lawbreaking?
    She looks at him funny for a moment, wiggling her mouth and jaw, then reaches inside her lips with her fingertips. Bingo, she says and holds the diamond ring up in the air.
    Elray grins. You're no dummy.
    That's the truth. Problem is, Jack is. Just enough of a dummy not to let it go. I'm here hiding from him, but he found me. He's like a bloodhound. Dim and determined.
    So what is this outlaw's real name?
    I'll tell you on one condition. You interested in some dinner? I could fix us something. I'm not always involved in such seedy scenes, you know. Most of the time I'm downright civic- minded. I vote and pay taxes.
    You don't, he says.
    I do. She smiles. And I make a good plate of fried chicken. Sound good?
    Elray says it does and he'll be glad to accept. They agree he'll show up later, after nine.
    She gives him a kiss on the cheek and he feels the softness of her lips, smells her skin when she leans in close.
    I'm looking forward to it, she says. You probably got the wrong idea about me earlier.
You're better off without that loser.
She nods and tucks her hands in her back pockets. I am.
    Elray is love- headed on his way out the door, stifling a foolish grin, waving good- bye to her as she stands in the aura of the doorway. Half a mind to double back and ask if he can take her out somewhere nice. But then again, hard to refuse a woman who offers to cook for you. He keeps walking, his mind full of her smell and her softness. He moves on into the early evening, the sky a pure violet overhead, toward his horse, forgetful and enchanted, passing light- headed down the motel breezeway, down the stairs.
    He's a mile toward home, sitting a bit chilled in the saddle, holding Apache's reins, when he realizes he's forgotten to get the real name of her abuser.
A f t e r  t h e  d o o r  c l o s e s Becca feels herself deflate. A depressing quiet settles like the hush of bad news. Her smile fades as she moves through the room, tuning the TV to the Weather Channel, pouring herself a glass of water. She's ashamed and realizes her engagement was nothing more than a pause at the intersection of Hope and Desperation. Forget marriage. She knows the reality likely will be her standing alone in line at a convenience store, trying to corral a two- year- old, buying tampons and a pack of Marlboro Lights.
    She goes to brush her teeth and stares at her reflection in the mirror. A trace of wrinkles around her mouth and eyes and oh God she's thirty- one years old and getting older by the second.
    Out the open window she can hear a couple arguing in the alley. She rinses her teeth and stares at the diamond ring on the counter beside her moisturizer and makeup. From the window she can hear a truck's loud engine throbbing and a burst of drunken laughter.
    She rummages through her makeup kit and comes up with a small vinyl coin purse with the logo and address of First National Bank of Pueblo on it. She wads the engagement ring in several sheets of Kleenex until it's a puffy square, then wedges this inside the coin purse and squeezes it to make sure it fits securely.
    With her palms sweating, Becca heads to the lobby. There the buffalo head looms over a sofa with cow- horn armrests. Before the sofa there's a coffee table covered with magazines and to the left a small table with a coffee pot, microwave, and creamer, sugar packets, and stir sticks.
    Becca pours coffee into a white Styrofoam cup, facing the check- in counter, watching. She takes the coin purse from her pocket and crams it into the buffalo's mouth. She pushes it until she hears a woman talking on a phone, walking up to the front counter.
    You need something,
    She looks at him funny for a moment, wiggling her mouth and jaw, then reaches inside her lips with her fingertips. Bingo, she says and holds the diamond ring up in the air.
    Elray grins. You're no dummy.
    That's the truth. Problem is, Jack is. Just enough of a dummy not to let it go. I'm here hiding from him, but he found me. He's like a bloodhound. Dim and determined.
    So what is this outlaw's real name?
    I'll tell you on one condition. You interested in some dinner? I could fix us something. I'm not always involved in such seedy scenes, you know. Most of the time I'm downright civic- minded. I vote and pay taxes.
    You don't, he says.
    I do. She smiles. And I make a good plate of fried chicken. Sound good?
    Elray says it does and he'll be glad to accept. They agree he'll show up later, after nine.
    She gives him a kiss on the cheek and he feels the softness of her lips, smells her skin when she leans in close.
    I'm looking forward to it, she says. You probably got the wrong idea about me earlier.
You're better off without that loser.
She nods and tucks her hands in her back pockets. I am.
    Elray is love- headed on his way out the door, stifling a foolish grin, waving good- bye to her as she stands in the aura of the doorway. Half a mind to double back and ask if he can take her out somewhere nice. But then again, hard to refuse a woman who offers to cook for you. He keeps walking, his mind full of her smell and her softness. He moves on into the early evening, the sky a pure violet overhead, toward his horse, forgetful and enchanted, passing light- headed down the motel breezeway, down the stairs.
    He's a mile toward home, sitting a bit chilled in the saddle, holding Apache's reins, when he realizes he's forgotten to get the real name of her abuser.
A f t e r  t h e  d o o r  c l o s e s Becca feels herself deflate. A depressing quiet settles like the hush of bad news. Her smile fades as she moves through the room, tuning the TV to the Weather Channel, pouring herself a glass of water. She's ashamed and realizes her engagement was nothing more than a pause at the intersection of Hope and Desperation. Forget marriage. She knows the reality likely will be her standing alone in line at a convenience store, trying to corral a two- year- old, buying tampons and a pack of Marlboro Lights.
    She goes to brush her teeth and stares at her reflection in the mirror. A trace of wrinkles around her mouth and eyes and oh God she's thirty- one years old and getting older by the second.
    Out the open window she can hear a couple arguing in the alley. She rinses her teeth and stares at the diamond ring on the counter beside her moisturizer and makeup. From the window she can hear a truck's loud engine throbbing and a burst of drunken laughter.
    She rummages through her makeup kit and comes up with a small vinyl coin purse with the logo and address of First National Bank of Pueblo on it. She wads the engagement ring in several sheets of Kleenex until it's a puffy square, then wedges this inside the coin purse and squeezes it to make sure it fits securely.
    With her palms sweating, Becca heads to the lobby. There the buffalo head looms over a sofa with cow- horn armrests. Before the sofa there's a coffee table covered with magazines and to the left a small table with a coffee pot, microwave, and creamer, sugar packets, and stir sticks.
    Becca pours coffee into a white Styrofoam cup, facing the check- in counter, watching. She takes the coin purse from her pocket and crams it into the buffalo's mouth. She pushes it until she hears a woman talking on a phone, walking up to the front counter.
    You need something,
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