Comrade Cowgirl

by Yolanda Wallace

  “What have you done to please her?” Mischa asked with a cheeky grin. “And did you enjoy it as well?”

  “She and I don’t have that kind of relationship.”

  “Do you really expect me to believe nothing has happened between you? You spent the night with her in her hotel room in Moscow. Now you’re living under the same roof. Are you sure you haven’t slipped across the hall at least once in the middle of the night?”

  “There are too many people around for us to get physical here, and she was too wasted in Moscow to do anything except sleep it off. You know I’m not that kind of girl. Whenever I have sex with someone, I want to make sure she enjoys it as much as I do. I don’t want to be the only one bragging about my performance the next day.”

  “Still as humble as ever, I see.”

  “Did you expect my personality to change that much overnight?”

  “No, I thought it would take longer, but you do seem different.”

  “In what way?”

  He leaned his back against the door and looked her up and down. “I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure it out.”

  “Let me know what you come up with, okay? I’m dying to know.”

  “Tell me more about Elena. Does she really expect me to share a room with you, or was she just getting back at you for all the teasing you’ve done about her and Shorty?”

  Anastasia mentally replayed the conversation she and Elena had shared.

  “I’m not sure. Until today, I thought I had a pretty good read on her. Then she made all those hurtful remarks about what she would say if she discovered her child was gay. Now I don’t know what to think.”

  “You got really close to her, didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t expect it to happen so fast, but we just clicked right away. I was looking forward to us growing even closer. I’ve had plenty of female friends, but never one who is that much older than I am. It was nice. It was kind of like—”

  “Having a mother?”

  A lump formed in Anastasia’s throat when Mischa verbalized what she hadn’t been able to put into words.

  “I was going to say mentor, but your description is more accurate. Maybe that’s why it hurt so much when she said the things she did. I felt like I was getting rejected by my mother all over again.”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  “What can I do? It’s not like I can come out to her. That would only make things worse. For me and for you.”

  He placed his hand on her arm. “I’m sorry I got you into this. We’re in so deep now, I don’t know how we can find our way out.”

  “You know the way forward as well as I do. You just have to be brave enough to take it. We both do.”

  Mischa’s eyes welled with tears. “I don’t want to lose my family, Ana.”

  She felt for him. His pain was her pain. This time, however, she didn’t know how to make the pain go away. Ignoring it no longer seemed like the best solution.

  “I don’t want you to either, Mischa, but what good would you be to them if you lose yourself along the way? You have another family, you know. One that loves and respects you for who you are, not who they want you to be. I am a part of that family. So are all our friends.”

  Mischa sniffed and dried his eyes. “Now I know what’s different about you. You’ve grown up.”

  She appreciated the compliment but didn’t feel certain she had earned it. Not yet.

  “It’s only temporary, I’m sure. Just wait. I’ll revert into the immature brat you know and love before you know it.”

  “Not this time.” He took another furtive peek over his shoulder. “And I know exactly who to blame.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “What is he doing here?”

  Laramie heard the suspicion in Yevgeny’s voice even before Anastasia told her what he had said.

  “How would you like me to respond?” Anastasia asked.

  “Tell him you invited Mischa to visit you for family day and explain what the day’s about.”

  The ranch hands’ faces lit up one by one as they listened to what Anastasia said. They started talking excitedly well before she was done. When they pulled out their cell phones, Laramie knew they were calling home to invite their families to attend the festivities.

  “Will your family be joining us, Yevgeny?” Laramie asked.

  “He says if he wanted to spend time with his family, he would live at home instead of here.”

  “I’m sure his wife would say the same thing about him,” Shorty said under his breath. Laramie shot him a look to remind him that Vladimir spoke English, but Shorty wrapped an arm around Vladimir’s shoulders and said, “It’s okay. He’s on our side. Aren’t you, Vlad?”

  Laramie couldn’t tell if Vladimir was more uncomfortable with the hug or the question.

  “You don’t have to answer that, Vladimir. Shorty didn’t mean to put you on the spot. There’s no need to choose sides until war has been declared.”

  Vladimir’s response would have been funny if it weren’t true. “I think war broke out on day you arrived, don’t you?”

  “Unfortunately, I have to agree with you.” She turned to Elena, who was busy ferrying steaming bowls of food from the kitchen to the dinner table. “Will you invite your family to join us as well?”

  “She says Drezna is a long way from Godoroye,” Anastasia said. “Train tickets are very expensive. Who will pay for them, you or Sergei?”

  Now it was Laramie’s turn to be put on the spot. At home, the ranch hands’ families were within driving distance. That wasn’t the case here. She wanted Elena to be able to participate, but it wasn’t the kind of line item she could add to an expense report and she didn’t want to take money out of her own pocket when she needed to hold on to as much of it as she could.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Spasibo.” Elena pointed at Mischa and said something in Russian.

  “She wants to know what we are supposed to do with him,” Anastasia said. “There is plenty of room in bunkhouse. Only available space in main house is in attic. He can sleep on rollaway bed if he does not mind moving a few boxes around. I told her it will take more time to clean attic than Mischa will spend here. He can sleep in office as long as Yevgeny does not mind sharing.”

