by With Heart
“Let me catch my breath, sweetie, and we’ll do it again. I’d drive all the way to California to get that. You’re the best piece of ass in Oklahoma. Texas, too.”
“Ya think so? Do I get ya horny?”
“Ever’time, sweetie. Every damn time.”
“We could go to the Twilight Gardens, dance a while, then come back here and do it again.” Clara said hopefully. “You’re somethin’ special, Marty. I want to show ya off.”
His hand traveled up her thigh to the junction of her legs. “I couldn’t feel ya up at the Twilight Gardens. I want to get as much of you as I can while I’m here.”
“You’re goin’ with me to Nashville, ain’t ya?”
“I’m thinkin’ about it, sweetie. You’ll knock their socks off in Nashville.”
“You said that maybe we could get married.”
“I haven’t forgot.”
“When, Marty?”
“As soon as I get my business taken care of, baby doll. I got to make money so I can buy pretties for my sweetie.”
“You got money?”
“Yeah. The town of Conroy was named for my granddaddy. Conroys are big-moneyed people in Texas. I always have a few irons in the fire. Come sit astraddle my lap and whisper dirty words in my ear. That always gets me hornier than hell. You do it so good, baby.”
Clara did as he asked and tried to act enthusiastic about it. When it was over, she was exhausted.
“Can we go now?”
“Why do you always want to go to cheap roadhouses?” he asked irritably.
“I like fun. Besides, they might want me to sing.”
“Fat chance. The singer with the band out there knows you’d show her up. She’ll see to it you don’t get near the stage.”
“We could just dance.”
“Come here, honey-baby. This is what you’re best at.”
Clara held her temper with an effort. All the horny little jackass wanted to do was screw. She was beginning to think that the big promises he’d made her were dry holes and that he had no intention of taking her to Nashville or even to a honky-tonk. She’d just have to get there on her own; and if he thought she was doing all this for nothing, he had a big surprise coming.
“How long ya stayin’, lover?”
“Until Saturday. Want to stay at the hotel with me tonight and tomorrow night after the rodeo?”
“Sure, honey. If you have a hotel room, why are we doin’ this in the backseat of your car?”
“A relative of mine is in town, and I want to be sure he’s not staying at the hotel. I’ll know by the time we get back there.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Naw, honey. Come here. I’m gettin’ horny again.”
“Are you sure you haven’t been to Del Rio?” Clara asked irritably, but Marty didn’t notice.
Chapter Twelve
By midmorning on Saturday the fairground outside of Rawlings was a scene of bustling activity. Concession stands were being set up beneath the grandstand; cowboys were driving stock into the holding pens; and the crowds coming to the rodeo were arriving by car, wagon, horseback, and on foot.
The day was bright and sunny and, for once, the Oklahoma wind had taken a rest. The hard-packed red dirt in the arena had been stirred, dampened, and stirred again to afford a softer landing for those unfortunates who would be thrown from their mounts.
By the time Kathleen drove onto the field near the fairground and parked alongside the other cars, Emily was jumping with excitement. Hazel was quiet, obviously worried. Clara had not come home last night nor sent a word to her mother. This was not unusual behavior for Clara; but Hazel was anxious, always hopeful that her daughter would settle down and accept her responsibilities.
Hazel and Kathleen walked down the road to the fairground, Emily between them. Kathleen gave the tickets to the man at the gate and, holding Emily’s hand, went past the array of concession stands toward the bleachers.
“Do you want a soda pop now or later, Emily?” Kathleen asked.
The child looked at her grandmother, waiting until Hazel said, “You decide, honey.”
“Now,” the little girl whispered.
“All right. We’ll get it at the school booth. The band is raising money to buy a new set of drums.”
“Yoo-hoo, Miss Dolan,” Mrs. Smothers called as they passed the church stand. “Are you taking pictures for the paper?”
“Only of the winners,” Kathleen replied, and kept walking.
“Oh, well—” Mrs. Smothers words were lost as the school band began to play.
