One Texas Night

CHAPTER 4

The rodeo started with little more than an hour until sunset. Men drew for events and nights. Since the celebration lasted four nights, one-fourth of the men did each event each night. That way anyone coming only to one night got to see all the rodeo had to offer even if he got to watch only one out of four of the men compete for any one event.

Laurel checked the charts. Rowdy had drawn saddleback riding the first night. Good. That would give him at least one more day to work with the horse on steer roping. She was so excited she couldn’t wait for the buggy, so she’d insisted on riding in with her father. He didn’t talk to her, but it didn’t matter. In four days, she would have the money to leave.

Deep down she hoped that if she had the means to leave, he might tell her he wanted her to stay. She knew she was only fooling herself. Since the day he’d married Rosy when Laurel had been four, the captain had always tried to make his oldest daughter disappear. Leftover children never mattered much when the new batch came along. Laurel had a feeling that when she left the ranch Sunday night after Rowdy won, her father would be more angry about losing a free bookkeeper than a daughter.

When they arrived at the rodeo, she stood just behind him listening to the men talk and hoping to learn something that might help Rowdy. As usual, no one noticed her.

After an hour, Laurel moved behind the row of wagons and buggies pulled in a circle. She’d sat quietly waiting for her chance. Finally, her father had stepped into a crowd of men who were placing bets on a horse race to be run in the morning and passing around a bottle. Her sisters were flirting with half a dozen cowhands who’d stopped by for a cool drink from the pitcher of lemonade in the back of their rig. No one would miss her.

She found Rowdy off by himself in the shadows of a barn. Since he’d drawn bronc riding as his first challenge, he’d be part of the last group to compete.

Without a word, she moved beside him, leaned her back on the barn only a few inches from his arm and handed him a canteen. She could feel the tension in his body.

“A fellow named Dan O’Brien offered to ride drag for me during the calf roping.”

“He’s all right, I guess,” she said without looking at Rowdy. “He owns a little farm to the south of here.” She hesitated, then added, “I’m not sure he’s much of a cowhand. I think he raises mostly hogs at his place.”

“I’ve already told him I’d trade the favor off for him. He only entered calf roping, so he must feel like he can handle his own.”

Laurel nodded once. “All right.” She could have suggested a few others who might have been better, but he hadn’t asked.

While he drank, she decided to tell him what she knew before he made another mistake, “I’ve been watching the black you drew for tonight. He goes to his left more than his right and fires up easy even in the pen. I think you should—”

“I know how to ride,” he snapped as if resenting her advice. “I’m no greenhorn.”

Silence hung still and heavy between them.

“Fine. Good luck.” She planted a quick, hard kiss on his cheek and walked away.

She thought he might catch up to her and say he was sorry, but he didn’t. A tiny part of her knew she’d done it wrong. She could have said something to him first, maybe let him tell her what he thought. But Laurel would never be like her sisters. She couldn’t have conversations that made no sense. She couldn’t giggle at nothing and bat her lashes. It wasn’t her. It never would be.

“Where you been, girl?” Her father’s voice made her jump.

“Looking at the stock,” she said in a whisper. She didn’t mention that she’d met a cattle buyer from Fort Worth who told her to pass the word along that he’d be willing to buy off the winner’s cattle if the all-around cowboy wanted cash.

“That’s better than hiding in some corner, I guess.” Her father took her elbow in a tight grip. “You remind me more of your mother every day.”

Laurel knew better than to think that was a compliment. Her father had often told her that his first wife was a mouse of a woman, plain and boring. Laurel knew he’d married her for money; he’d even joked once that he’d talked her father into paying more just to get her out of the house.

Her father let go of her arm and climbed on the wagon bench. “I’m going home after the saddle bronc riders. You stay and see that your sisters get home in the wagon after the dance.”

“But I rode in,” she protested. “One of the men will be happy to.”

He looked at her with his usual bothered expression. “All right, see that James or Phil drives the girls home. You can ride back alone, but try to stay for at least one dance. You never know, someone might actually ask you to dance.”

