A Feather in the Rain (6 page)

He felt immediately clumsy but his eyes would not leave her. He took in every point of her. The face, the figure, the honey-colored hair, the way she was dressed. He could smell her from where he stood. He took it all in and stored it as quick and keen as lightning. Under the black brim of her hat, the smoky blue-gray eyes caught him again and for the briefest part of a second she smiled easily while turning from an inquiry by Rosie about the food to something
Bear was saying about the upcoming event.

“Jesse!” It was coming from behind him and finally broke through his trance. He turned to see the unshaven, unbreakable jaw of Digger saying, “You want ribs, a burger, or ‘gospel bird'?”

“Gospel bird. Thanks.”

“Chicken?! You're a Texan, aincha son? You need to eat beef. We're in the cattle business in Texas. We don't raise no damn chickens.”

“Tell you what. I'll eat whatever you put on that plate.”

Jesse had turned back to what drew him like the moon draws tides. What was it that haunted him? Yes, he could see her mother's smile and the cheekbones and that she got her tallness from Bear and the fineness from Ruby. But there was something in the way she moved.

He was depositing bones in a trash bag when Bear stood beside him popping a Coors. “Have you met my daughter Holly?”

“No, sir.”

They moved to where she stood in a circle. Bear put his arm around her and puffed up. “This is my daughter Holly Marie. Holly, this is Jesse Burrell. Larry says he's a great horseman. Holly has just come in from New York. She's been working back there as a fashion model. Holly wants to learn to ride a cutting horse.” It was something Bear had done ever since she was a child, get his children right out there. “Go and shake that hand. Look 'em straight in the eye.” Holly was used to it, but what was natural for Bear wasn't always easy for her.

She took his hand in hers and held it warmly. Smiling the brood mare of all smiles, she looked into his eyes. “It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Burrell.” She bowed slightly at the waist as a yogi or Buddhist might.

No one had ever said it's an honor to meet you, Mr. Burrell. He felt his face flush and found it almost impossible to look at her directly. “Please, call me Jesse.” And in that instant he was seized by a fever of the flesh he had never in all his life experienced. How could such a thing happen? She was probably younger than Zack
would be. But this was a feeling over which his mind had no power. She let loose a flight of elaborate bright balloons in his heart.

“Well, we're gonna ride some more. Maybe rope a little bit. C'mon down to the arena, we'll get you on a horse.”

It was ever so slight but her face pinked a little and she felt an agitation inside of her as the molecular structure of the space between a man and a woman was altered. She hesitated for a second then said, “Really?”

“Sure. Have you ridden at all?”

“As a girl in the Midwest, I used to ride hunters.”

Bear had gone back to discussing the event with a circle of supporters. Jesse and Holly started down the steps to the path that led to the arena. “I think riding the hunt seat is about the best foundation there is. Lot of cowboys are scared to death of a flat saddle. If you can ride that, you can ride anything.” He suddenly realized he was talking about three times more than he normally would and was sure he sounded stupid. Yet he couldn't seem to stop his mouth. “I'll tell you one thing. You look the part.”

She may not have been on a horse in a while, but it didn't appear that way. She was tall and lean with the unflared hips of a teenage boy. She sat up straight but relaxed, an extravagant natural arch in her back lending an air of elegance. Jesse sat the big buckskin and trotted alongside giving small hints and elaborate praise as they went, his mind a chaotic blizzard of thought.

Holly knew well how to suppress nerves and function under stress while appearing cooler than a glacier. She tried to concentrate on what he was saying but found distraction in the easy rhythm of his flowing with the horse. And there were his hands. Large, longfingered, as articulate as a guitarist's, the reins draped loosely between them, as he seemed to command the big horse easily by virtue of his will.

As she watched the horse move, an image came to her of the huge heart pumping within the vaulted cathedral of ribs between his knees and blood pulsing to muscles and sinews that articulated the
legs and drove the hooves to imprint the earth.

His glances were quick, furtive, like a child hoarding contraband sweets. A pearlescent sheen appeared beneath the down along the pout of her upper lip and caused his tongue to moisten his own. He trotted close beside her feeling the warmer air. For an instant his knee brushed hers. They were both aware.

She had a light touch, a willingness to be soft. She was balanced and poised as they cantered a big circle around the arena. He showed her how to ride for the hard stops that were a big part of a cutting horse's defensive maneuvers. Jesse said, “You wouldn't be putting me on, would you? You look like a ringer to me.”

“It's been more than fifteen years since I was on a horse.”

He shook his head. “Let's get you in there and cut a cow.”

“You think so?”

“You're ready.”

“Oh, my God. I can't believe I'm going to do this.”

She rode into the herd with a white-knuckled grip on the saddle horn. Jesse said, “Relax, concentrate on the cattle and trust the horse.”

She did a helluva job for a first-timer, and delighted in Jesse's praise. She could barely contain herself as she glanced toward the fence to see Bear and Ruby, beaming and Bear giving her a thumbs-up.

In high spirits, she extended her hand. “Thank you so much, Jesse. That's the most fun I've had…” She puffed out her plump pink lips and blew away some tension as he took her hand and held it for what seemed a week. He was the first to let go. “That was just great,” she said. “Thank you so much.”

“You did a good job.”

“Well, thank you.” There was something unique about the way she said thank you, an uncommon dimension of sincere connection and appreciation. “Bear's got a couple of horses at our house but he and my mom never seem to have time to ride lately. You got me started now. I'm going to have to go out there and get the old gray mare back to where she used to be.” Then she gave him a look he could have poured on his pancakes. It wasn't playful and it wasn't
designed. It just was.

