Although Umberto started to talk his way through a sort of Dukes of Hazzard plan in which he and Maricruz would have to jump the snowmobiles over a frozen gulch while being chased by an ever growing number of police cars skidding around corners with maybe a stray gunshot going off on occasion, Maricruz finally talked him into the both of them simply riding up to the police car and asking the officer to let them pass. "He's probably just stopping cars from going. Since we're on snowmobiles, we'll be fine," she said. Maricruz had made her mistakes in life, but she had never been a lawbreaker and hoped not to become one that day either.
As the two of them slowly glided up to the Rocky Ford Police cruiser, Maricruz waved to the officer like they were old friends. As the officer, a chubby young cop with a blond flat top that Maricruz recognized from the restaurant, rolled down the window, Maricruz put her hands up to remove the goggles and ski mask from her face, but before she could, Umberto maxed out the throttle of his snowmobile, speeding past the cruiser, screaming out, "Suck it, pig!" Without time to think about it, she gunned it, flying around the rear of the police car, looking back and feeling bad for the young officer as he practically fell out of the car yelling at them to stop with no way to chase after them. With her speedometer registering more than 50 miles per hour, however, it didn't take long for the rookie cop to disappear into the blanket of white and the sun in the east.
Maricruz was livid with Umberto, who after several minutes at full throttle had stopped to let her catch up. As she pulled up beside him she yanked her goggles off and pulled the ski mask down from her mouth, yelling at him, "Damn it, Umberto! What the hell are you thinking?! We're going to end up getting arrested for this! Maybe you don't care about that but I have a son to think about! He probably would have just let us go anyway. You idiot! You really screwed up this time!" While she yelled, she stepped off of her snowmobile and walked over to where she stood taller than her brother who had stayed seated, looking down at him, making sure he remembered that he may be bigger than she was, but she was still his older sister. Umberto had pulled his goggles up to rest on his forehead, and never stopped smiling as his sister berated him.
"What the hell are you smiling at?" she asked him. "I can't afford to pay a ticket, and neither can you, you dummy."
"Tell me that wasn't fun, Maricruz," he said, still smiling and tilting his head to the side as he looked up at her.
"You think you're so cool don't you?" She punched him in the arm.
"Tell me it wasn't fun," he demanded playfully as he stood up, with one foot on each side of the snowmobile.
"Quit saying--" she started to turn around to walk away from her brother.
"Tell me that wasn't fun and I'll apologize," he interrupted her, walking after her.
Maricruz stopped in her path, but still faced away from him. "It wasn't--damn it, Umby--okay, it was kind of fun."
"Kind of?" he coax her. "Parcheesi is kind of fun. That was better than sex."
An embarrassed smile on her face, Maricruz turned to face her brother. She teased him, "Like you would know anything about that," before admitting, "Okay, it was one hell of an adrenaline rush, but we need to quit farting around out here." She pushed him lightly in the direction of his snowmobile, ordering him, "Just get back on your stupid snowmobile and let's keep heading west. Surely we'll find him somewhere along the road."
As she spoke those last words, Umberto seemed lost, focusing on something off in the distant west. When she was about to reprimand him for ignoring her, he pointed in the direction he was looking, and said, "I think I just found him." Maricruz turned to see a towering pillar of smoke rising into the early morning sky probably just a few miles away.
"Oh geez, Lyle. What are you up to?" she asked, mostly to herself, as she hopped back onto her snowmobile, then pulled on her goggles and sped off in the direction of the smoke with Umberto following close behind. As she zoomed toward where she hoped she'd finally be reunited with Lyle, she thought about how difficult the past ninety days had been without him, wondering just for a brief second, if she'd made the right choice in giving him a second chance, but in her heart, in her soul, she knew she had done the right thing, made the right choice. Even though her affair with Rick had temporarily filled a void in her, it hadn't been love, not even close. Really, Maricruz had never experienced what it felt like to be in love. Sure there had been the typical high school infatuations and a few dates here and there, but her life had become all about her family, all about helping her father make Los Tres Hermanos a success, and then all about raising Benny and protecting him, while also protecting her own heart. But then she finally met Lyle one evening when she was tending the bar at the restaurant.
