Norris, too, who adds, “Same. My ex-wife and Landry’s mom worked at the bakery together. Sweet woman, good family.”
I write these things down, too, because my mind is running overtime, piecing together these sentiments of the past with what I know to be true now. I think about that first email Devin’s assistant sent, all the information in it. It occurs to me just then that the mood is changing, evolving from happiness to something more serious, more somber. Pinching my pen between my teeth, I dig around in my bag and produce my small Sony point-and-shoot, and open the lens. I point to the camera and split a questioning look between them, looking for approval. They nod.
I place the pen down and hold the camera between my hands, taking a moment to explain things. I’ve taken lots of photos—in fact, I’ve got two full SD cards already—but I’ve yet to document any people. “I’d like to continue talking, and you just pretend this camera isn’t here. I’ll snap some photos, but don’t look at the camera. Like I said, it's not here, okay?”
They both nod.
I write their names down quickly to remind myself that when I’m back at the inn later, I need to get consent forms for Chuck Norris. I mean, Chuck and Norris.
“So, tell me more about this vote,” I hedge softly, snapping a photo of Chuck cautioning a glance at his friend. They share a look, and Norris leans against the blue vinyl booth backing, stroking his hand over his silvering hair as he lets out a deep sigh.
“We voted on whether or not we keep the rodeo in Sable Sky moving forward.”
My brow furrows. “But rodeo is life here, isn’t it? You guys just said?—”
Norris raises his hand and my mouth closes. “We love the rodeo. We do. We are unified in many, many good things, and ropin’ and ridin’ is absolutely one of ’em.”
I write down his phrasing, because it’s so good, and take another photo, this time a panorama of the diner, and of the men with me.
“But,” I offer, because I feel one hanging there invisibly as Norris sips the remainder of his dark roast.
“But we love our people more. And after Landry’s last win,” he says, the mention of the inked, gruff cowboy with the heartbreaking past and adorable daughter sending a whoosh of excitement and nerves through my belly. Norris shakes his head. “How could we have people training all year after what he went through? Make that man see posters for something he used to love while he’s going through what no man ever wants to go through?”
Chuck pats Norris’s hand as Norris pinches the bridge of his nose, unexpectedly overrun with emotion. “We couldn’t do it.”
My pen stops.
“You know he lost his wife not even two months after his last win, right?” Chuck asks, his voice low, tone somber.
I knew that. Mabel told me on the first day I arrived in Sable Sky. The briefing on him that was included from Devin & his team didn’t even mention it, and it’s arguably the biggest emotional catalyst for Landry, and definitely why he quit, though he hasn’t told me that.
I simply bob my head, chest constricting as I imagine that darling little girl wrapped in a swaddler, in her daddy’s arms,as he sways with her, wondering how he will make everything okay.
“Well, we love the rodeo but… getting it out of his face was important, and an easy choice. The vote was no contest.”
In my periphery, Mabel’s laugh rings out across the diner, and just the light, melodic sound of it contrasting the heaviness of this conversation makes my voice hoarse when I speak. “That was very thoughtful of everyone.”
“He’d have done it for us, even if he was on track to win, if the prize money was a million dollars,” Norris says, carefully placing his hat atop his head. “He’d give it up for any of us if we were in his boots. So we did it for him.”
This is my first time going to Vaughn Ranch without Mabel. Well, it’s my second time coming out here in total, but today, I’m driving out alone. Mabel isn’t a security blanket, and I’m a big girl—I can’t use her that way.
I did appreciate her making the first introduction, but the rest is up to me.
Stepping onto the old porch, I rest my hand on the banister a moment so I can dig my camera from my bag and snap a few pics when— “Holy crap!”
A snake slithers near the doormat a foot from me. “Oh my god!”
The door swings open, clanking against the already open screen door, and Landry appears, chest heaving beneath a sweat-damp white T-shirt, streaked with dirt. In blue jeans and cowboy boots, Cattleman on his head, his blue eyes locked on to the snake curling the broken pot on the porch just as I leap into him.
“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod,” I yelp as its tail whipsaround, spanking the heel of my boot. “No, no, no!” I scream, clambering into Landry’s arms, looping mine around his neck, our cheeks pressed together as I stare down at the snake still wrapped around the old potted plant.
Sadie rushes out, in overalls and bare feet, grabbing the snake by its…Do snakes have necks?She grabs it in her tiny fist and holds it up pridefully for Landry and me to see. “I told you, Daddy,” she giggles, “I told you Smurf was comin’ back!” And with that, she passes us and a moment later, the back door clatters shut as she races onto the lawn. Light laughter sounds from far off.
The chaos melts away as I slide down out of Landry’s arms, his sweat sticking to my skin, the scent of hard work and aftershave too. Something low in my belly flares, heat and excitement curling in my veins at the way it felt to be in his arms.
“I’m…”
“Scared of snakes?” he offers, dry and deadpan as ever.
