by Kim Redford
She glanced over at Craig where he sat with one leg crossed over the other and his guitar turned so the strings were against his knee to make sure they didn’t accidentally make a sound if he brushed against them. He caught her looking at him and turned to smile at her. Comfortable. Happy. Love. She could list the words forever that expressed her feelings at the moment, but she could express them even better with music, and that was coming up soon.
“Are you okay?” He leaned toward her as he kept his voice low.
“Yes. I feel safe…and content here.”
“Great. It’s a good gig.”
She smiled, tapping her toe to the piano tune. “But it’s still not as good as our Wildcat Hall.”
“True. But they were built to appeal to different folks at different time in different ways.”
“What do you mean?”
He glanced up at the ceiling chandeliers. “Look at all the gilt and glamour here compared to our basic utilitarian dance hall.”
“You’re right. Wildcat Hall is mostly wood and rustic, hand-carved wood—even the furniture.”
“The Hall appealed to settled farmers and ranchers as a gathering place for their families and cowboys driving cattle north or stopping on their way south to return to their ranches.”
“And it’s out of town on the road.”
“Right. Wildcat Bluff was a pretty fancy town for its day and time. Money came through here or stayed here, so they built with brick and stone to survive the ages.”
“That meant there was more cash to build a beautiful saloon.”
“And it appealed to a different clientele, with drinking, gambling, and I’d guess a little extra activity upstairs with the fancy ladies.”
“This place really was very different than our Hall, wasn’t it?” she said thoughtfully as she looked at the splendor of the elegant staircase leading to the second floor.
“Yeah. And yet they both appealed, then and now, to lonely people wanting and needing companionship with food and drink.”
“What about music?”
“And dance?”
“That’s how folks come together, tossing aside their cares and troubles, even their differences.” He reached over and squeezed her fingers. “Maybe we can snag a dance together later.”
“I’d like that.” The warmth of his hand matched the warmth in his eyes as they shared a moment of love between them.
When she looked back at the batwing doors, Bert was pushing Hedy’s wheelchair inside, then bent down to whisper in her ear. She glanced up at him, smiling…and love arced between them like a zinging string of pink hearts. Fern recognized that look because it mirrored what she shared with Craig.
Morning Glory sashayed in behind them with long, crimson skirt swinging and heart necklaces swaying as she moved to the beat of a song in her own head. Right behind her came Ivy and Slade, both dressed in boots, jeans, and Wild West Days T-shirts. They all appeared happy and ready to tap a toe or swing out on the dance floor.
Fern was so glad to see this special group of people ready to enjoy the music that she, Craig, and the band would provide them. She was particularly pleased to see how happy her sister was with Slade, the love of her life. She’d felt guilty about dumping Wildcat Hall in Ivy’s lap when she’d taken off for the cruise gigs, but now she knew it was the best thing she could have done for her sister. Otherwise, she’d never have met Slade and become part of his wonderful family.
She lifted a hand to acknowledge the group as the men split off to go to the bar while the women continued on toward the music dais.
“Fern, Craig, I can’t tell you how proud we are of the way you took over Wild West Days and pulled off the biggest attendance we’ve ever had here.” Morning Glory held out her arms dramatically to her sides.
“Yes, everyone is thrilled that you put us on the map big-time,” Hedy said, rolling a little closer.
Ivy chuckled, shaking her head. “Better not let Storm hear you say that.”
“Why not?” Fern asked.
“Fernando!” Ivy laughed harder. “Storm is absolutely convinced attendance is up because most everyone is here to see him tomorrow.”
“She might not be far off,” Craig said. “When I was at Steele Trap this morning, she showed me glossy one-sheets of Fernando looking handsome in his pasture.”
“What’s she going to do with them?” Fern asked.
Hedy chuckled, glancing from one to the other. “Sell them, of course. They’re signed and everything.”
“You’re funning me,” Fern said. “Fernando is a bull. He can’t sign anything.”
“Our Storm is turning out to be quite the entrepreneur.” Morning Glory jingled her necklaces. “How about selling a photo that includes a hoofprint in one corner?”
“Well, okay. I agree,” Fern said with a touch of humor in her voice. “Craig and I absolutely can’t compete with Fernando.”
“Right,” Craig added. “We might as give all the credit to him.”
“Might as well.” Hedy chuckled as she glanced at Morning Glory. “Pretty quick, Storm will want to open a store on Main Street dedicated to all things Fernando.”
“Don’t be surprised if she approaches us to set aside a display case in our stores for Fernando wares,” Morning Glory said. “Can’t you imagine photos of Fernando on coasters, glasses, notepads, mouse pads…the list is endless.”
Hedy laughed at the idea. “In my store, she’ll probably want to sell items like Fernando Blackberry Jam, Fernando Pickle Relish, Fernando Clover Honey.”
Fern joined the general laughter, then they all abruptly stopped and looked at each other as if the idea had taken on a life of its own.
“Storm and Fernando will probably have the last laugh,” Morning Glory said. “She’s my kind of girl.”
“She’s all our kind of girl,” Hedy added as she glanced at Ivy. “Aren’t you glad you’re marrying into the Steele family?”