That night Lyle was wearing what Maricruz later found out was his only nice set of clothes: pressed and creased dark indigo Wranglers, a pristine white western shirt with pearl snaps, a black Stetson hat that would have made George Strait proud, a black leather belt held together by a silver buckle he'd won at some big time rodeo in Oklahoma City, and a freshly polished pair of ebony Justin boots. What she noticed first about him was his smile that just emitted joy and the fact that, unlike every other guy who ever came into the resaurant, Lyle was a bona fide gentleman, saying things like, "I beg your pardon" and "much obliged, ma'am." Even after weeks of getting to know him, she'd never seen what he was like when his drinking had crossed the line because he always left after just a few drinks and then he must have poured several more after he'd made his way home. By the time she realized he had a problem, she was in love, a truth she fully accepted on the day he'd worn that same outfit and driven her all the way up to Colorado Springs to ride the cog railway to the top of Pikes Peak and to eat the most expensive dinner she'd ever had at the restaurant near the mountain's summit. Everything he said that day, every gesture he made, every time his skin touched hers, communicated care and loyalty as well as a strange combination of vulnerability and protection. He had his faults, she knew that and would learn it much more in the days to come, but Lyle Felton was a good man and he'd proved it once again by keeping his sobriety promise and taking on no less than the worst blizzard in fifty years just because he couldn't bear the thought of having to wait twenty-four more hours to be reunited with her and Benny. She decided as she rode toward the pillar of smoke that if he was, indeed, alive that she wanted to be with him forever.
Umberto caught up with Maricruz and the two of them rode side by side on the snow-packed county road. The wind had ceased to blow, the snow had stopped falling, and the sky cleared to a crisp blue as the sun had risen high enough above the horizon that one could call it daytime. When they were, perhaps, less than a mile from whatever it was that had gone up in flames, Maricruz finally saw a tall, slow moving and slightly stumbling figure less than a half-mile away. "Lyle!" she screamed out, knowing he, if it was actually him, was too far away to hear her, especially over the snowmobile's engine. But just as she was about to accelerate, she saw something that sent fear and confusion running through her veins: a second figure, much shorter and even slower, stepped out from behind him. Who in the world? "Oh my God," she said to herself. "The car thief! He probably has a gun to Lyle's back!" She slammed on the brakes and then waited for Umberto to circle back around.
"If that's Lyle," Umberto asked her as he pointed toward the figures, "Then who's with him, Mari?"
"I don't know," Maricruz responded as she shook her head, "But what I do know, is that things are about to get a lot more complicated than we bargained for."
As the two of them slowly glided up to the Rocky Ford Police cruiser, Maricruz waved to the officer like they were old friends. As the officer, a chubby young cop with a blond flat top that Maricruz recognized from the restaurant, rolled down the window, Maricruz put her hands up to remove the goggles and ski mask from her face, but before she could, Umberto maxed out the throttle of his snowmobile, speeding past the cruiser, screaming out, "Suck it, pig!" Without time to think about it, she gunned it, flying around the rear of the police car, looking back and feeling bad for the young officer as he practically fell out of the car yelling at them to stop with no way to chase after them. With her speedometer registering more than 50 miles per hour, however, it didn't take long for the rookie cop to disappear into the blanket of white and the sun in the east.
Maricruz was livid with Umberto, who after several minutes at full throttle had stopped to let her catch up. As she pulled up beside him she yanked her goggles off and pulled the ski mask down from her mouth, yelling at him, "Damn it, Umberto! What the hell are you thinking?! We're going to end up getting arrested for this! Maybe you don't care about that but I have a son to think about! He probably would have just let us go anyway. You idiot! You really screwed up this time!" While she yelled, she stepped off of her snowmobile and walked over to where she stood taller than her brother who had stayed seated, looking down at him, making sure he remembered that he may be bigger than she was, but she was still his older sister. Umberto had pulled his goggles up to rest on his forehead, and never stopped smiling as his sister berated him.
"What the hell are you smiling at?" she asked him. "I can't afford to pay a ticket, and neither can you, you dummy."
"Tell me that wasn't fun, Maricruz," he said, still smiling and tilting his head to the side as he looked up at her.
"You think you're so cool don't you?" She punched him in the arm.
"Tell me it wasn't fun," he demanded playfully as he stood up, with one foot on each side of the snowmobile.
"Quit saying--" she started to turn around to walk away from her brother.
"Tell me that wasn't fun and I'll apologize," he interrupted her, walking after her.
