Hey, Joe!

I'll tell you face to face I mean to steal her from you.

The rain had ended and it was actually a nice night. Not warm by any means but comfortably cool in my long sleeved shirt. When I walked in the band was in the middle of tuning up. There was a lot of noise from everyone getting settled and making sure they had beer in hand.

Joe saw me walking in and was suddenly pulling on my arm towards a table next to the dance floor. He was walking a bit unsteady so he must have gotten there early to hold the table. I'd say four beers for sure. When I saw Joe's girl sitting at the table, looking up expectantly towards us, I came to an abrupt stop, almost falling as Joe kept pulling on my arm.

It was like driving in the dark all night for hours and hours and coming over a hill to see the first blaze of the glowing dawn. All around everything would be gray, dull and listless – the bright morning sun becoming the world. It was like that the first time I saw Angie. It wasn't the parts – they were nice but it was the package that hit me all at once. Her brows were a bit too thick, a face slightly too round, lips naturally the red of cherry wine and a mouth a tad too wide but alive now with a ready smile.

As I straightened I became aware of her long, thick coal black hair flowing over her shoulders and her eyes … her violet eyes taking my heart captive with a lurch that scared me. We stared at each other for a moment - I'd never seen violet eyes before. I'd heard one time that Elizabeth Taylor had eyes like this … but then I'd never seen her up close and personal.

We stared and her smile slowly faded – later she told me she had never seen such icy blue eyes, and she felt a cold chill down her back that froze her smile.

Joe was standing there confused, looking at his girl then at me … then back at Angie again. He gave it a brave shot – for him – and started with the introductions. I briefly shook hands with her, the hand stronger and rougher that I would have expected from such a lovely, such a feminine girl. She was medium height with a not overly large bust and hips just wide enough to give the promise of child bearing.

I sat there for a while as Joe talked to her about something - I knew not what. The waitress showed up with beers for all of us as the band started its first number and several couples moved out to the dance floor. Saved for a few minutes from trying to follow the conversation, I stared at Angie, unseen by Joe but Angie suddenly smiled at me and lifted her beer in a silent toast.

I had this … feeling come over me. It was like having been out in bitter cold and coming in to stand close to the red-hot stove. My hands and feet started tingling and I felt a sudden warmth flow over me. Something hard, black and bitter broke loose in my heart; the killing was over – God forgive me! – and I didn't think I would have those damning dreams again.

My face felt like a plastic mask melting in the heat and I felt the strangeness for a real smile forming, my lips curling up at the edges. Later, after Joe left, she told me that it seemed like she could see the glacial blue change to the rich blue of a hot Texas summer day.

The band played a few more numbers and we had another round of beer. Joe didn't seem in any hurry to ask Angie to dance – later she told me that the only time they danced was when she stood up and took his hand – so I leaned forward and asked Joe, loud enough for her to hear, if I could have a dance with Angie. Not waiting for an answer, I stood up and pulled her chair back and we stepped on the dance floor. The sawdust on the plank floor made it perfect for dancing, although crowded because of its small size.

The first song we danced was western swing and we held our own with everyone else. Before the next number Johnny announced the band would take a break after a slow number. Without asking Angie or looking at Joe, I put my arms around her and slowly waltzed to the far side of the small floor.

Angie felt like she had been in my arms forever. We both relaxed into each other and danced as one. I didn't pull her tight but I didn't hold her away either. When the song ended and everyone was clapping, Angie blushed prettily and thanked me for the dance. She went straight back to the ladies room to get ahead of the crush of like-minded women.

I sat down and looked at Joe; he didn't look too good.

"Danny, I think I've had too much to drink. Could you take Angie home for me?"

I walked him over to the bartender and asked him to call a taxi for Joe. He nodded, like it had happened before. I assured him that I'd take care of his girl for him.

As I turned away, I told him, "Joe, you're my friend and all, but I gotta tell you – I have to have Angie for my own."

He didn't answer, just looked at me confused like. As I walked back to the table, I wasn't sure if I'd actually said it but it was the way I felt.

I pulled out Angie's chair as I saw her walking back to the table. The band was settling back in as I told her about Joe.