  “Believe me,” Mischa said, “I have slept in worse conditions.”

  He and Anastasia shared a laugh at the private joke.

  “What did he say?” Laramie asked after Yevgeny growled something that didn’t seem to sit well with everyone else.

  “He said he agreed to arrangement only because Mischa is Sergei’s nephew. He also told Mischa to make sure sleeping is only thing he does in office,” Anastasia said. “This is place of business, not a brothel.”

  “Brothels are places of business, too,” Shorty said. “Some make very good money. Or so I’m told.”

  “You wouldn’t have any firsthand experience, would you, Shorty?” Laramie asked.

  “I’m afraid I’m gonna have to plead the Fifth on that one. I wouldn’t want to incriminate myself in front of our charming hostess.”

  Mischa headed upstairs to place his suitcase in the office. Yevgeny watched him go, obviously upset by the prospect of having to share the space with someone else. Laramie didn’t care if Yevgeny got his feathers ruffled. She just wanted to make sure he couldn’t get rid of any potentially damning evidence before they had a chance to examine it.

  “He wants to know if this is how you plan to win everyone over,” Anastasia said. “By planning parties and inviting their friends for sleepovers.”

  “Tell him if he has any better ideas, he’s free to share them at any time.”

  “He says he will think about it while he has dinner.”

  Laramie pulled out a chair. “In that case, let’s eat.”

  * * *

  Anastasia noticed Laramie didn’t eat her dinner with quite as much enthusiasm as she had the night before. Neither did Shorty. They c
leaned their plates, but they didn’t look too happy about it. She didn’t have the heart to tell them that tonight’s meal was more like a typical Russian meal than last night’s feast had been.

  After dinner, Yevgeny headed upstairs just as he had the night before. Laramie and Shorty deviated from their pattern, however. Instead of going straight to bed, they joined Andrei, Fyodor, Ivan, and Vladimir on the front porch. Andrei played an old folk song on the balalaika. Applause broke out when he was done, but the tune must not have been to Shorty’s liking because Anastasia heard him say, “That was pretty good, Andy, but can you play something peppier? You wouldn’t happen to know any Garth Brooks, would you?”

  Curious, Anastasia pushed the door open and joined them.

  Andrei shook his head after Vladimir translated Shorty’s question.

  “No?” Shorty pointed to the balalaika. “Well, hand that thing to Laramie and let her take a stab at it. It can’t be much different than a guitar or banjo, can it?”

  “A guitar has six strings and most banjos have five,” Laramie said. “That only has three.”

  “Applying the math, that means you should be able to play twice as well as you normally do,” Shorty said with a wink.

  Laramie shook her head when Andrei tried to hand her the balalaika, but the ranch hands egged her on. She reluctantly accepted the instrument from Andrei and took a few tentative plucks at the strings. Once she was satisfied with the notes, she began to sing. Like her speaking voice, her singing voice was a clear, rich alto.

  Anastasia didn’t recognize the song. The lyrics seemed to be a celebration of friendship, whiskey, and beer. That was ample reason for her to like it. She found herself clapping along with everyone else as they kept time with the music.

  Everyone applauded wildly when Laramie was done. Just like at a concert, the crowd begged for an encore. Laramie obliged them. The second song was much slower than the first. As soon as the first few notes rang out, Shorty slapped his hand on his knee and said, “Oh, you went and done it now.”

  He pushed himself to his feet, bowed in front of Elena, and extended his hand to her. Anastasia had been so entranced by Laramie’s performance, she hadn’t noticed Elena and Mischa had joined everyone on the porch.

  “Is he asking me to dance?” Elena said. “Tell him I don’t know this song.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you don’t as long as he does. Just follow him wherever he leads you.”

  Elena tucked her hair behind her ears and took Shorty’s hand. While Laramie sang about life being better left to chance, Shorty led Elena down the steps and waltzed her around the front yard.

  When Anastasia turned away from them, she noticed Laramie was staring at her. It was as if Laramie was performing a private concert and was singing directly to her. The lyrics seemed to be a blueprint of Anastasia’s life. She was thankful for all the pain she had endured over the years because it had given her the opportunity to share this dance with Laramie.

  “She’s good,” Mischa whispered.

  Anastasia nodded in agreement but didn’t say anything.

  “You like her, don’t you?”

  Anastasia glared at him to make him stop talking. She wanted to hear Laramie’s voice, not his.

  He put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll stop, but only because I know I’m right.”

  Laramie continued to hold her gaze long after the song ended. Long after Shorty kissed Elena’s hand and said, “Thank you, ma’am.” Long after the ranch hands treated Laramie, Shorty, and Elena to a standing ovation.

  Laramie didn’t look away until she turned to Andrei and said, “Thanks for the use, Andrei. I hope I didn’t do it any harm.”

  Andrei said something, and Laramie looked at Anastasia with an expectant look on her face. Mischa gave her a gentle shake to let her know it was her turn to speak. “Oh, he says you played instrument much better than he ever has.”

