Chapter 8
The restaurant had a gift shop.
Racks of t-shirts lined the walls with slogans like "I Survived the Billy Burrito" and "Wanted: Dead or Alive.
" Billy the Kid bobbleheads sat next to overpriced hot sauce bottles shaped like revolvers.
The whole place smelled like fryer grease and a candle somebody at corporate had decided was the smell of the Old West. Cinnamon, maybe. Cinnamon and a war crime.
I'd eaten here once before. Dolano had dragged the whole crew through one night on the way back from a job in Hatch, half of us still wearing what we'd worn for the work, and ordered burritos for the table like he was buying a round of drinks.
The burritos were terrible then. They were going to be terrible now.
Some things in this state never changed, and Rex Rawlins's commitment to feeding tourists food that wouldn't taste right to a tourist was one of them.
Winston stopped beside a rack of shot glasses and picked one up. "Jesse James. Classic."
"We're not here to shop," I said.
"We're also not here to look suspicious. Act natural."
I walked toward the back where a blonde in a plastic cowboy hat stood behind a hostess podium. Her name tag said CASSIDY in rhinestones.
"Welcome to Bonney Ranch!" She said it like she was announcing the second coming. "Y'all here for the show or just the trough?"
They actually called it the trough.
I am going to die in this restaurant, I thought, and the last thing I will hear before I go is the word trough.
I opened my mouth to say we were just here for dinner.
"Two tickets," Winston said from behind me. "Front row. Best in the house."
I turned around and glared at him.
He grinned at me, easy as Sunday, and I understood that Winston Valverde really did think this was a date.
Cassidy led us through double doors into an arena-style dining room packed with people. Winston's hand settled on the small of my back as we crossed through and stayed there.
The center was a dirt arena ringed by tables with red-and-white checkered tablecloths.
Fake wooden storefronts formed a backdrop along the far wall.
It looked like somebody had vomited the entire state of Texas into a warehouse and charged admission, and the people of Sierra County had lined up around the block to watch.
She sat us front row at the arena's edge and bounced away.
Winston picked up his menu, still smiling like this was the best night of his life. Under the tablecloth, his knee found mine and stayed there. He didn't acknowledge it, so neither did I.
I grabbed my own menu and held it up between us, blocking my face from the rest of the room.
"Did you like sucking my dick that much?" I asked, quiet enough that only he could hear.
Winston looked up over the top of his menu. The smile didn't fade. "As I recall, you had no complaints."
Heat crawled up the back of my neck. "This isn't. We're not."
"Not what?" He set his menu down and leaned forward. "Not here on a date? Ransom, we already did this backwards. Figured I owed you dinner before we do it again."
My brain blew a fuse, and I just stared at him.
"Besides," Winston continued, "we need to blend in. Two men at a dinner theater on a Friday night? That's a date. Nobody's going to look twice." He shrugged. "Two men checking exits and looking suspicious? That gets noticed."
He had several points, and I hated all of them.
A server appeared, a young guy dressed like a gunslinger with a name tag that said BILLY.
"Howdy, partners! Can I start y'all off with some drinks?"
"Coke," I said.
"I'll take the Outlaw Milkshake," Winston said. "Biggest one you've got."
Billy grinned and left.
I arched an eyebrow at Winston. "A milkshake."
"It comes with a chocolate revolver. When am I going to get another chance to drink out of something that ridiculous?" He leaned back and looked around, eyes moving over the security along the walls without his face moving with them. "When's the last time you went on a date, Ransom?"
"That's not your business," I said quietly.
"Fair enough." He didn't look away. "But I'm guessing it's been a while. So humor me. Pretend you're a man who gets to sit down somewhere ridiculous with someone who thinks you're worth the drive. Just for tonight."
The lights dimmed before I could come up with a response.
A voice boomed over speakers. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WELCOME TO BONNEY RANCH!"
The crowd cheered. Pyrotechnics exploded. Riders on horses filled the ring, firing blanks and doing tricks.
Winston leaned forward, grinning.
Billy arrived with our drinks. Winston's milkshake was a monstrosity topped with whipped cream and a chocolate revolver. He bit the barrel off immediately.
The show kept going: saloon brawls, jailbreaks, a woman singing something Patsy Cline would've sued over.
Then the lights went red, and the music changed.
A spotlight hit the far end of the arena where Rex Rawlins walked out of the smoke.