She looked over at the band for a minute, then back at me. "He's done that a couple of times. He tries to keep up with all the other guys but he really can't hold his booze. I've tried to tell him to drink sodas or something, but …"

She gave a deep sigh and shook her head slightly, with a sadness in those lovely eyes I hated to see. Her hands were folded on the table and I put a hand over hers.

"Angie, I …" and she cut me off before I could say any more.

"Danny, don't … okay? At least not now," she pleaded.

I nodded my understanding but truth was I was impatient to tell her how hard and how deep I'd fallen. We chatted for a while – getting to know each other kind of stuff – while the band was playing some slow tunes. I took her hands again, turned them over, and ran my thumb over the permanent calluses on her palms.

"What's a girl like you doing with hands like these," I asked – knowing as I said it that it sounded pretty stupid.

She just nodded, like it was a meaningful question, then asked, surprisingly, "Take me to dinner and I'll tell you. Can you remember that it's only dinner and that I'm not your girl?" Then she whispered what sounded like, "And no one else is either," with a sadness that tore at my heart.

The band had started another swing number and I wasn't positive that's what she said, but the sadness was real. We walked out through the crowded room and started towards the far corner of the lot where my truck was parked all by its lonesome, under the bright light overhead.

As soon as it was clear where we were headed, she came to a dead halt and asked, "Is that yours? It's a '48 F-1, right?"

When I nodded she started walking towards it a little faster, and threw over her shoulder, "I'm gonna drive it to the restaurant."

I tried to catch up with her, saying, "Angie, but that's a stick shift …"

She stopped and turned around, "Hey, buster, you think a woman can't drive a truck? Jeez!"

So she drove over to the restaurant and we wound up with two big porterhouse steaks. She wasn't a particularly large girl but she ate like a cowhand that hadn't seen the chuck wagon for three days.

After we placed our order, she started talking about herself.

"I was raised on a ranch over by Fredericksburg. I'm only child and my dad raised me to do everything. I had the same chores I would have had if I were a boy. I got my first pony when I was six and after that spent as much time on a horse as I could. Dad gave me my first rifle when I was ten – it was a Winchester Model 94 lever action 30.30. Two years later I shot my first whitetail with it and dad showed me how to clean it. From then on if I shot it, I cleaned it.

"I was always smarter than everyone else," she said this like she would say she was short or tall, just a fact, and continued, "so I finished high school when I was seventeen. That meant that I could only do one year of high school rodeo," she paused and looked askance if I knew what a rodeo was – clearly Joe hadn't told her anything about me, "And I did barrel racing.

"I would have to ride my horse for an hour a day getting both of us ready. Mostly I trotted her since that gets horses in shape the fastest. All the rodeos require official dress: this means I would wear a cowboy hat, a long-sleeved button up shirt, and jeans and boots. Dad would always make me wear new or almost new jeans.

"You probably don't know this – a lot of people don't unless they are involved or real fans – but barrel racing involves riding my horse around three barrels set up in the arena. I had to go around one side of one and circle it, cross the arena floor and do the same with the second barrel and a third and then back to the gates. Fastest time wins and points are taken off for things like touching a barrel.

"I wasn't the best but I was pretty good. I'm telling you all this so you'll know about the calluses. Are you confused, or should I go on?"

I made a gesture with my hand to tell me more.

"Anyhow, I'd always wanted to be a vet – large animals, of course – so I went to school in Manhattan, Kansas. I picked that school because my uncle lives nearby. I finished my undergrad degree in three years including the pre-vet requirements. I took the full four years to become a veterinarian since I wanted to take some extra courses. I just graduated in May of this year.

"I did some of the local rodeos for the fun of it either here during the summer or up there using one of my uncle's horses. For the three years of my undergrad I was on the equestrian Hunt Squad and Western Action Teams. It wasn't rodeo but it was fun."

She looked at me with a searching glance. "None of this means anything to you, does it?"

I smiled, and commented, "Well, it does explain your calluses. So you are a vet now?" At her nod, I continued, "Where do you practice now?"

