Tina Leonard - Catching Calhoun

“There won’t be another time.” Calhoun wished they’d go find another time in the next county and leave him to his busted pride. “Hey, you kids beat it for now, okay?”

With some guilt, he watched the little boy’s eyes fill with tears.

“Oh, come on,” Calhoun said grumpily. “You can’t expect me to be friendly right now. My tongue’s lodged somewhere behind my ears and my teeth seem weirdly disconnected.”

“Kenny just wants an autograph,” the little girl said, her tone mildly reproachful. “At least you tried to ride that bull, and that oughta be worth getting an autograph from you. So we can say we met the cowboy who tried.”

Calhoun perked up. “An…autograph?”

The boy nodded, his eyes round and huge with either adoration or hope.

Calhoun’s chest puffed out a little with male pride. “No one’s ever asked me for an autograph before.”

“You stayed on for three seconds,” the girl said. “Kenny’s easily impressed.”

“Hmmph.” Calhoun gave her an assessing eye. “You’re too young to be sarcastic.”

“Sarcastic?” Her eyebrows raised.

“Never mind.” He scribbled his signature on the number he’d been wearing and gave it to Kenny, who seemed astonished over the gift. The little boy clutched it to his chest as if he feared Calhoun would change his mind and take back his number. “Now what? Don’t y’all have someplace to be?” He eased himself into a different sitting position, wondering if he should take off his shirt to inspect his rib cage when there was a young lady about.

Probably not.

“Well, since the show’s over,” Minnie said, “we should go watch Gypsy find Grandpa in the barrels. Wanna come with us?”

Kenny’s face beamed at him when he heard his big sister’s offer. “Uh—” Calhoun began.

“You don’t want to miss what Gypsy can do,” Minnie bragged. “Mom’s a great rider.”

He perked up at the word “Mom.” What the heck. At the end of every bull tossing should be a pretty woman. And he had a couple hours before the art showing. “Sure. I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Can you stand up?” Minnie asked. “’Cause we can help—”

“I can stand!” Calhoun insisted, annoyed that the kids thought he was so flimsy. “Now look, you two ragamuffins don’t try to work me over, okay, because I know what you’re up to.”

Minnie blinked her big, innocent eyes. “You do?”

Satisfied, he nodded. “Yeah. I do. You want me for your mom.”

The children stared at him.

“Grandpa said he’d kick the bejesu—” Kenny started.

“Shh! You’re not supposed to say that!” Minnie reminded him. She looked up at Calhoun. “Cowboy, we want you to hide in a barrel. And that’s all we’re looking for.”

Calhoun blinked, then narrowed his eyes. “Hide in a barrel? Do I look like the kind of stuffingless cowboy who needs to hide in a barrel?”

“From the way you ran from Bloodthirsty Black, we think you’ve got what it takes,” Minnie said earnestly.

“Now, look,” Calhoun said, pretty certain now that he was getting railroaded, “just because I said you were too young to be sarcastic doesn’t mean I don’t know when you are.”

Kenny looked at him sorrowfully. “You don’t want to be in our act? It’s lots of fun.” He got big tears in his eyes. “I told Mom I’d do it, but she said no. She said Gypsy goes out to pasture when Grandpa does.”

They stared at him solemnly. Sighing, Calhoun eased to his feet. “You know what? You two are kind of strange. But I’m from the original House O’ Strange, so I’ll go along with the game for a couple hours. I’ve got nothing better to do.” And if it meant getting a second look at Olivia Spinlove, then a man could do worse with his time.

THE GAME THAT BARLEY and Gypsy played was basically hide-the-pea-under-the-shell, only they used Barley and a barrel. Audiences were thrilled with the hide-and-go-seek game between Grandpa and Gypsy, because Gypsy wore blinders and therefore seemed to really be able to figure out where Grandpa was hiding, even when Olivia made Gypsy go over to a child in the audience, giving Grandpa a chance to hurriedly switch barrels. Gypsy always went to the new barrel immediately, making the audience laugh as she reached in with her nose to check for him. On command, she would whinny very loudly, as if to say, Ahha! She could push barrels over with Barley in them, and she could kick them, making Barley yell “Ouch!” much to the delight of the children in the crowd.

Olivia was responsible for the gag running quickly and smoothly. She herself wore a mask over her eyes, so that she couldn’t “cue” Gypsy to the correct barrel.

Sometimes Gypsy pretended she didn’t know where he was, and Olivia would ask the kids to “help” Gypsy find Grandpa. While they called out answers, clowns would run through the audience giving fresh apples to kids who participated, even if they just pointed a finger. Most of the time, every child ended up with a pretty apple.

And at the end, Grandpa did a sparkler show while sitting on Gypsy, his arms pinwheeling in figure eights and lasso motions as the children watched in amazement.

Then every child who wanted to could pet Gypsy.

Olivia adjusted her mask, thinking that it was sad that the show would be over at the end of this school year. In fact, this was the final time they’d perform in the south. Lonely Hearts Station had been one of the few places where they hadn’t performed. Barley had ditched the town many years ago, after Marvella and he had a row.

Olivia suspected he’d never gotten over Marvella. He really was an old softie, though he had a reputation for being mean. They’d probably never get back together, but first flames often burned in the memory. Still, life went on.

She waited for her cue to bring Gypsy into the ring.

“Hey, pretty lady,” a deep voice said next to her ear.

“Don’t take your mask off, Momma,” Minnie said. “Guess who’s come to watch the act?”

Her heart sank. He’d spoken the exact words she’d imagined him speaking. Truly, this cowboy was a player at the master level. “Minnie,” she said, her voice warning her daughter to remember the rules—no cowboys.

The man stopped Olivia’s fingers as she raised her hands to take off the mask. “I like it,” he said. “Mysterious women are quite interesting.”

“I’m not interested in being mysterious for you,” she snapped. “Kenny, Minnie, go sit in the stands, please.”

“’Kay, Mom. See ya, cowboy,” Minnie said.

“Now it’s just the two of us,” he said. “Clever of you to think of a way for us to be alone.”

She ripped off her mask, ready to dispel his over-enthusiastic appeal, when the huge grin on his face stopped her.

He winked, slowly and sexily.

Her breath caught inside her chest.

No, no, no, she’d told the kids about cowboys. And no she’d told herself. This man might be the best reason she’d ever met for saying no to cowboys.

“Your kids said I shouldn’t miss the show,” he told her, his husky voice sending chills down her spine. “My name’s Calhoun Jefferson, of the Union Junction ranch. Better known as Malfunction Junction,” he said with a grin.

“Why do I find that easy to believe?”

“Because you can tell I’m a man of my word.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “Cowboy, you are full of yourself.”

“And you find it strangely appealing.” He patted Gypsy under her mane, right along her neck where she liked it best.

“Is that what all the ladies tell you?”

He grinned. “What ladies?”

She rolled her eyes and snapped her mask back on.

“Oh, come on,” he said softly, “unbend a little. A little mama like yourself ought to enjoy some harmless flirting. It’s nothing more than keeping a lonely cowboy company. And you’re not exactly hard on the eyes, you know.”