Laurel knew he didn’t care what she did. He probably didn’t care if she danced; he just wanted her to stay behind long enough so that she didn’t ride back with him. If he hadn’t needed her to do the books, he probably would have left her at school until she was thirty. She was a reminder of a time in his life when he’d settled for something far less than what he’d wanted.

She stood silently and watched the competition. The first rider fell off his horse coming out of the shoot. The second rode, but his horse didn’t buck enough to earn many points. The third and fourth started well but didn’t make the clock. Rowdy’s horse came out fighting with all his might to get the saddle and the man off his back.

The crowd rose to their feet. Several people cheered as the animal kicked dust every time Rowdy’s spurs brushed his hide.

Laurel watched, mentally taking each jolt with Rowdy. His back bowed back and forth, but his left hand stayed in the air.

When the ride ended, he jumped from the black horse and landed on his feet. The crowd went crazy, yelling and clapping. Laurel only smiled, knowing she’d invested her ten dollar gold piece wisely.

Her father cussed and demanded to know who number forty was. Five minutes later, when his men gathered round him, he said that Rowdy Darnell was the man to beat in this rodeo and there would be an extra month’s pay to the man who topped his final score.

Laurel felt proud. She stood and watched the young people move to the dance floor as the last light of the day disappeared. Her father and a few of his men rode off toward the saloon talking of plans for tomorrow. Every night the rodeo would end with saddle bronc riding and they planned to have the captain’s men shatter Darnell’s score.

When she knew no one was watching, she climbed on her horse and rode into the darkness. She didn’t need much light, for she knew the trail by heart. In fact, she knew the land for miles around. For as long as she could remember, she’d saddled up before dawn and rode out to watch the sunrise, crisscrossing the land before anyone else was up and about.

When she was in sight of her home, she remembered what her father had said about staying long enough to dance. If he got home and found her already there, he’d probably yell at her.

Laurel turned toward the cottonwoods along the creek that separated the captain’s land from the Darnell place. She rode through the shallow water until she reached a spot where cliff walls on either side of the creek were high enough to act as fence. There, twenty feet into the walled area, she found the slice in the rocks just big enough for a horse to climb up out of the water and through. No one watching from either ranch could have seen her, but one minute she was on Hayes’ land and the next on Rowdy’s property.

She knew he’d still be at the rodeo grounds. Everyone would want to shake his hand. She’d even heard several say that his ride was the best they’d ever seen.

As the land spread out before her, Laurel gave her mount his head and they began to run over the open pasture. Rowdy’s place had always been so beautiful to her. The way the ground sloped gently between outcroppings of rock colored like different shades of brick lined up. The landscape made her feel like every detail had been planned by God. Almost as if He’d designed the perfect ranch. Rich earth and good water. Then, He had set it down so gently in the middle of the prairie that no one had even noticed it.

She rode close enough to the ranch house to see that no light shone, then decided to turn toward home.

At the creek’s edge, she thought she heard another horse. Laurel slipped down and walked between the trees until she saw a man standing shoulder deep in the middle of the stream.

Her first thought was that she might have been followed. But most of the men who worked for her father were at the dance and someone following wouldn’t be a quarter mile away from the pass-through wading in the deepest part of the stream.

She stood perfectly still in the shadows and listened. The sound of a horse came again not far from her. As her eyes adjusted, she spotted Cinnamon standing under a cottonwood with branches so long they almost touched the water.

Rowdy had to be the man in the water.

Laurel wanted to vanish completely. She couldn’t get to her land, he stood in between her and the passage. If she moved he might spot her, or worse, shoot her as a trespasser for she was on his property.

Closing her eyes, she played a game she’d played when she was a child. If I can’t see him, he can’t see me, she thought.

“Laurel?” His low voice was little more than a whisper. “Is that you?”

