Loop Group by Larry McMurtry

Author:Larry McMurtry
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SIMON & SCHUSTER PAPERBACKS
Published: 2004-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

2

THE NEXT MORNING, at a big Wal-Mart in Victorville, Connie bought a new cell phone and Maggie bought a .38 special and a box of bullets. Somehow the bullets seemed more scary than the gun. The salesman demonstrated the safety features of the gun—namely a safety catch—while Connie wandered around the vast store buying miscellaneous articles of apparel, including string panties.

“Aren’t you a little old for string panties?” Maggie asked—her query went unanswered. The sun was very bright in Victorville, so that both of them had to put on their dark glasses.

“What do people do here—it takes hours just to get across the parking lot?” Connie asked, gesturing in the general direction of Victorville.

“Just live, I guess,” Maggie said.

“This sun is much too fucking bright,” Connie went on. “I’m going to get a sick headache if I have to travel very far in this bright light. I prefer hazy weather, like we have in L.A.”

Maggie had the same worry—a worry so strong that Connie went racing back into the store to buy scarves they would wrap around their heads. The van was burning hot, from having been locked up. Maggie drove it around and around the vast parking lot, playing the air conditioner for all it was worth. The air conditioner began to rattle, which was an ominous sign, but fortunately, after a bit, it stopped rattling.

Just as they were pulling back on the freeway, Connie happened to spot a sign advertising the Roy Rogers and Dale Evans Museum, which, it seemed, was right there in Victorville. Naturally Connie wanted to go have a look.

“Maybe on the way back,” Maggie told her.

“You never want to do cultural things!” Connie accused. “Why the big hurry to get to Texas anyway?

“I think Trigger’s in that museum, stuffed,” she added.

“So, who wants to see a stuffed horse?” Maggie asked.

“It isn’t just any horse, it’s Trigger!” Connie insisted, at which point Maggie gave in. When they entered the museum, sure enough there was Trigger, after which they spent most of their time looking at Dale Evans’s many outfits.

“Being a cowgirl might not be such a bad life,” Connie remarked.

“She wasn’t a cowgirl—she was an actress,” Maggie pointed out.

“She must have had a nice little butt when she was young,” Connie said. “Those cowgirl outfits don’t work unless you have a nice little butt. A butt sort of like yours.”

Connie had always been envious of Maggie’s trim butt.

“You could have a butt just as good if you exercised more,” Maggie said, a comment Connie didn’t challenge.

“It’s my turn to drive,” Connie said, when they got back to the van.

“Drive, just stay in the right lane unless you really need to pass,” Maggie advised.

“What’s wrong with the fast lane?”

“This van won’t run fast enough to qualify for this fast lane,” Maggie said. “This is the freeway to Las Vegas—we’ll just be a smear on the highway if we get in the way of a high roller who’s in a hurry.”

Connie, a cautious, both-hands-on-the-wheel driver, soon saw

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