Page 105

The kid who asked for Noble’s advice at the farmers’ market spots us from across the street and makes a beeline for us.

Noble is just polishing off his pie when he walks up. “Mr. Kane, you’re still in town.”

Noble sets his fork down and looks up at the kid. I wonder if he gets tired of chatting with strangers, but he smiles easily and nods. “Hey, there, Cody. I sure am.”

Wow. He even remembered his name.

“Sorry to bug you, but is there any chance you’ll be at the junior rodeo later?” Cody asks. “I’m competing at one.”

Noble glances at his watch, then to me. “What do you think?”

“My schedule is wide open, remember? Someone crossed everything off my list.”

He smiles back at Cody. “We’ll be there.”

Cody’s face brightens, and he tips his hat. “Really? That’s . . . that’s great! I’m gonna try really hard to win!” He runs off, and Noble looks at me.

“I remember the days when Hattie Holbrook won first in the all-around at this very same rodeo.”

I scoop a bite of pie into my mouth and shake my head. “Those days are long gone.”

“You ever miss it?” he asks.

I shrug. “It feels like a different lifetime. Like a different me.”

Noble takes a drink, then, after a beat, he says, “Well, both versions are pretty good if you ask me.”

I smile, pretty sure that my eyes are telling him what my mouth can’t right now.

“Mr. Kane!”

Noble’s eyes flick to the sidewalk behind me. I see Stacy McManus walking toward us, out of her standard high school principal uniform in honor of the fall festival. She’s wearing jeans, a plaid shirt that’s holding on for dear life around her ample chest, cowboy boots, and a worn cowboy hat that I’m guessing she’s had since she was a student at Silverwood High.

Noble stands and tips his hat. “Ma’am.”

“I got your message, but the festival planning has got my calls all backlogged,” she says. “But here we both are! Did you call to ask if you could compete in the junior rodeo, because I think that might be breaking one too many rules.” She hoots at her own joke.

Noble smiles graciously.

“Actually, if I’d known you were going to be in town, I would’ve asked if you wanted to do an exhibition ride. Or!” —she snaps her fingers— “I could’ve had you as a celebrity guest judge! What a draw that would’ve been.”

“Well, I’m hardly a celebrity, ma’am.”

She places a hand on his arm, patting him a couple times. “Oh, Noble, don’t be so modest. You know we all follow your career. Round these parts, you might as well be Wyatt Earp.” Another cackle of laughter.

Noble chuckles lightly, seemingly charmed by our former high school principal. Maybe it’s the fact that she looks and acts exactly the same as she did when we were in high school.

“I was calling to talk to you⁠—”

“Oh! Yes! Your call!” She squeezes his arm, cutting him off again. “Sorry, you go ahead.”

“I don’t know if you remember when I was younger, year after I graduated . . .”

She puckers for a second, then says, “When you rode the four-wheeler all over the football field right after it rained and ruined the turf?” She tsks. “Who could forget?”

Noble winces. I take another bite of pie.

“I, uh . . .” He glances down at me, then back to her. “I wanted to apologize for that.”