by Hebby Roman
K.C. hung her head in answer and put the nightdress aside. Facing Breezy, she said, “I…I had to have some contact. You said once you’d been in love, and I’m not saying at all you’re too old to remember. Believe me.” She caught something of a smirk on the old woman’s face as she placed one hand on a hip and stood there. “It’s terrifying to love someone like that, to need someone else so much that just the sound of his voice goes through you and soothes you, heals you for a bit. It was as if I was some sort of electric robot and just calling Chay gave me some energy. He’s a drug, and he gave me a temporary high. I felt so empty, so very empty inside, my heart just felt bruised, and I couldn’t concentrate, and the fatigue was terrible. You just want to stay in bed the whole time. So I made those calls as a private caller. I knew he’d know it was me but it didn’t matter. I thought maybe he’d come back to New York of his own accord, just walk in one day and surprise me and everything would go on, but he never did.”
“And then your father died?”
“Yes. It’s funny but in some ways…well, it made me think of something else other than myself and Chay, having to look after my mother for a while, sort out my father’s estate, discuss my mother’s future because I insisted I wanted to leave New York and that’s difficult now with one child and one parent.”
“How did she take it?” Breezy perched once more on the bunk opposite K.C., her face folded into sincere sympathy.
“Not well. But one day she just phoned me and said she’d made her life and now it was time for me to make my own future, whatever it may be, and not to worry about her.” K.C. frowned. “She said she had plenty of money to do whatever she wanted, and if she needed help she could always hire it. And she pointed out she isn’t so old she can’t travel and enjoy herself.” She shrugged her acceptance of this. “So here I am. In Wyoming, where I want to be.”
“But not with the person you want to be with.”
“I…I know Chay and I will meet up sometime and either it will end once and for all, or we’ll get back together. But whichever it is, I want to stay in Wyoming. That much I do know.” She ran a hand through her hair and blew out a breath as if that would clear her mind. “How is he? How is his ranch doing? Are you going to tell me anything?”
“He’s fine.” Breezy hesitated a moment before saying, “He’s getting on with his plans. That ranch was…is very important to him. It’s been in his family for generations and it’s the only life he’s ever seen himself leading. But, you know, he hasn’t much money though he was able to save quite a bit from the Bantries’ leases and, of course, the D.O.T. paid him for what it took. Did you know that? He and the Bantries lost the case?”
“I…heard.”
When K.C. didn’t explain, Breezy continued: “So he’s building up the ranch and he’s back to doing some rodeo to supplement the income, and he’s having Jarrod, who did the ranch-house renovations, renovate the bunkhouse into a rental cabin so he’ll have income from that.”
“Wow. What a great idea. I remember that bunkhouse.” And the times we made love there….
“So, yeah. He’s getting on.”
They sat for some seconds in silence; K.C. had a strong sense something wasn’t being said. She recognized Breezy hadn’t spoken the magic words, ‘I know he misses you and still loves you,’ but perhaps she didn’t feel she could speak on Chay’s behalf like that.
At last, the older woman got up and peered across at her, eyes narrowing. “He’s in the rodeo this Saturday. Would you like me to go with you?”
There was no question as to whether K.C. would go or not, just whether she would go alone. Had the time come to see him? Would going to the rodeo be the way to start, maybe just ‘bumping into him’? She knew she had to face her fears. She could, of course, wait for Breezy to tell Chay she was here and see if he showed up but that was cowardice, pure and simple. She could be ultra-bold and drive over to the ranch and face him there, or maybe seek him out at the bar in town he frequented. But she liked the distance being in the stands at the rodeo gave her, cheering him on, and seeing if she felt up to speaking with him after.
“No,” she said at last. “I’ll go alone. Don’t tell him I’m here yet, will you. Let me see him there.”
* * *
Chay leaned against the railing, sucking on a straw of hay and adjusting his chaps. His good-luck rodeo buckskins were on, and his good-luck hat, though some of his fellow bareback bronc riders had switched to helmets now. He stomped a bit into his boots to get his heels in the right place and sauntered down to the chute to wait his turn, nodding hellos to friends and acquaintances as he passed.
