incursions along the airfield perimeter. He related one story about an enemy mortar round that blew up a huge jet-fuel bladder tank, sending flames sky-high, killing three of his buddies, turning them into miscellaneous body parts. He would return to the Okinawa airbase when his leave was up and hoped never to see the Nam again. He was now an Airman First Class and had been awarded the Air Force Commendation Medal.

He joked that the air force gave out medals like candy canes at Christmastime, and said no more about it.

He was still Dale but different. The easy smile was still there, his sense of humor was intact, but the kid in him was gone, buried beneath a hard crust just below the surface. As soon as he landed stateside, he'd changed into civvies to avoid the taunts and insults hurled at servicemen by those who opposed the war. Dressed in jeans, an old work shirt, and his cowboy boots, only his regulation GI haircut and his military bearing gave him away.

“Are you gonna become one of those gung-ho officers hot to kill the commies and get medals?” he asked Kevin, half-seriously.

“I'm thinking of hotfooting it to Canada instead.”

Dale rolled his eyes at the idea. “That ain't you.”

“It's a stupid war,” Kevin countered.

Dale nodded. “Just about every enlisted grunt who has served in Nam would agree with you. If we could mount a coup against the Washington politicians who got us into this fucking mess, we would.”

“I don't know if I can handle it.”

Dale snorted a laugh. “And you won't know until you're there. I was scared the whole time. Everybody is, even the hard-core lifers and the crazies.”

“I guess I'll just have to find out,” Kevin said.

“Don't go there,” Dale advised. “Take your ROTC commission and get a desk job if you can.” He finished his longneck and called for another.

“That would be the coward's way out.”

“Or not,” Dale said. “There's no rule that says you have to be a red-blooded, All-American hero just because a war is going on.”

“You've gotten cynical.”

“Maybe so. I'm thinking of heading down to Juárez next weekend to visit the ladies at Casa Blanca. Want to come along?”

Although it was tempting, Kevin shook his head. “Can't do it. Too much classwork.”

Dale downed six more longnecks before he was ready to leave. Kevin had to lift his drunk, half-conscious friend into the cab of the truck and drive him home.