“Are you sure you’re going to live?” he said, chuckling now.
“Well, if I start to go, you are a doctor. Surely you could do something to revive me.”
Their eyes met.
He said, “I imagine I could do something.”
A little startled, she looked into her cup and drank deeply.
A mischievious inner voice whispered, You’re sittin’ on a bed. Why not haul him up? And suddenly the image of them both entwined bare naked popped into her mind. It was very disconcerting.
They went to the barn to feed Lulu and to wash up in the rest rooms. That took Rainey some time; she thoroughly washed her face and brushed her hair, pinning it up, and then she reapplied her makeup. She felt enormously better when she came out.
Harry was nowhere in sight.
She walked outside the barn and looked around. The fair-grounds were coming alive. The first of the morning sun’s bright rays shone on the fall-colored trees and yellow-block buildings and the Ferris wheel skeleton poking up against the pale sky. A number of trucks and stock trailers were arriving. A woman wearing chaps and a fancy shirt led two beautiful horses into the barn where the cutting competition would soon begin. Men could be seen stirring over at the carnival rides, beginning their inspections and maintenance.
Then she spied Harry over in the area behind the stock barn, where fencing was being set up. She knew him because of his height, and the way he stood.
“It’s pig racing,” he told her when she joined him.
“Yes.”
Nearby sat a truck and trailer that had Jernigan’s Racing Pigs emblazoned on it.
“Are they going to ride them?” Harry asked. “How fast can they go?” Clearly he was fascinated with the prospect of racing pigs.
Rainey told him that no one rode the pigs, they just raced on a course, and that it was quite a lively act, too. “But right now, I’m hungry,” she said, tugging his arm. “Let’s go to that café you were talkin’ about. We can eat some pigs.”
He looked startled, then glanced from her to a single pig, which had been unloaded into a pen. The pig was huge, pink and cute.
“Now I don’t know if I can eat sausage,” he said, coming along.
“Oh, they aren’t that cute close up. They’re really ugly.”
He led the way to the café he had found, acting, she thought, quite proud of himself. Rainey was not familiar with it and judged it to be a new addition since she had been to the fair. She was immediately relieved to see coffee served in mugs and food served on plates, even if they were plastic, and with stainless silverware.
“This is a great place,” she told him, when they sat down.
He looked pleased.
She ordered scrambled eggs and hash browns, and a big cinnamon roll and orange juice. Harry ordered two eggs, hash browns, and biscuits and gravy, and sausage, too, after a moment’s thought.
“I have corrupted you.” She looked at his plate. “All that fat and salt…a heart attack waiting to happen,” she added, using his own term.
“What?” he said, stretching up and looking down at his skinny self. “Do you think I need to worry about my weight?”
She looked at his slender body. “I guess not. In fact, here, have some of my cinnamon roll. You know, you may have met me just in time.”
His reply amazed her. “Yes, I think I did meet you just in time.” Her gaze flew upward to see him slowly taking a bite of the rich biscuit, while his brown eyes held a decidedly sexy light.
She averted her gaze to take up her coffee cup, thinking, Oh my Lord, what did I say and what are we doing?
Rainey purchased three sausage biscuits to go, for the puppy. When they stepped outside, she said, “I guess we can look around, if you want. I’ll need to let my food settle before I exercise Lulu.”
First they walked around the carnival. It was early, and none of the rides were in operation, but people were stirring. This time was used for maintenance and relaxation, too. While people would soon begin streaming into the fair exhibits, most would not come to the carnival until afternoon.
Harry looked at it all in that curious manner he had of looking at everything. He said he had never been to a carnival, nor even the state fair. “I have been to Six Flags…back in college,” he said.
Rainey, on the other hand, had been to many a carnival. “There’s a small circus that comes to Lawton every year, and they have a carnival, too. Mama and Daddy and I went most years. Daddy used to work with a carnival, back in his early twenties.”
Her father had explained the dynamics of each carnival game to her, she told him. While the games looked more modern, the basics of them had changed very little over the years.
