Peggy Dulle - Liza Wilcox 04 - Saddle Up

by Peggy Dulle

  Chase was their new K-9 dog since Tom’s dog Duke was hurt and never went back on patrol.

  “I’ll have a quick breakfast with you and then see you at the rodeo, okay?”

  “Of course.”

  “But before we go downstairs, I just wanted to say that you look very sexy in your cowgirl outfit, especially those red boots. It makes me want to put on a cowboy hat and ride off in the sunset with you.” He pulled me into his arms.

  I put my arms around him and said, “Well, you know the way I feel about your uniform.”

  He laughed and we kissed.

  I didn’t want to take my purse to the parade, so I slipped my cell phone into my back pocket.

  When we got downstairs, Sheryl Ann treated us to a full scale breakfast of pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, and country potatoes, but it was just Tom, Sheryl Ann and myself.

  “Where are the boys?” I asked.

  “Sleeping in. They all got in rather early this morning and they’ve got to be at the rodeo grounds by ten, so they won’t get up until 9:30, then grab anything I have in the kitchen and head over.”

  “Are you going to the parade?” I asked.

  “Nope, I’ve got to get over to the Saddle Club and start cooking for the luncheon. I’ve got a chair if you want to take it with you.”

  “Thanks.”

  I walked Tom out to his car and said, “You want to meet me here so we can go to the rodeo together?”

  “Let’s play it by ear. I’ll call you. Hopefully, it will only take an hour to take care of this. I’ve already got a couple of ideas on who made the mess.”

  I watched Tom go and thought about our future together. If he joined the San Ramon Police Department, he would be one of many officers. In Gainsville, he was one of three and the chief. He knew the community and they knew and respected him. He was willing to dump it all and move to San Ramon, but could I really ask him to do it? I loved teaching at my school, but I would love teaching at another school, too. I live in a small three bedroom condo and his house is large and set amongst pine trees. There really wasn’t any choice, was there? I would lose a few years moving to a new district, but it was better to do it sooner than later, since teachers are paid by number of units and years they’ve taught. I maxed out my units several years ago, so years of service were the only thing that drove my salary. I called Gainsville’s District Office several months ago and they said they would give me seven of my ten years if I moved to their district. It felt like I had made a decision that just made better sense.

  When I got into the house, a camping chair and a bottle of water sat by the door. It was only 8:30 but I wanted to find a good place to sit at the beginning of the parade, so I would see the entire thing and then make it to the Saddle Club to help Sheryl Ann.

  The main street was filled with people. Families had staked out their sections with lawn chairs, blankets and strollers. Men dressed in cowboy outfits pulled rolling carts filled with pink cotton candy, cowboy hats in pink, white, and black, swords, bubble makers, stuffed animals, and blowup superhero and cartoon characters. A little boy in a stroller, maybe three years old, was a few feet from me and when he saw the cart he squealed with delight. His mom finally gave in and bought him a black hat and a sword. He immediately put the hat on and swung the sword back and forth.

  My first thought was, “He’s going to put somebody’s eye out with that thing.” It wasn’t three minutes before he struck his five year old sister on the face with the sword. She started crying and mom yelled at the little boy and took the sword away. He immediately started screaming. It was hard for me to imagine she couldn’t have seen that coming.

  Several families drove up and backed their pickup trucks on the street and everyone piled into the back. Country music blared from their radios and American flags lined the streets on both sides. There were also several men and women who just didn’t look right. They were by themselves or in pairs. They had the clothes right, jeans and t-shirts, but the unnecessary wind breakers to cover their guns and badges made them stick out like they wore neon signs that said, “FBI”. They wandered up and down the street but one of them was always within a few feet of me. It’s nice to be so popular with the Feds! I just looked away and ignored them, determined to enjoy my first rodeo parade.

  Doc set up a small table in front of his office door and put out a cooler and a first aid kit. Then he walked over to where I sat.

  “What’s that for?”

