by Jody Kaye
“Eric would hump Rodger’s leg to get his way, wouldn’t he?” Rose fell into a raucous giggle that set Lily Anne off.
They held their stomachs. As the laughing subsided, a pang of longing hit Rose that she only ever felt during the other three seasons of the year. She missed Lily Anne something fierce when she was back in Georgia. Was it wrong that she wanted Rodger and Lil living nearby with lots of Newhouse babies running amuck in their yard? Was encouraging their mutual attraction for her own benefit, so that Rose had two pillars of strength in one place?
Your conscience is showing. Rodger was always the first to remind Rose that she had redeeming qualities. In all honesty, Rose wondered if she deserved to have an angel sitting on her shoulder trying to guide her actions.
She sighed, her head falling to the pillow and lolling together with Lily Anne’s. There was something reassuring about having people in your life who saw past your horns and tail, willing to accept you for who you were. Why couldn’t everyone who told her they loved her be like that?
“So what are you going to do tomorrow?” Lily Anne asked, yawning.
“Not be here.” She didn’t have the willpower to endure Eric’s displeasure.
“Talk to your daddy. Tell him how you feel.”
“I’ve tried. It don’t matter none to him. I’m a commodity he will barter away like those barrels of oil,” she replied, spiritless and isolated. “Let’s get some shut-eye. You’ve gotta make that boy fall in love with you tomorrow.”
Rose reached over her head, snapping off the light on the nightstand. Then she snuggled into Lily Anne, no longer the least bit tired, but weary nonetheless.
Restless throughout the night, Rose crept to her own room and readied herself before dawn’s first light, ducking out of the mansion earlier than Benita would begin breakfast preparations.
She stopped at the Golden Arches for a coffee and drove to the outskirts of the fairgrounds. Through the morning mist, sipping the hot beverage from a paper cup, she watched the silhouettes of muscular young workers set up the last of the three-day festival preparations. Then, after Eric had long since escaped to the Kingsbrier offices in Houston and prior to the fair crowds gathering, she put the car in reverse, heading back in the direction of Kingsbrier.
Pulling the convertible up a gravel access road, Rose turned the wheel right, coming to a stop by a bramble of bushes and killing the engine. No one would think to look for her off the beaten path by the creek.
The heat bugs were buzzing, making a soft and tranquil white noise. Rose got out and popped the trunk, finding a blanket. She laid it down on the soft grass, while her mind wandered to what Rodger and Lily Anne would be doing without her. Would one day alone for them turn her into a third-wheel for the rest of the summer? She hoped not. Dealing with Eric finding out about their budding relationship was enough of a hardship. Rose rolled into a fetal position and fell asleep.
When she woke the sun was high in the sky. A slight breeze washed the prickling heat from her skin and tree leaves cast moving shadows over her body like the reflection of waves in a lake. She rubbed the flesh of her palms into her eye sockets. Her mouth was pasty, but she felt well rested. Rose sat up on the blanket, hugging her knees to her chest. She contemplated walking into the creek for a bath with her clothes on. Instead she stood, rolling the blanket into a knot and tossing it into the backseat of the car before heading back to the mansion. No one would be home at this hour. Benita ran errands today and Rodger would have long since picked up Lily for the afternoon. Rose had that whole, big, empty house to get lost in by herself.
She showered and changed. With nothing to occupy her attention, Rose curled her long straight blonde locks into looping tendrils and did her face with thick, black mascara. She used an expensive brand that didn’t run in the heat, but it turned into an awful clumpy mess if Rose found herself in hysterics. She used it as a weapon against tears. No woman wants raccoon eyes. Therefore she refused to get so worked up over anything that she’d have the propensity to cry.
Later, she wandered the hall, stopping into her father’s study to peruse the holding company’s financials he’d left on his desk. It was an absent-minded habit he acquired thinking they’d be of no interest to her. The threat of outside eyes prying was nonexistent. Guests were a rarity since her mother’s passing.
