It was so simple, and so absolutely brilliant. I nearly shouted with joy.
“I understand,” Mr. Ramirez said. “Ricardo is a good boy, but we need him earning a man’s salary.”
Dad nodded thoughtfully. “What are you going to do with the girls if both you and Rick end up working the same shift at the mine?”
It had been rough on the Ramirez kids ever since their mother left; Raye was eight now; Kaylynn was eleven.
“The mine foreman has already agreed to let him and me work opposite shifts, so one of us will always be home. Come fall, my sister and her two kids from Moab are gonna move in with us. She’s going through a bit of rough spot right now too.”
“Good of you to watch out for her.” Dad took a quick breath. “What if I wasn’t paying Rick a boy’s wages? What then?”
I saw Mr. Ramirez’s jaw set, but Dad rushed on before he could object. “Maybe Rick’s already told you this, but I’ve acquired three new clients in my consulting business this last month. Suddenly I’ve got more work than my father-in-law and I can handle. I was going to talk to you about this once we got back from this camping trip, but let’s do it now.” His head came up a little as he met Mr. Ramirez’s gaze. “I want to hire Rick full time for the summer.”
Mr. Ramirez reared back, instantly skeptical, but Dad continued. “I’m paying fifty cents an hour better than what they’re paying starters at the mine.”
He swung around, eyes spitting fire. “I said we don’t need no—”
“I’m not just talking about ranch work. Rick is picking up this mining stuff about as quick as anyone I’ve ever seen, and he’s totally taken over all my computer work—especially my spreadsheets. Right now, he’s working on updating my website. I’ve got no choice, Charlie. I need a full-time man. If it’s not Rick, I’ll have to find
someone else. And I can’t spend half the summer training someone new.”
He stopped, giving Mr. Ramirez a chance to digest all that. As for me, I was soaring. This was perfect. I held my breath as Rick’s father stared out across the desert land to the south.
“I’m telling you straight, Charlie. There’s no charity here. I’m willing to pay Rick a premium wage because he’s my first choice. He’s bright, he’s dependable, and he can work flexible hours.”
I had to duck my head so Charlie wouldn’t see me grinning like a silly fool. Then came the bucket of cold water.
“And what happens come fall when school starts again?”
Dad nodded. “Rick told me he wasn’t going back to school his senior year. I’m guessing you don’t like that idea any better than he does.”
“I don’t. But you do what you have to do.”
“I totally agree. But maybe there’s another way to do it.” Dad glanced in my direction. “Danni and I went over to Richfield to get her driver’s license this morning. Stopped at Bicknell on the way. While I was there, I slipped over and talked to LaVere Gladden, the high school principal.”
I sat up again. So that’s where Dad had gone after he’d left me at the café.
“Go on,” Mr. Ramirez said, his face darkening. I could see the conversation was close to ending.
“I told him I was thinking about hiring Rick on as an apprentice. The school has work-release programs and vocational classes where the students can get high school credit. After I explained what Rick would be doing for me—learning the mining trade, doing web design, managing my computer files—Mr. Gladden said he was sure he could get approval from the school district to give Rick work-release credit for his time. Which means that if Rick goes to school for three hours in the morning and works for me afternoons and evenings, he can still graduate with the rest of his class. Still get his high school diploma.”
“But—”
“Policy doesn’t allow me to hire him full time while he’s in school, but I can give him up to six hours a day. I know that’s not the same as he’ll be making at the mine by then, but I gotta tell you, Charlie, by the time he’s worked all this year, and next summer, he’ll be making more with me than he can at the mine. And what’s more, with that kind of experience, he should be able to get a full tuition scholarship to any mining or engineering school in the West.”
“You really think so?”
And in that moment, I knew Dad had won. The hope and pride in Charlie’s voice as he asked that simple question said it all.
Dad nodded. “He’s that good, Charlie. And you know me well enough to know I’m not just blowing smoke here. He’s got what it takes to write his own ticket and make you real proud. And I’d be honored to have some small part in making that possible.”