"I'm right here in Bandera. One of the guys that was doing the large animals moved out of state and I took his place. But my dream is to have my own practice and just do ranch animals. What about you? What do you do? And where do you live?"

"Well, first I live with my granddad, out on 470 just short of Tarpley. You must have heard of him; he does a lot of business with your practice. Everyone calls him Daddy Jim."

At that she turned white and exclaimed, "Oh, God, you are that Danny, the one that came home from the war. He talked so much about you and … oh, Danny, I'm so embarrassed. I saw your picture on the wall at the 101 Ranch Rodeo in Oklahoma. You were riding that bad-tempered Brahma, Tornado!"

I smiled at her discomfort, "Well, if you remember the picture I was about six inches above Tornado and moving away rapidly. Yeah, I rode him for all for three seconds. Not one of my finer moments. If I remember right the picture was of the bull, not me"

"But, Danny, you were a professional, and I was running on and on about barrel racing. Your last name is different – I guess he was your mom's dad – and I never made the connection when Joe introduced us. I feel so silly!"

I laughed a little and gave her a big smile, "Angie, I was fascinated. I have to say that everything about you fascinates me – especially your eyes. They are so enchanting …"

"Danny, don't. I can't …"

"Angie, can I ask one question?"

She nodded, not looking too happy about it. I took her left hand in mine and rubbed her ring finger, like I was looking for something. I turned it over, then back."

She looked confused, and asked, "What are you looking for?"

"Joe told me you were engaged. I was just looking for the ring."

"He said that? He's never said anything. Oh, I know he likes me – a woman can tell that – but he's never even hinted …"

I didn't say anymore so I paid the bill and we left. She did let me drive her home in my truck. When we got there I jumped out and opened her door. She looked surprised – I guess she didn't see much of that from Joe … or anyone else. At her door I took her elbows and looked in her eyes; fell into them was closer to the truth.

I kissed her gently on her forehead, and whispered in her ear, "You felt something between us when we were dancing, didn't you?"

She looked down; glanced up at me, then back down as she whispered, "Yes," with a sense of wonder. She turned and ran for her door and I walked slowly back to my truck.

That night I slept the sleep of the just … even though I knew I wasn't. I woke with the dawn and lay there thinking. My thoughts of Angie were juxtaposed with those of Danny, the killer. I smiled as I thought of her, her touch, her soft voice and hard hands. Her gentleness and essential toughness at peace with each other – a peace I felt I'd never be able to attain. I feared that when she found out what I had done … how many I had killed – she would take the safe route and marry Joe. Just from that thought I felt the coldness creeping back into my heart.

TOMORROW … AND ALL THE TOMORROWS TO COME

Hey, Joe!
Now we'll be friends till the end.
This looks like the end, my friend,
I gotta have that dolly for my own.

I saw Joe a couple of days later at the bank. It was almost lunchtime so he asked if he could buy me lunch, "… to thank me for taking care of Angie."

Feeling a bit guilty – but not too much – I went with him.

"Danny, what do you think about her?"

"Well, Joe, have you said anything to her? I mean, have you told her you love her and want to marry her? Have you brought a ring?"

He looked out the window for a long moment, "No, I haven't said anything. I'm afraid to. What if she says no? I love her so much I can't live without her. God, I'd die."

I felt I had to be honest with him. Everything had to be on the table for all to see. "Joe, I think you should talk to her and see how she feels. You can't let it drift forever – what if she finds someone else because you waited too long."

He nodded, but looked scared by the whole thing. I started wondering if he was somewhat unbalanced but I shrugged it off. It wasn't my problem … at least I didn't think so.

"Joe, I've got to be fair with you. We've been friends on and off since grade school. But I like Angie and I want her myself. This is where we can't be friends anymore. The only problem is that when she finds out I was a sniper in the Marines she won't want anything to do with me."

I knew immediately when I'd said that last part I had made a mistake. Joe was looking out the window at my truck and didn't look up as I left.

I knew Joe would tell her about the sniper stuff and my burgeoning dreams of love and a new life would fade faster than they started. That night the Viet Cong sniper paid me another visit and my soul felt empty as I came to understand the disgust that Angie would feel for me.

