Jesse: Merry Christmas, Cowboy. Lynnette Kent
“Nah.” He glanced at the clock on the dash. Two hours had, in fact, passed since he got into the truck. “Oh. Well, I dozed off. It’s been a long day. I was in the saddle at 6:00 a.m.”
“So you should be at home asleep.”
“Great. Let me roll up the window and I’ll go do that.”
Janie shook her head. “Why don’t you move to the passenger side and let me drive you home?”
“I don’t think so.” Hearing his own surliness, Jesse shook his head and tried for some good manners. “I appreciate the concern, really, but I’m fine. Take yourself back to Markton and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The woman appeared to be deaf. She reached through the open window, pulled up the handle and opened the door. “Come on, Jesse. Better safe than sorry.”
He didn’t intend to budge. “You’re talking to a bull rider, here. I don’t do safe.”
“Yeah, a bull rider who is supposed to compete at the world championships starting on Thursday night. Wouldn’t you like to be alive for the event?”
He groaned in frustration. “I am not drunk.”
“You’re tired. That’s enough of an excuse.”
“What about your truck?”
“Roberto and Lila said they’d bring it home for me tonight when they close. Come on, Jesse.” She rubbed her gloved hands over her arms. “It’s freezing out here.”
They could argue all night, or he could give in just to get some peace. “I don’t know why I’m letting you do this.” He dropped to the pavement, keeping his balance by gripping the door, since the ground seemed a little unsteady under his feet. “It’s absurd. I’m stone-cold sober.”
“Sure you are.” Janie turned to the small, beat-up truck parked next to his and opened the door. “Put these in the backseat.” A dozen or so shopping bags came at him with the order. Once the goods were stowed, she climbed up behind the steering wheel without looking at him until she’d shut the door between them. “Coming?”
If only to get out of the snow, Jesse rounded the truck bed to the passenger side and swung himself onto the seat, remembering just in time to move his hat. With his safety belt buckled, he sat staring out the window as Janie Hansen, his designated driver, took him home.
Snow powdered the windshield as the streetlights of Cody dimmed behind them on the dark road to Markton. Several inches of the white stuff covered the road pavement, while twice that much had already piled up on the frozen grass.
The storm intensified, and Janie slowed down as visibility decreased. “Are we going to be able to take off tomorrow?” she asked. “If the sky clears, I mean.”
“We can plow the runway.” Jesse rubbed his sleepy eyes with his fingers. “And the plane’s in the hangar, so there won’t be ice on the wings. Don’t worry,” he said, noticing how her teeth bit at her full lower lip. “I’ll keep you and your mom safe.”
She answered with a sigh, which hinted at trouble.
He decided he’d better know what lay ahead. “Is your mom looking forward to the trip?” When Janie didn’t answer, he pushed. “Does she know what’s going on?”
“Sometimes,” Janie said at last. “She wants to watch Mark in the Finals. When she remembers.”
“You’ve told her about the flight?”
She sent him a worried glance. “I tried to.”
“How do you think she’ll react?”
He heard the gulp as she swallowed hard. “I have no idea.”
“Great.” He couldn’t repress the comment and wouldn’t apologize. “If you didn’t think this was going to work, why did you agree to come?”
She stared straight ahead, lips pressed together, for a long time. Her whitened knuckles revealed a tense grip on the steering wheel. “Mark and Nicki wanted Mom to come. Anyway, how many times have you refused to do what your parents wanted?”
Good point. “You’ve got an advantage over the rest of us, though.”
“Oh?”
“You’re not part of the family.”
“No kidding?”
The sarcasm stung. “You don’t have to get mad. I just meant—”
She held up a hand to stop him. “Believe me, I know exactly how far outside the Cody constellation my family’s orbit lies.”
Jesse let the comment slide. “I only meant that my parents don’t have any power over you. You were free to refuse.”
“And miss maybe the only time I’ll ever get to see my brother at the National Finals? Maybe the only time I ever get to go to the Finals, period?” She shook her head. “I couldn’t say no.”
“I guess you couldn’t.” He would just have to hope things turned out better than he expected.
Several miles passed in a silence broken only by the sound of the wipers brushing back and forth. Finally, Jesse came up with a less confrontational topic. “So you’ve never been to the Finals?”
“Nope.”
“It’s the wildest rodeo you can imagine. Picture any show you’ve ever been to times a thousand, held in the craziest place on the planet.”
Janie chuckled. “That’s quite a description. But this is your first time competing, too. Right?”
“Yeah. We go every year since Dad usually has a bull competing, but I was tired of hearing him complain that I wasn’t there riding, so I put in the extra effort and got myself on the list.” He winced when he recognized the bitterness in his own voice. “Of course, I’m looking forward to competing. The best bulls and the best riders—it’s gonna be a blast.”
He felt Janie’s sideways appraisal. “Are you ready for all the attention that comes with the title? I’m pretty sure Mark hasn’t thought about it at all.”
“Endorsements, you mean? And publicity?” She nodded. “I don’t think any of the guys thinks about that ahead of time. We all just want to get out there and win. That’s the real point—being the best.”
“Till next year. Or maybe just the next ride.”
“Whoa. Don’t be so supportive.”
She shrugged, then made a careful turn onto the road leading between stone pillars into the Cottonwood Ranch. “I like winning as much as anybody. If Mark gets the championship, I know he’ll spend some of the money to help take care of Mom, which will be a blessing. But you don’t need the cash, or the fame. I get the feeling that even if you win, you won’t be satisfied.”
Jesse turned in his seat to look across the cab at her. “What else could I want? Besides being world champion?”
As he asked the question, Janie braked gently at the foot of the porch steps leading to his front door. “I think you want respect.” She didn’t look at him as she answered but watched as a layer of snow quickly obscured her view through the windshield.
The woman knew too damn much about what went on inside his head. “Who doesn’t?”
Then her eyes met his. “The man who already respects himself.”
Stunned by the implication, Jesse couldn’t have come up with a quick, casual answer if his life depended on it. At last he simply opened the door and jumped down into the snow, sinking halfway to his knees. “Maybe this worked out okay, after all,” he told Janie, grateful to have something practical to think about. “This way, you can just drive the truck back here tomorrow when you come with your mom.”