“Why not go to college first?” she asked after they left a matinee that had showed a short newsreel of the first major ground operation by US combat troops in South Vietnam. “You don’t want to fight in a war and get killed, do you?”
Kevin shrugged nonchalantly, but secretly he was both half-afraid and half-enthralled at the prospect of war. The Technicolor footage of paratroopers patrolling though a rice paddy with their rifles at the ready was dramatic and exciting. “My parents say if I have to serve, I should do it as an officer. I’d have more choices that way. Maybe they’re right. They both were in World War II and should know.”
“Then you should listen to them,” Jeannie said, her brown eyes serious. “Besides, I don’t want you to go.”
“I could never be a draft dodger or join the antiwar movement.”
Jeannie stopped outside her family’s gift shop. She was scheduled to look after the store so her parents could attend a late-afternoon meeting for business sponsors of the annual county fair. “Why not?” she asked.
“Pride, I guess. My parents, my grandfather, and my great-grandfather all served. My dad says that shouldn’t matter to me, but it does. Are you against the war?”
“I am,” Jeannie said gravely. “I’d march against it in Washington if I could.”
“You’re a peacenik,” Kevin teased.
“That’s right.” Jeannie smiled sweetly and made the peace sign. “Ban the Bomb.”
Kevin grinned. “I’m all for that.”
“There’s hope for you yet.” With a coquettish look she said, “Guess what? My parents are going to take me to the Willow Creek Ranch rodeo so I can watch you compete. I told them you were my steady boyfriend and I just had to go.”
Kevin fought off a blush. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“About going or you being my boyfriend?”
“Both.”
“You’re welcome.” On tiptoes she gave him a kiss, opened the store door, and disappeared inside. Through the glass window he waved at Jeannie’s parents, who had been watching all the time.
***
With the Willow Creek Ranch rodeo scheduled less than a week after fall works, Matt felt bad about keeping Kevin away from the preparations and practice he needed for the competition. But the ranch came first and Kevin understood that, as did Dale, so no complaints were made.
This year, Matt had expanded the old foreman’s cottage into a larger, more comfortable and modern residence that matched Al and Brenda’s ranch house in size and conveniences. He’d kept the 7-Bar-K brand to use for the small herd of cow ponies he’d been training, and for the first time since leaving the Tularosa he was ready to market a half dozen of his best stock.
The day after the beef shipped to market and the remaining cow-calves had been thrown over to fresh pasture, everybody went into high gear preparing for the sale of the first crop of 7-Bar-K cow ponies in years. Word had spread fast that Matt Kerney was back in the cow-pony business. On the day of the sale a sizable crowd gathered at the Rocking J, including Jeannie Hollister and her parents, Scott and Amy, all of whom Kevin had invited to the barbeque Mary and Brenda were putting on for the event.
Jeannie was a tiny girl with liquid brown eyes, dirty-blond hair cut short, and a serious demeanor that evaporated every time she smiled, which was often. Matt was quite charmed by her looks and personality and when the opportunity arose he complimented his son on his good taste in women. That made Kevin grin. A few minutes later, his mom gave Kevin a wink and a thumbs-up when he walked past with Jeannie. Even from a distance Matt saw both of them blush.
It took less than a half an hour to sell all six ponies at auction at prices beyond what Matt had hoped for. During the sale, Jeannie shot at least three rolls of film with her camera. Matt approached her as she was reloading her camera and asked if he could buy some of her photographs to advertise his next horse sale. A smile danced across Jeannie’s face, and she wanted to hug him. He would be her first paying customer.
“Now that my darkroom is finished, I can get prints for you to look at right away,” she said in a rush.
“No hurry,” Matt replied. “Kevin says you’re going to the Willow Creek Ranch rodeo. Pick out what you think are the best and bring them with you. We can strike a deal then.”
Jeannie beamed. “I will. The editor at the Herald said he can’t go this year and if I take some good photos, he’ll use them in the paper and give me a freelance credit.”
“Well, that will make you a bona fide professional photographer, won’t it?”
“No, you will.” Jeannie answered gleefully. “I’m doing the newspaper photos for free.”
Matt smiled. “I’m happy to be your very first customer. I’m sure there will be a whole lot more.” He looked over her shoulder and saw Jeannie’s folks at the buffet table talking to Mary and Kevin. From all the smiling faces it appeared that everybody seemed happy with everyone else. “Selling all those ponies made me hungry,” he said. “Let’s join Kevin and your folks and get some grub.”
Jeannie’s smiled widened. “Great.”
***
The first thing Kevin heard when he arrived at the Willow Creek Ranch was that Raymond Edward Cannon’s granddaughter, Melissa, would not be handing out prizes and kisses to the rodeo winners. She’d opted to spend her summer in Europe instead.
Kevin didn’t care. On the far side of the rodeo grounds he spotted Jeannie Hollister at the stock corral sitting on the top railing, peering through the viewfinder of her camera shooting pictures of the milling critters. Dressed in jeans, boots, and a floral embroidered cowgirl shirt, she looked scrumptious.
