The True Father (11 page)

  
   Bella and Boyd went home winners, and both seemed to be at a positive momentum that could help gain enough points to qualify for the National Finals. I had learned that a lot of good things could come to a rodeo athlete who makes the finals. Besides extra income there was the possibility of sponsorship and also endorsements if they placed high enough in the ranks, especially if they became the champion of their event. Neither Bella nor Boyd had ever been there, but it was their goal every year, and this year was as promising as ever.

   But what I liked most was seeing Bella smile, which had been minimal since my arrival at Spiro. I was amazed at how much a simple win could put so much spring in her step.

   We had camped another night in Hugo and drove home Monday morning. Bella and I both helped Jeremiah unload the livestock and unpack and organize the supplies. This is the part about Rodeo that    I assumed most spectators didn't see. All they saw was the contest, the show, and not the continuous rotation of work required to prepare and recover from such a weekend.
   Jeremiah parked the Sundowner beside the horse barn and Bella and I unloaded the tack while Jeremiah turned our horses to pasture. She looked very different today, wearing a tan cap rather than a cowboy hat, but her long black hair still flowed out beautifully and tucked behind her ears revealing small studded earrings. She also wore a white T-shirt advertising Justin boots, faded wrangler jeans frayed at the cuffs, and a pair of worn and scuffed work boots. When I entered the barn carrying a saddle she turned and smiled at me offering more of her new spirit.

   After laying the saddle on its stand, I turned a large white plastic bucket upside down and sat on it then looked up at her. 

   “It's real good to see you this way,” I said.

   “I feel good.” She hung a bridle on a hook then looked back at me. “How do you feel?”

   “I feel good, too.”

   “Learn a lot about the rodeo?”

   “Yes, I did. And I had a great time.”

   “That's good.”

   The tone of our conversation seemed different than any we'd had before, almost awkward. I supposed her new high put her on a different thinking level, and doubted the subject matter at hand was as exciting as the image of the road ahead.

   “I want to help you,” I said.

   “Help me what?”

   “You know, make it to the finals.”

   “I wouldn't know what you could do. It's pretty much just me staying focused, trained, and in good physical shape.”

   “I can help you with all of those things. If anything, just be here for you, for support.”

   “That's sweet. But that's not what you're here for. You're here to learn about Jettie.”

   “There's plenty of time for that, too.”

   She paused and smiled. “Okay.”

   I watched her continue to put things away, admiring her in every way. Not just her looks, but also in the way she took care of things. The meticulous way she organized the tack and put it in it's proper place. All that she did was done with so much pride.

   “You know,” I said, “you have an admirer.”

   “Oh, who?”

   I lowered my voice. “Big, bad, bull-ridin' Boyd!”

   She chuckled. “Oh, that's nothing new. He's been chasing me for years. Even when Jettie was around.”

   “What did he say about it?”

   This question seemed to take a little of her high spirit away and I was starting to regret asking.

   “He ignored every bit of it. He wasn't the jealous type and he never tried to control me. That's one of the things I liked about him and something that's so difficult to find in men my age.”

   “That definitely doesn't sound like Boyd.”

   “No, in fact Boyd is quite the opposite.”

   “So then I doubt he has much of a chance.”

   “Chance at what?”

   “You know, winning your heart.”

   “Trevor Hodge, coming from you that offends me!”

   “He doesn't seem to want to give up.”

   “You ought to know that I'm smart enough to avoid guys like Boyd.”

   “I'd hope so, it's just good to hear you say it.”

   “And why do you need to hear it?”

   “Well, there's something that I'm going to do and I wanted to make sure you understood the real reason why.”

   “What?”

   “Apparently Boyd feels like he's in some sort of competition with me and I'm sure it's over you. I tried to settle it with him, but he doesn't know how to do it my way.”

   “And what is your way?”

   “Well, after his ride I tried to let him know that there was no way I could do what he did, and that he had won whatever competition we had going. Because I knew that in his mind, the prize was you. The way I see it, Boyd is trying to impress you into wanting him for all the wrong reasons. I never try to impress anyone. I follow my own instincts and desires and I just hope I'm liked for who I am.”

   “That's a pretty good way.”

   “Then you'll understand that when I do things like ride mechanical bulls, or anything else, I'm not doing it to impress you?”

