Cowboy Sing Me Home

by Harris, Kim Hunt

  “I want to give you a few statistics. In 1950, the southwest experienced the worst drought it had seen in twenty years. Crops died, farms went bankrupt, families were seperated and torn apart. By 1954, the entire area was blessed by good rainfall and nice warm summers. Aloma County got 13 inches in March and April alone. Cotton prices went up to 54 cents a pound, about the equivalent of a dollar today. The John Deere house sold more new tractors over the next two years than they ever had. New housing construction went up, not to mention new barn construction. Then in 1962, another drought hit. Production went down. Times got hard. People tightened their belts and worried and lost sleep and worked harder. But they made it through. The rain came back, production went back up, and by the mid-70s things were so good, Helen and Charles Tanner decided they could afford to hear the pitter patter of tiny feet running around their house.” He nodded to a woman out in the audience, who beamed at him. “By the time I was in second grade, the talk all over the county was how low cotton prices were. In fourth grade, everyone was flush and putting in new irrigation systems. By fifth grade, prices were the worst they’d ever been, and farmers were striking, refusing to plant. By eighth grade, we had so much cotton, the gin had to hire more workers than it ever had.

  “This is the kind of people we come from, folks. Our ancestors didn’t settle this land and raise their families by giving up when things got tough. They fought, not with each other, but together, side by side. They worked, and they persevered. And we’re going to do that, too.”

  Murmuring approval rose from the crowd. Dusty looked around to see a head dipped as if in shame here, a chin rubbed in contemplation there.

  “Take a look around you. Go on, look.” There were a few nervous laughs, the rustle of movement among the crowd. “These are your neighbors. These are your friends. In a lot of cases, these are your family members. We’re going to outlast this drought. And we’re going to do it together. And when it’s all over, and we’re all feeling flush again…” He grinned, and the crowd laughed lightly. “When times are good again, and the crops come in, and cotton prices are high, we’ll all still be here, with our friends, our neighbors, and our family.”

  Dusty was surprised to feel her throat grow tight. It really was like something out of a Rockwell painting. Or like something out of one of her daydreams.

  “That’s what Rain Fest is all about. It’s about us pulling together in the way we know we can, and proving to ourselves and everyone else that we’re stronger than any drought or heat wave. Hopefully by this time tomorrow people are going to be coming from all over the state to take part in the festival. There will be news cameras and reporters, families visiting from the city, and more people than this town has seen in a long time. What are we going to show them? A bunch of rednecks at each other’s throats? Of course not. Because that’s not who we are in Aloma. We’re neighbors, and friends, and family.”

  Stronger murmuring of assent this time, and a hearty, “Damn right!” from the back of the crowd.

  The crowd laughed again, and Dusty could feel the energy in the air, feel the spirit of community and camaraderie that Luke was talking about. She could feel it, and for the second time in the span of half an hour, she felt envious.

  “Damn right,” Luke echoed. “We might get on each other’s nerves once in a while, but when times get tough, we pull together. And we need to pull together now. To make this event a success, and to remind ourselves what a jewel of a town we have. I have to say, even I’m amazed at how hard everyone’s working. The choir is sounding awesome and Brother Mark is getting ready for the Jubilee. The booths are going up for the street carnival, and we’ve got entertainment for the whole family. For you grownups, we have an outstanding singer joining us out at Tumbleweeds, the extremely talented Dusty Rhodes. She’s even making our pitiful old house band sound good, and I know you’re all going to want to come out and hear her.”

  His eye caught hers, and she had to remind herself that she was immune to his charm when he gave her a soft smile. He turned back to the crowd, and Dusty breathed again.

  “All these things are happening because we’re working together. Dub at the grocery store wanted me to announce that, in the cooperative spirit of Rain Fest, and in light of the fact that most of us are eating Stevie’s barbecue sauce, he’s running a two-for-one special on antacid tonight.”

  Dusty shook her head as the crowd once again laughed. She almost wished she could take Luke Tanner on the road with her. He’d be a great asset in engaging the crowd.

  “And to kick things off tonight, in addition to this great food we have some fabulous entertainment for you. So without further yammering from me, it is my pleasure to announce the Aloma Junior High Poetry Club!”

  The crowd applauded as three pre-teen girls and one boy walked up the steps to the gazebo, then stood shoving each other to see who would have to go first.

  Luke returned to the table amidst applause and more than a few pats on the back.

  “Very smooth,” Dusty said when he sat down beside her.

  He shrugged. “I do my best. Were you impressed enough to give me that smile you’re not going to give Stevie?”

  “We’ll see. If -- ”

  “Are you trying to take my job away from me?” Toby interrupted. “I’m the dashing and charming public figure around here. Don’t even think of running for Sheriff in the next election.”

  “Don’t worry,” Luke said. “I’m comfortable with second in command.” He turned back to Dusty. “How’s your potato salad?”

  “Great,” she said, because she didn’t want to admit she hadn’t tasted it. “Deli -- ”

  “That was quite a speech, son.”

