A Gentle Rain (42 page)

I was hoping to resemble something with fewer legs and a smaller tail.

Ben

The womenfolk practically had to drag Karen to the staging area in the arena. It was three in the afternoon, and the promoters had scheduled photo sessions of the riders and horses. Possum held Estrela, who looked pretty spiffy with her saddle oiled to a dark sheen and her gray coat curried to a shine.

Yeah, she was still a scar-faced unknown next to the slick pro horses with their high-tech gear, but by that point we'd all made our peace with being the dark horse in the event. At least we were there. A miracle in its own right.

"Here she is, our cowgirl star," Miriam brayed. "Who cares if she didn't get asked to be in Tami Jo's underwear show?" She pulled Karen from behind a curtain used to separate the public alleys from the backstage, which included the warm-up ring and temporary stalls where the horses could rest.

Me and the other Thocco men folk did a double take. Except for her blue jeans, Karen was all pink. Pink boots. A pink western shirt with dark-pink piping. A pink ribbon was woven into her braided hair. And she wore a pink western hat with a turquoise-studded hat band, courtesy of the Fountain Springs Civic Association, which had presented the fancy hat to Karen at a ceremony before we left for Orlando.

I looked at her and thought, ft's sexy. Works for me. "You'll do," I said gruffly.

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't flatter me. I know I'm extremely pink. I told Lily I'd wear any color she chose. I didn't realize she'd pick pink."

"You don't like looking like a cowgirl? Pink or not, you're dressed for a rodeo."

"It's a uniform I haven't earned. Perhaps that's why it feels awkward."

"Then go and earn it."

She rose to the bait. Her chin came up. She adjusted her pink hat. "All right, I will."

Tami Jo Jackson wasn't happy.

At the photo shoot the TV producer announced the order of competition for that night, and the list put both Tami To and Karen in the last twenty. "Those are the premium slots," Tami To complained loudly in front of all the other riders, the photographers, and a whole bunch of World Sports Network staff

"Those are the competitors the audience waits for. You're supposed to schedule the best-known people and the champion horses last." She pointed at Karen. "Why are she and that ugly little mare being put into one of the prime final spots?"

A brave network producer stepped forward. "The sponsors and the marketing people set it up," Ms. Jackson.

"I want it changed."

"I'm sorry, but it's too late."

"I'll talk to my daddy!"

"Ms. Jackson, this was an executive decision. This is about showmanship. People in the audience want to see the underdog compete. They'll stay late to see that."

"I'm filing a complaint. And so will everyone else."

A lot of the barrel racers scowled at Tami Jo, like they were thinking, `Don't bet on it,' since her little hissy fit made them sound like a waste of her air space. But her circle of toadies darted evil looks Karen's way.

"They hate me," Karen whispered to me. "They hate me for being here, for stealing their spotlight. And most of all, they hate me for not having earned this right. I bought it."

"So did they. Fifty grand each."

"Yes, I know. But they have credentials, and I don't."

"You don't belong here," Tami Jo yelled at Karen. "You're nothing! You're no one!"

Karen flared up like a red-headed torch. "Step a little closer when you say that. I have a fist here that will fit the contour of your front teeth nicely."

"Go ahead and hit me with your chubby, freckled fist. I dare you!"

I toted Karen halfway back to the trailer before she calmed down enough to be trusted on her own pink-booted feet. I turned her to face me. "Don't you get it? If you punch one of the other riders, you'll get disqualified for unsportsmanlike behavior. She's trying to psych you out. And you're lettin' her."

Karen groaned. "You're right."

"Focus. Concentrate. This is a game, and you gotta have the right attitude. Why do you care what she calls you? You're not fat. You're built like a brick ... you're solid. I like every single curve you got, and then some."

She shook her head. "Look, I know I'm still a few pounds overweight. I'll never be a petite little flower. I've made my peace with that fact. But there are times when someone says the wrong thing to me and I turn back into the little girl everyone at boarding school called `Porky.' When that happens, watch out."

"Boarding school? You went to board n' school?"

She got real still, then winced. Finally she sagged a little and nodded. "We'll talk about my personal history next week, remember? For the moment, could you just forget I said that?"

I frownied. "Yeah. You bet."

"Thank you."

Boarding school.

"Dear Jesus," Dale prayed softly, in the middle of our circle beside the horse trailer, "Please watch over Karen and Estrela and let their race time come in at no more than fifteen-and-a-half seconds, because Ben says that's what the top horses usually run." Amen."

"Amen," everyone else chorused. When I looked at Karen, who held Mac's big hand on one side and Lily's on the other, she was crying.

"Don't cry, you'll piss off the network's make-up people," Miriam ordered, pushing the rest of the ranch crew aside and dabbing a tissue under Karen's raccoon-black eyelashes.

Karen sucked up her tears and nodded. "Deep breath. There. Sorry. Fifteen-and-a-half seconds sounds very short, sometimes."