With the cold bottle of NeHi pop firmly clutched in Emily’s hand, they went to the bleachers and found seats on the fourth row near an aisle so that Kathleen could go down to the fence and take pictures. Beneath the shade of her hat brim, Kathleen scanned the working area for a glimpse of Johnny. Finally she spotted him leaning against a pole corral talking to a tall dark-haired man who was holding a small child. A blond woman, obviously pregnant, stood beside him. The man had been with Johnny at the restaurant. As she watched, the woman grasped Johnny’s arm and laughed up at him.
Kathleen tore her eyes away from Johnny and looked down at the Kodak in her lap. When she raised her eyes again, they landed on Barker Fleming standing at the end of the bleachers with the judge who had greeted him the day before at the courthouse. His eyes caught her looking at him. He raised his hand acknowledging her and continued his conversation. Her curiosity about him grew. He appeared to be as comfortable talking to a judge as he had been confronting Webb and Krome.
“There’s Mama,” Emily whispered loudly to her grandmother.
“Don’t point, sugar.” Hazel took the child’s hand in hers.
Kathleen turned her eyes toward the entrance to see Clara, teetering on high heels and clinging to the arm of a dapper little man wearing a large Stetson and a blue shirt elaborately decorated with white braid. The legs of his twill britches were tucked into cowboy boots that had large white stars inlaid on the sides. The man strutted like a turkey gobbler in a henhouse. It was almost laughable.
“Now, ain’t he a fine figure of a man?” Hazel said sarcastically.
“Who is he?” Kathleen leaned back away from Emily when she spoke.
“Mr. Conroy from Texas. He stopped in front of the house yesterday. Clara ran out and got in the car. I haven’t seen her since.” Hazel spoke in a loud whisper.
“Is he the one taking her to Nashville?”
Hazel snorted and rolled her eyes. An answer wasn’t necessary.
“His car is big and has a loud horn,” Emily said. “But he wouldn’t be nice. Not like Johnny.”
With raised brows, Kathleen glanced at Hazel over the child’s head. The little girl was very observant. She made no attempt to call out to her mother.
The rodeo started with the contestants parading around the arena on horseback. Johnny, wearing a dark shirt and a red bandanna tied about his neck, was in the middle of the pack. His mount was a high-spirited dapple gray who danced sideways. Johnny kept him under control with a tight rein. As he passed the section where Kathleen was sitting, he looked straight ahead.
“Good luck, Johnny!” The shout came from the blond woman who had been talking to him earlier. She was seated on the first row. The child stood on the plank seat beside her and waved a red handkerchief.
“Who is she?” Kathleen asked.
Hazel shook her head. “I’ve not seen her before.”
After the cowboys left the arena, Barker Fleming moved back from the fence and stood alone at the end of the bleachers.
The first event was the steer-riding contest. The first two contestants were unseated before the time whistle blew.
“These steers are mighty feisty today, folks. Give a hand to that boy who hit the dust.” The announcer’s voice came over the loud speaker. “The next rider is Johnny Henry, number twenty-two. He’s drawn Brimstone, a three-year-old from the McCabe ranch. This sucker is mean, folks. You never know if he’s goi
n’ to turn right or left. Our Johnny has his work cut out for him if he plans to stay on for a full ride. You pickup men best keep a sharp eye. Old Brimstone has been known to turn and try to gore a fallen rider.”
Kathleen drew in a sharp breath. Her eyes were fastened on Johnny mounted on the bull behind the stout wooden gate. He was winding the bull rope around his gloved hand. After anchoring his hat firmly down on his head, he signaled for the gate to open.
The steer with the man on its back shot out of the chute. Johnny held one hand high over his head, the other wrapped in the rope. The enraged animal leaped into the arena the instant the gate was opened, turned and came down on stiff legs. On the next leap the bull turned in midair and Johnny slipped to the side. He stayed astride for another leap, then he crashed into the pulverized dirt with a thud. In an instant he was on his feet scrambling for the fence, hoping to put distance and a solid object between himself and the charging bull.
“Get ’im, boys,” the announcer shouted.