“Gonna smash that beautiful face of yours, Ridgway, with that animal you drew. ‘Dante’s Devil’ is a real hard ride,” one of his pals called over.
“Harder the better, Dan.” Chay kept the cockiness in his voice; if he let fear come to the fore, it would rule him. The more self-possessed he could remain, the better. He could feel the usual tingle of nerves making their way to his chest; his breathing got tighter. He closed his eyes for a moment, took himself to a quiet place, and heard someone call his name to mount.
The flankmen were still playing with the flank strap so he waited a moment before climbing on. He got his gloved hand under the rigging and moved it until it felt right. He started to think about the ride, about marking out and staying on for eight seconds. Eight seconds. It seemed such a short amount of time but when you were up there on that horse, it was the longest time imaginable. He took a deep breath, let it out, and breathed in once more before nodding to the gate man.
When the gate swung open, Chay’s body jarred as the horse seemed to fly first one way, then the other. The colors of the crowd blurred like the design on a child’s top when it spun. His body was wracked with jolt after jolt, shock after shock, and somewhere he felt his hat spin off. But he stayed on and at last the buzzer went and the pickup men were there. Only thing was, he was hung up, could not get his hand free. As the animal continued to buck, the pickup men moved in closer to try to help. Chay kept pulling but it would not come free.
And then, the strap broke.
The crowd roared as one of the men caught Chay and yanked him onto his horse just as Dante’s Devil threw his hind legs out and caught the other horse on the flank. The horse started to go down, somehow managed to find its stride, and rode off with the two men to the applause of the crowd.
“Hell, you all right, Ridgway?”
Chay slipped down from the horse and looked up at his savior. In the stand, the crowd was roaring and cheering but Chay stood for a moment, his aching hand on the side of the horse, his legs wobbling a bit.
“Damnit, I got kicked.”
“You need the medic?”
“No. I’ll be fine. Just a bruise.”
“Well, get the hell out there and take your bow. Crowd’s going wild.”
Chay limped out about as far as he thought he could go, now the damn bronc had been cleared out, and there were no rough stock in the arena. The other pickup man rode over with his lost hat and handed it to him; Chay made a courtly bow and, as he came up, gave the audience a big smile to show he was fine.
And then, he saw her.
K.C.? I must be hallucinating. That girl looks just like K.C.
Chay limped out through the passageway, forgetting to hear his score until someone patted him on the shoulder with a ‘well done, Ridgway.’ He unbuckled his chaps, wondering whether he could peek out and see her again.
K.C.? It couldn’t be. Could it? Naw….
* * *
It felt to K.C. as if her heart had stopped as she watched in horror as the pickup men tried to pry Chay loose from his bronco. Man and rider kept going up and down, round and round for what seemed like hours until they were able to grab him off. Then, on top of everything, the dang bronco kicked back into the pickup man’s horse, which lost its footing with Chay on it, plus it looked as if Chay might have got the brunt of the kick. He looked unsteady on his fe
et as they cleared the bronco out and let Chay down. He received his hat from one of the men and bowed, coming up with his eyes spot on her. Probably couldn’t see her in that crowd, but it was unnerving.
To her right were a bunch of young kids, tourists’ children who didn’t understand everything going on and kept asking their parents endless questions—‘why do the other men have to take him off the horse, Mommy?’ On her other side was a very large man whose hand moved like an automaton from a carton of popcorn to his mouth and back again. K.C. ignored them—she felt a wave of nausea mixed with fear for Chay. Was he hurt bad? Could he walk? Would this affect his ranch work? Should she go back and see him?
