by Alex Cord
At the end of two days, all was festive. Kevin had won the novice class and was threatening to levitate. Carley fell in love with a flaxen-maned sorrel mare called Swinging Lena, owned and trained by the legendary Leon Harrel. Kevin asked Jesse what he thought of the horse. “She’s won a bunch. She was trained by the best. I think Carley would get along with her. Thing is, I expect Leon is kinda partial to that mare.”
They slipped away from the revelers. Kevin relentlessly wielded his powers of persuasion on Leon, got the mare bought, and arranged to have her waiting for them at Jesse’s place when they got back.
They had purchased champagne and invited everyone to the Lazy JB to celebrate their victories and witness Carley being presented with Swinging Lena.
A fire swayed in the big stone pit beside the barn. Patsy Cline’s plaintive lament, “I Fall To Pieces” wafted in the soft spring night. Kevin asked them all to gather in the barn. He disappeared for a minute and returned leading the gleaming copper mare with the platinum mane and tail. He locked his eyes on his wife and led the mare straight to her and held out his hand with the rope and said, “She’s yours.”
Carley’s eyes filled with tears as she bit her lower lip and smiled while the barn echoed with applause as she put her arm around Kevin and kissed him murmuring “thank you” in his ear. She wiped her eyes and began to move her hands slowly over the sleek shining hide. “She’s gorgeous.” She looked at Jesse and said, “Now I’ve got to learn to ride her.”
While they washed down pizza with hundred-dollar champagne, Jesse eased away to the house. He called Colorado to tell her he missed her, that he couldn’t wait to see her again, that he thought about her all the time, that they needed to make a plan. Suddenly, everything in his life seemed incomplete without her, the urge to go to her almost impossible to resist. The instant he hung up, he resented having called and wished he could unsay what he’d said. He suddenly had a sense of what it must be like to be addicted to a drug you know will destroy you.
He fixed a smile and went out to join the party. Daryl Ann swooped like a peregrine at a field mouse and handed him a glass of champagne, “Where have you been hiding, you villain?” she asked, her breath warm and sweet with wine. She stepped on his foot and pressed down to hold him there. He smiled, a little embarrassed, though the group was closer to the fire and they were in the shadows and enough wine had flowed to soften sensibilities. “I have it on excellent authority that you’ve been entertaining a creature from Colorado. And that she has actually shared your roof and heaven knows what else. And that she’s quite beautiful. And I have been deprived of the pleasure of meeting her.” She reached up and slipped her fingers along his neck, into his hair and crawled around to his ear until she had his lobe in a pinch. “And that she’s practically a bubble-gummer. You are an outlaw son of a bitch.” She pulled his ear, fingering his neck. “So take me to your tack room and show me your tack. If you don’t tell, I won’t.”
He wore an inscrutable face as he whispered, “Daryl Ann, you are a truly enchanting woman. I know I should leap at the opportunity to show you my tack, but I have taken a vow of celibacy for an indefinite period of time. And I’m keeping it.”
Painted lips parted and she flung her head back shaking her hair as she laughed. “And I am joining a Muslim convent in Istanbul.” She slowly drew her fingertips down his arm.
“That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”
“Well,” she smiled with wicked eyes and licked her lips, “as long as you’re having fun, I’m on your side.” She linked his arm and led him toward the fire. “If she ever gets kept after school and you want someone to play with, call me.”
67
Cuttin’ in Colorado
A broiling Texas summer could challenge the fortitude of a Zulu. Holly was in Colorado where it was cool. There were cuttings in Colorado. He could haul the horses and the clients could fly in and out. He called her. She said, “Yes, I could do that. It’s about a five-hour drive from here.” He had a big smile when he hung up and lightness in his heart.
He needed to have Abbie stay at the ranch with Ricardo. He called Billy Diggs to see if his son Mason wanted to go to Colorado. For Mason, it was a dream come true. If his dad had said no, he probably would have run away.
A Rocky Mountain summer storm had blackened the sky and salted the ground with hailstones steaming now in the bright sun. At the walk approaching the herd, his level of intensity matched the horse perfectly—relaxed and keenly focused. While the cow tested the horse, Jesse seemed weightless, in a trance, without effort, an element of the fierce encounter taking place. When it was done, he leaned forward to whisper something private to the horse and rode out with a smooth single stroke along the horse’s neck as the crowd applauded. With Holly Marie watching, he had won the class. He muttered the words, “Thank you, Lord,” even though in his heart he figured the Lord didn’t have time to be concerned about a cutting in Colorado.
He slid the security latch and crushed her against his chest, his mouth at her neck, the taste, the smell, the golden silky feel of her moving beneath his hands, his mind lost all thought. She played the macho aggressor, tearing at his clothes and shoving him toward the bed as he laughed and surrendered to the startling yoga-power behind the push and fell back on the bed. She flung his clothes to the walls, knelt above him and then became still, looking down. In the slow, graceful arc of a swan, she lowered her head, her hair whispered over his chest. He reached for the buttons on her blouse. She whispered, “You’re not supposed to do that. It’s not very nice.” She wiggled her shoulders and freed her arms from the sleeves. Her pale skin was almost blue in contrast to the black lace bra. He freed the rosy buds and draped the bra across his eyes like flyers goggles, then reached up to hold her in his palms. “When I’m not with you,” he whispered hoarsely, “I think I’ve only dreamt you.”
