Rodeo Nights

by Patricia McLinn

  “Here’s your supper.” She swung up the gate of the counter, set a bag on the desk in front of Kalli and added in the same tone, “Walker just drove up.”

  Kalli recognized the generosity in the woman’s warning, but didn’t answer, not taking her eyes off the desk calendar provided by a local feed store. This first meeting was bound to be awkward, she wouldn’t pretend otherwise. But it had all been so long ago, and she’d been over him so long. Yet, her mind refused to make sense of the familiar grid of days and dates for the month of June.

  Outside, Tom greeted Walker. She heard Tom’s pleasure at seeing him and sadness at the circumstances. Then Tom took the two steps up to the office door. Behind him, she heard booted feet on dried earth and thought she could smell the sun-warmed dust they stirred.

  Just outside the door, Walker said he’d gotten into town a while ago, then answered another question. His voice was low and slow, the cadence as basic as her own heartbeat.

  “Yeah, went direct to the hospital. Jeff was sleeping, but I saw Mary. Thought I’d make a circuit of the grounds, but cut it short when I saw you folks pulling in.”

  The calendar snapped into orderly focus before Kalli’s eyes. Of course he’d check the rodeo grounds first.

  Walker was in the room. She couldn’t say she’d heard him come in and she hadn’t looked up from the desk, but she knew.

  “Hey, Kalli.”

  Ten years.

  Ten years since she’d last seen the face she’d first seen when she was eleven years old, and had loved nearly as long. The face she’d watched change from a boy’s to a man’s. The face of the man she’d married.

  The last time she’d seen him, as she’d given him his choice, his face had been unreadable except for the indomitable will that always was a part of him. Maybe she’d known right then what his choice would be. But she’d hoped.

  Instead, he’d gone to compete. She had packed and left before he returned.

  Slowly, she stood. For an instant, he was merely a dark outline against the bright rectangle of the open door, a silhouette from the past.

  Then her eyes adjusted to take in the details within the outline. The jolt of recognition shook her a little.

  But she stood straight, her voice cool. “Hello, Walker.”

  Walker Riley stood there, not six feet from her, so familiar and so unknown. None of it seemed real.

  “You look good, Kalli. Different, but good.”

  Her chin rose at that, and she let the memories drain away.

  “You look just the same.”

  One side of his mouth lifted in a half grin. That was different; he’d always grinned full-out before.

  “Not hardly.”

  He crossed the wooden threshold that decades of booted feet had worn into a smooth dip.

  He did look older. But rather than softening his edges, the years seemed to have sharpened them, so his cheekbones and jaw stood out, looking more angular, casting deeper shadows. His skin was taut and tanned.

  Stepping up to the opening in the counter, he pushed the straw cowboy hat back from where it had ridden low on his forehead, then apparently thought better of it and removed the hat. Caught between his big, powerful hands, it seemed to shrink. His hair, as thick and dark as ever, carried a ridge where the hat had rested.

  His eyes hadn’t changed, the color as vibrant as a blue jay’s back, though the creases had deepened through years of squinting into the sun. The way he used his eyes hadn’t changed, either. His slow, open regard surveyed her from her hair to her toes.

  Years in New York, years of confidence and accomplishment, allowed her to stand steady under his look, though she felt a tightening in her shoulders. It jumped a notch higher at something that flickered across his eyes as he took in her silk blouse, matching silk slacks, sleek belt and deceptively simple pumps. She didn’t need him to tell her the outfit was inappropriate for a night at the rodeo.

  “Different, but good,” he repeated in a murmur.

  “I am different.” She deliberately left her words a statement, not a defense. “And I’m very good at what I do. I’ll do a good job.”

  He met her eyes a moment longer, a slight frown tugging his brows, then nodded once. “I’m sure you are good at what you do.”

  He broke the look then—she hated the sense of being released—and turned to Roberta with that same, new half smile. “How’s my favorite rodeo secretary?”

  “Probably smarter than the last woman you used that line on.” But there was warmth and affection in the hug she gave him, and in the gruff words that followed. “Glad you’re here, boy. And I know Jeff and Mary are.”