He wore a white suit, a turquoise bolo tie, and a white Stetson with a rattlesnake band. His face was tanned in a way that looked expensive. You look like a man who's never met a check he couldn't cash. Or a horse he couldn't break.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, GIVE IT UP FOR YOUR HOST THIS EVENING: RATTLESNAKE REX RAWLINS!" the announcer bellowed.
The crowd erupted.
Rex raised both hands like a preacher. "WELCOME TO BONNEY RANCH, WHERE LEGENDS LIVE AND OUTLAWS NEVER DIE!"
While Rex made his opening speech, I scanned the arena. At least a dozen armed men in tactical gear lined the walls, all private security. A man like Rex didn't put twelve guys in vests around a tourist trap unless the tourist trap wasn't really the business.
"Well now. Looks like we got some special guests tonight."
I blinked, and it took me a minute to realize that Rex was coming straight over to us.
My stomach dropped through the floor and kept going.
Winston's hand landed on my thigh under the table.
Hundreds of people were all looking at our table, at me, at Winston with his ridiculous milkshake still in front of him. Don't move. Don't move and don't say a damn word.
"That's right, folks!" Rex walked toward our table, boots crunching in the arena dirt, the spotlight following him. "We got Rafe's boy here! All the way from Pae Saco Ranch!" He stopped at the edge of the arena, maybe ten feet from where I sat frozen. "Stand up, son. Let these good people see you."
I didn't move.
Rex's smile stayed locked in place, but he went hard behind it. "Come on now. Don't be shy."
The crowd started clapping, like this was all part of the show and not some bullshit intimidation tactic.
Winston's thumb stroked once, slowly, along the inseam of my jeans. The message was not subtle. Stand up. I've got you.
I stood up. My legs were a couple of fence posts somebody had tied jeans to. The blood in my face had decided to set up a permanent residence there, and Cassidy's rhinestones strobed at me from across the room because I had nowhere else for my eyes to go.
Stand there. Just stand there. Don't think about how many of these people will remember your face when this is over. Stand there.
"There he is!" Rex spread his arms wide, presenting me to the crowd like I was a prize bull at auction.
"One of the finest cowboys in New Mexico, ladies and gentlemen.
Works for Rafe Lujan out at Pae Saco. Good people doing good work.
" He turned that smile on me, all teeth.
"Why don't you tell everybody who you are, son? "
"Ransom," I said. At least my voice held steady.
"RANSOM!" Rex repeated it loud enough for the back row. "Now that's an outlaw name if I ever heard one! You folks give Ransom a hand!"
They clapped. They whistled. A kid somewhere yelled, "YEAH RANSOM!"
I stood there and took it, my face hot, my hands in fists at my sides.
Every camera in every cellphone in that crowd was on me.
I felt them like I felt the rifle on my back when I was working a ridge.
Hundreds of eyes and at least half as many lenses, and Rex up there grinning like he'd just been handed a Christmas present he hadn't asked for and intended to enjoy.
Rex turned to Winston. "And who's this you brought with you?"
Winston stood up smooth as anything, like he got called out at dinner theaters every day of his life. "Winston Valverde. Texas Rangers at your service." He tipped his hat, and a woman in the front row nearly fainted.
"A Texas Ranger!" Rex said, loud and bright, selling it to the crowd. "Well now, that's an honor. We love our law enforcement here at Bonney Ranch. Keep us all safe and honest." He winked at the crowd, and they laughed, uncertain. "You boys here on business or pleasure?"
"Both," Winston said before I could answer. He smiled at Rex like they were old friends. "The Billy Burrito was legendary. Had to see for ourselves."
Rex narrowed his eyes just a fraction. Then his smile got wider.
"Well, any friend of Rafe's is a friend of mine," he said. "And any Ranger who appreciates good food is welcome at my table." He turned to the crowd. "What do you say, folks? Should we comp their meal tonight?"
The crowd cheered.
"That's what I thought!" Rex clapped his hands together. "Billy! Get these boys the full Outlaw Experience! Burgers, fries, the works! On the house!"
Billy the server appeared at our table so fast he must have been lurking. "Yes, sir, Mr. Rawlins!"
"You enjoy the show now," Rex said. "And when it's over, you boys come find me. I'd love to catch up. Talk about Rafe, talk about the ranch. Talk about what brings a Texas Ranger all the way out to Truth or Consequences." He paused. "We got so much to discuss."
"Looking forward to it," Winston said.
Rex tipped his hat to us, then to the crowd. "ENJOY THE SHOW, FOLKS!"