To my surprise, I found myself suddenly crying. Not just for Rick. I loved my father more at that moment than anytime I could remember.
Through my tears, I saw Mr. Ramirez’s Adam’s apple bob a couple of times. He turned away. For almost a full minute he stared out across the alfalfa field behind the house, his fist clenching and unclenching as he tried to get his emotions in check.
To my surprise, when he turned back, he was smiling. It wasn’t much, but he was smiling. “And I suppose a condition for making this offer is that Ricardo goes with your family on that camping trip today?”
Dad managed to look surprised. “Only if you can spare him. But it’s not just a camping trip; we’re actually headed for the high country to do some work for one of our clients. Rick would be working about four hours a day with us, same as now.”
Mr. Ramirez shook his head, but it was in surrender, not further combat. “Ricardo’s down at the hardware store getting parts for our washing machine. You could stop by and tell him.”
I was already reaching for my cell phone, but Dad’s next words cut me off. “No, Charlie, I think that should come from you. Our departure time’s pretty fluid. Just have him come by when he’s ready.”
“All right, I’ll call him right now.”
Dad wasn’t quite done. “You know, if he can bring that old 4Runner you gave him, we could use the extra space for our gear. I’d pay him mileage.”
Mr. Ramirez shook his head, but I could tell underneath the stoic expression, he was inwardly amused. “Would you leave a man no pride?” he asked softly.
Dad laughed. “Well, if you’re going to be all hard-nosed about it, I guess there’s nothing I can do.”
They shook hands then, both of them perfectly at ease with each other. To my surprise, as Dad started for our truck, Mr. Ramirez followed. He came right up to my window. “Did you get all that, Danni?”
I about choked. I thought I was being so cool about everything. “Yes,” I mumbled, my face getting warm. “Thank you, Mr. Ramirez. Thank you so much.”
His eyes searched mine for a long moment. Then he nodded, satisfied by what he saw, I guess. “If it were any other friend, the answer would be no.” He looked at Dad. “This is a fine daughter you have, Mack. She’s been good for my Ricardo.”
“And he’s been good for me, Mr. Ramirez,” I said, a lump in my throat again. And this time, it wasn’t because Rick was going with us today, or because he wouldn’t be dropping out of school in the fall. It was because I was suddenly wondering how I had ever thought that Mr. Ramirez was a little bit scary.
Chapter 14
The Henry Mountains begin about twelve miles south of Hanksville, and then run basically parallel with Utah Highway 95 about thirty miles, almost all the way down to Lake Powell. Our plan was to turn off the highway about fifteen miles south of town and head straight west into the high country.
Dad and Grandpère were in the lead, pulling the trailer. Rick and I were in his 1990 Toyota 4Runner. It looked like a beat up, old junky car, but Rick had fixed it up so it ran like a Mercedes. We had the back filled with our personal gear, while the camping gear and everything else was either in Dad’s truck or on the trailer with the four-wheelers.
I was still filled with wonder over what had happened that morning. And Rick? Well, he was trying to hide it, but I knew him we
ll enough to know he was wavering between a state of shock and euphoria. I could only imagine what it all meant for him: a full-time job, not having to work in the coal mine, being able to stay in school, the possibility of a university degree. He was trying to be casual about it, but it was so phony, I kept laughing right out loud at him.
“What are you thinking?” Rick asked me out of the blue after about five minutes of silence.
I started a little. No way could I tell him the truth. So I went to what I had been thinking about a few minutes earlier. “I was thinking about three years ago—about you and Dad and Grandpère and me heading out on a trip, just like now.”
“Yeah. We had a great time, didn’t we? You barely thirteen; me an old man at fourteen.”
I laughed and socked him gently on the shoulder. “We thought we were really something, didn’t we?”
“We were. Standing in the Grand Gallery, looking up at all those paintings. That was when your grandfather gave you the pouch—”
I jerked forward. “Oh no!”