Daddy Jim knew something had happened but he didn't say anything. I threw myself into planning for the winter rodeo season and working with Jim as he was now asking me to call him.

"You're as much my son as your dad was but, more than that, you are my friend and my partner."

I told him I would but it was sure hard to remember. A month went by and I didn't see either Joe or Angie. I did make a trip with Jim to San Angelo to deliver a couple of calves and that gave us a lot of time to talk. In his gentle but persistent way he got me to talk about everything: Joe and Angie and the whole sniper thing that was weighing so heavily on me.

I told him all about it, what it was like being a sniper, of how I felt when I killed someone. I told him of Angie and her violet eyes – he smiled at that but didn't say anything, just listened to me. I felt better having talked to him. I'd never said anything to anyone about what I had done and how I felt.

It was suddenly a couple days before Thanksgiving and Daddy Jim - well, Jim - asked, "Do you have any plans for dinner on Thursday?"

I shook my head no, wondering where he was coming from.

"I've got a gal said she would fix a turkey if she could join us. You okay with that?"

Hell, I didn't know the old goat was seeing anyone! "Jim, that's fine. Do you need me to do anything?"

Thursday morning I was loafing around when Jim came out freshly shaven and dressed nice. I hadn't planned on doing either – actually I kind of felt like a third wheel.

"Danny, you gonna just lounge around like you don't have anything to be thankful about? Be proud boy! You served your country, you had great parents, and we got us a nice ranch. Now go shave and get dressed."

It was easier to do what he said than argue, and he was right. I was drowning myself in the morass of my own problems but on the whole life was pretty good. I shined my boots, put on some new blue jeans and a white shirt. Jim nodded his okay and when the doorbell rang, asked me to get it.

I opened the door with some degree of curiosity – wondering about this lady friend of my granddad's I hadn't heard anything about. I was stunned to find Angie standing there, her arms burdened with several bowls of food.

"Well, don't just stand there. Get the turkey out of my truck."

With that she stood on her toes and kissed my cheek. I turned and watched her walking into the ranch house, my hand on my cheek where she had placed her lips. She was wearing a sweater skirt combination that showed the promise of her soft curves. I somehow got the turkey into the kitchen where she and Jim were talking like old friends … as I found out they were – at least since she had started at the vet clinic in May.

I was somewhere, time out of mind, and wandered through the afternoon in somewhat of a daze. That's not to mean I didn't enjoy it, I just wasn't … focused. After dinner Jim said he had to run an errand so I helped Angie clean up.

Later, we took coffee into the living room. I tried to start but Angie cut me off.

"No, I'd like to have my say first if that's okay. First, about Joe: I had no idea he felt the way he did. He was a friend of my roommate and we dated some but that was all. He was pleasant and non-threatening. I didn't know anyone in town so I looked at him as more of an escort than anything else.

"I heard from Harry, who owns the jewelry store, that Joe was looking at engagement rings. He was surprised when Joe mentioned my name. Harry had a mare with a complicated delivery and I went to his place to help out. We became friends and he and his wife have had me over for dinner a couple of times.

"I knew then I had to talk to Joe before he went too far. About a week later I asked him over to the clinic so we could talk in the conference room. I didn't want to be alone with him for the discussion we needed to have. I told him how I felt and as I talked he got this weird look on his face and I started getting worried. When I finished, he took a box out of his pocket and took a ring out. He held it up to the light, studying it with an intense look on his face.

"Then he stared at me with a look of furious hate on his face and threw the ring at me as hard as he could – luckily it hit my hair and fell to the floor. He turned and stormed out, slamming the door. I took the ring back to Harry and I haven't seen Joe since. I also heard that he quit at the bank."

"Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No, just let it go. Can I talk to you about something else?"

I just nodded, curious now.

"Remember what I told you about hunting with my dad? How I shot my first buck when I was twelve? I got another one the next year but about that time I decided I wanted to be a vet. Suddenly the killing for sport seemed awful to me. Oh, I wasn't a prig about it. It is part of our culture and I know my dad enjoys it, but it wasn't for me anymore.