Page 46 of We Redeemed the Rain

“Hmm. Interesting. Do you know the difference?”

“Nah, not really. But I’d guess that one makes folks pretty happy and the other just makes ‘em think about death all the time.”

I didn’t say anything else. My brain had to digest that for a few minutes.

Half an hour later, Jesse tossed my small suitcase into the passenger’s seat of the 3500, and I bid them farewell.

He ditched me.

Left me to bake in the Texas sun.

I sat in the bleachers with beads of sweat trickling down my chest and embedding into the soft fabric of my tank top. My legs ached from pressing into the firm seat. Occasionally, I lifted my thighs and rubbed the pressure scars created by the tiny grooves on the metal bench. The sun had moved from directly above to beating down my back. I needed to find shade, but hoards of people claimed the shady spots hours ago.

Mid-day rodeo activities were boring. Watching cowboys chase and tie down a cow stressed me out the first few times, but now the contestants blurred together and the commentary flew over my head. The two men directly behind me were on their fourth (maybe fifth) round of Bud Light and it was only 4 p.m. I’d bought myself a beer—a Shiner—but I was a bit spoiled to craft brews, so it grew tepid and the condensation left a sloppy ring on the metal seat.

A deep breath filled my lungs as a group of fans jumped up around me and cheered. The screaming, the blaring speakers, the smell of greasy funnel cake and alcohol wafting through the breeze, and the micro-shifting of the bleachers left me feeling disoriented—both physically and emotionally.

The pair behind me hadn’t stopped talking long enough to breathe. They’d droned on and on about the cattle, the cowboys, the organizers of the event, and a lot of other things that sounded like another language. But I did learn a few things…like the tiny cage they put the animals in so the cowboy can get on is called abucking chuteand the idiots who distracted the raging bulls once the cowboy was thrown were calledbull fighters.Their chatter, educational yet annoying, filtered in and out of my consciousness.

I kept my eyes peeled for Tag.

Because I was driving his sheep, Tag passed me his number earlier. I sent him a few texts throughout the day, hoping I could get off the bleachers and tag along with him, but he never texted back. Iscanned the crowd, but he was nowhere to be found. When would he go back to the semi for the night? Would he come get me?

I stood from my seat and hopped off the bleachers to take a walk, needing to clear my head. I meandered around the fairgrounds, through the vendor tents, and to the smaller arena beyond.

No Tag.

I shuffled back to the bleachers, kicking loose stones beneath my feet. The sun was finally falling a bit in the sky, and the large, now intoxicated, men cast shade over my previous spot. I plopped down, relishing in the temporary relief from the heat and inched down the bench, following their shadow as it slowly moved.

After a while, my phone rang. It was Jackie.

“Hey sis.”

“Okay, I drug your two big ass suitcases up two flights of stairs and I still haven’t gotten a picture.”

I chuckled. “Sis, sorry, but I don’t think it’ll happen anytime soon.”

She scoffed. “Because why?”

“Because he won’t even talk to me.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, seriously, I can’t get him to even look my direction.”

She made an investedohhsound. “The plot thickens.”

“Yeah, I’d say it’s thickening. You’ll never believe what I’m doing right now.”

THIRTEEN

Strings,

I’m on the roof at the moment. Sitting up here, I can see the fields behind the house stretching out, rolling and dipping with gentle hills. Here in just a bit, the sun will slip behind the horizon and the sky will explode with color, especially your favorite. That’s when the nighttime song begins. The bird and ranch sounds fade and the nighttime critters start their gentle roar. When I listen closely, I hear the high notes, the low, the harmonies, the rhythms.

I can’t help but think of you. The pink sky, the song all around—seems like the evenings at the ranch were made for you, Strings.

Full disclosure, I also like being on the roof because Cooper will walk right by and never see me up here. Ha ha.

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