  “It’ll get warm, maybe over ninety, by the end of the parade and people will need water. And at least one person will come in search of some kind of bandage, usually for a kid whose parents were talked into buying a toy from those carts.”

  I glanced over at the little boy and his mother had returned the sword to him.

  The first thing down the street was Earl in his white car with “Ridgedale Security” painted on the doors. He had a police bar on top and the lights were spinning. Every time a kid yelled, “Hello, Officer Earl”, he would sound the siren. The children squealed with delight and the parents laughed. I could tell by the big smile that Earl was in his glory.

  Next came six horses, four riders carried American flags and two with the California flag. Every one stood and the men removed their hats. It was an amazing feeling of patriotism. The kids clapped in rhythm with the horses clopping feet.

  One of the teenagers in the truck bed across from me yelled, “Go America!”

  The crowd laughed and nodded their heads in agreement.

  Priscilla Banner arrived in a buggy pulled by a white horse. She was waving at the crowd, who waved back. Some yelled her name; others yelled good morning to her. Doc moved from behind his table to the curb and waved at her. She took off her hat, bowed her head slightly and blew him a kiss. He blushed and nodded back.

  Next came twelve horses with Rodeo Queens on them from all over the area. They were young and beautiful and dressed in brightly colored elaborate outfits. Each had the year, 2010, and then Miss Rodeo and their city. They made me think of Tom’s ex-wife, Pam. She had been a Rodeo Queen, too. I wasn’t even anywhere near the Rodeo Queen category.

  There were four Corvettes, each with someone running for offices – one for sheriff of the next town, two for senators, and a judge. All had people who came down the street with them and handed out things. I got two pencils, a magnet and a Tootsie Pop. I would vote for the one who gave me candy if I lived in this area.

  Five military vehicles roared down the street. The smell of diesel fuel wafted through the air and assaulted my sense but each flew a flag for one of the armed services and an MIA flag, so the crowd yelled, hooted, and clapped.

  Doc brought over a chair and sat next to me.

  “No customers?”

  “Not yet. It’s too early for people to need water and for the kids to have done enough damage to need a bandage from the same doctor that gives them their vaccines. Besides, here comes my favorite part of the parade.”

  A group of kids carrying a sign that said, “Your Health Matters!” were followed by children of all ages on bikes, scooters, and skateboards. They all had on helmets and some pulled dogs along with them. They all waved and yelled at Doc. Then came more kids dressed in ballet tutus. They twirled to music being blared from the back of a large pickup truck decorated in red, white, and blue. The smaller kids rode on the back of the truck and waved to the crowd. Some of the older kids threw candy to the waiting children on the sidelines. I caught a tootsie roll, opened it up and popped it into my mouth.

  “Candy is not all that good for you,” Doc remarked.

  “I like it,” I told him, picked up another one and put it in my pocket.

  “Just don’t get carried away.”

  I wanted to tell him to shut up, but then I would have to tell him I lied about being pregnant and that I was in his office snooping in his files. It was better to concentrate on the parade.

  Doc stood and moved back toward his office door as a woman rushed over with a child
who had bloodied both his knees. I went back to watching the parade.

  A clown in full makeup, striped overalls, and huge red shoes walked over to me. I’m not a fan of clowns, not since the psycho clown camp.

  “Make you a balloon animal?” the clown said.

  “No thank you,” I told him without making eye contact.

  “I can make you a flower bouquet,” he insisted.

  “No, thank you,” I repeated.

  “How about some daisies?” he asked.

  Daisies are my favorite flowers. I looked up into my dad’s eyes and my heart warmed.

  “I’d love some daisies.” My face erupted into a full smile to project the love I felt toward the man who I thought was dead only a few months earlier.

  “Are you enjoying the parade, miss?” he asked as he blew up a white and yellow balloon with a pump.

  “Yes. I like your costume,” I told him.

  Dad flopped his feet back and forth and said, “me, too.”

