Her kick hit the dead air with a “whoosh.” “Son, let’s get the fuck outta here. Our job’s done,” he said, as he spit another wad of Skoal ...uice to the dusty corral ground in a long thick stream. Dad helped our neighboring rancher, Bill, any chance he could, and this was one of those jobs. Bill was a nice guy with not a lot of money, so dad would treat his horses without charge. The rancher was an old friend, and dad, being a veterinarian and farrier, was skilled at all aspects of being a good. We’d exchanged many photos over the year so I knew exactly who we were looking for but just the same I’d told her to look for a big, bearded guy holding a rose. My sense of humor leans to the corny and we’d joked once about a Budweiser beer advertisement where someone hands a woman a rosebud and says, “This Bud’s for you,” and while it’s a lame opening line, I was planning to use it anyway. When Rosalind’s face actually materialized in the crowd exiting Customs, all I wanted to do was have my. More

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