  Walker patted her on the back before they disengaged from the hug. For a flash, his eyes came to Kalli and she had an image of being enfolded in his arms. Then he turned away, and her breath came out fast, as if she’d been holding it.

  “Yeah, well, I figure even a rodeo hand who’s had his brains scrambled a few times should be able to ride herd on the setup you and Jeff and Mary have going.”

  Kalli felt the way she had once as a kid when she’d swallowed too much spicy, steamy chili. She could feel the burn all the way down her throat and into the pit of her stomach. A glance at Tom confirmed what Walker’s words had just told her: Walker didn’t know about the committee’s stipulation. And, since both Tom and Roberta were looking at her, it was clear who they expected to break the news.

  “You aren’t going to be riding herd alone, Walker,” she said.

  Chapter Two

  * * *

  HE STILLED FOR a heartbeat and a half, then pivoted on one low boot heel to meet her face-to-face.

  “How’s that?”

  “The committee has agreed to let us step in for Jeff and Mary with the understanding that you can provide the rodeo experience and I can provide the business expertise. That’s the condition they set.”

  “No need for you to stay. I’ll tell them. You go on back to New York and I’ll—”

  “I’m staying. Until the rodeo closes for the summer or until Jeff can take over again. Don’t you think I would rather handle this on my own? Don’t you think I—” She bit her lip, clamping down the words. “But the committee has legitimate concerns, and as Jeff’s representatives we have to do our best to satisfy them.”

  She hadn’t realized she’d cloaked a question in that last statement until she found herself looking at Walker, waiting for an answer. Even frowning, his expression gave away none of his thoughts. But his eyes... She drew herself taller, her shoulders tightening. Well, she wasn’t looking forward to a summer with him, either.

  “We’ll do our best.”

  Walker’s voice had no particular emphasis, but as Tom and Roberta each let out a pent-up breath, Kalli thought the words might have had an added message for her. A hope that the two of them would do their best to get through the summer without inflicting any more scars on each other.

  “Well, great.” Tom clapped a band to Walker’s denim-jacketed shoulder, raising dust. “I know you two’ll do a great job and Roberta here will keep things on track, all right. Everything’s going to work out fine.”

  “Yeah. It’ll work out fine,” Walker said without inflection. “How about you and me making the rounds, Tom? Reintroduce me to the details of the operation.”

  “Walker.” Kalli kept her voice low, but it stopped both men before they reached the threshold. “Walker, I think we should talk right away about changes we want to implement in the running of the rodeo.”

  “Changes?”

  “Yes. Improvements.” Impatience stirred as he looked at her without answering. “Making it better. Making it run more smoothly. More profitably.”

  “I always heard, ‘If it ain’t broke don’t fix it.’ And I haven’t been hearing any complaints about this rodeo.”

  “Anything can be improved. Anything can benefit from being viewed from a fresh perspective. This rodeo’s no exception.”

  “It’s fine today. Tomorrow’ll be—�
��

  “Today! You have to look beyond today, or there won’t be any tomorrows. You haven’t chan—” She bit off her words, drawing away from the danger. Widening her stance fractionally, she met his look and spoke levelly. “I will not be satisfied spending a summer simply ‘riding herd’ on this rodeo when I know that with a little effort I could leave it better off than when I found it.”

  In the quiet, she heard the doorknob rattle under Tom’s uneasy hand. She was aware of Roberta leaning against the counter, watching. But Kalli kept her eyes on Walker.

  He’d dipped his head as if in contemplation of the worn floor by the toe of his boot. The thick, dark hair hid most of his face, but in the shaft of evening sunlight that fought through the dusty window, she saw with something like shock that a few silver strands mixed in.

  Then he raised his head.

  She tried to keep her heartbeat steady. No use. It was like some reflex action. One deep look from those blue jay eyes and her blood hammered. But that’s all it was, a reflex. It didn’t mean anything.