First up in the juvenile category was calf wrestling. Kevin had been practicing on full-grown steers and was determined to win it. But even a second place would serve in his pursuit of the all-around title if he scored high in team roping with Dale, won either the individual calf-roping or bronc-riding events, and made no disqualifying mistakes.
He unloaded Two-Bits from the horse trailer and watered and brushed him down before turning his attention to his tack and equipment. When he finished, he looked around for Jeannie but she was nowhere in sight. He spotted her parents about to enter the front door of the ranch house and figured she was already inside, touring the multimillion-dollar western-style palace.
He went looking for his dad and found him down at a horse pasture near the barn talking with Mr. Cannon about ponies. They were striking a deal to have Matt’s stallion, Double Seven Johnny, stand at stud with some of Cannon’s mares. Kevin knew that once the word got out, the asking price for the next crop of 7-Bar-K cow ponies would go higher. He could see the pleased look in his dad’s eyes.
Together they chased down Jeannie, who stopped taking pictures long enough to show Matt the prints she’d selected for him to choose from. There were a dozen to look at, and he bought the five he liked best at ten dollars apiece. He could use them in his ads as long as he gave Jeannie credit as the photographer. They shook hands on the deal, and Matt wrote out a check on the spot. The smile that danced across her face was luminous.
The ranch bell rang for chow call. Cannon had slated the youth rodeo to start after the lunch, with five events scheduled. Calf wrestling kicked things off and bronc riding was next, followed by girls’ barrel racing, individual calf roping, and team roping as the finale. His stomach churning from nerves, Kevin passed on lunch and occupied himself roping a stumping post in a corral away from the rodeo grounds. Dale joined him after a while and they sat under a shady willow until the first event was called up over the loudspeaker. Kevin had drawn the largest calf and was last to go. When his turn came, he waited on Two-Bits behind the barrier. He broke cleanly after the calf was released, caught up with it quickly, launched himself out of the saddle, and missed the critter completely, scoring no points.
He jumped to his feet, found his cowboy hat in the dust,
and walked away amidst polite applause for his failed effort. He’d have to win every other event outright in order to claim the overall title. A second-place finish in bronc riding and a third in calf roping torpedoed his chances. His only win came with Dale in team roping.
He was totally deflated, and all the outpouring of sympathy from his mom, dad, Jeannie, and her parents couldn’t lift his sour mood. He put on a cheerful face and forced a smile as Jeannie took his picture with Dale holding their team-roping championship belt buckles. He sought out and congratulated Tray Munson, the all-around title winner, and stood for another photograph of all the contestants taken for the next quarterly newsletter of the New Mexico Cattle Growers’ Association.
He hadn’t boasted he would win, hadn’t crowed about how good he was at rodeoing, and hadn’t made himself out to be something he wasn’t. Still, he’d fallen short of his personal goal and badly embarrassed himself. That wouldn’t happen again. He rode in the bed of the pickup truck on the way home, his head resting on his saddle, eyes fixed on a cloud-filled sky that promised rain. It was time to look ahead. He’d dig in, work hard, and redeem himself the following year at the all-state high school rodeo.
31
After his disappointing performance at Willow Creek, Kevin worked hard to improve. Realizing he needed to get stronger, he got permission from Coach Bradley to work out in the gym weight room after school, and when his chores and homework were finished, he diligently practiced his roping and riding skills. By October, at a regional rodeo held in Portales on the eastern plains near the Texas line, he’d packed on some additional muscle. It made a difference; he took a second in saddle bronc, a third in calf roping, another third in steer wrestling, and a first with Dale in team roping.
Encouraged but not content, he increased his weight work, adding another pound by Christmas. He’d also grown an inch to an even six feet and filled out in his upper body. To build stamina, he started running early in the morning three days a week.
He delivered on his promise to his parents to improve in math and science and at the end of the fall term he brought home a report card that put him back on the honor roll. The only thing he wanted for Christmas was help with the entry fees to at least two more regional rodeos so he could qualify for all-state. His parents willingly obliged, if he promised not to let his grades suffer.
Jeannie’s life was just as hectic. She’d started an antiwar group with some friends, which wasn’t making her popular among the student body or with the vast majority of citizens who staunchly supported the government’s strategy in Vietnam. Some recently transplanted, self-styled hippies living in a dilapidated old homestead outside of town joined the group, and soon there were letters to the editor in the paper decrying the dropouts and drug users who were infiltrating the community, spreading antigovernment propaganda, and corrupting the town’s youth. The police put the hippies under surveillance, openly tailing them around town, and started photographing all of the poorly attended antiwar rallies in the downtown park. There were rumors that the FBI had placed an undercover agent in town, but nobody could think of any newcomer or stranger who fit the bill.
The only public support for the peaceniks came from the local Methodist pastor. He was a World War II combat veteran and the father of one of Jeannie’s girlfriends who’d helped start the group. Attendance at his Sunday services dropped considerably until the church council convinced him to be less vocal in his criticism of the war. After his daughter abruptly dropped out of the movement, word had it the pastor had been threatened with the loss of his job if he or his daughter continued their antiwar activities.
