by Garry Ryan
Christine looked at the infield and the crowd. Couples and groups wore cowboy hats and ball caps. She looked at Lane. He held out a twenty dollar bill. “Just in case you want to get something to eat or drink.”
“Thanks,” Christine said.
Arthur handed another twenty to Matt.
“There you are!”
They turned to see Erinn carrying Jessica, followed by Harper and Glenn who were weighed down with chairs and bags stuffed to overflowing with baby supplies.
“We miss anything?” Glenn asked as he unfolded two chairs and sat next to Matt.
“No. They’re still trying to put panties on the goats,” Matt smiled.
“Hi Christine. Ready for some fun?” Erinn sat down with Jessica in the chair next to Christine.
“I think so,” Christine said.
“I know how you feel. Last year was my first at the rodeo. Lane and Arthur brought me. I sat around feeling like a minority. You know, a breeder in a strange land.” Erinn smiled at Lane, Harper and Matt.
“A breeder?” Christine asked.
“I’m a breeder. You know, a straight married woman with children.” Erinn smiled. “It helps to know the lingo. What’s going on here? All these long faces!”
“Christine and I were fighting,” Matt said.
“So? What family doesn’t?” Erinn said.
The announcer said, “There’ll be a short intermission while we prepare for our next event.”
“Should be the drag queens,” Arthur said.
“We’re just in time, then,” Erinn said.
Glenn walked over to Christine. “Come on. Let’s go take a look around.”
“I don’t know,” Christine said.
Glenn pulled her up and out of the chair. “You too, Matt.”
“What’s new?” Harper sat down next to Arthur after the kids left.
Jessica began to cry.
Harper stood up and picked up his daughter. Erinn smiled as Harper walked back and forth behind them, rocking their daughter. He said, “How’s my Jessica?” She gradually stopped crying.
“Daddy’s girl.” Erinn looked at Lane. “Well?”
Lane said, “Matt’s been rejected by his dad and Christine by her mom. Now they’re living with us and fighting with each other.”
“Did you talk with them?” Erinn asked.
Lane and Arthur looked at each other. “About what?” they said in stereo.
“I don’t know. The future?” Erinn rolled her eyes. “They’ve got nowhere to go and have been rejected by people who shouldn’t ever reject them. You two know anything about rejection?” Erinn tried to keep a straight face.
Lane thought, Oh, shit.
Arthur said, “You’ve got to be kidding?”
“Glenn figured it was only a matter of time before we rejected him.” Harper sat down. Jessica started to cry. He got up and started to walk with her.
“So, what did you do?” Arthur asked.
“We talked.” Erinn looked left as the corral gate opened. “Told him that we wanted him around. After a while, he believed us.”
The announcer said, “For our next event …” His voice was drowned by the roar of cheers and applause from the spectators.
Three drag queens waved at the crowd. They all wore metallic-blue beehive hair. Each wore a sequined blue dress, black pantyhose, and white rubber boots. And all three wore conical bras that came to sharp points. Each of the queens was followed by attendants in coveralls dyed different shades of the rainbow.
“Wow!” Erinn said.
“We’re back!” Glenn sat down with a brown paper shopping bag filled with popcorn.
“What’s this?” Christine pointed at the corral.
No one answered as the three stars waded through the infield’s ankle-deep mud. The buzzer sounded. One calf was let out of an enclosure. Two attendants grabbed for the rope around the calf’s neck. The calf struggled as they dragged and pushed it over to the first queen. He revealed red satin panties as he straddled the calf. The crowd cheered while the attendants pushed and pulled the calf and queen across a line on the far side of the corral.
“Well, that looked easy!” the announcer said.
The next pair of attendants got ready. The gate opened. The calf launched itself. The first attendant was knocked flat by the calf. The second grabbed for the rope and missed. The drag queen high-stepped his way closer to the calf, managed to grab the rope, and was dragged across the infield. The queen’s paired V cups acted as hydroplanes, cutting parallel wakes in the mud. The queen hung on. Mud coated his face, hair, and mustache. He let go, slid to a stop, and rolled onto his back. The crowd cheered and clapped as the queen stood. He tried to flick the mud off his hands before righting his hair.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Christine said.
