herself, am I so deeply attracted to a man who is so flawed? A voice in her mind said “move on.” But he was so good and so right in so many other ways. There was something about him that seemed fundamental and necessary like the desire for salt or the need for air. And here I am, she thought, for better or worse in the middle of a very big mess with him on my hands. What else can I do?
She replied softly, “We’ll figure it out. No more crazy stuff, though, or I’m outta here. Understand?”
“Yes, I swear.”
The words were barely out when the campfire exploded. They jumped, she screamed. Embers rained down through a mist of ash as the exploded campfire settled to earth.
“What was that!”
Then the lantern hung just above their heads exploded. A moment later they heard the report of a distant rifle.
“Holy shit! Somebody’s shooting at us!”
Their first instinct was to drop everything and run. They headed for her truck and jumped in. She turned to him and asked what they should do next, where they should go. He said he didn’t know. That’s when the rearview mirror exploded.
“Drive! Get outta here!”
The backroads were dark and twisted. Luna drove as fast as she could without losing control on sharp turns. They knew that hidden in darkness just off the side of the road were unforgiving shoulders of loose gravel above steep ravines. There were no guardrails or street lamps to guide their way. Hoppy watched out the back window for signs of a vehicle following. They drove desperately for several miles and when there was no sign that they were being followed Luna slowed the truck to a safe speed. An hour later they were thirty miles from their campsite and in the safety of a well-lit town.
“Where are we?” he asked as he opened the glove box and looked for a map. They left their smartphones behind when they fled.
“It’s a back road to Stony Mesa. I’ve been here before. Jeez, look at that ball of light on the horizon. What the heck is that?”
“That must be that giant neon monstrosity in front of the new museum in town.”
They drove closer and saw an enormous pulsing neon sign in front of a museum that was also too big for such a pastoral setting. It hurt their eyes to look straight ahead at the neon giant so they pulled across the street into a motel parking lot and reviewed their options. There weren’t any good ones. They could go to the police and Hoppy could turn himself in. But Hoppy wasn’t ready for that. He was willing to confess and express remorse to Luna but surrendering to cops was a bridge too far. And who was shooting at them? Maybe that was the cops. They had friends who would take them in but neither of them wanted to endanger their friends. To make it more difficult, they had no money or gear. Their backpacks were in the campsite they had fled. Hoppy’s truck was back there. No phones, no Internet. They had the clothes on their backs. Her truck. Loose change. Not much.
They hashed and rehashed the bad news and then fell silent. Two long minutes passed. The interior of the truck was washed with pulsing lights from the sign across the street. Luna tried to slow her heart with long deep breaths. Her fingers clutched the steering wheel tightly. Above them moths batted a street light and flew in dizzying circles. She watched a family unload suitcases from a van and unstrap a toddler from her car seat. The family disappeared into the motel lobby.
“There may be one more option,” Luna confessed.
“What’s that?”
“My father, the one I don’t have anything to do with, has a ranch near here. I visited it once a few years ago on one of my occasional attempts to reconnect. I know where the keys are to the guest cabin. We could stay there tonight. If I can figure out how to get into the main cabin we can find food and probably some cash stashed somewhere.”
Hoppy was incredulous. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”
“Why bother? Seemed irrelevant until tonight.”
“And your father, will he be there?”
“No. I doubt it. He’s probably off making money, selling what’s left of his soul.”
He was there when they pulled in. He saw their headlights from a distance and walked out on the deck to see who was coming down his private road into the ranch. Twin beams of light fluttered through the cottonwoods that lined the long drive. When the truck rounded the corner and drove straight toward him he was blinded by the headlights. He didn’t recognize the truck. A man and a woman stepped out of the truck cab and he saw her under the dim yard light. It would be hard to decide who was more surprised, Luna or her dad, Bo Hineyman.
Luna managed a weak smile and small wave. “Hi Dad. Surprise!” Hoppy tried to smile, too, but he looked more like he’d just smelled a wet dog.
“Betty, is that you?”
“She calls herself Luna now.” Hoppy was trying to be helpful but Bo stared at him like he had just discovered Hoppy had one eye in the middle of his forehead.
Bo ushered them inside. Hoppy entered and looked around. This so-called cabin was nicer than the home he grew up in. Navajo rugs on the walls, track lighting throughout. It looked like a professional decorating job. Who shot all these animals whose eyes stared down at them blankly from disembodied heads along the wall? The coffee table looked like a river of plastic trout.
The ensuing visit was awkward. Luna tapped her toe nervously on the floor and Hoppy was jumpy. She made up a story about how they were robbed while camping. Why not go to the police, he asked? Because the guy who robbed us was an off-duty cop, she lied. We didn’t know what to do and you were nearby. She hoped she might awake some long-dormant parental instinct in him.
They were hungry so he fed them. Bo didn’t do much cooking himself but his fridge was full of food he had taken home from the Bull and Stallion’s café. He had just pulled out a big juicy bison steak as they pulled up to the house. He divided it in three and served that. A halting conversation followed. He told them he was alone because wife number four, or was it five, was attending a doggy jewelry show in Miami with her favorite poodle, Miss Desiree. She rarely visited the ranch anyway because she was allergic to sagebrush, juniper, snakeweed, pinyon, rabbit brush, and prickly pear cactus, which was pretty much the whole damn ranch. They did tests, he said. Bo did not mention that on his wife’s last visit to the ranch Miss Desiree, who despite her rhinestone collar and weekly trips to a grooming salon, was a dog, ate a horse turd she found. She puked it out on the front seat of his wife’s Mercedes. It was hard for Luna and Hoppy to feign interest or sympathy since they had their own challenges at the moment.
Hoppy told Bo he was a freelance photographer for National Geographic. Luna could barely conceal her astonishment but when it was her turn she swallowed hard and said she was waiting to hear from graduate schools, a lie she thought was at least close to the truth since she had considered that option. She decided this was not the optimum time to discuss controversial life choices and grad school was probably an acceptable and plausible direction compared to chaining herself to mining site gates. Uh oh, Bo thought, more tuition.
Bo wasn’t happy about his daughter’s situation. She has nothing to do with him for years at a time and then she shows up dirty, broke, and with some hippy loser at her side. They look like they slept too close to their campfire, their hair coated with ash. They look addled, he thought, as well as disheveled and he wondered if she was back on drugs. Damn, he didn’t need another hefty bill for rehab. What was it with