“What?”
“I left Nanny home.”
He gave me a funny look. “Say what?”
“Nanny, the pouch. I was getting ready to put it in my duffel bag when you called this morning. After that, I never thought of it again.” I slapped my forehead. “I’m sorry, Rick, but we’ve got to back.”
The look Rick gave me said a lot, but he himself said nothing. Probably in his mind, I was getting all worked up over an old pouch hanging on my wall. I grabbed my cell phone and hit Dad’s speed-dial number, praying that he wasn’t out of cell phone range already.
Dad picked up immediately. “Hi. What’s up?”
“I forgot to get the pouch.”
Silence.
“Dad?”
“We’re already running late, Danni.”
“I know that, Dad,” I said, “but I promised Mom. She specifically asked me to bring it on this trip.”
“I locked the house, Danni, and we haven’t had a burglary in Hanksville for as long as I can remember. It’ll be okay.”
He was right. It was no big deal. Except to me. I was tempted for a moment, but then I remembered the look in Mom’s eyes. “I promised, Dad. And besides, it’s been three years now since Grandpère gave me the Four Remembers, and I was going to give him a report on them tonight. I really want the pouch with me when I do that.”
I heard him sigh and say something to Grandpère. I listened intently, but couldn’t make out the words. If Grandpère said not to worry about it, then I’d let it go.
“Danni?”
“Yes, Dad?”
“How far behind us are you?”
“We’re only about seven or eight miles out of Hanksville.”
“Okay. We’re almost to the turnoff. You go back and get it. We’ll leave the trucks at the Lonesome Beaver Campground, on the north side of Bull Mountain, and take the four-wheelers in from there. We’ll start unloading them and wait for you there.”
“Thanks, Dad. We’ll hurry.”
Rick was already slowing down and looking for a place wide enough to turn around.
Once we were back on the road and headed south again—the pouch on the seat beside me—I took out my phone and called Dad. It went straight to voice mail. No surprise. Coverage out here was sparse at best, and heading into the mountains would cinch that for sure.
I glanced at the speedometer. The needle was steady as a rock right at sixty-five. I looked at Rick. He sat straight in his seat, eyes fixed on the road ahead, both hands on the wheel.
“Did you know that almost all speedometers register a few miles an hour faster than you’re actually going, especially at higher speeds?”
His eyes never left the road. “And your point is?”
“You’re really not doing sixty-five. You’re doing closer to sixty.”
There was no reply. And the needle never moved.
“Come on, Rick. This stretch is so desolate, we’re lucky to see a highway patrolman once a decade. Besides, they always give you a five-mile-per-hour cushion. You could do seventy-five and not be in trouble.”
“The speed limit is sixty-five,” he grunted, sounding as if he were talking to one of his little sisters. And we kept on at the same exact speed.
“We’ve still got a long way to go before we make camp tonight.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Forget it,” I snapped, turning to stare out the window. I was miffed and wanted him to know it. But knowing Rick, he was probably just amused that I couldn’t budge him.
Growling deep in my throat, I took out my phone. I turned it on, then swiped at the screen until I found the icon for the camera. I was still learning all of the phone’s features and hadn’t done much with the camera yet. I wanted some pictures of our trip so I decided to practice a little.
Turning in my seat, I snapped one of Rick. “I’ll call that ‘The Old Slowpoke.’”
“Considering how long we’ve been friends,” he said dryly, “I think the least you could do is call it ‘The Great and Handsome Old Slowpoke.’”
Argh! He was so maddening. I couldn’t even tease him into a reaction.
Up ahead, I saw three or four range cattle just off the road. I brought the window down quickly and, ignoring the rush of wind, leaned out and snapped three pictures in quick succession. The first one was blurry, but the other two weren’t too bad. I held up the phone, and Rick actually glanced at the screen.
“They’re moving faster than you are,” I said.