Rose taught herself how to read a balance sheet long before she took corporate finance in college. Occasionally, she highlighted a questionable number using his favorite pen. Rose learned to copy Eric’s handwriting in her late teens. Although, she’d never falsified his signature for anything more binding than a school field trip permission form or too frequent detention slip. She’d become renowned for rarely attending class, never studied, and most infuriating of all aced every last test that she took a number two pencil to. With her permanent record transcribing her flaws in vivid detail, Rose got into college on a whim and a prayer courtesy of big fat endowment check.
Her stomach grumbled so she went down the grand staircase, across the marble foyer, and down a back hall toward the outdated kitchen to snag a Granny Smith from a basket of fruit. Rose bit into the crisp skin and juice dripped down her chin. She used her finger to wipe the nectar away. For some reason, Rose’s thoughts floated to pie and she began craving the closest thing to warm crust she was able get her hands on without asking Benita to bake: Funnel cake.
Rose returned to the county fairgrounds happy that there were enough people in early attendance for her to remain inconspicuous. She stood three-deep in line, waiting for her turn at the window of the white truck with its flashing orange and yellow light bulbs. A grizzled, old man handed over her order and change from a five at the same time. Rose took only the food. “Keep it.” She nodded to the tip cup with the same graciousness Lil embodied. Those few extra dollars were worth more to him than they’d ever be for her.
Spying the sign for the covered arena, Rose paid the admission with a handful of tickets in her back pocket that she’d purchased at the entry-point near the parking lot. She took the sweet fried dough into the covered ring only planning to stay as long as it took to eat.
The ring was cool but humid and as good a place as any to hide from Lily Anne and Rodger. She wanted to give them a bit of privacy, not invade their first date by making either feel like she was checking up on them. Or worse, have her dearest friends think she couldn’t survive without them. Although, as the thought enter her mind, Rose questioned if she could.
It seemed so much easier to have one of those young-love romances with someone like Rodger. Now she was on the outside looking in. Not a position Rose often found herself in. Of course, horrible people sat by waiting on whatever happens to happen and then weaseling themselves in between when it was more convenient. Come the fall, when Lil traveled back to Georgia, Rose expected to be in Rodger’s good graces again.
So many others seemed to believe in marriage as a barter. Could she learn to love Rodger the way Eric was asking her to do with someone else? Other than the issue of Lil’s summer infatuation, how wrong was it for Rose to offer Rodger more than friendship?
The moment it crossed her mind, Rose knew discounting Lily Anne’s feelings wasn’t appropriate. She was a bad friend to even consider subterfuge. It appeared that there were lines Rose Kingsbrier wouldn’t cross.
A shiver went up Rose’s spine at the exact moment the overhead fans turned on, circulating the air in the building. It replaced the confectionery cloud she’d been inhaling, pulling the scent of animal and cedar into her nose. Rose set her snack down on its napkin on the metal bench, wiped the corners of her mouth with the pads of her index finger and thumb and then rubbed both palms against the fabric of her Bermuda shorts. Her gaze never left the half-eaten cake. The sugar and grease began to churn her stomach, yet Rose’s sweet tooth won the battle against the calories that could wreck her waistline.
She’d never needed to prove herself to anyone when her mother was alive. It could have been a child�
�s naiveté, but what if it was more than that?
Without any strong feminine influence had Eric Kingsbrier managed to turn Rose into a younger version of himself? It was a misnomer to believe that Rose was ever an angel. However, only a horrible person considered ruining relationships for their own gain. It didn’t matter that her scruples sent that notion packing. How could anyone with a conscience think of that and not deserve being shuttered into a loveless marriage as requital.
There was no reason to flaunt a perfect figure when she’d inherited a line of six perfect zeros at the end of her trust fund account. Those were the curves men desired. Rose picked up the funnel cake, determined to have a sugary treat denied the previous night. She stared at it poised by her mouth, unable to take another bite of the dough and set it aside again.
