Breakaway (26 page)

There’s a longer pause.

“I’ll think about it,” Mom says. “Don’t forget to call me later.”

I slip my phone back in my pocket.

“Whoa, Jessie,” Amy says. “You are living on the wild side.”

–
Chapter Thirty-six
–

A
t Evraz Place,
we pay our admission to the shivering attendant in the ticket booth and find a parking spot close to the Brandt Centre, where the rodeo events are held.

“What time do your brothers compete?” I ask, slipping on my mittens.

“The rodeo isn’t until tonight,” Amy says.

“So why are we here so damn early? It’s not even nine o’clock!”

“There’s another event I want to see.” She opens the driver’s door. “Hurry up!”

Once we’re inside, I hear an announcer’s voice and see a sprinkling of people in the stands. In the arena below a horse and rider are loping in a circle.

“What competition is this?” I ask.

“Watch,” she says.

The horse makes a tighter circle, then does a figure eight, and begins loping in a counter clockwise direction. After a few more circuits, the horse lopes to the opposite end of the arena, turns, stops, then takes off full tilt. He slides to a stop in a cloud of dust, haunches tucked beneath him.

“This is what Liam does,” I whisper to Amy, suddenly excited. “He told me about this! That’s the big stop, right?”

She nods once and cautions me to be quiet.

The horse begins spinning in a circle, using its hindquarters to pivot once, twice, stopping on a dime, then taking off to perform the same stop and pivot at the opposite end of the arena. One more “big stop” midway and the cow horse moves in reverse, backing up more than a dozen steps, its neck bowed, ears swiveled sideways in concentration.

“This is so cool!” I say.

“Next is cattle work,” Amy explains. “The cow horse has to show that steer who’s boss.”

“What steer?”

A gate opens at the end of the arena, and a steer ambles out. The horse approaches it, ears pointed straight ahead. Amy points to the markers on the fence and explains briefly how the horse and rider need to maintain control of the animal. For the next few minutes, the horse and rider shadow the movements of the steer, racing, turning, dodging, always staying in its flight path. At the end of the demonstration, the announcer requests our applause, and the small audience scattered throughout the stands whistles and cheers.

“That was awesome.” I lean over and speak right into Amy’s ear. “Are we going to see Liam compete?”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes!”

Amy grins at me.

We move down into the stands and watch a few more competitors. Amy patiently answers my questions and explains the finer points of the reining portion of the event. I am on pins and needles waiting for Liam to appear.

“Quit fidgeting,” Amy says. “You’re making
me
nervous.”

Finally Liam trots out on Rusty. Her forelegs are wrapped in white bandages below the knee, a bright contrast with her shiny red colour.

“Rusty’s definitely got on her show coat today. Let’s see if she’s wearing
her
game face.”

I hear a husky male voice down below scream, “Go Liam!”

“Betcha that’s his dad,” I say.

I don’t listen for Amy’s response because Rusty’s already in motion, performing the same loping circuits, lead changes and figure eights as the previous horses. Her ears are in constant rotation, soaking up Liam’s voice and the crowd reaction. Liam sits back easily in the saddle, rein hand floating above the horn.

“She is so pretty,” I breathe, leaning forward and putting my elbows on my knees. “It must be hard for him, knowing he’s got to auction her off after this is over.”

The last figure eight brings Rusty to the opposite end of the arena, where she explodes into a gallop, ears flat back, tail bannering behind her, performing the big stop with muscles popping. She switches gears and spins gracefully on her hindquarters.

“How does he get her to do that?” I ask.

“How do you know how hard to give a pass?” Amy asks. “You do it differently for every girl on the team. Practice.”

A steer trots out.

I find myself hanging on the seat in front of me while Liam and Rusty shadow the animal. At one point I realize I’m actually leaning and moving my head in imitation of the mare’s pivots. Even my untrained eyes can tell Liam’s performance working the steer isn’t as good as the older riders, but Rusty puts in a game effort, tracking the animal’s movements.

When time’s up, Liam lopes Rusty out of the arena.

“How does Liam train for this?” I ask Amy.

“They have a small herd of cattle,” Amy says. “He spends at least an hour in the saddle every day. The training is all about programming the horse so she responds automatically. It’s muscle memory, just like in hockey.” Amy’s phone plays a twangy country song, and she stares at it, smiling.

“Who’s texting?”

“Russell.” Amy texts a reply and places her phone on her lap. “A few minutes ago you seemed pretty excited to see Liam.”

I shake my head. “We’re just friends. At least, I think we are.”

“Come on, how can you resist him?” Amy teases. “Football player? Cowboy? Future Doctor Doolittle?”

I keep on shaking my head, but I can’t wipe the grin off my face. “The last thing I need is another
guy
hanging
around.”

“Why not?” Amy asks.

I take the plunge and tell her about Evan. It takes a while, but Amy’s a good listener.

“I already did a number on Evan. I’m not doing that again,” I tell her.

“I think you’re scared of Liam,” Amy says, reaching in her back pocket for her tobacco tin.

“That’s what Kathy says.”

“There you go.” Amy unscrews the cap. “We must be right.”

I sit up straight and put my hands on my thighs. “Why don’t we talk about your love life for a change?”

“Okay.” Amy extracts a plug of tobacco. “You want to know who I like?”

“Yeah, I do.”

She pulls open her lip and jams the tobacco in before inclining her head towards mine. “Well, first off – it’s somebody on our team.”

That shuts me up in a hurry.

“Don’t worry. It’s not you,” Amy says. “And secondly, it’s not anybody I’m going to tell. She’s not like me.”

We sit quietly, listening to the arena sounds.

“Thanks for confiding in me,” I say after a while. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“I know you won’t. That’s why I told you.”