“My body’s been dead for years. You make me feel alive again.”
Each time they made love, each time he saw her face, it was as if it were the first. In the leaping light of candle flame, she stretched beneath him, alabaster white and rose pink, arching her back, reaching her arms above her head like a goddess emerging from the sea. He moved from where he knelt to lie beside her and take her head to his shoulder. He whispered, “I love you. My God.”
Her voice came from another world. “I love you, Jesse.”
He turned and looked into her face as if to verify what he knew he’d heard. She was smiling, though in her eyes a distant sadness smoldered in the gray. The words he’d waited to hear seemed to have come on an ominous wind.
A small childhood scar under her left eye, an infinitely poignant imperfection in her flawless face, caused a heat to rise at the sight of it, and the tiny blemish twisted his heart.
He awoke in the morning with his head beside hers on the pillow, sunlight shining through the golden down on her cheek. She blinked and said, “Good morning.”
They started the day with waffles and omelets. Daryl Ann Henley had been scarce the day before but plentiful at the moment. There was language in her hips as she swiveled between tables, a handsome buffed cowboy in tow. She stopped, flashing Vegas neon, and greeted Jesse, who stood up and introduced Holly. She introduced the cowboy and leaned slightly toward Holly. “I’ve heard a lot about you. You’ve been the buzz of the hill country. It’s so nice to meet you.” A diabetic might have been in peril with the sugar content, but she made it sound sincere. “I guess we’ll see you all later. Bye.” Smiling, she touched Jesse’s shoulder and led the cowboy away.
68
A Beast of Pain
It turned out to be a really good idea, coming to Colorado. The Texans were smoking them and loving it.
Kevin insisted everyone join him and Carley for dinner. Beyond Holly’s charm and manners, Jesse became aware of a distance, a silent distraction, that only he could see. He leaned to whisper in her ear, “Are you all right?”
Though she said she was, he knew she w
as not. He’d seen the slightest tremble in her chin, in spite of her effort to control it. All he could think about was getting her out of there and sorting it out.
When they finally got to their room, she walked to the window and leaned back against the sill as if she might collapse. Her face was white and tense. He walked to her. “Holly, what is it? What’s wrong?” She had fallen into a well of silence. “Tell me, what is it?” She seemed incapable of speech. Her eyes had grown dark in the shadows. She bit her lip and shook her head from side to side as if to free herself. Her chin began to quiver, followed by a torrent of tears spilling from her eyes and a woeful, wrenching sobbing as he wrapped her in his arms to prevent her from crumbling into fragments of herself.
What began with reddening eyes, a trembling chin, and the most heartrending effort to contain her pain, had become a fullblown storm of tears and, choking sobs—the unmistakable sounds of the most profound grief. This was a raging beast of pain. She had become a little girl with a dead puppy in her lap. So loudly did she wail, he was sure there’d be a knocking at their door.
He brought her to the bed, loosened her clothes, and held her head next to his heart, stroking her hair as she breathed easier. At last she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay…” He continued stroking her hair.
“I haven’t had a chance…to cry…for my brother. I took care of so many things, all the details…the organ donations…his ashes, I carried them in a taxi…my parents. I took care of everybody, everything…except me. I haven’t had a chance to cry. I’ve kept it inside for so long. We were like one person. He was funny, he was kind, he always put other people before himself…it’s just not fair. I don’t know why now…what it was about today that triggered this…” She wiped her eyes and sniffled through a wet laugh. “Maybe because I’m enjoying everything so much. We always shared our good times, maybe that’s why I miss him so much today. Our house is so small. I don’t want to make my parents sad…so I keep it all to myself.” She turned and looked up at him with swollen eyes. “Thank you for letting it be okay.”
Her tender complexion was blurred and inflamed, more beautiful than ever. He wanted to make love to her. The raw lips, the wet, matted eyelashes, the pink nose drew him to her and she opened her arms to take him in. “I love you, Jesse.”
He was only half-asleep, aware that she was not, when he heard her say, “How do you feel about having a child again?”
“I can’t even imagine it.” He was stunned by the question and spoke into the pillow.
His answer pierced her heart like a lance of ice, as unexpected as if it had been hurled out of a bouquet of roses.
He realized only as the words had left his lips, the brutal bluntness of their force. He propped on an elbow and saw on her face how hard they’d hit. He knew he’d spoken the truth but wished he’d done it better, or not at all. “It’s just that…I don’t know, I love kids. But since Damien died, I find it difficult to think about babies…birth…Sometimes I can’t even look at a baby. I don’t know how to explain it. I wish I could.” He was lost in frustration, wanting her to understand, not knowing how to get it done. “When you lose a child, even if he’s an adult, you’ve lost your baby. That’s how you first knew him. The baby always exists as long as the adult is there. When the adult dies, the baby dies, too. It’s like losing two people. I guess a baby, somehow for me, represents the potential for…” he shook his head as if to deny what he was saying, “the most deeply hurting pain.”