  “How ‘bout if you spend a couple days getting adjusted, seeing exactly what the situation is here before you go looking at changes?” he suggested. “Take time to get settled.”

  It was so damned reasonable.

  Answering evenly ranked with her top feats of mind over lungs. “Very well. We can each assess the situation, then get back to each other.”

  He said a little quizzically, “Yeah, we’ll get back to each other,” before heading out with Tom.

  What was the matter with her? Under normal circumstances, she would never rush into a business and start talking about changes before she’d studied the operation. Oh, a few stopgap, easily implemented measures like the computer, but nothing beyond that. Why had she been so quick to jump in here?

  Because these weren’t normal circumstances. Because she’d hated her helplessness standing beside Jeff’s bedside. Because— “Let’s get to work,” she said to Roberta, but that didn’t quiet the final possibility sounding in her head.

  Because she’d needed to feel in charge, in control. Because she had been so strongly reminded of the fear and helplessness of being in love with Walker Riley.

  * * *

  SHE’D BEEN A girl when they were married.

  He’d never fully realized that. Not until he’d walked out of the dazzling sunlight into the dim, dusty office only to be dazzled all over again by the woman she’d become.

  She still made him think of the mountains bathed in sunset. Brown hair tinged with russet, fair skin edged with peach, generous mouth fired with orange. Strength and quiet beauty brightened by fiery light. Her eyes were the color she’d derisively called khaki. He thought the color—silvered, pale brown, flecked with red near the pupils—matched a kind of sage he often spotted along the roadside as he drove from rodeo to rodeo. Every time he saw the sage, he thought of her.

  Standing there in the office, she’d been wearing clothes draped in loose folds. Though not so loose he hadn’t been reminded of curves he’d once known. Not so loose he hadn’t seen the long line of her slender thighs and remembered that though she stood some five inches shorter than his six feet, her legs were so long that when he and Kalli rode together, they fixed their stirrups only two holes apart.

  “Jeff’s got a good crew up in the press box,” Tom said, breaking into Walker’s thoughts as they circled the arena.

  “Announcer, scorekeepers ‘n’ all. Veteran group. You shouldn’t have trouble there.”

  They’d passed the web of metal-tubed fences that formed chutes for timed events and moved around the stadium until they stood by the grandstand, looking across the arena to the staging area for roughstock events. This was topped by a small set of bleachers dubbed the Buzzards’ Roost for spectators who liked to watch the cowboys’ preparations, with the press box above that.

  A few people were already in the stands. Out-of-towners, Walker figured. People not accustomed to driving five minutes to events with easy parking.

  “How about the rest of the crew?” he asked Tom. “Pickup men, judges, timers, stock sorters, chute tenders…”

  “Should be fine. You know how Jeff organizes. ’Course, there’s likely to be some turnover. ’Most always is. Especially with Jeff out of the picture right now. You’re going to need to set some folks’ minds at ease about newcomers running the rodeo. Not just the committee, but the merchants and your crew. Even the cowboys. There’s enough uncertainty in rodeo— They like to know who they’re dealing with. Hell, you know that. But that’s something Kalli might not be taking into account with her talk of changes.”

  Walker felt the force of Tom’s look, but didn’t take his eyes off the pens that held tock for tonight’s show. Horses, steers, calves and bulls. Rounded up from the Jeffries ranch west of town and trailered here, they were rotated out each night before new stock was brought in for the next day’s performance. The animals looked fit; Jeff wouldn’t stand for anything less. The cowboys would soon learn that wouldn’t change.

  “Could be people’ll be worrying this might be less of a show without Jeff running it,” Tom said. “The people in town have felt safe recommending the rodeo to visitors because they know folks’ll get their money’s worth. They’ll be more cautious for a spell with you and Kalli running it. Changes could make it worse.”

  Behind them someone shouted that Tom had a phone call in the office. “Keep going. I’ll catch up with you,” he instructed.

  Changes...

  Walker had opened his eyes one summer to find his tagalong buddy of the past six years transformed. And the way she’d looked at him... No man could ever want more. At nineteen, he’d been just old enough to know seventeen was too young, and young enough to suffer hell’s torments as each kiss and touch brought them closer. He could still sweat in memory of that summer’s frustration.