Maricruz stopped in her path, but still faced away from him. "It wasn't--damn it, Umby--okay, it was kind of fun."
"Kind of?" he coax her. "Parcheesi is kind of fun. That was better than sex."
An embarrassed smile on her face, Maricruz turned to face her brother. She teased him, "Like you would know anything about that," before admitting, "Okay, it was one hell of an adrenaline rush, but we need to quit farting around out here." She pushed him lightly in the direction of his snowmobile, ordering him, "Just get back on your stupid snowmobile and let's keep heading west. Surely we'll find him somewhere along the road."
As she spoke those last words, Umberto seemed lost, focusing on something off in the distant west. When she was about to reprimand him for ignoring her, he pointed in the direction he was looking, and said, "I think I just found him." Maricruz turned to see a towering pillar of smoke rising into the early morning sky probably just a few miles away.
"Oh geez, Lyle. What are you up to?" she asked, mostly to herself, as she hopped back onto her snowmobile, then pulled on her goggles and sped off in the direction of the smoke with Umberto following close behind. As she zoomed toward where she hoped she'd finally be reunited with Lyle, she thought about how difficult the past ninety days had been without him, wondering just for a brief second, if she'd made the right choice in giving him a second chance, but in her heart, in her soul, she knew she had done the right thing, made the right choice. Even though her affair with Rick had temporarily filled a void in her, it hadn't been love, not even close. Really, Maricruz had never experienced what it felt like to be in love. Sure there had been the typical high school infatuations and a few dates here and there, but her life had become all about her family, all about helping her father make Los Tres Hermanos a success, and then all about raising Benny and protecting him, while also protecting her own heart. But then she finally met Lyle one evening when she was tending the bar at the restaurant.
That night Lyle was wearing what Maricruz later found out was his only nice set of clothes: pressed and creased dark indigo Wranglers, a pristine white western shirt with pearl snaps, a black Stetson hat that would have made George Strait proud, a black leather belt held together by a silver buckle he'd won at some big time rodeo in Oklahoma City, and a freshly polished pair of ebony Justin boots. What she noticed first about him was his smile that just emitted joy and the fact that, unlike every other guy who ever came into the resaurant, Lyle was a bona fide gentleman, saying things like, "I beg your pardon" and "much obliged, ma'am." Even after weeks of getting to know him, she'd never seen what he was like when his drinking had crossed the line because he always left after just a few drinks and then he must have poured several more after he'd made his way home. By the time she realized he had a problem, she was in love, a truth she fully accepted on the day he'd worn that same outfit and driven her all the way up to Colorado Springs to ride the cog railway to the top of Pikes Peak and to eat the most expensive dinner she'd ever had at the restaurant near the mountain's summit. Everything he said that day, every gesture he made, every time his skin touched hers, communicated care and loyalty as well as a strange combination of vulnerability and protection. He had his faults, she knew that and would learn it much more in the days to come, but Lyle Felton was a good man and he'd proved it once again by keeping his sobriety promise and taking on no less than the worst blizzard in fifty years just because he couldn't bear the thought of having to wait twenty-four more hours to be reunited with her and Benny. She decided as she rode toward the pillar of smoke that if he was, indeed, alive that she wanted to be with him forever.
Umberto caught up with Maricruz and the two of them rode side by side on the snow-packed county road. The wind had ceased to blow, the snow had stopped falling, and the sky cleared to a crisp blue as the sun had risen high enough above the horizon that one could call it daytime. When they were, perhaps, less than a mile from whatever it was that had gone up in flames, Maricruz finally saw a tall, slow moving and slightly stumbling figure less than a half-mile away. "Lyle!" she screamed out, knowing he, if it was actually him, was too far away to hear her, especially over the snowmobile's engine. But just as she was about to accelerate, she saw something that sent fear and confusion running through her veins: a second figure, much shorter and even slower, stepped out from behind him. Who in the world? "Oh my God," she said to herself. "The car thief! He probably has a gun to Lyle's back!" She slammed on the brakes and then waited for Umberto to circle back around.
"If that's Lyle," Umberto asked her as he pointed toward the figures, "Then who's with him, Mari?"
"I don't know," Maricruz responded as she shook her head, "But what I do know, is that things are about to get a lot more complicated than we bargained for."