“See the ball toss. Well, first off, it’s difficult to get balls in the glasses because the balls are of a perfect size just to barely fit, and they’re plastic, which makes them want to bounce over the rims. And that ring toss on the bottles…some of the rings will be made a hair smaller than others, and you can’t tell it just by lookin’. They will hardly fly over a bottle. And see those glasses for tossin’ in coins—some will sit a hairbreadth lower or higher. Anymore, there isn’t much out-and-out cheating—the police watch for tricks—so mostly it is all these little dynamics, so that when you win a prize, you put out enough money to pay for it.”
As Harry and Rainey walked past, a few of the carnies in the booths called lazily for them to come and try the games. Rainey kept shaking her head.
Then they passed a dart-throwing booth. When the round man there called, “Hey, come give it a try. I’ll give cut-rate this early in the mornin’!” Harry grabbed her hand and tugged her over.
He plunked down a dollar, and the man handed him five darts. Harry cut his eyes to her and then focused on the board of balloons for a full minute. So long, in fact, that Rainey had begun to wonder if something was wrong when, in quick, smooth succession, Harry threw the darts. Five times and five broken balloons.
The carnie looked at him and put five more darts on the counter. Harry plunked down a dollar, picked up the darts, stood there and looked at the board, and then did it again.
“Now I got to blow up a bunch more balloons,” the carnie said. Apparently having been entertained as much as he could stand, he waved his hand at a row of prizes.
“The mouse,” Harry said, pointing. He immediately handed the stuffed gray mouse to Rainey, took her elbow and led her away. “I used to play a lot of darts in school and early in my residency days,” he said. He was, she could tell, extremely pleased with himself. He was quite irresistible that way.
On the way back to the truck, she led the way through the stock barn, where people were preparing their animals for the day’s shows. Today it was cattle of various breeds.
“Be careful where you step,” she cautioned. She held her stuffed mouse close. She didn’t want to drop it in the dirt, and she also had to remember not to rub it against the greasy paper bag of sausage biscuits for the dog.
It was clear that Harry had never seen cattle so close up. He was amazed at the cows’ big soft eyes and the rings in the bulls’ noses, a little disturbed by those that were chained to posts and more disturbed by those that were not.
“What if they run off?” he said, eyeing intently an enormous bull that was not chained, and that eyed him back in a lazy manner.
“Where are they gonna go?”
To his raised eyebrow, she explained that these show animals were not like wild ones. “They’ve been handled all their lives. It isn’t likely they will break into a sudden spree of terror. Doesn’t he seem content lying there?”
She gazed with warmth at the bull, whose long lashes entranced her. She had gone through a period in her life when she refused to eat beef, because of the animals’ lovely eyes.
Then she look over to see that Harry still had a skeptical expression on his face. She pointed to another bull farther along.
“Even an animal considered dumb knows when he’s well-off,” sh
e said as they came to that bull. His owner was grooming him, scratching the bull’s head in the process. The nameplate nearby read: Big Babe.
“Just don’t wave nothin’ in his face,” the man told Harry. “He doesn’t like to be teased…no animal does. You want to scratch his head?”
Harry, clearly delighted, did so and ended up in a full discussion about the animal and its grand attributes, according to his owner.
Watching the light in his eyes and the way he tilted his head to listen, Rainey suddenly experienced a disconcerting feeling in her chest. She turned and stepped away. Seeing the open doors to the rodeo arena that was attached to the stock barn, she walked toward them. She thought it would be a good idea to refresh her mind about where she and Lulu would be running. As she stood there gazing into the cavernous building, Harry came up beside her.
“Is this where you’ll race tonight?”
“Uh-huh, and tomorrow night, too, if we’re lucky.” She walked out atop the dirt. “It’s a little small, and the entry is off center. That won’t bother Lulu, but a lot of professional racers won’t come to these arenas with off-center entries anymore. They have their horses trained for entering straight in, and an off-center entry cuts their times.