“It can also be the greatest joy.” It came softly from a long narrow hallway in her mind.
“That’s true…I know it is…” His voice trailed off. He said no more. Nor did she.
After a time of silent separate thought, he sensed the chasm between them though they were close enough to feel the warmth of each other’s blood. He drew her into his arms and whispered in her hair, “I didn’t mean it to sound the way it came out.”
She breathed in and released a small murmur of response.
69
A Parting
The mountaintops stood behind them, islands in the morning mist. He leaned back against the fender of her car and held her close between his legs. She forced a smile as he touched her face and tugged her collar up around her neck. He kissed her soft and slow, until he felt her lips give in, he whispered, “I love you…go.” He guided her into the seat behind the wheel and shut the door. She rolled the window down and looked up at him. “Drive careful,” he said and leaned in to kiss her one last time. He stood up and looked into her eyes trying to read the silent mystery there. Something had been damaged and he knew it, but he didn’t know how to fix it.
She drove away with her arm out the window, fingers formed in the sign language symbol of love, waving gently. He watched until she vanished at the end of the street. He blew out a breath and headed toward the trailer and his truck. This was a woman of many shades and hues and beneath the external tranquil beauty, churned the groans of roaring wind and rain. Children, that was an important question she asked. Even though he’d known this could never work, he’d told her he loved her, again and again. How could he not have…even if he had known it couldn’t last.
Mason had the horses booted for travel, and lined up on both sides of the trailer. Jesse clapped the boy on the shoulder and said, “Come on, let’s get some breakfast. Then we’ll load them up and hit the road, Jack.”
“Jack?”
“It’s an old song.”
“Huevos rancheros,” the pretty college-girl-waitress repeated Mason’s order as she wrote it, smiled and turned away.
Mason stared at his orange juice. “She sure is a real nice lady.”
Jesse looked after the waitress. “Yeah….”
“I mean Miss Holly.”
“Oh…yeah…”
70
Texas
The buoyant bright light of Abbie bounded off the porch behind the dogs. She hugged him while telling nonstop everything that transpired since he left, even though they’d spoken nearly every night.
He was in the saddle at seven. The colt was on the muscle. Jesse gave him his head, and he snaked it to the ground as he galloped off slinging his hind feet to the sky, clacking his hooves together applauding the day. His body cracked like a lash at the end of a whip as he bucked. He knew that Jesse was right with him, sharing the celebration of his wild spirit. Minutes later, they settled down to the business of working cattle. If anything, the colt had gotten better and smoother, as if he’d been training himself.
Mason called to thank him for the great trip. “I talked to my mom and dad. They know I’m serious about wanting to work with horses and maybe be a vet and they said it’d be okay if I wanted to ask you if I could come and help you out for the rest of the summer. You wouldn’t have to pay me or anything. My dad said it’d be all right. I…I could ride my bike over…”
Jesse sat on a horse with a smile on his face, “Come on,” he said.
The boy wasn’t sure he heard right. “Are you serious, sir?”
“Yes, sir, and I’ll pay you, too. I was just thinking about how I need to hire another hand.”
“Gosh, that’s great. Thanks. When do you want me to start?”
“When can you?”
“I could start right now.”
“Come on.”
71
Instinct Will Not Be Denied
In the tiny Holly House, she sat at her desk trying to put thoughts in her journal, hoping that giving them form in ink would make them clear. Her heart still held the sting of his feelings about children. She wanted to find the truth of what she felt. She’d never thought much about having children. The idea of children was always so connected to a man, a father, a husband, and until the Texas cowboy, she had never met that man. But now with the loss of her brother and the finding of Jesse, something had begun to brew. She knew that a child wouldn’t bring her brother back, but the thought of creating a human being out of love seemed a very appealing
thing. If nothing else, she needed to know the possibility was there.
Worn weary with a lonely three-day struggle to resist the urge to call, he punched out her number. The sound of her hello brought scant relief. He had to see her face, touch her skin, smell her hair.
It was resolved that she would come to Texas in ten days and videotape Jesse training. He insisted it would be a business venture. She would be paid outright or participate in a percentage of the profits from its sales, whichever she preferred. The last words he spoke before easing the phone to its cradle were, “I love you.” Every time he said them, he felt they’d escaped against his will. There was something about this love that was stronger than he. It made him uneasy.
72
Colorado Sunshine In Texas
She arrived overflowing with ideas, a storyboard, a script complete with camera angles, ways and places to advertise, and a marketing scheme. He smiled, sitting next to her on the sofa at the big table, a bottle of wine between them. “You’ve done a hell of a lot of work.
It looks so professional. Where did you get all that information?”
“I studied a little. Some from experience. A lot from Bear. I put it together on our computer.”
“I can see the whole thing.” He leaned forward and kissed her into a slower pace down a different path. He whispered thank you against her lips and felt the change as she softened under his touch and slipped her arms around his neck. She seemed to constantly create a universe wherein all was new, the tantalizing tilt of her head haloed in gilded strands of light, the smoke that veiled her mystifying eyes, the bone-china paleness of her skin, whose purpose was to take him from himself.