  Laramie squeezed Andrei’s shoulder. “You’re sweet, but I’m going to need some practice if I want to catch up with you.”

  Andrei laughed. “Tell her I will train her to be a good balalaika player if she trains me to be a good ranch hand.”

  Laramie shook his hand. “It’s a deal. With that said, I’m going to turn in.” She tapped two fingers against her forehead in an impromptu salute. “Good night, everyone.”

  Anastasia joined everyone else in bidding Laramie farewell. After Laramie entered the house, she looked back and caught Anastasia’s eye. Anastasia longed to follow her so she could tell her how much she had enjoyed her performance, but Elena touched her arm and beckoned her to accompany her inside.

  “Do you need help clearing the table?” Anastasia asked.

  “No, I wanted to apologize for what I said to you earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Like she had with Mischa, Anastasia nodded but didn’t respond. She needed to hear what Elena had to say before she could decide whether she could forgive her.

  “Do you have friends who are homosexual?” Elena asked.

  “Several.”

  “Women or men?”

  “Both.”

  Elena looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. “And you aren’t afraid they might…do something to you?”

  Anastasia decided to be honest with her. “I feel safer with them than I do with most of the straight people I know.”

  “Just because we have a difference of opinion doesn’t mean it has to become an issue with us, does it?”

  “I will still give you English lessons, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  Elena moved closer. Her voice was as earnest as her expression. “I don’t care about the lessons. I care about you. About us. I want to be your friend. Today, I felt we were more like enemies.”

  “I felt it, too.”

  “Can we start over?”

  Elena opened her arms and Anastasia stepped into them. If she could give Elena a second chance, perhaps Elena would eventually be able to return the favor.

  “I didn’t know you were such a good dancer,” she said after Elena finally let go.

  Elena blushed. “I had a good partner.”

  “The singer wasn’t half-bad either.”

  “She’s a good person.”

  Elena sounded as if she were trying to convince herself that the words were true. Anastasia, however, didn’t need convincing. She knew without doubt that Laramie was the best woman she had ever met. And quite possibly the most attractive. She knew Laramie was attracted to her, too. Before this long journey was over, perhaps they would be able to do something about it.

  Chapter Twenty

  Laramie was so tired she fell asleep almost as soon as she assumed a horizontal position. She woke the next day with a full bladder and a heart brimming with regret. A trip to the bathroom resolved one problem, but she had no idea how to fix the other.

  The time she had spent sitting on the porch and strumming a couple of her favorite Garth Brooks tunes on Andrei’s balalaika was the most fun she’d had since she and Shorty had arrived in Russia. It was also the most bittersweet.

  As she sang the lyrics to the up-tempo song, she had realized how much she had in common with the members of her new team. As she sang the words to the ballad, however, she had realized how many differences they still had to overcome.

  The men had applauded wildly after Shorty and Elena finished their dance. Would their reaction have been as positive if she and Anastasia had been the couple moving in slow circles as they held each other close? Not a chance. She and Anastasia probably wouldn’t have even made it down the steps before all hell would have broken loose.

  As she looked into Anastasia’s eyes while she sang, she had sensed that Anastasia knew exactly how she was feeling because she was feeling the same way. Like they were a part of the group but separate from it at the same time.

  Laramie had wanted to go to her last night. To sit in her room and watch her face transform while she read another poem
from the book Vladimir had given her. To talk with her afterward about whatever subject came to mind. To feel connected rather than left out.

  She hadn’t had a chance to do any of those things because Elena had pulled Anastasia aside. Laramie hadn’t been able to understand any of the whispered conversation she had overheard before she closed her bedroom door behind her, but Elena’s tone had sounded apologetic.

  She hoped Anastasia and Elena had been able to put yesterday’s argument behind them. Good friends were hard to come by. Before their disagreement, Anastasia and Elena had seemed well on their way to becoming just that. In a way, Laramie felt responsible for their rift. After all, it had been Elena’s disapproval of her lesbianism that had driven the pair apart. Her relationship with Elena hadn’t changed as a result of the revelation. It had always been purely professional, and Laramie didn’t see any reason why it wouldn’t continue to remain that way. Anastasia and Elena’s relationship was different. And perhaps forever changed.

  “Time will tell,” she said with a sigh as she finished putting on her work clothes.

  Before she could tap on Anastasia’s door to let her know the shower was free, Elena came running up to her, wild-eyed and speaking Russian so rapidly Laramie couldn’t tell where one word ended and another began.

  “Wait. Slow down. Has something happened to the cattle?”

  Laramie began imagining and discounting all sorts of unpleasant scenarios. She didn’t smell smoke so there wasn’t a fire. She didn’t hear the cattle making any sounds of distress so there weren’t any predators attacking the herd. Elena looked fine, but one of the ranch hands could be having some kind of medical emergency.

  “Is someone sick?” she asked, trying not to panic. “It’s not Shorty, is it?”

  He kept claiming he was indestructible, but he wasn’t as young as he used to be. Then again, neither was anyone else, herself included.