“This place is perfect for bull and bronc ridin’, and ropin’, though. And the people sittin’ in the front rows get a really good view.”
He began to ply her with all sorts of questions about the rodeo. As she answered, he nodded thoughtfully and roamed his eyes over the pens and the seats and the tall ceiling, as if trying to picture it all. He went to look at the bull and bronc chutes, bending and peering through the rails, then climbing up to get a better look.
Encouraged by his avid interest, she pointed out the old wooden ceiling and spoke of what the building must have seen in its time. They speculated on the building’s age.
“Daddy rode broncs a couple of times here, and my mother almost won the All-Round Cowgirl title at an all-girl rodeo here in the fifties. She had to ride a bronc in tryin’ for that, and Daddy told her that if she was goin’ to give it a try, she damn well better not come off. She did come off, though, and the horse stepped on her hand and broke it in two places. Cost her and Daddy over a thousand dollars in medical bills. Mama began and retired from bronc riding at the same event.”
She had not recalled this history in a long time, had had no reason to do so. Now she thoroughly enjoyed the telling of it all to Harry. And she enjoyed the way he looked at her and cocked his head, listening intently, as if he wanted to know everything she could tell him.
She simply adored looking at Harry.
CHAPTER 17
Kinship
“I really need to get him a bowl today,” Rainey said, crumbling the sausage biscuits on the paper bag for the puppy. She had been using Uncle Doyle’s dishes when she had bought his food.
“I imagine ol’ Roscoe would appreciate that, wouldn’t you, buddy?” Harry said, petting the dog.
He and the dog seemed to have grown quite close. Rainey experienced a little slice of jealousy, followed by panic. What if the dog went off with Harry, when he went off? At the thought of Harry leaving, her mind seemed to short-circuit and go blank.
She took a breath and said, “His name is not Roscoe,” as she put the food down. She was pleased with the way the puppy politely sat and waited and didn’t bump her arm. He ate very delicately, too.
“Then what is his name?”
“I don’t know yet. I have to wait for the right one to come to me.” She gazed at the puppy. “Duke. Duke is a good honorable name.”
“Duke is the name of a hound dog.”
She looked at Harry with some surprise. “Why would Duke have to be the name of a hound dog?”
“It just is. In all the movies, the hound laying on the porch is always Duke.”
When they went into the horse barn to get Lulu, they saw that the cutting competition was in progress in the arena there. Harry was keenly interested.
“I haven’t actually seen cutting,” he said, “but one of the doctors at the hospital had cutting horses and was always talking about them.”
“Well, let’s go up and sit down for a while. I have plenty of time to work Lulu.”
The stands were not very crowded. Rainey led the way to the middle, which she thought gave a good view of the goings-on in the arena. She explained the happenings and gave her opinion as to the ability and performances of each horse and rider. Harry got so caught up that he leaned forward and appeared to be trying to help the horse in its challenge with the steer.
Rainey looked at the back of his head. He kept taking his hat off and holding it, then slapping it back on his head, all in unconscious motions. She gazed at his thick, lustrous hair, at it curling down upon his collar. Imagined putting her fingers into it and playing with it.
She was so confused about Harry. She couldn’t let herself care for him. They were just friends spending a weekend together. Mutual need. He needed her company, and she supposed she needed his, although she didn’t want him to know that. She didn’t even want to know it herself.
She wondered if she was going to get foolish and sleep with Harry.
Almost as if he heard this thought, Harry glanced over his shoulder to see her gazing at him. “What?” he said with little-boy innocence.
“You,” she said, grasping at so many impressions at once. “I thought you didn’t much like horses.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like horses. I said I didn’t trust them. I can trust them when I’m not having anything to do with them.”
“That makes good sense, fella,” a man sitting on the other side of Harry said.
