Pickup Cowboy 4

This is an occasional story series. 

To start the story at the beginning, click here. 

Kenneth Jerome Kasey was as smart as they come. That didn’t always mean that he was the best lawyer. It was his extracurricular interests that made the cowboy his friend. 

“It’s the border stuff,” Kenny said. “If I had to bet, that’s where I’d put my money.” 

“Huh. Tell me,” said the cowboy. 

“Well, it’s like this. The Senator has always been focused on development, right? And we need warm bodies to staff a whole passel of jobs here, whether it’s oil or cow hands or high tech stuff. So he’s been pushing for bigger immigration quotas. That’s like punching a giant hole in the border wall. And the nutballs who think everyone coming over from Mexico is a rapist or a thief are dead-set against that, even when we can’t find people to work.”

“Ok, but what kind of person would shoot him over it?”

“There are plenty of idiots out there. But there are also a couple of groups that I can think of. Remember, the governor said he’d shoot folks coming across the border if the feds wouldn’t charge him with murder. Some of these bozos are taking that attitude and running with it.”

“Jesus.”

“Wasn’t he a refugee?” asked Kenny. 

“I need a beer,” said the cowboy. 

“I know just the place.”

There were no other white men in Jose’s, the bar that Kenny chose. Everyone looked Mexican, and most of the signs were in Spanish. “Dos cervezas, por favor,” Kenny told the bartender, who was wearing a gun on his hip. 

“Nice place,” said the cowboy. 

“Salud,” said Kenny, as he took a sip from his bottle. 

They were discussing the Rangers’ chances in the American League West when a man in a leather vest ambled up to them. “Didn’t I see you at the function for Senator Abrams?” the man asked. 

“Yes, sir,” said the cowboy. 

The man introduced himself as Enrique Fernandez. “Everyone here calls me Henry,” he said. “I was there, too. Fue un desastre. We were supposed to talk with him about more construction financing when everything went down.” Henry explained that the firm he worked for built high-rise offices and apartments in the Houston area, and he was lobbying for government help. “I guess now we have to set up another meeting.”

“What’s your take on why anybody would want to shoot him?”

Henry’s face got quite dark. “Texas is a strange place to live. It offers great opportunities, but some people think all those opportunities should be for them. They don’t want to share the pie, even if it would make the pie bigger. My guess is that it was FISH, or someone like them.”

“FISH?”

“Yeah. Finish Immigration, Save our Homeland. It’s a group out of El Paso. They are really a bunch of lunatics, but they get support across the state. And there are some right-wing groups in Washington who are behind them, even if they deny it.” 

Kenny said, “I know some of those people. They don’t play fair. I’m not even sure they know what fair means. They’re the group behind sending the Texas National Guard to the border. This is going to get ugly.”

“It’s already ugly,” said the cowboy. 

The cowboy met Ann for lunch the next day, as promised. “How’s your Dad?”

“I only talked to him for a few minutes last night, but he sounded like business as usual. He’s a tough old guy.”

“How about you?”

“Honestly, I’m not great. I had trouble sleeping last night, and I’m worried. And sad. I don’t know who we are as a country anymore.” 

“I get that. People seem to be flipping out.”

“Flipping out? Did you just arrive from the 60s?”

They both laughed. 

“I really don’t understand it,” said the cowboy.“ We used to be able to work things out together.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Ann. “Lincoln got shot. So did Reagan. Maybe it’s always been like this, but now we’re living it.”

“Maybe.” The cowboy stirred his coffee. It was a minute before anyone spoke. 

“I’ve got to get back to the ranch, but after that I’m thinking about going to D.C. Do you want to come with?”

“I sure do. I want to see my Dad.”

“Me too.”

To be continued …