Rose took several deep inhalations as tears welled in her eyes. She pushed the last breath out, forcing the compression of the lowest point of her lungs first so that by the time she closed her mouth there was no air left. She stared at the far wall of the arena, considering how long it would take before she blacked out if she didn’t start breathing again. Who’d find her passed out on the bleachers? Would anyone care?
A slight fuzzy gray clouded her vision and her lungs began to ache. Loud, metal-on-metal clang surprised Rose, making her juvenile attempt at playing damsel in distress by keeling over moot. She sucked in a breath, not having time to admonish herself, as her attention became rapt to a set of men trying to get a rider off of a horse in the chute. The team worked together fastidiously. Two men hauled the rider over the wall to safety before the horse could flip as it bucked backward. A third jumped into the ring, opposite the gate. With gloved hands, he began pushing up on something that Rose recognized as the gelding’s hoof. The animal had caught its lower leg between the slats. It must be in terrible pain considering the angle and weight of the aforementioned rider.
“It’s free!” he called over the cacophony the small crowd of worried onlookers in the arena was able to produce. The leg slipped out of sight. Then one last cowboy appeared over the stall.
Even from this vantage point, it was obvious that he was a tall man. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. His cohorts allowed him leeway, backing off while still remaining present if he got into trouble. It took several minutes for him to calm the beautiful dark animal, glistening with sweat. It stumbled, hesitant to put pressure on its hind leg.
Young Doc Marley came on the scene. That last cowboy kept the gelding’s attention while the local veterinarian gave it a quick once-over now that the animal was more subdued.
It wasn’t beyond reason to believe this man was an employee of the stock contractor. It was as if he knew the horse’s temperament. However, most saddle riders and barrel rollers were in it for themselves.
A short while later, the crowd applauded as Marley led the horse away, a soft limp impeding its forward motion. Rose hoped for an easy recovery and that the slight injury wouldn’t cause the horse’s demise. Not when those men worked with such diligence to ensure its safety. The first three cowboys held up their arms accepting the warm acknowledgment of the small afternoon audience. The last looked away, his gaze searching the tunnel the animal disappeared into before turning to face the emptiest set of seats where Rose was.
As his eyes locked onto hers, Rose’s heart stopped. He touched the brim of his Stetson, acknowledging her like a gentleman should, making her lightheaded feeling return anew. One of the other men called to him and he went back to work.
Rose decided to stay longer to watch, cognizant of his every move. Her stomach tightened with anticipation that he’d look over at her again. There was an innate knowledge of which body was his when responsibilities within the ring changed and he became the rider who retrieved the thrown cowboy or brought a chucking mare back to the stalls.
She’d seated herself close. At one point, he removed his hat long enough for her to see his dark, cropped hair. When the late day rays streamed in through large windows hitting his face, there was a shadowing hint that he needed a time with a razor. He’d since rolled his shirtsleeves up below his elbow revealing tanned, lean forearm muscles.
Rose finally decided to leave at suppertime. He smiled one more solitary time at her as if he’d known all along why she stayed. It was enough attention to spur Rose into returning the next day.
By the end of the weekend, Rose lost count of the times she watched him leaned over metal gates to help saddle horses. She wanted to touch the plaid and solid broadcloth shirts that stretched around his biceps and strained against his chest as he moved with his tasks. That simple article of clothing reminded Rose that men’s bodies were often times as beautiful with their clothes on. Although, if this rider chose to take that shirt off, she’d be the last to complain.
By the second day of the fair, Rose had noticed a pattern developing. The cowboy only mounted in the chute as part of the evening shows. The broncos were larger, more muscular, and Rose—not an enormous fan of riding—found them imposing even from a distance. It was only during his turns that she counted, chanting aloud with the crowd, jumping from her seat the longer he stayed on, amazed at his skill as both a rider and a handler.
The cowboy gave his full attention to Rose after waiting for his horse to be saddled tonight. She shot him a devastating smile that he returned, clutching his chest. Then he climbed onto the horse, placing his heels above the animal’s shoulders.