“Does anybody else know?” I ask.

“Just Sue. She’s good to talk to about stuff.” Amy picks up her cup and spits.

This part of her confession makes me feel uncomfortable. Amy’s known Sue for such a short time, and she already knows her better than I do.

Amy stands up. “Let’s go find Liam.”

We make our way down to the horse barn, where Liam is in a box stall with Rusty, giving her a well-deserved rub down.

“Lot of fuss for a few minutes,” Liam’s dad is saying as we approach.

“What about eight seconds?” Liam says over his left shoulder. “Or
less
than eight!”

“Zing!” Russell says, giving his dad a playful shove.

“Look who’s here!” Liam’s mom hugs Amy and squeezes my forearm. “I didn’t expect to see you girls!”

“Your family was just here,” Mr. MacArthur says to Amy. “You missed them by five minutes.” He eyes me uncertainly.

“I’m Jessie,” I say. “I was at a party at your quonset a few weeks ago. I know Liam from school.”

Mrs. MacArthur starts directing the small talk at this point, and from the information and looks she and Mr. MacArthur are trading, I gather they know
exactly
who I am. It’s a little unnerving to think I’ve been a topic of conversation in their household.

In sharp contrast to this friendly exchange is Liam’s silence.

He’s squatted in front of Rusty, rewrapping her front legs. While Amy and the MacArthurs make small talk, I put my hand under Rusty’s nose, and she sniffs it. I rub the velvety skin between her nostrils while she explores my sleeve with her lips, then snorts, throwing a string of snot on my jacket.

Everyone but Liam laughs.

“No hockey today?” Russell grins at me.

“Not until Thursday.”

“I want to come,” Russell says. “Can we go, Liam?”

Liam mumbles something.

“It’s in Milestone, Russell,” I explain. “We don’t play at home again until the week after.”

“We’ll be there,” Russell grins. “Won’t we, Liam?”

No response.

“That was an awesome performance, Liam,” I say. “I’m glad I got to see it.”

Liam shrugs, his back still turned.

“Do you think Rusty will get a good price at the auction?” I ask.

“We’ll find out this afternoon,” Mr. MacArthur says.

“I’d bid on her myself if I had the cash,” says a female voice behind my right shoulder.

I turn around to see a very pretty blonde. She has curves in places I can only dream about, a beautiful mouth and soft brown eyes. Worst of all, she is one of those girls born to wear a cowboy hat.

“You folks thinking about getting something to eat?” she
asks.

“Sure thing.” Liam’s dad drapes an arm around the girl’s shoulders and leans his head toward hers, dwarfing her. “I missed breakfast this morning. Been thinking about a stack of pancakes and a pound of crisp bacon for
hours.”

“Me too.” She flashes her pearlies at Russell. “Comin,’ Hot Stuff?”

“Sure am!’ he says.

Her eyes swing right over me and Amy and rest on Liam’s mom. “What about you, Connie?”

“I’ll hang out here for a bit,” Mrs. MacArthur says. “Maybe you girls would like to go.”

“I’m not hungry,” I say. “And we have to find Amy’s family, right Amy?”

“They were going to check out the exotic livestock,” Mr. MacArthur says.

Liam stands up and leaves the stall. “I’m ready for something to eat,” he says. “Thanks for coming, Amy. I’ll see you later.” Liam walks away with the others, without a backward glance.

Why would he look back, my little voice reasons. You saw the way the blonde was looking at
him.

“Liam said one time he wanted you to come out to our place and go riding,” Mrs. MacArthur says. “Do you think you might like to do that?”

“I don’t have time,” I tell her, running my hand along Rusty’s neck. “I’m pretty busy with school and hockey and stuff.”

“You kids,” Mrs. MacArthur says. “Liam’s the same way. Thank goodness football season is short. If he isn’t with Rusty, he’s over at Anne’s clinic.”

“Clinic?” I ask.

“Liam works for a vet,” Mrs. MacArthur says. “He wants to be a vet one day.”

“Yeah, he told me that,” I say, giving Rusty a final pat. “Good luck with the sale.”

“See you later, Connie,” Amy says.

“See you.”

As we walk away, I feel something gnawing at my stomach. It’s a familiar sensation. It means I’ve screwed things up royally. Again.

“You sure pissed
him
off somewhere along the way,” Amy says.

A bubble of regret rises in my throat. I nearly choke on it.

“Let’s go look at those exotic animals,” Amy says gently. “Nothing cheers me up like an ostrich. Aren’t they the goofiest things?”

I paste a smile on my face. “Who needs cheering up?”

Amy smacks me on the back. “Atta girl!”

–

A
fter the evening rodeo, I hitch a ride home with Amy’s aunt, who has to work the next day. As hard as I try
not
to, I sleep most of the way home. We don’t get back to Estevan until well after midnight, but Rufus waits up for me.

I open the door to his kennel, and he emerges, wiggling and peeing on the newspaper, thrilled to be released from his prison.

“How’s my big boy?” I pick him up and tuck him under my arm.

Together we explore the contents of the fridge and find a package of yogurt. After I remove the top, I let Rufus lick the underside of the plastic wrap. I set him down and go into the living room, where Mom’s sleeping on the couch with a paperback propped on her chest. I sit in Dad’s recliner while Rufus hops up on the couch next to Mom, knocking her book onto the floor and waking her.

“Hey! How did you...” She looks over at me and starts, lying back with her hand on her chest. “You scared me!”

“Sorry.” I dip my spoon in the yogurt and savour the cool, creamy texture on my tongue. “How was your day?”

“I’m far more interested in
yours.”
Mom rubs her eyes and pushes Rufus’ nose aside when he tries to lick her face.