“It’s only getting started,” Glenn said.
They watched various events for another hour while the sun gradually dried out the infield. The final event was bull riding. Riders in flack jackets rode bulls while the clown picked cowpokes out of the mud after they dismounted or were thrown.
After the last event, Matt asked, “Are we going out for supper?”
Jessica started to cry.
“We’ve got tickets for dinner here. We’ll just wait for Jessica,” Arthur said.
Erinn pulled a blanket over her shoulders and began to breastfeed.
Christine looked uneasily at the crowd. One cowboy kissed another. Two cowgirls held muddy hands.
“Don’t worry, it’s not a disease you catch.” Glenn put his hand on Christine’s shoulder.
Christine looked back at him, shocked that he’d read her mind.
The announcer said, “Dinner’s on! Don’t miss the best beef and bison you’re gonna find anywhere. It’s at the Wagon Wheel Hall. There are still a few tickets left, so hurry up. And for your added pleasure we’ve got a show called Wingin’ It. This is the debut of an incredibly talented local puppeteer and artist.”
“Go on ahead,” Erinn said. “We’ll wait.” Arthur turned to Matt and Christine. “You know we want both of you to stay with us.” Arthur pulled Lane closer.
Lane heard the sudden and complete silence surrounding them as Christine and Matt watched their uncles.
Lane thought, Say something! Say the right thing! “We do. I think of us as family now. I know we’re not your real parents, but we’re here and we want you both around. Permanently.”
Matt looked at the ground.
Erinn sniffed.
Glenn smiled.
Christine moved to Lane and hugged him around the neck before turning to Arthur and wiping the back of her hand across his cheek.
For a full minute all Lane could hear was the sound of Jessica sucking on Erinn’s breast.
Forty minutes later, they stood in line out front of the Wagon Wheel Hall.
Harper patted Jessica’s back to work out any gas. The baby rewarded him with a satisfied belch.
Matt closed his eyes. “Man, that smells good.”
Jessica farted.
Matt looked at Harper and smiled. “I meant the food.”
They stood behind one of the cowgirls who was covered in drying mud.
As they entered the open-air eating area with its picnic tables, there was an unusual quiet. Lane looked at the woman on stage who was dressed in red cowboy boots, blue jeans, and a blue satin shirt. Lane stared at the white-hatted marionette who was dressed exactly like the puppeteer working the strings.
The other marionette wore jeans, black shoes, and a white shirt with targets painted in red on the front and back. He stood alone at the front of the stage.
“Alex!” the female marionette gestured with her hands. The puppeteer suspended the marionette from a metal hook. Her head hung in grief.
The puppeteer lifted a white pickup truck. It had “Republic of Alberta” painted in black across its side. Inside were four heads with cowboy hats. As the truck swung down, one of its doors opened.
The marionette with the target painted on his shirt was sent flying off the stage. When the truck reached the top of its arc, the puppeteer grabbed it and set it down behind the stage.
The puppeteer opened a door in one of the wooden chests and out walked a duplicate of Alex’s marionette with the targets on its back and chest. “And that was that. One deaf and gay First Nations man killed on the side of the highway. Aidan never forgave herself.” Alex looked up at the puppeteer and then at Aidan the marionette.
Lane felt his attention shift from puppeteer to the marionettes. At that moment, the marionettes became real to him. He listened to them, watched them the way he would listen to any other living, breathing person.
Aidan’s head lifted. “I should have done something.” The marionette’s head dropped.
Alex turned to her. “There was nothing you could have done. After that, I was a star. The Premier even had a name for me.”
The Premier stepped out of the closet. His oversized face was mostly jowls and nose.
Alex said, “Hey, Mr. Premier.”
The Premier wore a headdress and pinstriped suit. “Where’s the parade? I need to get out in front of it!”
The audience began to laugh. One man said, “You’re not leading the pride parade!”