Kathleen’s hands went to her cheeks when the maddened steer raced to gore Johnny with its long sharp horns. A rider shot between them throwing a blanket over the animal’s head, giving it another target to attack. Johnny sprang up behind the rider and the crowd cheered.
“The pickup man is Keith McCabe.” The excited voice of the announcer came over the loudspeaker. “He knows ol’ Brimstone is meaner than sin. He owns him.”
Kathleen’s heart was thudding wildly. She was surprised to realize that she was angry at Johnny. Really angry. The idiot! He could have been killed or maimed for life, all for the sake of a few minutes of glory. She sat quietly, looking straight ahead but not seeing, until her heart settled to its regular beating. She became aware of Emily’s tugging on her arm and looked down at the child.
“I was scared for Johnny.”
“So was I.”
“I wish Johnny liked Mama. If they got married, he’d be my daddy, wouldn’t he?”
“Yes, honey.” Kathleen’s body tensed for a moment at the thought, then relaxed. No. He’d not marry Clara . . . but does he have someone special? Will that account for the sudden changes in his attitude toward me?
The afternoon wore on. Kathleen watched and waited for the events in which Johnny participated. He won the calf-roping contest easily, lost the barrel-racing event when his stirrup raked a barrel, and then it was time for the bronc-riding contest, the rodeo’s main event.
Three of the first four contestants were thrown from their mounts. When it came time for Johnny to ride, Kathleen felt a tightening of dread in her stomach. She watched as two handlers held the head of a dirty gray, long-legged horse with a black mane and tail while Johnny settled himself firmly in the saddle. Johnny’s lanky body was tense and ready. He tugged at his hat, wound the reins around his gloved fist, and dug his feet into the stirrups.
He leaned forward and said something to one of the handlers, then sat back into the saddle. The handlers sprang back, one ripping off the cloth that covered the eyes of the grulla, the other swinging open the gate. Both men dived for the fence out of the way of the slashing hooves. Out of the chute, the horse leaped into the air like a spring coming uncoiled. All four feet left the ground at once, and the animal twisted and came down on stiffened legs.
The gray remained still for a space of a few seconds as if surprised that the weight was still on its back. With awareness came a wild scream and an eruption of crazed fury. The grulla’s eyes were wild and rolling with rage. He shot into the air again. Dust swirled as the enraged animal sought to rid himself of the hated man on his back who continued to rake his sides with his spurs.
The crowd whooped and shouted encouragement.
“Ride ’em, Johnny. Ride that cork-screwing cayuse!”
“Whoopee!”
“Watch it, Johnny, he’s goin’ to roll.”
The longer Johnny stayed on the animal’s back the more frenzied the grulla became. The man and the animal rose in midair, each time coming down with a crash that could snap Johnny’s back. With its black tail and mane flying, its nostrils flaring, the horse charged the fence and would have crashed into it, but Johnny yanked the animal’s head to the side. Sharp hooves churned the dirt, creating a cloud of dust.
Kathleen stood with the rest of the crowd. Her hand covered her mouth to stifle a shriek of fear as the horse reared. For an instant she thought it would go over backward and Johnny would be crushed.
“Time! Time! Get him off,” the announcer shouted.
The crowd was jubilant. The drovers along the fence pounded each other on the back.
Johnny’s hat was gone. His hair, black as the horse’s mane, shone in the sun. His sinewy form was still anchored firmly in the saddle as riders flanked the bucking horse. Johnny slipped off and flung himself behind the pickup man.
Kathleen took a full breath for the first time since Johnny had mounted the horse.
“Ladies and gentlemen, settle down! Settle down! I wish to make an announcement. Johnny Henry has been named All-Around Cowboy of the Rawlings’ 1938 rodeo. Let’s hear a shout for Johnny!” The crowd yelled and clapped. When the noise died down, the voice came again. “Come on up here, boy, and collect your money.”
Someone pushed Johnny up on the platform. He accepted an envelope, shook hands with the announcer and the judges, and made his retreat.
Kathleen looked down and saw the camera in her lap. Only now did she remember that she had come to take pictures.
