A Feather in the Rain (27 page)

The judge laughed big and loud. “You know she's probably right…about me being worth more than a million, that is.” Larry Littlefield had come down from Colorado to announce the celebrity fund-raiser and to film a segment for his TV show. And like he said to Jesse, “I come down to see you win this thing, boy.”

Though Soot had been the brightest star by far up to this point, all previous scorings were discarded now and this work alone would determine The Futurity champion. Anything could happen, as they all well knew. And no one better than Jesse. Thoughts of last year's tragedy kept trying to poke their way into his brain. He drew in deeply and blew them away on his breath as he watched the behavior of the herd during the last work before his turn to go. The colt was ready, the wildness in him always there. He had his own way of doing things and to ask him to do something he was just fixin' to do on his own was an insult he didn't take kindly. He had a lot of draw to him. He made a cow want to try him. Jesse reminded himself, above all, trust him. Don't panic if he waits a heartbeat longer than you think he should before hurling himself into that explosive turn. He's just having fun letting the cow think she's got a chance.

In the aisle behind the five judges' stands, Jesse nudged him forward at a quick trot and sat him down. One turn-around to the left and one to the right and stop. Drop the reins, stroke his neck, and let him relax. He heard his name called as he headed to the working area. Jesse sat tall and slim in a white shirt, black hat, and cream-colored fringed chaps. He wore a pair of silver-mounted spurs that Holly had ordered handmade especially for the occasion.

The colt was a thing to behold, burnished blackness with the
touch of silver sparkling here and there, his front legs from the knees down were wrapped in white. He moved in delicate contact with the earth as if desiring to leave it undisturbed by his passing. His neck long and low as he approached the herd, his ears flicking like antennae, he almost seemed to crouch like a panther stalking.

Jesse knew what he wanted to cut and went after it. The judges like that, a decision to go for a specific cow right from the start. It makes for a higher degree of difficulty and this was no time to play it safe. He was against the best. The scores were high. The only way to win was to let it all hang out. He drove ten head out. The judges could see that he was focused on one cow. If he were to change that focus to another, it would cost him a penalty of five points on his score and certainly the championship. But if he cut it successfully, he would gather points in his favor.

He dropped the colt in front of the one he wanted—a perfect cut, right in the center. Somewhere in the vastness of God's consciousness, in His sense of humor, in the poetry He puts into life, He must have created this particular cow to be the ultimate challenge for this particular horse. It seemed as if the cow and Soot came from the same source that had produced in them a fierce combativeness, the resourcefulness and extreme desire to achieve their end. They seemed inspired by their tasks and the opposition to its accomplishment. The eager heifer seem to say, “If you think you're going to stop me, you got another think coming.” The heifer then made a move like a bantamweight.

So sure was the colt of himself, he didn't even hurry; he seemed to take more time than wise, and yet a blur occurred. Just as the cow thought she would make it to the herd, she found in her face the hot blowing breath of Soot. Now savvy to the fact that this was not going to be as easy as she thought, she pulled out every instinct and lightning quick reflex with which she'd been endowed. And at every bone-crunching, muscle-tearing turn the cow found itself staring into a mirror reflecting not herself but the shining black face of the fire-breathing demon glaring her defeat. He began to give her a head
start like a boy racing his sister. He'd blow right by her just a little and sink into his melting stop, watching her without turning his head. Then he'd hesitate a millisecond before cracking over his hocks in a hazy arc and cut her off. Jesse could feel the dirt against his foot as a stirrup brushed the ground.

The swelling roar of the crowd reverberated in the rafters of the coliseum. The valiant little heifer had been worn down. Fatigue had taken hold and stopped her dead in her tracks. No cow had ever tried harder. As Jesse lifted his reins placing his right hand at the withers to signal Soot to relax, the audience went to bedlam.