Out of loyalty to Jeannie, Kevin attended the rallies and some of the meetings when he could, but his heart wasn’t in it, and he knew she could tell. One day she caught up to him in the hall between classes and asked if he’d help put up posters around town announcing that a well-known UNM professor and peace activist from Albuquerque would be staging a sit-in at the army recruitment office in Las Cruces on Saturday.
Across the top of the poster were the words STOP THE KILLING! It listed the time and place for the event and noted that New Mexico State University Professor of Art Erma Fergurson would also be participating.
“I won’t do it,” Kevin said.
“Why not?”
“Because soldiers aren’t killers.”
“Haven’t you seen the news footage on television? The combat pictures in the magazines?”
Kevin nodded. “Maybe some ugly things happen; that doesn’t make them killers.”
Jeannie eyed him disparagingly. “But that’s what soldiers do; they kill.”
“I thought we had a deal not to argue about the war. You know I’m not for it; I’m just not willing to hate every guy who gets drafted and has to put on a uniform and go fight.”
“How can you be so wishy-washy about the military after what the army did to your family?”
Not wanting to argue, Kevin nodded at the posters in Jeannie’s hands. “Can I have one of those?”
She peeled one off the stack and handed it to him. “Why do you want it?”
“Erma Fergurson is a friend of the family. She served with my mother in the navy during the war. I think my mom would like to know about it.”
“Maybe your mother will want to come to the sit-in.”
“I don’t think so. Are you going?”
Jeannie smiled. “You bet I am. Should I tell Professor Fergurson that I’m your girlfriend?”
“Are you still?”
Jeannie brushed up against him just as the tardy bell rang. “I’d better be.”
***
When his mother got home from work—she was now the assistant principal at the elementary school—Kevin showed her the poster. It got a laugh out of her.
“I guess Erma’s been radicalized against the war,” she said. “Good for her.”
“You mean that?”
“I do,” Mary answered.
“Jeannie asked me if you were going.”
“Maybe I should. I haven’t seen Erma in a while.”
“Are you serious?”
“I’ll think about it. Are you planning to go?”
“Nope,” Kevin replied. “I’ll be at the ranch. Dad wants me to lend a hand with the ponies and I promised Dale we’d practice our roping.”
“Well, then Brenda can look after all you menfolk if I decide to go.”
Kevin grinned. “Are you turning into a peacenik like Jeannie?”
“Any soldier, sailor, or marine worth their salt is a peacenik at heart.” Mary put on her apron. “I’m amazed that girl still likes you, as little as you see her.”
“I’m irresistible,” Kevin replied.
Mary shook her head in mock disbelief. “If you want dinner, stop bragging and help me peel the potatoes, Mr. Irresistible.”
***
After mulling over whether to go to the sit-in at the Las Cruces army recruitment center, Mary decided to do it. Matt and Kevin got back from the ranch late Sunday afternoon expecting to see her sedan in the driveway, but it wasn’t there. Nor was there a note left on the kitchen table that she was off doing some quick errand at the grocery store before it closed. They waited a good hour for her arrival before the worrying set in. Matt called Erma at her home but got no answer. They were about to take off for Las Cruces in search of her when the phone rang.
“We’re just now back,” Mary said when Matt answered.
“From where? I thought the sit-in was yesterday.”
“It was,” Mary replied cheerily. “We had an impromptu party at Gus and Consuelo’s hacienda this afternoon after they bailed us out of jail.”
“You were in jail?”
“With fifteen other protesters. Are you angry?”
“Not as long as you’re all right.”
“I’m fine, just tired. We stayed up a
ll night singing Woody Guthrie songs.”
“Well, you had us worried,” Matt said. “Don’t try to drive back tonight. I’ll call in sick for you at work in the morning.”
“That’s perfect.”
“You sound like you had a good time.”
“I’ve discovered civil disobedience can be great fun,” Mary replied. “I love you both. See you tomorrow.”
Matt hung up, gave Kevin the news, and offered to buy him a steak dinner at De Santo’s Grill, the only decent restaurant in town open on Sunday night.
“You can drive,” he said, throwing Kevin the keys.
“So now mom’s a peacenik and a jailbird,” Kevin said as he climbed behind the wheel.
“That should get you to second base with your girlfriend,” Matt predicted. “I hope she has the good sense to make you stop there.”
“Oh boy, does she,” Kevin replied.
***
On Sunday night, the Albuquerque television stations broadcasted the story of the Saturday arrest of antiwar protesters in Las Cruces, along with footage of the police handcuffing the peaceful demonstrators. Mary Kerney’s image flickered across the screen. On Monday morning, the Albuquerque Journal’s statewide edition ran a feature story about the demonstration, along with a list of the people arrested by the police, minus the name of one juvenile. When Mary got home she confirmed to Kevin that the minor arrested had been Jeannie. He called and spoke to Jeannie’s mother, learned she’d been released to her parents without charges, but would have to meet with a juvenile probation officer to prove she wasn’t a delinquent. She wouldn’t return to school until after her parents met with Principal Becker.
The Last Ranch Page 33