“I’ve got to go take pictures, Hazel.”
“You go right ahead. Emily and I will tag along behind. Don’t worry about us. If we lose you, we’ll go to the car.”
As Kathleen made her way down the steps of the bleachers, she saw Barker Fleming waiting for her.
“Did you enjoy the rodeo?” she asked.
“I’ve not seen a better one. Not even at the stockyards in Oklahoma City.”
“I’m on my way to take pictures of the All-Around Cowboy. Would you like to come along and meet him?”
“Thank you. I’d like that.”
“Then let’s go get the job done.”
With Barker striding beside her, Kathleen made her way through the crowd to the stock pens, where they found Johnny surrounded by a group of people, including the couple that had been with him before the rodeo began. When he saw Kathleen, his dark eyes lit with pleasure.
“Congratulations, Mr. All-Around Cowboy. May I have a picture for the paper?”
“If you’re sure you want one.”
“I do. Stand back against the fence, face the sun, and tilt your hat brim so that it doesn’t shade your face.”
“You better take my picture, miss.” This came from the smiling man holding the child. “This ugly old son of a gun will break your Kodak, sure as shootin’.”
“I’ll have to chance it ’cause he’s the champ.” Kathleen smiled at the man then let her gaze slide down to include the small blond woman at his side.
“Come on, let’s get this over.” Johnny shifted nervously from one foot to the other trying not to stare past Kathleen at the man who hovered at her side.
“Stand still and look at the camera.” Kathleen backed away and looked down into the viewfinder of the Kodak. “I’d better take another one,” she said after the first shot. “One might not turn out.”
“You can always put one in the barn to keep the rats out.”
“Keith, stop teasing. You’re as proud of him as I am.”
“Ruthy, darlin’, I am proud. I’m damn proud he didn’t break a leg. I need his help getting my stock back home.”
“Don’t swear in front of our son,” she scolded. “He’ll be swearing like a trooper by the time he starts to school.”
“Miss Dolan, meet Mr. and Mrs. McCabe. They know your aunt and uncle in Kansas.” Johnny seemed shy and uncertain about making the introductions, but Kathleen had never been accused of being shy.
“How do you do?” She held out her hand. “I’ve heard about you from Un
cle Hod,” she said to Keith. “And about you, Mrs. McCabe, from Aunt Molly. She said that you were best friends growing up. I was at their house in Pearl when Molly got the news about your son.”
“We’ll not hold it against you for being related to Hod, Miss Dolan.” Keith said.
After they shook hands, Kathleen introduced Barker Fleming.
“Mr. Fleming, this is Johnny Henry, our All-Around Cowboy.”
Barker stepped up to Johnny and held out his hand. The two tall men eyed one another as they shook hands.
“Hello, Johnny.”
Johnny nodded, pulled his hand free, and fumbled in his pocket for the makings of a cigarette.
“Mr. and Mrs. McCabe.” Kathleen finished the introductions.
Barker reluctantly looked away from Johnny and took Keith’s hand.
“I understand that you own the stock used here today,” Barker said.
“Not all, but a good part. Never thought Johnny’d be able to stay on that wild-haired mustang.”
Barker glanced at Johnny. “That was some ride.”
Johnny merely nodded. There was something about Barker that made him uneasy, not the least of it being that he was with Kathleen. Did she go for older, successful men? He was a breed, that was clear, and it didn’t seem to bother her.
“I didn’t like it,” Kathleen said, tilting her chin to look up at Johnny. “That horse hated you and outweighed you by a thousand pounds. Getting on him was the dumbest thing I ever saw. Next time pick on something your own size.”
Ruth chortled happily. “Here’s a woman who thinks like I do. If Keith ever even thinks about getting on that horse, I’ll take the horsewhip to him.”
Johnny looked steadily at Kathleen after her outburst. There was a quizzical look on his face. Their eyes held until Kathleen felt the heat coming up from her neck to flood her face. What in the world caused me to say such a thing?
Barker sensed her discomfort and asked Keith the location of his ranch.
“Six miles across the river outside Vernon.”