When he didn’t answer, I sighed deeply to let him know of my exasperation. Up ahead there was a speed limit sign showing sixty-five miles per hour. I leaned forward and shot it through the windshield as it whipped past. All I expected to see was a white blur, but to my surprise the sign was exactly framed and the clarity was perfect. Then my jaw dropped. It wasn’t a six and a five. It was a seven and a five.
“Ha!” I cried, sticking my phone out. “Look at that, cowboy. The speed limit is seventy-five here, so get the lead out.”
Rick snatched the phone out of my hand. “What?” He held it right in front of his nose. “That can’t be. I just looked at the sign. It said sixty-five. It’s only seventy-five on the freeways. How’d you do that?”
“How did I do it? What? You think the camera is lying? Oh, sure. I took a picture, then in ten seconds, I edited the photo and changed it to seventy-five miles per hour. Or maybe I got up early this morning and said to myself, ‘Ole Slowpoke’s gonna need some help getting us down the road.’ So I went out, bought a new sign, got a shovel, and—”
“All right, all right,” he exclaimed. “I get it, Danni.” He shot me a glance, and I felt the truck accelerate. He was smiling, but it was a little strained. “Sometimes tangling with you is like dealing with a front-end loader.”
“Sorry,” I murmured. “And thanks.”
He said nothing. To my joy, the needle didn’t stop until it was hovering close to eighty miles per hour. “Way to go, Ramirez,” I cried. “I take back everything I ever said about you.”
“Whatever,” he said. But he was still smiling.
Two or three minutes later, we were in the bottom of one of those endless dips in the highway where it passes through one of the many dry washes. Just as we started up again, cresting the hill from the opposite direction and coming fast, we saw a white car—a white car with a rack of red and blue lights on top.
Rick instantly let off the gas, but it was too late. The lights came on, and the cop car was already slowing as we whipped past it.
“Crud!” Rick muttered and shot me a dirty look.
I turned in time to see a cloud of blue smoke burst from the tires as the cop car did an amazing one hundred eighty degree turn. Milliseconds later, it was in full pursuit. No need. Rick was already pulling off to the side of the road.
Rick warned me to let him do the talking, and I kept my mouth shut as the trooper asked for his driver’s license and registration. But when
she said she was going to cite him for doing seventy-eight miles an hour in a sixty-five zone, I timidly raised my hand.
She stopped. “You have something to say, miss?”
“I do, Officer Blake,” I said, reading her name off her tag. “As we were driving just a minute ago, I was taking pictures with my cell phone.”
“Yes? So?”
I held up my phone. “I just happened to take a picture of the speed limit sign, and—”
I could see that I had lost her about halfway through that sentence. So I leaned over, holding it out for her to see.
Her double take was classic, just like in the movies. She leaned in, and grabbed the phone out of my hand. “Where were you when you took this?”
“Just a few miles back.”
There was a flash of anger. “This isn’t funny, young lady. You can do whatever you want to doctor your photos, but you’re interfering with the duties of an officer of the law.”
“She took it a couple of minutes ago,” Rick said. “I watched her.”
“Ma’am,” I said in my most timid voice, “look at the scenery behind the sign. It’s the same as where we are.”
She squinted first at me, then at the picture. When she stepped back, she touched Rick on the shoulder. “Mr. Ramirez, you come with me.” She jabbed a finger in my direction. “You! Stay here. And by the way, Miss McAllister, I know your father. If you’re playing some kind of joke on me, he’ll hear about it by sundown.”
“I’m not, ma’am. I swear.”
Officer Blake and Rick climbed into the patrol car and drove off; they were gone less than ten minutes. When they returned, no one got out for a minute or two. I moved the side view mirror so I could watch the car without turning around. Finally, the passenger door opened and Rick got out. He bent down, said something through the rolled-down window, then smiled and waved. As he stepped back, she swung the car around and roared away, headed north again.
Taking his time, Rick came around to his side and opened the door.