We take a weekend trip to see the Ladies of Country Cover Night at the honky tonk bar, its wooden panels softly glowing with neon light, square dancing with square-jawed cowboys, twirling and sashaying, arcing around each other, laughing into fringed leather vests and soft denim. Later, we camp near the river, the rushing water just more music, echoing over the valley. We share bottles of soda and smoky mezcal, loaves of bread and orange jam, and pistachios. We practice moves under the moon, swinging into each other, that backward step, about to fall.