She opened one eye. He’d walked close enough to her that the water now only came to his waist. His powerful body sparkled with water. “It’s me,” she admitted, trying not to look directly at him because there was no doubt that he was nude.

“I was . . . I was . . .”

“Turn around,” he ordered.

“But . . .”

He took a step closer. “I don’t plan to come out until you turn around.”

She nodded and whirled. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I swear. I was just riding and I thought you’d be at the dance, so you wouldn’t be home and I could ride on your land without anyone bothering me.” She was rambling, but she couldn’t seem to stop. She didn’t want him to think that she was looking for him, or worse, spying on him. “I know I’m trespassing, but you’ve been gone so long I didn’t think about anyone being on the place.”

“Laurel.” He barely whispered her name, but he was so near she jumped. “You can turn around now.”

Squaring her shoulders, she faced him. He’d pulled on his jeans and had a towel wrapped around the back of his neck. The same towel she’d given him that morning. She couldn’t say another word. She could only stare. Until this moment she’d thought she saw the boy she remembered from school when she looked at Rowdy, but no boy stood before her.

“I’m glad you came.” He shoved his wet hair back. “I looked for you after the rodeo. I wanted to say I was sorry I snapped at you. I was nervous about the ride and didn’t feel much like talking.”

“You were right. You did know what you were doing. That ride was magnificent.”

He didn’t seem to hear her as he continued. “I’m not used to much conversation, but you had a right. We’re partners after all.” He smiled at her and she swore he could see her blush. “If you ride by here often, I might want to change my bathing habits.”

“I’m sorry . . .”

He reached behind her and grabbed his shirt off the cottonwood. “How about we stop apologizing to each other and relax? Deal, partner?”

“Deal,” she managed. “Why aren’t you at the dance?”

“Why aren’t you?” he countered as he buttoned his shirt.

“I . . . I . . .” She could think of no answer but the truth and she didn’t want to tell him that. He could figure it out for himself. She wasn’t the kind of girl anyone asked to dance. First, she was taller than half the men. Second, she was so shy she couldn’t talk to them and, third, everyone knew she was the captain’s plain daughter. The old maid.

“I can’t dance either,” he said.

She smiled. He’d given her a way out.

Without a word, he took her hand and led her to a spot of moonlight shining near the water’s edge. She sat on a log and he stretched out in the grass as if they were old friends settling down for a long visit.

Somehow the shadows made it easier to talk. She told him everything she’d heard about the stock and the other riders. He said he’d drawn calf roping for tomorrow. She mentioned all the extra things going on around the rodeo. Besides the dance, there was a box supper one night and a horse race, as well as a sharpshooting contest.

When they talked of the competition, she told him of her dreams of working in a bank and maybe buying her own little house one day on a quiet street. With the money they’d get if he won, she might have enough for a down payment. Though she planned to put most of the money away for a rainy day. A woman alone has to prepare for that.

He told her of living on a ranch, a busy, productive one, not a dead one like his father’s place. She had the feeling as he talked of what he wanted to do that he was voicing a boy’s dreams he’d tucked away at fifteen and hadn’t brought out again until tonight.

They settled into an easy silence, listening to the sounds around them. Finally, he said, “I talked with Dan O’Brien after I rode. He said he’d heard I’d been in prison and wanted to know if it was true.”

“What did you say?” She knew it wouldn’t be a secret for long, but she thought they might make it through the rodeo without everyone knowing.

“I said I had.” Rowdy stared up at her. “No matter what folks say I’ve done, I’m not in the habit of lying, Laurel. Not now, not ever.”

Even when she looked at the water she could still feel his dark eyes watching her. “What did Dan say?”

“He said it didn’t matter to him; he was in the habit of judging a man for himself, not by what he heard, but he wanted to know from me if the rumors were true.”

She’d never given the farmer a glance, but the next time she passed Dan O’Brien on the street she planned to nod politely, maybe even say good morning to the man.

“From the morning I heard about the shooting, I didn’t believe you did it,” she said, almost to herself.