The Premier turned to walk back into the closet.
“Wait! I’ve got a question.” Alex moved closer to the Premier.
The Premier turned to face Alex. “I don’t have to talk to you. You’re a ghost.”
“Spirit.”
“There’s a difference?” the Premier asked.
“Big difference. I always wanted to ask you why you called me the ‘victim of the week’?”
The Premier said, “It was a slow news week. The media needed an issue, and you got your fifteen minutes of fame. I had to put a spin on the story. Nothing personal.”
“You’re wrong. Murder is very, very personal.” Alex moved closer.
“Is that a pie in your hand?” the Premier asked as he backed away.
The Premier’s headdress was lifted off. He turned so the audience could read the licence plate on the back of his suit jacket.
“What’s it say?” The Premier looked back over his shoulder.
Alex moved the side of the stage.
“What’s it say?” the Premier asked.
The license plate had an “I”, a heart, a number two, a shovel, a silhouette of the province, and a bull.
Someone in the audience said, “I love to shovel Alberta bullshit!”
“That’s right!” someone else said. There was laughter and an enthusiastic round of applause.
The Premier went back into his closet.
Alex faced the audience. “There were witnesses, but there was no proof. The hit and run happened too fast. I was buried near a tree on my grandmother’s acreage. It was against the law, but my grandmother has a way of doing what she wants. She plants honeysuckle over my grave every summer and the hummingbirds come.”
Aidan the marionette lifted her head. She moved forward and stood beside Alex. “The case is still open. We plant a tree every year to celebrate Alex’s life. And every once in a while he can dance.”
Aidan stepped back. A door opened in the side of the closed case. It was Alex dressed in white, red, and green. There were moccasins on his feet and feathers at his back. His eyes were circled with red.
Alex looked up at Aidan the puppeteer. “So this is your big secret. This is your gift!” Alex the dancer stood at centre stage. Alex the target stepped into the background. The puppeteer hung him from a hook.
A drumbeat began in the corner. Lane looked across the room as the chanting began. Four men sat around the drum and beat as one heart. He looked back to the stage.
A white ceramic flower stood at the centre of the stage. It was almost as tall as Alex’s marionette.
Alex said, “I can’t hear the drum, but I can feel it!” He pointed at his heart and bent at the waist to begin his dance. “Even death cannot stop me from dancing!” He circled the flower and backed away, spun, then returned to the flower. After he stuck his nose close to the flower, he appeared to hover, moving his arms so fast they became a blur of green. Then he repeated the motions, dancing around the flower. With each pass, his speed increased until the separate colours blurred into a rainbow.
Applause erupted from the audience.
The stage disappeared in front of Lane as the audience stood to clap and cheer.
Someone nearby shouted at the puppeteer, “Who makes your outfits?”
The chanting and the drum carried on.
Someone said, “Drag king!”
Another person picked it up. “Drag king!”
The crowd began to chant to the beat of the drums. “DRAG KING! DRAG KING!”
The puppeteer stood above the crowd. Her eyes focused on someone to Lane’s right. Lane looked and saw Harper who nodded his head at her and smiled.
The puppeteer bowed to the audience and as she did, she lifted Alex. Suspended in midair, he bent low at the waist; then his right arm swept forward in a midair bow. There was a roar from the crowd. The puppeteer waited for the applause to slow before looking at Alex’s marionette. “I’ve been so angry with you. If you could dance like that, why couldn’t you dance out of the way of the truck?”
After the show, Glenn drove everyone but Lane and Harper home. They waited for the puppeteer, who appeared in a nondescript red ball cap, blue jeans, and white shirt.
“Aidan, do you want some help to load up?” Harper smiled.
Aidan looked at him. “You the one who got shot?” “That was him.” Harper pointed at Lane. “I just got shot at.”
Lane waited.
“I could use some help. But you two aren’t here just to help me get packed up.” Aidan lifted her hat and wiped sweat away from her forehead with her sleeve.
“There are still two men missing.” Lane lifted the end of one case.