   “I do, but a little showing off doesn't hurt.”

   “You're not serious, are you?”

   She laughed and found another bucket, turned it upside down and sat across from me. “Trevor, there's one thing you have to understand about country girls. When love comes knocking on our door, and we like the man who's doing the knocking, he still has to do his courting.”

   “Courting?”

   “Boyd can ride all the bulls he wants and never impress me. He might earn my respect as a fellow rodeo athlete, but that's about it. All the fancy play he's doing is courting, and it's not working because I don't want him. But if the right guy were to come knocking, all that fancy play is still desired because it's a country boy's way of showing he cares.”

   “But are you sure you can handle that now? After what happened with Jettie?”

   Her face sobered. “I have to admit that you've helped ease a lot of that pain. There's no way I could have rode the way I did at Hugo if it wasn't for what you've brought to me. It's almost like a piece of   Jettie has come back to me, only better than before.”

   “How could it be better?”

   “When you put on a cowboy hat and boots, the physical presence is there, but Jettie and I never talked the way you and I do. It's so much better that it keeps me from missing him like I thought I would.”

   “Well, I'm glad for that. But do you feel like I'm courting you?”

   “Are you?”

   “I don't know. It's kind of awkward you having been my father's girl, and the fact that he just died no more than two weeks ago, makes it seem almost impossible that you'd be ready for something new.”

   “You know, there's an old Indian belief that someone dies because someone else is coming, and that certain someone else brings peace with them. I've always believed in that saying, and now I believe it more than ever.”

   The feelings that swept through me were unlike any I had ever felt before. Thinking of Bella and I as an item was a reverie that I had tried to avoid, mostly because of the common sense that went along with facing the realities in front of me. But not until now did I ever think such a dream could turn out to be real.

   She stood and scooted her bucket toward me. As our faces drew closer, I looked into her eyes and absorbed their seriousness. She removed her hat, which released her hair from behind her ears. I touched her cheek with my fingertips and longed to let her know that at this moment there was no place I'd rather be, and no person I'd rather be with. But when our lips met I realized words would be no more convincing. There never was a touch more perfect; a harmonious caress enhanced by the joining of our tongues and desirous exhales of breath. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to be completely free. It was that one unforgettable moment that came without warning and would be forever engraved in my personal history book.

   For some reason, possibly out of fear that it may not be real, I opened my eyes to reassure myself. She obviously sensed my lightened passion and opened her eyes as well, looked at me and smiled, then rubbed my cheek with her hand.

   “Are you okay?” she asked.

   “I've never been better.”

   She smiled softly then rested her chin on my shoulder and held me in her arms. Suddenly I remembered that I had started to tell her something, and not knowing that we would reach this level of intimacy, I had no idea how to go on. So I decided just to come out with it.

   “I want to ride a bull.”

   I could almost feel her breathing cease, then she backed away from me and gave me a serious stare.

   “What are you talking about?”

   “I don't think I'll be satisfied until I do.”

   “Satisfied with what?”

   “Knowing who my father really was.”

   “And how will riding a bull help that?”

   “It's more a yearning than anything, but I honestly feel that walking in his shoes would get me closer to an understanding.”

   “I don't believe this.”

   “Believe what?”

   “You're serious.”

   “Yes, I am.”

   She backed away from me, upset the bucket and put her fingers into her hair. 

   “And that's why I need your support,” I said. “As well as Jeremiah's.”

   She looked at me contemptuously. “One of the things that I liked about you was that you weren't a rodeo nut, and that I didn't have to worry about you getting hurt. And here you are, a greenhorn, with absolutely no idea how dangerous those things are, about to gamble with your life.”

   “It's not a gamble—”

   Tears welled in her eyes and she gritted her teeth. “It's always a goddamn gamble, Trevor! Don't you realize that?”

   “Bella, please—”

   “No, Trevor. I can't go through it again. So you have to make a choice. Know your father, or know me. It's that simple.”

   She grabbed her hat and left the barn. 

   Never had I been so exhilarated one moment, and lost the next. This adventure of mine had me taking some critical and painful, if not unexplained turns. And now I stood at a serious intersection, with a dreadful misery of not knowing where to turn next.

