Anniversary
Copyright© 2026 by Vonalt
Chapter 16: Aftermath
It had been a year since the ambush and death of Jorge Ramos on that dusty back road. The event was so newsworthy that national outlets flooded the community with crews. The media presence overwhelmed the town to the point that the local Mormon population, generally friendly to outsiders, became rude and surly. Reporters not only harassed residents but also blocked access to the ranch and were bold enough to trespass with cameras rolling, shouting for comments. The intrusions became so frequent that Cletus hired off-duty police officers to provide security, keeping the press and curious onlookers at bay.
The shootout was compared to the infamous ambush of Bonnie and Clyde, but that was where the resemblance ended. No one claimed Jorge Ramos was a folk hero like them. He was recognized for what he truly was: a drug pusher, a thug, and a criminal of the worst kind. What he peddled was addictive and, in the end, killed people.
I gradually took over the day-to-day management of the ranch. Cletus still had the final say, but he trusted me to handle daily operations, allowing him to step back and pursue other interests.
Edna, however, kept her routine, rising each morning before the sun to prepare breakfast for everyone. The difference now was that she no longer worked alone. At her side was a new assistant: the newly married deputy who had left behind the beaches of California to be with me—the man she had met one weekend on the beach. I had been a stranger dressed like a cowboy who, surprisingly, knew far more than just horses and cattle, and she had found that strangely attractive.
She eventually followed me to the ranch, even after learning about the troubles surrounding me. Tina was drawn to me and decided I was the one she wanted to spend her life with. I was what she had been looking for, and she was determined to be there no matter what.
For our honeymoon, Tina and I traveled back East to my hometown. It was a trip that combined romance with purpose. There were still legal matters to be resolved—loose ends from my previous life. My house had already been sold at my request, and part of the proceeds was used to cover Rose’s legal fees. With what remained, I paid for a modest memorial stone for my former wife.
I never returned to the grave myself. Instead, I entrusted Rose to see to it.
I got a chance to see my old Honda Civic, still in its original condition. Rose’s granddaughter loved it as it was and decided to leave it that way. The only change was the addition of ladybug seat covers, which I felt was blasphemous to the Honda name.