Page 4 of Rodeo Cowboy
Amongst the applauding cheers, a woman with big red hair shouts, “Ah, hell! I bet spring! There goes my fifty bucks.”
“You win some, and you lose some, Rita. Maybe you shouldn’t be gambling ‘cause there was no way these two would be apart until spring.” The older man elbows Silver’s back. “Get off my stage. Both of you, now.”
The brothers don’t even budge.
“You too, missy.” He shoves and pushes the men who are five times the size of him as he approaches me. “But also, welcome to Whiskey Ridge Creek. I’m Mayor Thomas Banks, and it’s nice to meet you.” He pauses from his impossible battle against the twins to shake my hand.
“It’s nice to meet you.” I force a smile when my insides are a helluva mess.
I don’t know if the cowboys are going to continue their sparring match or make up whatever rift is between them.
The mayor sighs at the crowd. “Can I get a couple of Wilde brothers on stage to break this up so we can start the music? The countdown is in less than a half hour.” Lord, he’s a quirky little guy.
“Don’t get your knickers in a bunch, Mayor,” Silver drawls.
The twin brothers separate.
They’re not identical, but there’s no mistaking the similarities that run deeper than the same weather-beaten features, sharp jawlines, and piercing eyes. It’s the way they both talk with a slow drawl and use the same body gestures. Even the slight swagger in their step is identical.
Silver playfully hits the older man’s shoulder. He practically knocks Mayor Thomas over. “We’re gettin’ off your precious stage. Where’s my woman at?”
Silver jumps off the edge of the stage as the mayor signals for the band to pick up where they left off.
“Come on.” Sammy’s strong arm encircles my waist, sending shivers down my spine.
“Here. You’re bleeding.” I take a Kleenex out of my purse. Yes, I’m that woman now—the one who carries everything but the kitchen sink in her bag.
“Thanks.” He dabs the tissue under his nose, and I don’t mention the shiner forming around his eye. “Ready?”
I nod.
We’re really doing this. Playing the part of a happily wed couple. It’s a fifteen minutes appearance: an announcement, introductions, and a couple of hellos to his family.
In and out.
What can go wrong?
“Aunt Ayla!”
As I start down the stairs, I spot my ten-year-old niece and six-year-old nephew navigating the maze of people with their eyes fixed on me.
Their older sister, Willow, leisurely trails behind, calm and unhurried, soaking up the sights and sounds of the bustling crowd.
I asked them to stay in the truck for fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes! The less they’re involved in this rue of lies, the better.
My diluted rationing makes me feel like the worst guardian ever. My sister wouldn’t approve of half of my decisions since she passed away, but she didn’t support most of my choices when she was alive. I never claimed to be mommy material. And having three kids thrown into my care a year ago has been a challenge I wasn’t prepared to handle.
The kids skid to a stop as I reach the bottom of the stairs. Their little cowboy boots scrape the wood floor, and smiles reach their ears. I’m grateful one of them isn’t enduring another panic attack. It’s been a long year since their parents died, and all three still fear driving in vehicles. Hell, I have difficulties.
“They’re giving away clappers and noisemakers and hats!” Bode’s eyes sparkle with excitement as he blows a horn.
Sammy chuckles, and I double-look at him. It’s the first time I’ve heard the mellow sound from him. He’s always so serious, intimidating, and mysterious. I’m surprised to find the tension lines eased from his face and his lips turned up in a slight smile. It’s like his whole demeanor seems to have lightened.
Sammy adjusts the New Year’s hat on Bode’s head. “You’re supposed to wait for the stroke of midnight to blow that, buddy. Let’s move away from the loudspeakers.”
My heart warms, and my initial frustration quickly fades. How can I be angry with the kids for not waiting in the truck when I haven’t seen them smile like this since their parents died. Instead, I’m grateful for this moment of pure happiness amid their healing.
“There’s a food and dessert table, and I’m starving.” McKenna ignites a lighter with a flick of her wrist, and a small flame appears.