  Dusty watched as a beefy hand landed on Luke’s shoulder. “Just what we needed to hear.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Buchanan.” He took Dusty’s hand, and because they were in public she let him. “I’d like you to meet Dusty Rhodes. I hope you can come out to Tumbleweeds and catch our show.”

  Dusty nodded at the older man who stood over Luke, but the man didn’t notice. He promised to come see the band Friday night and moved on.

  Another man replaced him. Then another, then a woman, then a girl who was pretty enough to have Dusty surreptitiously checking herself for barbecue sauce spills.

  Luke tried to include Dusty in the conversations, but it became apparent before long that everyone knew everyone, except her.

  It bothered her. It shouldn’t have. But it did.

  She tried to pay attention to the white-haired boy on the stage reading “Casey at the Bat”, but with all the commotion it wasn’t easy. While Luke was locked in conversation, she excused herself and walked to her pickup. She didn’t have time to sit around and try to get a word in edgewise, she thought irritably.

  “Was it something I said?”

  Dusty looked over her shoulder to see Luke following her across the parking lot.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She dug her keys out of her pocket and kept walking.

  “You left without saying goodbye. I’m sorry about all the commotion. Are you mad?”

  “Of course I’m not mad. I’m leaving so I can get ready for rehearsal, that’s all.” She opened the door to her pickup and climbed in, but Luke stood in the way so she couldn’t close it.

  She raised her eyebrows at him. “Did you need something?”

  He just grinned and shook his head, moving closer to her until she could see the ice blue of his eyes, the lines that bracketed his mouth.

  “I’m glad you came.” His voice was soft, his eyes directly on hers as if he didn’t notice the people all around them. “Both tonight, and for the Rain Fest.”

  “Mmm,” she said, because her mouth went dry and her heart sped up when he looked at her like that. And that was annoying. It meant he had the upper hand, and she didn’t like that at all.

  “Did you have a good time?”

  “Sure. Listen, I’ve got to go, get set up.”

/>   “Okay, but first…” He flashed that devilish grin at her, and she reminded herself again that she was too smart to fall for charm.

  “What?”

  “Can I have some bye-bye sugar?”

  Caught off guard, Dusty laughed.

  Luke put his hand over his heart and pretended to swoon. “She laughed! She not only smiled, she actually laughed. Out loud.”

  “Okay, Ace, don’t blow it now. You get one point for making me laugh. Now get your butt to rehearsal before I give Stevie your spot.”

  By the time Luke and the rest of the band arrived for rehearsal, Dusty had a guitar in her hand, the song list on her mind, and her composure back. She may be kicking around the idea of a fling, but rehearsal was rehearsal, and there was no room in it for the distraction of fantasizing.

  She put the band through their paces, but she’d been right to come down hard from the beginning. They were on their toes, and likely to stay there as long as she didn’t let the reins out too much.

  “Okay,” she said after they’d run through the first four or five songs. “The covers are coming along okay, let’s work on some of my original songs. I trust you already learned the originals I sent ahead?” It turned out that the publicity packets she’d sent ahead were lost somewhere in the mess that was Rodney’s office, but they did have the list of cover songs she’d sent, so hopefully everything they needed to do the originals had found the right place, no thanks to Rodney and his management skills.

  The band nodded in unison. “Yes ma’am, we got ‘em,” Steve threw in at the last second.

  Dusty chewed the inside of her lip to keep from smiling, Luke’s earlier words on her mind. “Good. Let’s do ‘She’s On The Outside Looking In.’”

  Someone cleared his throat, and Dusty raised her eyes to see uncomfortable looks on everyone’s faces. Stevie and Tommy both looked to Luke. The bass player was staring at her. When she stared back, he started and looked at the floor.

  “What?” Dusty asked. They didn’t like the song?

  “The version we got was called “He’s On The Outside Looking In.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “No, you said ‘she.’ Not ‘he.’”

  Dusty just looked at him.

  “She’s On The Outside Looking In. That’s what you said. Not he.”

  Dusty blinked, and remained silent. She heard Stevie swallow.

  “I said ‘he’”.

  Luke tucked his tongue in his cheek. “She.”

  Dusty narrowed her eyes at him. “Whatever.” The seconds ticked by as she met his banal look with a glare. “He… Is On the Outside. Looking In.”

  “Yeah, we know that one,” Luke said, his eyebrows raised innocently.

  “Then let’s play it. On three.” She counted off the ballad and was pleased to hear the guys come in right on cue.

  Luke told himself he was going to have to quit baiting her if he hoped to get any closer than he was right now without ‘drawing back a nub,’ as she’d put it. But the challenge to rattle her was entirely too much fun.

  He knew the words by heart now, because the band had practiced all Dusty’s original songs before she came, and he sang backup on this one. He knew the song was about some poor sap who had lost his family and was outside of society, looking in. The guy had friends and associates, but no one he really connected with, and at night he went home and basically moped around and felt sorry for himself. It was good old country-and-western cry-in-your-beer type stuff.

