Aiming for the Cowboy. Mary Leo
piglet races were one of the highlights of the fair, and the crowded stands were testament to that fact. Black-and-white silks adorned the small oval track. Wood shavings encircled the floor of the track that couldn’t be more than a hundred and fifty feet around. With five rows of metal bleachers on three sides, it would soon be standing room only.
Four baby oinkers adorned in various colors of brown, green, pink and black, with their big ears flapping, were hand-carried out onto the track from a colorful thirty-foot trailer, introduced to the excited audience, then placed in separate cages that sat on the starting line. Colt, his boys and the audience cheered, clapped and whistled as the Swinemaster, a rugged-looking cowboy sporting a handlebar mustache and a large white classic cowboy hat, announced the upcoming race.
“Racing as piglet number one we have Bob Beboar. Number two is our darling Josephine Hoglarson, number three is Stephanie Porkman and finally number four is the lovely Olive Oinkly.”
The crowd reacted with hoots and whistles just as Colt spotted Helen heading right for him. She looked about as pretty as the first spring rose. She wore her favorite straw cowboy hat and if he wasn’t mistaken, he could make out the necklace he’d given her around her pretty neck.
His heart raced.
His palms were clammy.
Suddenly all he could think of was her naked body lying under him as he kissed her. The scent of her. The feel of her silky skin. Her warm touch on his—
The crowd parted and he spotted her prominent baby bump.
His breath hitched.
“Hey, good-lookin’,” Lana Thomson said as she made her way toward Colt. He’d forgotten that Travis had set him up with Lana for the festival. It suddenly dawned on him that he was supposed to have met her near the front entrance to the wine booths a good twenty minutes ago, but with everything else going on around him at the fair, he’d completely forgotten.
“Lana, hi!” he said, jumping up to greet her as he desperately tried to think up an excuse for why meeting her had completely slipped his mind. He wished his brothers would stop trying to pair him with every available girl in town. Of all people, Lana Thomson, who was about as right for him as a Vegas showgirl.
“Good thing I ran into your dad or I would’ve thought you stood me up. I know I was a little late getting here, but that couldn’t be helped. A girl has to look her best on her first date with a Granger. The competition is steep, sweetie, but from what I hear, the rewards are just this side of heaven.” She gave him a slow once-over, lingering a little too long on body parts she shouldn’t be staring at in a public place, especially with his boys sitting next to him.
Once again, because of his brothers’ incessant meddling, he found himself in a troublesome situation.
“I need four volunteers from the stands,” the Swinemaster bellowed. “One from each section!”
“Colt Granger, we need to talk,” Helen said as she approached. She spoke with such force Colt near about hopped forward as if he were on a spring.
“Sure,” Colt answered as he tried to move around Lana. “Will you excuse me?”
He couldn’t really get to Helen because of all the kids who were now standing around him, cheering and laughing in anticipation of the race.
“You, sir, come on down to the front,” he heard the Swinemaster say.
Colt’s son Buddy nudged him, giggling. “He wants you, Dad.”
All three of his boys were hysterical with laughter.
“He wants you to come down and pick a piggy for the race,” Gavin told him.
“Pick number one, Papa, Bob Beboar. He’s the biggest,” Joey ordered, then burst out laughing again.
But Colt couldn’t seem to move. Way too many things were going on at the same time.
“Daddy, hurry up. You’re holding up the race,” Gavin ordered.
“What? No. This is a kid’s race,” Colt mumbled, feeling like a first-class fool.
“Come on down, sir. Come get your snout on,” the Swinemaster shouted, holding up a rubber pig snout attached to a white stretchy band. Then the Swinemaster proceeded to pick three other volunteers, kids well under the age of ten.
Feeling completely discomfited, Colt made his way down the metal stairs with everyone cheering him on as they made a path for him to get by.
When he passed Helen, he said, “I didn’t think it was true.”
“That’s why we need to talk,” she said over the hoots coming from the crowd. “If you can tear yourself away from Lana Thomson long enough for a private conversation.”
“What? No. You have the wrong idea. We’re not—”
“It seems one of our team captains is holding up the race,” the Swinemaster bellowed. “Sir, we need you to pick out your favorite piggy.”
Everyone in Colt’s section began hooting and yelling for him to get down to the front.
“Don’t leave,” he told Helen, hoping she wouldn’t lose interest in talking to him because of Lana.
“I’ll be here,” she said, but she didn’t look happy.
He walked off toward the Swinemaster and the piglet cages at the start line. It seemed as if everyone in the entire arena was cheering for him. Of all the confounded situations for him to find himself in, this certainly was not one he had anticipated when he left the ranch that morning.
The Swinemaster handed Colt and the three children, two boys and a girl, their rubber snouts. Colt stared at it for a moment, as if there was no way he was slipping the silly thing on his face, until the other kids started poking him to put it on. He really had little choice in the matter. He slipped off his cowboy hat, and snapped the contraption around his head, making sure his snout was securely in place over his nose.
“Of all the crazy things...”
The audience seemed to love the entire spectacle and continued to cheer and laugh. Whatever friends he had in the audience called out his name, then whistled. He wondered if he would ever be able to live it down.
“And what’s your name, sonny?” the Swinemaster asked Colt, thrusting the microphone in front of his face, obviously milking the situation.
“Colt.”
“And how old are you, Colt?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. How old are you?”
“Too old.”
“Apparently you’re not too old to wear a snout.”
Colt could feel himself blush as he adjusted his snout. “Apparently.”
The crowd roared with laughter as Colt decided to roll with it.
“And seeing as how you’re the tallest, we’ll give you first pick.”
“My boys told me to pick Bob Beboar.”
His section clapped and cheered as the Swinemaster’s male helper secured a large number one on either side of the baby swine.
Then the other kids were asked the same questions while Colt watched as Helen was offered a seat in the first row. Soon his three boys had made their way down to where Helen sat and squeezed in around her, with Joey sitting on her lap. His boys seemed to enjoy being around Helen, and he felt the feeling was mutual on her part. She could always get them to laugh and they loved hearing her stories from being on the circuit. If it wasn’t for her gypsy soul, he probably would’ve considered seriously dating her a long time ago.
Lana now sat alone up in the stands, straining to get his attention. He caught her waving out of the corner of his eye. When he finally glanced