“Oh yes…if I can keep up with them,” she said with a grin as Slade walked up carrying two glasses of wine.
“What about the Steele family?” Slade asked, handing a glass to Ivy. “If it’s bad news, I don’t want to hear it.”
“It’s Storm and her Fernando one-sheets.” Hedy smiled up at Bert as he handed her a bottle of water.
“Oh, that.” Slade just shook his head. “She discussed it all with Fernando and let him make the final photo selection.”
“How did he indicate his choice?” Morning Glory asked, chuckling. “Hoof? Tongue? Moo?”
“MG, stop right there,” Hedy said, a big grin on her face. “That’s too funny and we must respect Storm’s sensibilities.”
“Hah!” Slade glanced at the group. “She’d just take you seriously and explain exactly how he communicates with her.”
“Long-winded?” Craig asked.
“Another language entirely…or maybe she’s an animal whisperer,” Slade said. “Anyway, she’s always been good with animals.”
“That’s a Steele family trait, isn’t it?” Ivy said, tucking a hand in the crook of Slade’s arm. “That and cooking.”
“We’re good at whatever you want us to be good at.”
She chuckled as she gave him an adoring look.
Fern watched them, feeling happier than ever that she’d been responsible for bringing them together. When she glanced up, she saw Mac dressed liked an old-time gambler in black frock coat, blue satin vest, white shirt, gray pinstripe trousers, and black cowboy boots with high shine. He walked as if a dance floor was his natural element.
She was surprised to see him already attired in period costume, since most folks were saving their special clothes for Saturday afternoon’s shoot-out. But she couldn’t fault him—he looked as if he’d been born to wear them.
As if Mac were her magnetic north, Morning Glory slowly tu
rned toward him with that same physical grace. He devoured her with his eyes as he drew closer and closer until they were only inches apart.
“Lorraine.” He held out his hand. “Will you honor me with a dance?”
She shook her head, ignoring his hand. “No music.”
“Schedule says the band is about to play.”
“It’s been too long.”
“Never.”
“Always.”
He glanced at Fern. “I doubt you normally take requests, but would you do it for Lorraine…uh, Morning Glory?”
Fern glanced at Craig, who nodded in agreement. She stood up, cradling her guitar. “We’ll be happy to play anything we know or can figure out.”
“Thank you.” Mac smiled at Morning Glory.
“No, Mac, please. It’ll break my heart,” Morning Glory said in a pain-filled voice.
“‘Yes, Mac, please,’ you should say.” Mac kept smiling at her. “Maybe it’ll mend your heart.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my heart.”
“Prove it.” Mac offered his hand again. “Dance with me.”
Morning Glory shook her head again, stepping back from him.
Mac glanced at Fern. “Your choice of song. Jitterbug. Waltz.”
Fern gave Mac a quick nod, then glanced at Craig to see if he was in agreement.
Craig grinned at her before he looked at his band. They appeared totally up for the challenge. He turned off the player piano.
When Craig stood up, putting his guitar strap over his shoulder, she knew it was time to give everyone a very special night. They’d cover Mac’s choices, then move on to classic western swing that would fill the dance floor with revelers.
As the band launched Bill Haley & His Comets fast-paced “Rock Around the Clock” from the fifties and dancers started doing a spirited jitterbug, Fern watched Morning Glory hesitantly place her hand in Mac’s open palm. He whirled her into his body, then twirled her back out again. She responded with a snap of her fingers, arching her back, rotating her hips, throwing back her head as he led them into the center of the dance floor as everyone else moved back to make room for what could only be…professional dancers.
Fern didn’t have to hear the gasp from her friends as they watched in open-mouthed wonder as MG and Mac owned the dance floor, twirling, rotating, moving their bodies together as if they were a single, beautiful entity. He finally lifted MG up high and then slowly let her down the front of his body until she slid between his feet, then he drew her back up just as the music died away.
Craig led the band into a waltz, a slow instrumental version of Patsy Cline’s romantic hit “Always,” that sent Morning Glory into Mac’s arms. They twined together almost as if they were one body, instead of two separate ones. Soon they whirled and dipped and spun around and around across the dance floor in sophisticated elegance that appeared as effortless as a swan gliding across a lake.
Fern was mesmerized by the sight. She realized she was seeing what would have been the usual dance in the Lone Star Saloon back in its heyday, so it looked perfectly right for Mac in his gambler attire and Morning Glory in her flowing skirts to waltz under the crystal chandeliers. They were breathtaking, and she knew everyone in the room felt the same way as they watched poetry in motion.
As she and the band let the last strains of the waltz fade away, she knew the past had caught up with the present, not only in the saloon but with Mac and MG as he dipped her low across his arm and placed a soft kiss on her lips.
Chapter 34
Late the next afternoon, about the time it started to cool down, Craig stood on the boardwalk with Fern. He looked out over the noisy crowd on Main Street, where folks were eating, drinking, shopping, and in general having a grand time.
“We did it, didn’t we?” Fern gave a big sigh of relief.
“So far, so good.”
“I know what you’re thinking. He could be out there lurking in the crowds, just waiting to strike again.”