  What Luke didn’t know, and had not expected, was how in Dusty’s hands the song came alive. Before he even knew what hit him, he was thinking about how he felt that way sometimes: like everyone else had someone except him. The rest of the world was pairing off two by two at a heart-stopping rate and here he was, going home to an empty, silent house. Never mind the fact that he wanted it that way. Never mind the fact that most of those people who were chained to each other probably couldn’t even remember why, and certainly didn’t enjoy being together anymore. With Dusty’s dark, husky voice filling the air and winding its way into his gut, his life suddenly seemed stark and empty, and he’d only this moment opened his eyes to that fact. When she sang

  Like a kid with his nose pressed against the window

  He wonders if he’ll ever know

  When the time has come

  To be more than one

  he felt like that kid, remembering the way he used to stare at Toby’s parents and the look they had in their eyes for each other; the way he still sometimes stared at Toby and Corinne, and Colt and Becca, and wondered if it really was possible to have what they thought they had. Wondered if it was really possible to have that kind of bond for eternity. Wondered if there really were people in the world who managed to live together day in and day out and didn’t end up wanting to strangle each other.

  She’d found that part of him, the wistful boy inside him he didn’t acknowledge, and that only put him in more awe of her. The song ended on a long, slow, low note that melted and melded itself into his marrow, and he knew that he would always be able to remember this song, and this feeling it produced.

  He heard a sniff behind him, and looked back to see Stevie busily fiddling busily with his guitar, and he hid a smile. So he wasn’t the only one affected by the song. She had a gift of tapping into secret desires, fears and hopes.

  He turned to tell her so, but she was lifting her guitar over her head. “Okay, let’s take ten and come back and do ‘Tie Me Up In Knots’.”

  He followed her outside, admiring her straight back and long legs as she walked. “You have a real gift,” he said.

  She spun, apparently surprised he was there. “Excuse me?”

  “You have a way of reaching the collective subconscious, I think, and putting universal feelings into words. It’s a gift.”

  She shoved her hands in her pockets and shrugged. “Yeah, well, you know… country music people really go for that sappy stuff.”

  “True. But even a cynic like me could hear the heart that went into writing that song.” “Listen, Sporto.” She held her hands up and backed away. “I don’t mean to be rude, but we only have ten minutes, and I have some phone calls to make. So if you don’t mind…”

  She didn’t stick around to see if he minded or not. She turned and walked toward her pickup, leaving him to chew his lip and admire the view.

  The guys were all tired after the late rehearsal, and no one except Luke stuck around for long, after Dusty said they could go for the night. She disappeared into the back of the bar, and as he waited for her, Luke turned out all the lights except one over the center of the dance floor, then fed a dollar’s worth of quarters into the jukebox. He punched in four of his favorite slow songs.

  Dusty came out of the bathroom and picked up her guitar case. She walked toward the door, her shoulders slumped and her gait slow. She stopped when she saw him leaning against the bar, holding a full mug of beer. “You’re not expecting me to dance with you, are you?”

  “You don’t know how?”

  “Of course I know how. I just don’t want to.”

  “I can teach you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” He se this glass on the bar and moved toward her.

  “I’m not afraid. I’m tired.”

  “Come on. I’ll teach you.”

  Knowing fully that she’d been goaded into it, she stepped into his arms. “I grew up in honky-tonks. I could dance circles around you.”

  “Would you do it wearing nothing but that hat, then?”

  “Don’t push your luck.”

  She allowed him to gather her close, and told herself it was simply the tiredness that had her laying her head on his shoulder and leaning her weight against him. Not because it felt good to be held. Not because she was feeling out of sorts lately and his touch was comforting. Not because she was flattered that he’d taken such an unrelenting interest in her. She was just tired.

  “I knew you’d be a great dancer.”

 
; She murmured against his shoulder, her eyes closed. “This isn’t dancing. This is sleeping standing up.”

  He laughed and took her into a spin, then bent her backwards over his arm. He gave her a kiss that was soft, and tender, and entirely too short, and brought her back up.

  It took an effort to hang on to her aloofness. “I realize you are under the impression that you’re charming.”

  “Yes I am. I have been told that on many occasions, by very reputable women. At least, they were reputable before I got hold of them.”

  “These women, reputable or not, must not get out much.”

  He laughed. “You may have a point there. You, on the other hand, have been all over the country. So you’re unimpressed with my charm.”

  “How did you know I’d been all over the country?”

  “I found your publicity packet in the office. Rodney was supposed to put up those fliers and send the press release to the radio station. He’s not exactly a business man.”

  “From what I’ve seen, Rodney is fortunate to pull himself together long enough to get the light bill paid and the liquor ordered.”

  “He’s definitely doesn’t run Tumbleweeds like his uncle did, but he hobbles along.” His hand splayed in the small of her back, warm and solid. “It must be a lot of fun, living free like that, seeing America.”

  She didn’t know if ‘fun’ was the word, exactly. It was her life.

  “What’s your favorite part?”

  “Favorite part of what?”

  “Of the country. Where do you like going the best?”

  She wrinkled her brow, lost in the sway of their bodies together, the soft music after hours of hearing a six-piece band over a P.A. system, the feel of the night breeze wafting in the opened door. The road outside seemed to stretch on forever, and at times it felt more like a treadmill that never stopped than it did a road to anywhere. What was her favorite place?

  “I don’t really know. I guess I haven’t thought about it.”