Aidan looked at each of them in turn. “I’ll pull the truck around. We’ll load up, then we’ll talk.”
“What about supper? You must be hungry.” Harper picked up the other end of the case.
“Supper would be nice. Thanks.” Aidan went to get the truck.
While they waited in line to pick up Aidan’s dinner, Lane said, “Eva told us Aidan was at the rodeo. We just assumed she meant the Stampede.”
By the time she returned, Lane and Harper had all the cases waiting outside the entrance to the Wagon Wheel Hall. Everything was loaded up five minutes later.
Lane handed her the plate he’d set on the hood of the pickup. “Here’s supper.”
Aidan looked at him for a moment before accepting the food. She sat on the open tailgate. Aidan used a plastic fork to scoop up beans, spear salad, and pick up slices of bison. She mopped up the remaining sauce with a bun.
Harper leaned against the fender and Lane sat on the tailgate.
Aidan let out a long sigh. “I’ve been too nervous to eat.”
Lane watched her walk over and put the plate in a garbage can.
Harper said, “The show was magnificent.”
“I wasn’t sure how people would react.” Aidan smiled and looked away.
“Did you get your answer?” Lane asked.
She sat on the tailgate. “Yes.”
“Was it worth it?” Harper leaned his elbows on the sides of the pickup’s box.
“You bet.” Aidan pulled her knees up and rested her chin on them.
She’s exhausted, Lane thought. “We have some questions.”
Aidan cocked her head sideways to look at him. She leaned her cheek on her knees. “Of course.”
“How long have you been here?” Harper asked.
“Since you last saw me. And I can’t prove I was always here. I was rehearsing and kept to myself.” Aidan looked to the hills in the west where the sun hung low and painted the landscape in colours so rich it seemed possible to lick them of the hills like they were popsicles.
/> “You said there were witnesses. When I read the file, it said you were the only witness to what happened to Alex.” Lane studied Aidan’s eyes.
Her skin flushed red. “Look! How come when a First Nations deaf and gay kid gets killed, the case doesn’t get solved? When two white guys die, then everyone wants answers?” Aidan looked at each of them in turn.
“Actually, it looks like four people besides Alex have died. We still have two of the five unaccounted for,” Lane said.
“You have to do what you have to do. I told the RCMP everything I knew. It all happened so fast I couldn’t be sure, but I knew who it was. I just couldn’t prove it was Blake Rogers. He lied through his teeth, and the other three kept their mouths shut. Now it looks like they’re all dead. What’s the point in probing any deeper?”
Lane decided it was time to stop beating around the bush. “There’s still a murderer out there. Is it you?”
Aidan shook her head. She looked directly at Lane. “I didn’t, couldn’t kill anyone. After I saw what Alex’s murder did to Eva, I don’t think I could ever kill anyone.”
To Lane, it almost sounded like a regretful apology.
“Do you know where we can find Norm?” Lane waited for a change in her eyes.
“Nope.” Aidan pushed herself off the tailgate. She’s lying, Lane thought.
“I’m going home to sleep, unless of course, you’ve got other questions.”
“Where can we get in touch with you?” Harper asked.
“I live at Eva’s.” Aidan waited for Lane to get off the tailgate. She closed it, got in the cab and drove away.
Lane walked in the back door just after sundown. Twilight promised another half hour of summer light.
“The kids took the dog for a walk.” Arthur sat at the kitchen table. His ears and neck were sunburned.
“The fight’s over?” Lane went to the fridge for a glass of water.
“For now.”
Lane looked over the water glass at Arthur.
Arthur’s eyes held tired determination. “We need to talk.”
Lane sat down.
“Erinn got the kids talking on the way home. They’re afraid.”
“Of what?” Lane asked.
Arthur gave him an Are you completely blind? expression. “You’ve been shot at twice, wounded once. Do I have to draw you pictures? They’re worried about you. They’ve already lost their families, such as they were, and they’re beginning to think this might be their family, although they didn’t put it exactly like that. And there’s more.”