The horse’s hooves hit the ground as it left the chute, lifting time and time again, making it seem like each of the bronco’s four limbs went in opposing directions. Likewise one of the cowboy’s arms flailed up while the other held tight to the reins. His hips bucked up and off the saddle as his knees squeezed into the horse’s sides trying to maintain the connection. The announcer’s voice became frantic as the time to beat approached. The crowd went wild, but as everyone got on their feet, the horse threw the rider and it took off. A wake of dirt flew from behind like smoke launching out of a rocket.
The cowboy picked himself up, brushed off his jeans and started back to the side of the ring seeming none the worse for wear.
It was then that the agitated bronco came up behind him at a gallop. Everyone gasped and the ensuing silence was enough to hear a pin drop. The rider turned to face the horse. It slowed but didn’t stop until they were nose to nose. Other hands and wranglers ran out. Their stampeding footfalls skidded into silence as the rider touched the bronco’s muzzle with an unbridled gentleness that was rare in any man. The horse pushed its nose against the cowboy’s hand, listening to his soft words. Then it shook itself and paced backward before taking off again.
“What was that about?” Lily Anne gaped, awestruck. She’d clutched Rodger’s hand so hard that he was shaking it, trying to regain circulation.
Rose stood, leaving Lily Anne glued to her seat. Lil hadn’t been in the building when the gelding’s leg got caught in the chute.
“Wait! Are you headed down there?” She scrambled to catch up, boots clanging against the metal bleachers under her feet.
“No.” Rose’s heart beat in her throat. There was also no way she’d stay for round three. His luck was about to run out. Any girlish musings Rose used to build the cowboy up with were about to be dashed. “If he wants to find me I’m sure he has the magic to figure it out on his own.” She tossed the words out flippant and feigning overconfidence, when the whole situation had scared her out of her wits. “I need a drink. Let’s go to that new little dive downtown.”
Rodger mocked Rose from one parking lot to the next. His technique was more of what he didn’t say that allowed Rose to back herself into a corner when she got defensive, rather than verbal abuse. When he had her riled up to the point that she couldn’t take anymore by jesting about loving the rider and then leaving him in his hour of need, Rodger put the brakes on, allowing the flush of Rose’s cheeks to subside.
Rodger opened the passenger doors to his Cadillac for both girls. He nev
er let Lily Anne out of his grasp once he took her hand to help her up out of the car.
“Dinner’s on me,” Rodger said, slinging his arm over Rose’s shoulder. Then he did the same to Lily Anne’s waist, pulling her closer.
Patrons packed the restaurant and, even with the windows flung wide open, the heat seemed to increase despite the way the sun was setting at the edge of the wide Texas sky. The food was amazing and they took their time feasting on juicy burgers and fries covered in a pint of ketchup along with the requisite beer to wash everything down with. The trio lost track of time after deciding they needed more to drink. They were about to consider leaving when the door swung open creating a breeze.
“Thank heavens.” Lily Anne stretched, letting the cooler air pass across her neck and shoulders. “It is hot as Hades in here. You’d think they’d have more than these ceiling fans to combat the scorching temperature. Hopefully, it won’t linger for the entire week.” Her voice trailed off with a hint of amusement. “Don’t turn around. He’s here,” she whispered under her breath as she lifted a pilsner glass from the scratched table to her mouth. A large wet ring on the coaster buckled the paper, distorting the printed image.
Roger let out a slight chuckle. It might very well be coincidental, but he remarked, “You’ve always had an uncanny knack for getting what you want.”
He pushed back his chair, kissed Lily Anne’s cheek, and took his beer and hers over to vacant stools at the bar.
“I guess that rider does have supernatural powers. He’s coming this way. My God, Rose, I swear this man is even more handsome up close. I said ‘don’t look’! And don’t tell Rodger that I said that either,” Lily Anne added a hasty admonition to reinforce that her sights were still set on one cattleman in particular.