  A female FBI agent crossed the street a block from us and started toward us.

  “There sure are a lot of people at the parade.” I glanced at the agent and then back at my dad.

  “That’s for sure.” My dad laughed and winked at me. He twisted the two balloons together to make two daisies, one white and one yellow and handed them to me.

  “Thanks.” I smiled and nodded at him.

  “Enjoy the rest of the parade, miss,” he said, then crossed the street and stopped in front of another woman and her two small boys. Both kids squealed with delight as he made them each a balloon sword. At least they couldn’t hurt someone with them. The female FBI agent stepped back toward the building, dismissing the clown and taking up her surveillance again.

  The next group was the County Sheriff’s Posse. There had to be at least twenty men and women on horseback, many carrying American and California flags. The horses even had blue material with white stars wrapped around their legs.

  The Red Oak Casino, the closest Indian gaming place came next. They had a huge white pickup truck pulling a flatbed. Several Indians danced traditional dances while others beat drums. One man was doing a dance with hoops. It was really cool and quite the crowd pleaser. Girls walked along and passed out two-for-one dinner coupons for the casino buffet to the parents and candy to the kids. I hoped at the end of the parade, the local dentist was handing out toothbrushes.

  Next came five flatbeds advertising the businesses that were open during rodeo weekend: Yummy Ice Cream Shop, Joe’s Antiques, Styling Salon, Two Paws Pet Boutique, and Henrietta’s Day Spa. Each was filled with red, white, and blue balloons. Teenagers handed out the balloons to the kids on the streets.

  When I saw Brenda, she jumped off the pet shop trailer and sat on the curb next to me. Her dad was busy bandaging a little girl’s elbow.

  “You didn’t get in too much trouble, did you?” I asked.

  “I’ve got a nine o’clock curfew until further notice,” she frowned and then smiled. “But that just means he has to be home to make sure I get in by then, so it kind of worked out nice.”

  “I like a girl who finds the silver lining in a situation.” I patted her on the leg.

  She shrugged, handed me a red balloon, waved at her dad and took off down the street to catch up with the floats. I was collecting quite a stash of balloons, candy and flyers.

  A man dressed in light brown jacket, black pants with designs down the sides and a large sombrero rode down the street on a beautiful white horse whose mane and tail had been combed out into fine wisps of hair. He had a microphone and sang something in Spanish. After him came a flatbed decorated in traditional Mexican rugs and sombreros. Ten men dressed in white jackets, pants with black designs down the sides and white sombreros played guitars, drums, and trumpets, providing the music for the man singing. Next came twelve girls dressed in beautiful red, yellow and orange long dresses that they held at the end and swished back and forth to the music, occasionally twirling and letting the dresses float outward. They were followed by thirty men on horseback. I recognized the wooden saddles from the ones we used in Mexico on our cruise last summer. The horses were high-stepping and seemed to dance to the music along with the girls.

  The Rioters were next. It was a large flatbed covered with hay bales. The high school football team and cheerleaders waved from the float. Everyone in the crowd cheered for them.

  “We’re too small to have our own high school, so our kids go to the one in the next town. They’ve won the state championship three years in a row,” Doc said when he sat down next to me again, finally finished with the little girl.

  “I’m surprised your daughter isn’t one of the cheerleaders.” I remarked.

  “She was last year, but now she says that cheering is for losers.”

  “Really? What happened?”

  “See the boy sitting on top of the cab of the truck?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s Tad Jenkins. He’s the team’s quarterback.”

  “They were a couple and he dumped her?”

  “Not exactly. Before we moved downtown two years ago, we lived in a house and Tad and his family were our neighbors. Tad was the first kid we let hold Brenda. He was one when she was born. Ray, Tad’s dad, worked on one of the big cattle ranches that used to be south of the town and he brought home meat on Friday. We had BBQs together every weekend and those two kids were inseparable. His mom and my wife worked together in the school’s office and had picked out their china and silverware already.”