He turned the colt back to the herd and cut his second cow. It wasn't the one he wanted but he was under the pressure of the clock. He had no choice. It was a wild-eyed, high-headed thing that looked like it just might try to leave town rather than get back to the herd or out of sheer frustration, decide to run right through him. One bad move here could cost him the farm. He told himself he had to stay cool, trust this colt. There was something about Soot that made a cow try harder. The cow wanted to run rather than play but Soot cut her off and danced in front of her saying, “Come on Show me what you've got.” The cow made a move toward the wall. Soot waited. Way too long. Jesse's heart stopped. He was sure they'd blown it. The crowd quit breathing. When what seemed like an eternity ended with a spine-cracking whirl over his hocks, Jesse thought he heard the sound of bone break. His blood ran cold. He felt himself for a millisecond having to catch up, so quick was the move.

The colt lunged in front of the cow and boxed her in. The cow shuddered and darted toward the herd. Soot waited that agonizing wait, then swept his graceful blur of an arc and blew in her face. He tapped his front feet in the dirt, his nose inches from the ground in front of the cow. The audience roared. Jesse knew he was on the edge. He wanted to quit but it would have meant being back in the herd when the buzzer sounded. He needed to end his run with Soot working a cow, and leave the judges with that image. So he took the risk and stuck it out. At the last second, the cow surrendered and
stood trembling in front of the quivering wound spring of a black colt ready to pounce. The buzzer sounded on a perfect portrait. Jesse slowly lifted the reins in his left hand and gently placed the fingertips of his right on the horse's withers, signaling they were done. The colt came out of his crouch to the throbbing roar of tumultuous applause, whistles, and cheers. He bent low and whispered something holy to the colt as he stroked the gleaming neck. He lifted one rein just an inch and Soot turned his face back toward Jesse's knee so he could touch between his eyes. The Will Rogers Coliseum had never heard the sound it heard that night.

Twenty minutes later the announcer voiced the obvious, that Jesse and his colt had won The Futurity.

He talked about the stud colt's lack of pedigree and his awesome ability and said he'd like to be selling tickets to Jesse's front door to folks with mares to be bred. He believed this colt would be the start of a dynasty.

Lamar, in the box with the Nalls and Kevin and Carley, turned to his wife and said, “Hear that? More than a million. Way more than a million.” They all laughed and made their way to the arena floor to congratulate Jesse.

Though he felt a rush of emotion, it was a quiet thing. He had always thought that if this moment would ever occur, that he would let loose a yahoo and toss his hat in the air or some such extravagant gesture of joy. But it wasn't that way. He felt humble and quiet and private again. He brought Holly, Abbie, and Mason into the circle while they presented him the trophy and took the photos. He spotted Lamar in the crowd and called him into the circle. Larry Littlefield, microphone in hand, was asking about the horse. Jesse drew Lamar close and introduced him as the man with the golden eye. “He found him…while he was fishing.”

Larry said, “Fishing? You didn't pull him out of a lake did you?” He held the microphone to Lamar.

“No, sir. I think he came out of the sky. God made him, I stumbled on him, and Jesse showed him how to become what he is.
It was a match that was meant to be.”

Jesse felt a sudden surge of emotion and tipped his head toward the roof and silently said, I love you, Zack. I know you're here.

Larry moved next to Jesse and said, “Any final thoughts, Mr. Jesse?” He held the microphone out.

“Yes, sir. I do have one request. I would like to purchase that first cow we cut and take her home and retire her at my place.”

Larry laughed and said, “Just right…just right.”

H
e did buy the cow and take her home. Holly called her Moonie. Jesse called her Money. Orders for the video were pouring in faster than they could fill them. Everyone with a promising mare wanted to breed to The Futurity champion. Local TV and radio wanted interviews. He used them to promote their non-profit Miracles Unlimited program by taking Holly with him and having her talk about the benefits of therapeutic riding. The Lazy JB was alive with comings and goings. Abbie had to find them a secretary to help with the increasing volume of work.

She was already in bed when he came still steaming from the shower and squirmed up against her. She'd loosened her hair and let it spread on the pillow. A time of great calm between them had arrived. Their relationship had developed in leaps from one pinnacle to another leaving valleys yet to be explored. He began to talk of his father. How important it was for him to impress ol' Clyde. “I still don't know if I ever did.” He chuckled at a thought.