“You were the only one,” he answered.

She agreed. “I went away to school before the trial, but I kept up with it in the papers. No one wanted to believe it might have been a stray bullet, but after you went to prison all the boys who’d been on the creek that night found reasons to leave town. I think they felt sorry for what they’d done.”

“Not sorry enough to drop me a note.” Rowdy stood and walked to the water’s edge. “You have any idea what prison’s like when you’re fifteen? I spent the first year mad at the world and the second wishing I was dead. No one would have cared, one way or the other.”

“I would have,” she answered, then hurried on when he glared back at her as if he was about to call her a liar. “I know it couldn’t have been as bad as prison, but the school my father sent me to was dark and hard. Most of the girls were two or three years older than me and offered no friendship. I had no one to talk to and my family never wrote. On Sundays, we had to go to chapel and pray.” She straightened. “I prayed you were safe.”

All the anger melted away from Rowdy. He walked back to her and knelt down beside her. “Why?”

She shook her head. “Maybe because you were the only person I knew who had also been sent away to hell.”

She stood, embarrassed by her own honesty, and straightened her skirts as if they’d been having tea in her parlor. “I’d better get back.”

He held the reins of her horse. “Let me help you up,” he said from behind her as she reached for the saddle horn.

She almost said that she’d been climbing on a horse by herself since she was six. Instead, she nodded. She felt the warmth of his body only an inch away from hers.

Hesitantly, his hands went around her waist. He lifted her up. Laurel closed her eyes and imagined that he was really touching her out of caring and not politeness.

His hands remained at her waist for a moment. “I haven’t been around a woman in a long time,” he said. “I’ve forgotten how they feel. I know you’re strong, but I’m afraid I’ll break you if I hold too tight.”

She almost said that she’d never been touched with such care. He’d lifted her as if she were a treasure.

He moved his hand over hers. “I like the way you feel, Laurel. I’ll be careful helping you up if you allow me to when we’re alone.”

When he started to move his hand away, she caught his fingers in hers and held on tightly. She might not be able to tell him how she felt, but she had to show him.

He finally pulled his hand away and whispered, “It’s all right, Laurel. I think I understand.”

When she took the reins, he stepped back and watched her leave. Neither said a word.

She rode back through the passage and straight home, her thoughts full of the way he’d touched her.

When she walked down the hall, she wasn’t surprised to see her father’s study light still on. The man never went to bed if he could walk straight.

“There you are, girl,” he yelled in a slurred voice watered down by a dozen drinks. “I’m glad to see you stayed awhile at the dance. Filmore mentioned that he worried about you being so shy. A banker needs a wife who can be part of society, not a mouse running to the corner every time someone talks to her.”

“Jeffery Filmore never talks to me, only at me.” Laurel voiced her thoughts for once.

Her father laughed. “That doesn’t matter, girl. I never did have a conversation longer than a minute with my Rosy and we got along just fine.”

Rosy had been his second wife. She’d died ten years ago, but he still mourned her, especially around bedtime.

Laurel tried again. “What if I don’t want to marry Jeffery?”

The captain gave most of his attention to refilling his drink. “You won’t get a better offer. Best take this one. His being twenty years older is a great advantage. He’ll die and leave you comfortable.” He looked up at her through bloodshot eyes. “In the meantime, he’ll make a woman out of you. You’re stiffening up, drying on the vine, girl. You need a man to fill your belly with his seed so you’ll ripen.” He looked down at her blouse. “You look more like a boy than a woman. Most men aren’t interested in a woman like that.”

She stood silent and took his abuse. All her life she’d never been right, she’d never passed muster. She’d been too thin, too tall, too flat, too shy, too ordinary. But tonight, his cutting ways didn’t hurt so badly because Rowdy had touched her if only for a moment and he didn’t seem to find her lacking.

She went up to her room, changed into her cotton gown and stood in front of the mirror for a long while. For the first time she saw herself through another man’s eyes besides her father’s and she liked what she saw.