  “Then he got into high school.”

  “Yep, he joined the football team and a year later when she went to high school, she became a cheerleader. He hangs out with the older boys on the team and she was just too young for them. Tad won’t even say hello to her when they pass in the hallway of school.”

  “The trials and tribulations of being a teenager. I wouldn’t go back if you paid me,” I told him.

  “Me neither,” he agreed.

  “Did you keep having the BBQs even after you moved into town?” I asked.

  “Not as often and then Ray, Tad’s dad, took a job at the Lagoon. He’s the night watchman and works most weekends. ”

  The next two floats were for the local churches – St. Joan of Arc and Valley Community Church. The times and days of services were listed on banners. I got another balloon and two lollipops.

  A few llamas, then several classic Model A cars and trucks were next. I’m not much of a car person, so I looked past them. All I could see for miles were clowns. They walked or rode on bikes, stilts, tricycles, motor scooters and little cars, all dressed in bright colors and full face paint. The crowd clapped and the kids laughed at their antics, especially the one riding the tiny car that spewed bubbles out its tailpipes.

  An older lady wearing a white apron over a flowered dress ran up to Doc and yelled, “You’ve got to come quick, Doc. There’s been an accident at the Saddle Club! I think he’s dead!”

  CHAPTER 16

  “Let me grab my bag.” Doc jumped up and ran into his house.

  I picked up my chair and followed him, handing my balloons and extra candy to kids as we passed. A woman and a man talked into their sleeves and followed us. These guys should watch more television since the move was so obvious.

  “You should stay and watch the rest of the parade, Liza,” Doc said as he walked toward his back door.

  “I’ve seen enough. I hate clowns and maybe I can help.”

  “I was going to take my motorcycle, but you shouldn’t be riding a bike right now.”

  “I’m fine, Doc. Let’s go.” I set the chair by his back door.

  “I don’t have time to argue with you,” he said and as we went through the door, he picked up two helmets from the top of the washing machine.

  Outside was a black motorcycle. He put on his helmet and handed me the other, then threw his leg over, helped me on and hit the ignition. Within seconds we flew down the back roads so we could avoid the main stree
t. I saw several agents scramble to find a vehicle to follow us.

  The Saddle Club was at the other end of the town from the doctor’s house. I have to say I had never ridden a motorcycle before, but it was quite an exhilarating experience. Feeling the wind whip around you and sensing the motion was quite the thrill. Now I know why Tom wanted one of these but let his common sense talk him out of it.

  Within a few minutes we pulled up to a tall barn-like structure.

  Sheryl Ann paced at the front step.

  Doc parked the bike and he and I sprinted toward the building.

  “What’s up?” he asked as we all went through the front door.

  “I was cooking for the luncheon and some of the ladies were helping me. We always use the back door, so nobody had gone into the dining room yet. I sent Esther into the room to open the front door for the vendors and she came back screaming.”

  We came into a large room with tables and chairs stacked to one side. In the middle was a group of five women, they made a circle around a man who laid face down.

  “Why didn’t you call 911?” Doc said, jogging toward the man.

  “He’s got no pulse, Doc, and he’s stone cold,” Sheryl Ann told him. “I needed to call the coroner and in this town, that’s you.”

  Doc slowed his pace and said, “Give me some room, ladies.”

  The man was dressed in jeans, boots, and a western shirt – definitely a cowboy. But was he a local or from the rodeo? Blood pooled to the right of his back.

  Doc turned him over away from the blood and several of the women gasped.

  He was probably in his forties, brown hair, bright blue eyes opened and glassed over. He had been a nice looking man. Now, he was gone – cut down by a single bullet.

  “It’s Ray Jenkins,” the woman who had come to get Doc said.

  “Was Jenny on the float for her dog boutique today?” another woman asked.

  “Yes,” Doc told her, “And Tad was with his team. But he’s been dead since last night. We need to call in the county sheriff.”