“What?”

“He was a piece a work.” He shook his head. “Sometimes he could make John Wayne look like a sissy. He was gonna teach me to swim. So he threw me into a pond. I mean slung me in there. Now I never was one of those kids who took naturally to water. I didn't much care for it. I damn near drowned while he stood there and watched…” He quit breathing. He shook his head and made the sound of air leaving his lungs.

“What happened?”

“I just scrambled and flailed and somehow managed to get to shore.”

“What if you hadn't?”

He snorted through a grin. “You want me to tell what I really think?”

“Yes.”

“I believe I would've drowned.”

“You think your father would've stood there and let you drown?”

“I don't believe he ever considered it as a possibility. He was just teaching his boy to swim.”

“Can you swim?”

“Kinda…I'm about halfway handy in the pond up at the creek. Course, I can stand in it.” He grinned in the corner of his mouth. “He was a good man, though. A real good man.”

“Bear was a great swimmer. He still is. And my brother, wow, he could outrun anything. He won more trophies in high school. My grandmother was crazy about him.”

Jesse could see in her eyes the voyage back as she said, “Grandmama,” she continued, “always spoke so softly. Always full of love. I miss her so much. I always wanted to be like her. It's so hard having people get dead on you.” She laughed at herself and went silent.

There was some need between them to catch up on each other's lives before they met. He moved until her head was cradled in his
shoulder and his hand found the splendid fullness of her breast, her nipple swelled between his fingers. He knelt above her and helped her free of the gown. He looked at her with wonder, as a child at a conjurer. “There has never been anything as beautiful as this.” He gently placed his hands on her full round belly and stroked the taut apricot skin as tenderly as fingers have the art to do. Then slowly did his hands caress and circle the warm throbbing bloom of her bosom. The moisture flowed and he felt the life within her. “Is it all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied as she offered herself. “It's fine.”

“I want you so much. You're sure it's okay?”

“He said as long as it feels all right. And it feels just fine.” She reached out her arms.

T
he morning was damn near as dark as night. Mamacita was due to foal any time. She shifted restlessly as he undid the door to the foaling stall. He began at her head and gently ran his hands over her body. Her shape had reached an extreme of enlargement. The pelvic bones had loosened, her udder had sprung and the yellow waxy colostrum had formed on her teats, all the definitive signs of imminency. Each evening, Ricardo bathed her hindquarters with antiseptic soap, wrapped her tail and made sure the bedding was clean. Most horses deliver at night following a feral heritage. There are fewer predators on the prowl then and by hunting time, a foal can be on its feet ready to flee. Jesse told Ricardo to keep a sharp eye.

After supper that night, he sat with Holly and watched a Batman movie. Then he tucked her into bed and told her he was going to spend the night in Zack's loft. “I think tonight might be her time.”

She looked up at him from under the covers and said, “I want to
be there. If it's going to happen, you call me, okay?”

“Yep.”

“Promise?”

“I will.” He kissed her and left.

Jesse laid abed, his senses as near to waking as a junkyard Rottweiler. It was two in the morning when he sensed unrest below. He was out of bed on his way to the door when Ricardo hit the steps. Jesse opened the door.

“The mare, she's coming pronto. Maybe there is some problem.”

The barn was lit. The dogs had emerged. Chauncy had assumed a stoic post in the corner of the foaling stall. The mare's hide was darkened with patches of sweat. Jesse placed the flat of his hand on her flank. She turned her head. The big chocolate eyes were rimmed at the top with white, glaring. Wetness gathered in the anxious furrows of her brow.

“Call Holly and fix a bucket of hot water.” The words had barely left his lips when she appeared at the doorway sleepy-eyed, bundled in down. “I just told Ricardo to call you.”

“How is she doing?”

“She's having a problem.” He took her pulse at the jaw and dropped to his knees to check it at her foot. “Her pulse is out of control. Call John on the cell phone and bring it to me.”