  Then he’d made her his. He’d thought forever.

  A girl. Twenty when they’d married, just past twenty-one when she left. Maybe if they’d waited the way her family wanted, instead of getting married one week after she finished college. Or maybe no amount of waiting would have helped.

  “Walker, you old sonuva—”

  The slap on his back was nearly as jolting as the disruption of his thoughts. A seamed face beamed at him from under a cowboy hat that barely reached Walker’s shoulder. Without consciously moving, he’d nearly completed a circuit and now leaned against the fence by the Buzzards’ Roost.

  “Hey, Gulch. How’re you doing?”

  “I’m doing just fine for an old man, which you took every opportunity of telling me I was when you were a smart-mouthed kid. And you?”

  Walker grinned. When he’d started rodeoing in earnest, Gulch had been wrapping up his competitive career and Walker had thought him ancient. Since Gulch had then been about a year younger than Walker was right now, he appreciated the irony. From this spot in Walker’s life, Gulch Miller didn’t seem such an old guy.

  “Can’t complain.”

  “You never did even when you could,” Gulch said with a clicking noise that resembled disapproval, but wasn’t that at all. “Wish you were back under better circumstances.”

  “Yeah.” Walker let out a breath.

  “Jeff...?”

  “Doctors say it takes a while to know what’s what with a stroke. But he’s doing better, coming along a bit every day. They’re talking about sending him to Billings for rehabilitation. Might wait some because they’re short-staffed up there, but that’s not all bad since there’s more folks to spell Mary here than in Billings.”

  “But?”

  Walker felt his frown deepening. No wonder Gulch had spotted the “but.”

  “He isn’t talking yet. When Tom first called, I got ahold of a doctor on the rodeo committee where I was at and started asking questions. Almost every answer started with ‘it depends,’ but one thing he did say was that if somebody who’s had a stroke isn’t talking some, least making sounds the first week or
so, chances are they’ll never talk.”

  “You worrying about it won’t change what’s going to happen, Walker. Won’t change it anymore than drinking ever changed what’s already happened. I sure know that.”

  Without answering, Walker looked at the sky, still blue and cloudless even as the sun withdrew its warmth.

  When he’d met Gulch, the nickname was so long established most people had forgotten it originated when Miller went off the bottle—because he’d gone dry. But one morning in Pendleton, Oregon, eighteen months after Kalli left, Walker had woken to a thundering hangover and a dim memory of a spectacularly careless ride on a bull named Killjoy. He’d found Gulch Miller sitting in his camper.

  Gulch hadn’t done any more than talk and pour coffee, but Walker knew what it had cost the little man to tell about the auto accident years before that had killed his wife and baby daughter and left him, at twenty-two, healthy enough to rodeo and sick enough at heart to nearly drink himself to death.

  “And that’s what you’re in danger of doing, Walker,” he’d said that rainy morning. “But you’re the impatient sort. Not waiting for booze to do it from inside. You’re trying to get stomped to death first. I’ll give you this, you’re getting some hellacious rides out of it, good enough to put you in the Finals come December. But chances are, you won’t live to ride in them. Is that what you want?”

  No, that wasn’t what he wanted. And in time, he’d accepted that no matter how much he drank, it wouldn’t blot out the fact that he couldn’t have what he did want—Kalli.

  “She looks good, doesn’t she?” Gulch’s matter-of-fact tone didn’t hide the underlying empathy. Clearly, his thoughts had followed a similar path to Walker’s.

  “Yeah, she does.”

  “‘Course, I saw her year before last when she was visiting Jeff and Mary....”

  Like all her visits, it had been arranged for when Walker had let his aunt and uncle know he’d be rodeoing in some other part of the country. Not that anyone had acknowledged that. Nobody ever mentioned Kalli to him, except that once, when his mother had died two years after Kalli left, and Mary had given him the carefully written note. He’d recognized the handwriting. He’d burned it that night.