Joey looked up at her from his wheelchair. "Remember, we don't care ifyou win or not, we love you, anyway." Mr. Darcy bobbed on his shoulder, as if understanding. Roy, Cheech, Possum, Bigfoot and Lula nodded. Lily hugged Karen and Mac patted her on her braided red hair. They pressed a fresh cut daisy into her hand. Karen tucked it into her hatband.

Then she looked up at me like my approval was what she needed most.

My throat was too tight for words. I gave her a thumbs-up and hoped she understood.

I headed to the stands with Joey, the ranch crew, over fifteen thousand fellow spectators, and the world, via World Sports Network. Karen had shooed me away from the staging area. "Joey needs you beside him," she'd said, "and the fewer people who watch me hyperventilate, the better."

True. But Mac and Lily couldn't stand it. They stayed behind to keep her company.

The arena folks gave the rest of us a VIP spot with easy rollil' access for Joey's wheelchair. Mr. Darcy bobbed on Joey's shoulder. People all around us kept takin' pictures of him and the bird. Joey grinned and waved.

"Everybody remember to look up at the timers and the TV screens," I directed. The time showed on a big, three-sided digital board hanging over the arena. We could see every instant of the race, down to a hundredth of a second. "We can watch Karen and Estrela in close-up. Don't forget."

Their eyes turned upward together. "I like to watch `em on TV," Bigfoot said. "They look more real that way."

Shush. Shush. Shush. Joey's oxygen was so loud. We'd had to turn it up as high as it would go. Lately I'd got him a special regulator with a battery; it puffed oxygen into his nose only when he inhaled, not gushing oxygen constantly like an ordinary valve; so his tank lasted nearly twice as long.

Joey looked around at the crowd. "This is even bigger than the Garth Brooks concert in Tallahassee!"

No, not even close. But to him, this was way bigger than any other event in the history of the world.

So I nodded. "This is the biggest of the big. No matter what kind of time Karen and Estrela run tonight-even if they don't run good enough to have any chance of making the finals on Sunday night we're gonna tell Karen how proud we are, right?"

"Right!"

I looked around at Roy, Dale, Cheech, Bigfoot and Possum. "Right?"

They nodded.

"I'll buy Karen some ice cream," Joey said.

I patted his back. "Good idea."

Kara

My hands shook on the reins. Fifteen-five seconds or less. The goal chanted in my brain. Fifteen point-five. Fifteen-point-five. This timing in the competition was brutally close. Over eighty horses and riders had run so far. As Ben had estimated, the top scores were all under fifteen-and-ahalf seconds.

I stared at a large digital tote board in the staging area. The lowest score of the night was fifteen-eight-three. The top third and the bottom were separated by no more than fractions of a second. Less than a heartbeat.

Another rider and horse flashed out of the gate and slid to a stop in the chute. The crowd cheered. "Darla Waites and King Joe Bar, from California," the announcer boomed. "Fifteen-two-two!"

Fractions. Heartbeats. My heart rate could be measured in nanoseconds at the moment.

"Who's that man walking this way?" Lily asked. "The tall old man who looks important."

I pivoted Estrela in the warm-up ring. "Which one?" The staging area at a big arena was hardly a private area. There were people and horses everywhere.

Mac pointed. "The old one w-with the pretty 1-little man who h-has a p-pocketbook."

"That's not a pocketbook. That's what Gucci calls a `man bag."'

"I could use one of t-those," Mac said solemnly. "To keep my man stuff in."

Sedge looked up at me with poignant appreciation. "Pardon our intrusion, Ms. Johnson. It's just that we're fans of yours, and we wanted to say hello and wish you the best of luck."

"I love your pink outfit," Malcolm added. "Those boots? Perfection."

"We simply want to let you know that we're cheering for you. No matter how it goes. We're impressed by your passion and your persistence." His implication was clear. He was referring to far more than this competition.

"That means more to me than I can say." I nodded to Mac and Lily, who looked at the strangers shyly. "Mac? Lily? Isn't it nice that these two gentlemen made a special point to come wish us well?"

They smiled. Sedge studied them gently. "Very nice to meet you," he said. He bowed slightly to Lily, who blushed at the gesture. She swiveled toward me. "Did you see that?" she whispered. I nodded. Sedge held out a hand to Mac. They shook. Mac looked so proud.

"I love your daisy motif," Malcolm said to Lily.

"Thank you!" Then she looked up at me uncertainly. "Do I have a daisy on my motif?"

"Number Four Seven Two, on deck," the backstage manager called. He waved for me to bring Estrela to a holding pen closer to the entrance chute.

"I have to go, now," I said to Sedge and Malcolm. My voice wavered with emotion. "It's so good to meet you. I appreciate you being here."

"We're very sincere in our good wishes," Sedge said. "We want the best for you and also for Ben Thocco. We've heard good things about him."

"All true."

"Good. We'll be cheering for you and Estrela from the stands."

They walked away. I watched them go with a tearful smile. Sedge wanted me to know that my choices, whatever they might be, had his blessing.

"I like those sweet old men," Lily said.

"They s-smelled real nice," Mac agreed