“No. I think he’s smarter than that.”
“What are you thinking then?” Fern asked.
“We’re coming up to the biggest event of Wild West Days, and I don’t want anything to go wrong.”
“I don’t see how it could be anything except successful. The shoot-out between the Hellions and the Ruffians is planned down to the last blank shot in front of the Lone Star Saloon.”
“Yeah. But what about Fernando?”
“What does he have to do with it?”
“Let’s take a walk down to Old Town Park.”
She looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “This sounds like something Storm cooked up. What’s going on?”
“Let’s go.” He chuckled as he clasped her hand and started down the boardwalk. “Let’s just say nobody denies that girl anything any more than they would Granny, Sydney, Hedy, or Morning Glory.”
Fern tossed him a skeptical look. “When do I get on that glorified list of ‘Women Who Must Be Obeyed’?”
He laughed as he squeezed her fingers. “Not sure. There’s some kind of Wildcat Bluff unwritten code about it.”
She laughed, too, as she walked with him. “I guess you didn’t tell me the plans y’all made yesterday just in case I might object or throw a kink in that particular rope.”
“I was sworn to secrecy.”
“No doubt by She Who Must Be Obeyed.”
“Storm wanted to surprise you and everyone else who wasn’t in on her Fernando reveal. She also planned her event to coincide with the shoot-out because that’s when the big media would be here and she wanted to tie into it. Also, it’d be a cooler time of the day for the bull, so he wouldn’t get too hot.”
“Wow. I’ll tell you something.”
“What?”
“If that girl’s scary now, what will she be like when she’s full-grown?”
Craig tugged Fern closer. “Absolutely terrifying.”
She laughed, glancing up at him.
They shared a moment when they would see a little girl they’d help nurture come into her full power as a woman in the future. He loved the idea and was glad to be part of it.
“Yeah,” he finally said. “It’s easy to laugh now, but wait till we get to the park. Who knows what we’ll see? Storm isn’t one to hide Fernando’s light under a bushel. She’s been working with Nathan at Thingamajigs to design and print stuff.”
“Wow. Just wow. This I’ve got to see.”
And see they did. First off, the Old Town Park sign that Bert Two had so lovingly created had been covered with a poster that read FERNANDO THE WONDER BULL. To one side of the green lawn a large, white trailer had been brought in from the alley and its back door left open. A small arena had been created by linking sturdy metal gates with horizontal bars and attaching each end to the sides of the trailer to produce a secure enclosure.
In the center of the arena stood a huge, majestic Angus bull with his sleek black coat brushed to a high sheen and a bright aqua cowboy hat perched between his long, elegant ears. He calmly watched his surroundings with big, intelligent dark eyes.
“Is Fernando safe in there?” Fern asked. “I mean, can he get out?”
“He’d be safest if he was home on the ranch, but it’s not unusual to display prize animals in this type of structure. And it’s perfect for his fans to get selfies with him.”
“I wonder what Storm will charge for the privilege?”
Craig chuckled, shaking his head. “No telling.”
“I hope they know what they’re doing because that enclosure doesn’t look strong enough to hold a two-thousand-pound angry bull bent on getting out.”
“I figure Slade and Oscar know what they’re doing. Anyway, it’s not likely anything could set off Fernando with Storm around to handle him.”
“Okay,” Fern said, although she didn’t sou
nd completely convinced of the situation as she stepped onto the gravel path that wound up to the bandstand.
Craig followed, glancing around for Storm and finding her near the bandstand.
She wore a pink T-shirt that read Fernando the Wonder Bull tucked into Wranglers to reveal a big rodeo buckle and rhinestone-studded belt. She wore an aqua cowgirl hat similar to Fernando’s except that hers had been hand-painted with a portrait of Fernando in vivid color. She impatiently tapped the toe of one bright pink cowgirl boot. Ginger-haired and hazel-eyed, she looked perfectly put together. In sharp style contrast, her partner in crime, Oscar Leathers—ranch foreman on the Steele Trap—wore a beat-up hat, ragged jeans, and scuffed boots. Tater, his smart and loyal cow dog, wore a faded blue bandanna around his neck.
And in even sharper contrast, Jennifer Sales, a well-known and beloved news reporter with a Dallas television station, wore a simple gray suit and heels with her big hair and big smile. She leaned toward Storm in avid interest, while a videographer wearing T-shirt and jeans and carrying a video camera on his shoulder recorded the scene.
Craig exchanged a look with Fern as if to confirm their opinion of She Who Must Be Obeyed. They moved closer to hear what was going on.
“Yes, indeed.” Storm gestured toward the bandstand. “Later today, Renegade and the Red River Wranglers will be playing Fernando’s theme song right up there. They’ll also be giving a free concert to Fernando’s fans in appreciation of their loyal support…particularly during the trying time when he was desperately making his way across dangerous territory to get home by Christmas.”
“He is a very brave bull, isn’t he?” Jennifer said.
“You are so right. He is the bravest of all bulls…as well as the most handsome.” Storm smiled at the camera. “And if you’ll come this way, I’ll sign one-sheets for you and your colleagues back in Dallas to show my appreciation for your continued support of Fernando.”