She considered leaving now but she figured he would stay to see his friends ride, and knowing him, wouldn’t seek any more medical help than maybe a quick visit to the medics here. Her first thought was she’d wait until the end so she wouldn’t disturb other patrons, but she decided to apologize and inch her way out. Down at the backside of the stands, she tried to lose herself in the throng who had left, viewing the souvenir counters, buying hot dogs or popcorn, or just milling about. A distraught mother yanked a child along in a brisk march toward the rest rooms, and a group of three cowboys was laughing over something until they spotted K.C. and tried to size her up. She moved away and stood back under the overhang of the seating, the smell of fries and horse manure mingling.
And then she saw him. If it could be said he was sauntering with a limp, that was what he was doing. He stopped for a second, adjusted his hat, and was just about to start off again when a girl ran over to him. Long blond hair swished from under a cowgirl hat, her lithe body costumed in a fancy western shirt with a fringe hanging from the sleeves, and jeans with diamante on the rear pockets, while ostrich boots poked out from the bottoms.
“Chayyyy,” she drawled. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
Chay’s arm went around the girl and he gave her a broad smile.
K.C. stepped back further so she was well out of sight. Lightness overcame her, close to a swoon, but she caught her breath. She did not want to be seen. Not here, not now. She swiveled away as they walked past, arms around each other.
K.C. heard his voice, a cheerful note, contented.
“My place or yours, darlin’?”
Chapter Ten
Chay stared at his telephone trying to resist its magnetic pull. It proved futile.
“Is K.C. back? Is she there, is she working there? Have you seen her?”
“Well, and hello to you, too. ‘How ya doin’, Breezy?’ Well, Chay, I’m just fine; how ’bout yourself? Long time no—”
“She’s there, isn’t she? I thought I was hallucinating—first in the stands at the rodeo, then today across the street in town, going into the Post Office. It’s her, isn’t it? I see your hand in this, Breezy—you got her to come back, you’re trying to get us back together, you’re—”
“Now, you just wait a cotton pickin’ minute, Chay Ridgway. I did no such thing. You think I phoned up K.C. and told her to come on from New York? You’re even dumber than I thought.”
“Yeah, I’m dumb. So who told her to come back here? What is she doing here?” Chay paced the length of his kitchen and back again. A cup of coffee sat cooling on the counter and every time he looked at it, he felt like grabbing the bottle of Jack and throwing some in.
“Now you listen to me, young man, and you listen good. No one had to tell K.C. Daniels to come on back here. It’s always been her intention to come on back and you know it. She wrote to Bob and asked for her old job once more for the summer, while she looks around for a teaching post in Wyoming or figures out what else she wants to do. She said all she knew about her future was she wanted to remain out west and coming here was the one way she could think to start. No one ever mentioned you, hot shot, and we—Bob and I—certainly aren’t in the business of meddling in other people’s lives.”
“What?!” Chay’s mouth hung open in disbelief. He stopped in his tracks and looked at the phone as if it were guilty of lying. “That’s a hot one! You were the one who had my whole life sorted out when she left the first time: ‘go to New York, Chay, we’ll rent out your ranch house, lease the pasture to the Bantries, stay for two years, finish your high school diploma, I’ll look after everything.’”
“And you agreed. It’s not my fault you loused up everything and came home.”
“What?!” Chay walked to the counter and emptied the coffee down the drain. He grabbed the bottle of Jack off the shelf and, putting the phone down for a minute, unscrewed the top and tipped some of the amber liquid into his cup, shot it back, and poured some more. Not having the phone on speaker, he could just about make out what Breezy was saying.
“…I was trying to help. The two of you are so gaga in love you can’t think straight, and you can’t figure out how to be together and be happy. I never seen a couple of crazies like the two of you.”
Chay started tapping his foot in a nervous pulse as he took the phone back up, but with just his socks on, it was more a pat. “Love doesn’t always conquer all, Breezy. I can’t possibly give her all the things she’s used to—”
“Did she ever say she wanted all those things? No. K.C. is a sensible gal; she knows what matters in life and that’s what she wants.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m a damn good judge of character, that’s how. And because I’ve had several long talks with her. She came back to Wyoming to live here. With you. Or without you. You decide!” And with that, the phone went silent.
Another shot of whiskey down, he rang her back.