He felt that his life had just doubled in value. A bolt of fear shot through him. Then a part of him wished he hadn't met this woman, that she hadn't looked at him like that. Like what? Maybe there was no like that. Maybe he'd added that.

Larry called him. They were ready to rope. When Jesse got his horse backed into the box, Larry grinning across at him said, “You better catch. She's watching.” The young longhorn fired out of the box and damn near outran them, but they cowboyed-up, caught the steer, and made a hell of a run out of it.

After a few runs, Bear called across the arena saying they had to get back to town. Larry and Jesse rode over to say goodbye. Bear said, “We've still got to play host to some of the celebrities and press at the hotel. Thanks for a great day. We'll see you guys tomorrow.”

Holly reached her hand over the fence toward Jesse. “It was very nice to meet you. And thanks again for the lesson. That was so much fun.”

“Will you be at the rodeo tomorrow?”

“Oh, yes. Bear's got me working. We're doing a video on the whole thing. So I'm the official interviewer and camera operator. Maybe you'll let me interview you?”

“I'm not real good at…”He saw a look of disappointment at the thought of him refusing and immediately said, “okay, why not. If I make a fool of myself, you can always cut it out, right?”

“I'm sure you won't make a fool of yourself. Are you staying at the hotel?”

“Tomorrow. Gonna stay out here tonight.” He simply could not look at her.

Taking in the surrounding panorama, she said, “This is the most beautiful place.”

And all the more so because of you, he thought. “It is that,” was all he could say.

“Well, see you tomorrow then. Bye.” She smiled and the sun brightened. Then she turned and headed up the hill following Bear
and Ruby. As he watched her go the tense bob of her buns pumping her arched back up the hill, the swagger of her arms, he suddenly realized what it was that haunted him. Though totally feminine, and Zack completely masculine, she moved like his son. That's what it was. The thrusting bounce of his heels off the ground and the easy swing in his shoulders. The thought chilled him. He watched her all the way to their car, daring to wonder if she might look back. She did not. He was almost glad.

P
eople milled among the vendor booths and food dispensers while the grandstands began to fill. A TV news van sprouted wires, microphones, cameras, and the personnel to work them. Like a hummingbird, Bear moved among them all, gathering celebrities and organizing interviews. Holly had traded her cowboy hat for a baseball cap to accommodate the bulky camcorder on her shoulder. She wound through the throng with supple ease, a hod carrier's stamina, and the resolve of a combat photographer.

Susan Hampton, a glamorous blond villainess in a James Bond movie, was Jesse's celebrity partner for the cutting. She sat tall, confident in the saddle looking down at what she could see of Jesse under his hat brim as he adjusted her stirrups. As he touched her calf, guiding her foot into the stirrup, he kept trying to look around her to see if he could spot Holly.

Susan, accustomed to men fawning, falling, and fighting over her, could not comprehend this cowboy's lack of interest and
wondered what in hell he was looking for. At the practice pen, he saw she could ride better than he'd expected. He coached her while she cut three cows and told her she was ready. “Really good job. If I can hold up my end, we'll do all right. You can stay on him. Just let him walk awhile. He's not used to this altitude.” Susan thanked him and turned the horse around to circle the pen.

He knew she was there before he turned his head. Holly Marie had come up behind him. “And how are you today, Mr. Burrell?” There was something wicked in her smile.

Immediately, he felt left-footed, humpbacked, one-eyed, tongue-tied, red-faced, and stupid but somehow managed to reply with equal formality, “Well, thank you. And you, Miss Bassett?”

“I'm fine, thanks. Do you think maybe we could do a little interview?”

He noticed again the light glisten of moisture on her upper lip. He could swear she seemed just a little shy. There was a need in him to find what imperfections he could in this creature so far beyond the reach of such a common mortal as himself. “Sure. That's a lot of stuff you're carrying.”

“I'm pretty strong…but it is getting warm.”

“Where would you like to do it?”

“Over by that trailer would be fine.”

He stood down and leading the horse, followed her. Watching her springing, leggy stride he felt a dry tightening in his throat even as he smiled and shook his head.

She adjusted him to the angle of light she preferred. As she pinned a microphone on his shirt, he breathed in the heated scent that perfumed his brain and sent his heart everywhere at once. As he tumbled into a trance, he heard her distant voice say. “What would you like to talk about?”

Before returning to total consciousness, he said, “I'd like to talk about you marrying me.”

It was too late, the words were out, and the bell could not be unrung. It was the dumbest thing he could have done. And all for
wanting to be slick, for not wanting to be the toe-in-the-dirt country bumpkin. Surely, she would take offense even if she didn't show it, or at the very least see him for the ultimate rube that he was.

Like newly veined porcelain, a pink shine colored her cheeks and her smile broke wide and shyly. She turned away in slight embarrassment and then as she looked back at him said, “Really? That would be something.”

“I can't believe I said that. Excuse me. My mouth just ran ahead of my brain.”

She kept smiling and clearing her throat, trying to get past the moment of knowing her face was flushed. And in it all he thought, she's not offended and maybe, am I dreaming, is she mildly amused?

As she stood next to him, though separated by eighteen inches of space, he felt as if something of her was rubbing against him. Her most important pursuit seemed to be making Jesse feel good without a trace of effort. So he told her he was born on a kitchen table, which was true, and that he had no brothers or sisters and grew up lonely and sensitive. Then he laughed and she wasn't sure what to believe.

“And so you drove twenty-two hours hauling horses all the way up from Texas to help raise money for these kids?”

He nodded and bit his lip.