  
   I hoped to find her somewhere on the ranch, but her Mustang was gone and I had no idea where to start looking. But even if I found her I wouldn't know what to say to make matters better. I couldn't possibly tell her that I wouldn't get on a bull, because I wasn't sure that I could keep that kind of promise. Somehow, I had to convince her that it was just a little something that I had to do, and after I put whatever void there was in my heart behind me, I would give her everything she ever wanted.

   Jeremiah came back from the pasture and saw me standing outside the barn. He came toward me in a slow pace, smoldering cigarette hanging from his mouth and face red from the heat. Being that it was not yet noon the day already seemed abnormally hot, and Jeremiah looked as though he'd had enough of it.

   “What do you say we get a cold drink,” he said.

   “All right.”

   He dropped his cigarette into the gravel and put it out with the toe of his boot, then leaned against the back of his fancy truck still connected to the Sundowner and looked out toward the road. “Where did Bella go in such a tire-squealing rush?”

   I leaned on the bed next to him. “I couldn't tell you. But I'm sure it'll be where I can't find her.”

   “Oh.”

   I followed him to the deck behind his house where we sat under the table canopy and drank glasses of iced tea that he had requisitioned from Jodie. After a healthy slurp from his glass, he propped both his feet on a chair beside him, tipped back his hat and looked out into the pasture.

   I rested both my elbows on the table and nervously thumbed my sweating glass. “I have a favor to ask you.”

   “Fire away.”

   “I want to ride a bull.”

   He gave me a short glance, took another drink then looked back toward the pasture. “Don't sound like no favor to me. Sounds more like a death wish.”

   “No, if I'm going to do it right, I need your help.”

   “Yeah, I was afraid you'd say that. Teach a man about fishing and eventually he's going to want to throw a line in the water.”

   “You had nothing to do with it.”

   “Ah hell, you wouldn't have known a thing about this place if I hadn't have found you.”

   “But I'm glad you did.”

   “Me too, but not if it kills you.”

   “Then what did you expect me to get from all of this?”

   “For the most part, just to learn who your pa was. To claim your inheritance and be comfortable with who you are and where you came from.”

   “All right. Then what if I couldn't be totally comfortable until I knew what it was like on a bull?”

   “You really think there's an answer there?”

   “I do.”

   “Well, I'm not sure I agree with you, but I can't question your reasons. Just you being here has done a lot to help this family heal, especially Bella. And for that I'm damn glad I done it. But if something were to happen to you, if you got hurt, then I'd never forgive myself.”

   He had a tremendous way of making me feel guilty, but no less adamant about what I felt I had to do. “Then teach me how to do it right. And when it gets down to the wire, when it's time to ride, you make the call.”

   “What call?”

   “If you think I can't do it—that I don't have what it takes to make one ride, then I'll back off. All I'm asking for is one chance, not just to ride a bull, but to really see things from Jettie's point of view.”

   “You really think I'd do that?”

   “I hope you will.”

   He chuckled a bit. “Trevor, if you have what it takes to ride, and ride only one time, I'll know in less than eight seconds.”

   “Then you'll help me?”

   He paused and studied my stare. “If I don't, you'll probably find somebody else to do it, right?”

   “That's right.”

   “Well then, I reckon since I started this mess, I'd be the one to make sure you get through it alive.”

 

*     *     *

 

   After we had finished putting things away from our weekend, Jeremiah and I drove out to The Oasis. The place was experiencing a normally quiet afternoon, with only a few local ranchers sitting at the bar gabbing with the bartender and drinking Coors Light from longneck bottles. 

   The bartender greeted Jeremiah by name and retrieved a bottle of Busch Light and brought it to him.

   “What'll you have?” he said to me.

   “A glass of water would be great.”

   The bartender gave me a haughty-eyed look then walked away, and returned a few seconds later with a plastic cup full of ice water.

   “Can I get you boys anything else?”

   “Need to borrow your bull, James,” Jeremiah said.

   “Go right ahead.”

   I followed Jeremiah across the dim barroom where he turned the light on above the mechanical bull along with the power to the control panel.

   “I thought that the mechanical bull was not a good comparison to the real thing,” I said.

   “It's not.”

   “Then why are we training with it?”

   “It's good enough to study style and practice form. And right now, that's what we have to work on.”

   Rather than teach me any technique, he first wanted to see how I naturally reacted to the movement of the bull. He ran a simple pattern of buck and spin, which seemed very minor compared to my ride at The Crossing, and I held right hand up and back straight like Bella had taught me. After eight seconds, Jeremiah stopped the bull.