Rainey glanced over to see a man, alone, one boot up on the bleacher in front of him. He was one of the old cowboy type common in that part of Texas, wiry and hunched over, pant legs tucked into his boots, the brim of his straw cowboy hat turned up sharply at the sides, and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
“Don’t ever trust a wild animal,” the man said around the cigarette. “And horses are wild animals, no matter how much they’ve been kept up. You can ride one and pet it and love it, but you’d better not trust it one hundred percent.”
“My father always said that,” Rainey said, feeling called on to say something to be polite.
“Well, he’s right. I been run over by a number of perfectly tame horses. Not out of meanness, now I don’t mean that, but a horse can get spooked or just throw a plain ol’ hissy fit. The dang thing is a thousand pounds, and half the time he don’t know his own power. He’s like a little spoiled kid, and he can get scare’t of the least thing. The son of a buck might have seen a hundred blowin’ paper bags, and then one flies past and suddenly he’s higher than a kite and comin’ down on you.
“You’re Coweta Valentine’s girl, aren’t ya?” he asked.
The question startled her. She had been trying to watch the current horse and rider cutting in the arena, while appearing to listen to the man’s exposition. She had not expected him to say anything important, certainly not to make a reference to her mother. For an instant she felt she’d been caught not paying attention, and then the full import of the question hit her.
“Yes,” she said slowly, searching his face. He peered intently at her with blue eyes shining like lights out of his darkly tanned face.
“You must be her last one…Rainey?” he asked, as if bringing the name up from deep in his memory.
“Yes, I am. You knew my mother?” She wondered all about it, felt her blood coming fast.
He nodded, squinching his blue eyes. “From a long ways back. Dang, if you ain’t Coweta made over. You look just like she did at yer age.”
“People say that.”
She saw that Harry was looking at her, a curious expression on his face. She sort of smiled at him, and very conveniently a cheering rose up for the horse that had just completed its go, so it was natural for her to turn her eyes to the activity in the arena. Still, all her attention
remained focused on the old cowboy.
Was he her father?
Oh, Lord, it was crazy. But he could be. That was just the thing of it. He could be. Stranger things had happened in this world.
She saw then quite clearly that the thought had been with her all these months. While she’d been traveling all over looking for herself, a part of her had been searching for the man who had sired her, too. Oh, maybe not searching, but keeping an eye out, just in case.
She heard the man move, saw him out of the corner of her eye stretching his bony leg. Was he someone her mother would have fallen in love with?
He looked a little short for her mother, but then, her mother never had looked on the outward man.
“I imagine you ride horses, like your mama,” he said. She looked over to see him stamp his cigarette out on the footboard. “Barrel racer?”
She nodded. “I’m ridin’ Mama’s horse right now. Lulu. Mama died last spring,” she said. It occurred to her that he might not know, and she spoke gently, not wanting to bring him a shock. He looked pretty old.
He nodded, his old face going long. “I heard that back in the summer, and awful sorry to hear it, too. Your mama was real special. Real good with horses…and people.” He spoke thoughtfully, as if holding a secret, she thought.
“What’s your name?” she asked, heart beating fast.
“Herb Longstreet.”
He had a beak nose and high, flat cheekbones, lots of Indian in him, no doubt. Her mother might have been attracted to him some thirty-five years ago.
He leaned over and stuck out his hand, and she shook it; it was thick and rough. Then Harry did the same, introducing himself.
“Are you an oil geologist, Mr. Longstreet?” Rainey asked, unable not to.
She saw Harry’s raised eyebrow out of the corner of her eye.
The old man looked surprised. “Why, no, ma’am. I guess I done a lot of things in my life, but I ain’t never messed with the damn oil. No, sir.” He laughed, showing worn teeth.
“How did you know my mama?”
The man’s lips quirked. “Sold her a horse I should have kept once.” He shook his head and chuckled. “I thought I was gonna put one over on her, and she put it over on me instead. Coweta made somethin’ of that horse, and ended up makin’ five thousand dollars in the bargain. It was all a long time back, when I was down around that country ‘round Valentine. We’d see each other from time to time, though, over the years. She done me many a good deed, too.”
Lost Highways (A Valentine Novel) Page 15