“You know I been seeing Lisa Stanford; does K.C. know that?”
“She saw you at the rodeo, which is why she didn’t go over.”
“Shit.”
“Listen. I doubt she expected you to remain celibate since you left, but it hurt her. Now…I’m not gonna get involved with this anymore ’cept to say I think you ought to see her, talk things through and sort it out. Two of you will be miserable the rest of your lives if you don’t give it one more try. ’Course, if that’s what you want, so be it. I’m not getting involved.”
Chay bit his lip as he contemplated his next move.
“Ah. She’s just pulled in out front…. Now she’s gathering some packages from the pickup and heading into her bunkhouse.”
“Is she alone? I mean is she alone in the bunkhouse as well as alone right now.”
“She’s alone. Time to make your move, smart ass.”
And with that, the phone went dead.
* * *
K.C. heard the screech of tires, the wail of brakes, and the all too familiar slam of the pickup cab’s door, which never closed and needed to be re-shut. She froze as she heard the thumping limp on the front porch and pondered if she should rush to lock the door. But there was no lock and no time. The screen door whined open and, instead of a knock on the interior door, there was the stomp of Chay’s boots until he stood there facing her, thumbs latched in belt, hat on head, scowl on face. After nothing more than a pause he grabbed her arm.
“Get your coat. Get a jacket. We’re going for a ride.”
“What? What are you talking about? I can smell whiskey on your breath!”
“Sorry! But we’re not talking here and you know damn well we need to talk. I’m not having Breezy or anyone else mooching about, K.C., peering through the dang office window as she’s doing right now.”
K.C. glanced out the bunkhouse window and thought she may have spotted Breezy just ducking out of sight.
“It doesn’t matter,” she retorted. “She’s not coming in and she can’t hear us.” At last, she snatched her arm free and her hands found her hips. She gazed at him, the old electricity running through her as if a switch had been flicked. Aside from a new scratch or two visible on his chin, he appeared exactly the same as the day he’d stopped in the apartment doorway and nodded his good-bye. “Say what you need to say,” she muttered, “and get out.”
&n
bsp; “Say what you need to say? Good title for a song, K.C. Maybe you should take up song-writing now you’ve moved to Wyoming.”
“I didn’t know there were constraints on New Yorkers moving to Wyoming, Chay. Was I supposed to report in to you, show a passport, a work permit, what?”
“No, but it’s a mite suspicious, don’t you think?” He started walking around in a random pattern, as if he were inspecting the bunkhouse for the first time. “I mean, if you want to move west, why not Montana? New Mexico is nice I hear. Plenty of jobs in California. And beautiful Colorado with all the great skiing. But no, you not only decide to move to Wyoming, you decide to move straight into my backyard. How’s that? That doesn’t seem a bit odd to you? A mite suspicious?”
“I know this area, Chay. I like this area—it is a very particular part of the state right next to Yellowstone and the Tetons, different from the high plains further east. And it was the easiest job to get, writing to Bob and asking, something I knew I could do for the summer by the end of which I hope I’ll have sorted out my life.”
“Sorted out your life, hmm.” Chay’s hands were back on his hips as he shook his head in compliance and glanced around as if there were someone who would agree with him. “And I guess ‘sorting out your life’ didn’t include me, did it? You were just going to move on in, go through the summer, hope you never bumped into me, and ‘get on with your life.’ Is that it?”
“No, that isn’t it, and you know it.” K.C. picked up one of the parcels she’d dropped on her bed and started unpacking it as if Chay weren’t there. Putting away new socks, a wooly hat, a Jackson Hole sweatshirt.
Chay reached out and grabbed her hand to stop the effort to ignore him. “Are you going to talk to me? Are we going to have this out?” He pulled her around by the wrist to face him. “I’m going to ask you one more time: why are you here?”
“And I’m telling you one more time, I’m here because I want to live here. That decision is separate from anything between you and me.” She yanked her hand free and swiveled back to her purchases. “You can get on with your life with your rodeo queen, Chay; don’t worry about me,” she mumbled.