   “You've obviously been studying pretty well.”

   “I had a little practice at The Crossing.”

   “You've got the form down pretty good, so let's try it a little faster.”

   I prepared myself like I had done at The Crossing, shutting everything off around me and thinking “Tilt-A-Whirl”. The next ride was closer to the one that night, but still not as rough with the jerks. After the eight-second timer, Jeremiah came out from behind the control panel and stared silently at me.

   “What?” I said.

   “This ain't good.”

   “Why ain't it?”

   He removed his hat, stared at the floor, scratched his head and exhaled. “Damn, I don't need this.”

   “Need what?”

   “What the hell. I'm going to do this one more time. Tell me when you're ready.” Jeremiah held the base of the joystick in the palm of his hand, and the two ranchers at the bar had turned and faced us, as did the bartender, who leaned with his arms straight and his palms on the bar and a white towel thrown over his shoulder.

   “All right, I'm ready.”

   Whatever Jeremiah did with the joystick lever, it created a ride more daring than any I had experienced. After every jerk I felt as though a great force were pulling me off to throw me into the wall. But I held on, my bones jarring and joints popping and everything around me a blur, and after the sound of the whistle, the two ranchers at the bar clapped at hollered.

   “Whoa, Jeremiah! Where'd you find that one?”

   “Good ride, son!”

   As the bull slowed to a stop, Jeremiah ignored the questions, threw down the joystick and carried his beer back to the bar. I climbed down and met him there. He took a large swig from his bottle, then lit a cigarette and looked straight ahead.

   “Did I do something wrong?” I asked.

   “Hardly.”

   “So that's good?”

   He took another swig and kept staring.

   “What's wrong, Jeremiah?”

   “Flashback.”

   “What?”

   “The last time I saw a greenhorn ride like that was about thirty years ago, here at the Spiro arena. A sixteen year-old punk climbed up on a real bull for the first time and rode like he'd been doing it all his life. He was a natural.”

   “Somebody competing against you?”

   “No, that punk was my little brother.”

   I don't know why it took me so long to put two and two together, but when I realized he was talking about Jettie, I instantly understood why it bothered him so much.

   “If you can't do this, I understand.”

   “It's not that. You just caught me off guard. Give me a night to sleep on it and we'll take a bull down to the arena tomorrow afternoon.”

   “A real bull?”

   He looked at me now. “That's what you want, isn't it?”

   “Yes, it is.”

   “I'll take down a bull that's not too rough and that will give you a good feel of the animal. We'll start there.”

   “All right.”

   We sat in silence for a moment. I took a drink of my ice water and thought about the main event.

   “Jeremiah, what does it require to ride in a real rodeo?”

   “An entry fee and a lot of guts.”

   “That's all?”

   “You make it sound like a panty party.”

   “No, I just figured there'd be more to it.”

   “That's it.”

   “Then when I'm ready, I want to ride in a real rodeo.”

   He took a healthy drag from his cigarette and exhaled the smoke through his nose. “Whatever you want, boy.”

   “And I want to ride Cyclone.”

   He gave me a hard stare. “Now that I can't do.”

   “Why not?”

   “Well, for starters, you don't just pick the bull you ride. When you enter a rodeo contest you draw a bull from a lottery.”

   “Oh.”

   “And besides that, Cyclone was sold.”

   “Who'd you sell him to?”

   “Contractor down in Midland, Texas.”

   “What are the chances we could have him brought here?”

   He gave me another hard stare. “When will it be enough, Trevor? Don't you realize what we all went through losing your pa? We sold that goddamned bull to rid the horror from our lives. The memory of it is bad enough!” 

   “I'm sorry. I'm not trying to hurt anyone, I just want you to understand.”

   “I'll help you, Trevor. But there's limits to how far I'll go.”

   “Fair enough. You get me to where I can ride, and I'll do the rest.”

   Now all Jeremiah could do was nod. He finished the last of his beer, put out his cigarette, and said adios to the bartender and the ranchers then we left the bar.

   Not a word was spoken the entire distance back to the ranch. Maybe I was being selfish to his feelings, and to Bella's, but somehow I couldn't let this fire within me go out. All I could hope for was that some day they would all understand.