“Write me a check and I’ll give you the keys.”
I love you, Montana. “Done.” I wrote him a check, and just like that I had a place.
I went into town and bought a bed and some bare necessities to make my new house livable. Driving back, I listened to The National until the song “I Need My Girl” came on. I changed it quickly, feeling nauseous. What was happening to me?
CHAPTER 15
Hearts and Stripes
Avelina
In my mind, rodeos always represented a kind of Americana that I didn’t grow up with. I knew horses as a kid, but everything I learned was in Spanish from my father. It was only later, after he died, that I learned how to barrel race. That’s when I was introduced to rodeo culture. In Bozeman there was a palpable buzz on rodeo weekends. Horse trailers poured into town, and hotels, restaurants, and pubs were full of travelers and cowboys. Cowboys like Jake.
On Saturday we watched all of the events. I studied the women’s barrel racing and tried to take note of what I needed to do. There were no reminders of Nate in this world but that didn’t stop me from thinking about him. Every time someone got injured, I would think, If only Nate were here, and then I would shake my head, trying to get rid of the thought. I reminded myself that Nate was probably with the sharp-tongued woman I’d heard on the phone.
During the team-roping finals I saw Russell Coldwell, the man who was the spitting image of Jake. After his run, I stood up. I wanted to get a closer look.
“Sit down, girl,” Bea said. I glanced at Redman, who was eyeing me sharply.
“I just want to see.”
“See what, darling?” Trish drawled from behind me.
“I just want to get a closer look.”
“Well, go then,” Bea finally said. I skipped down off the bleachers and over to the holding corral. I leaned against the wooden slats until I caught his attention. He dismounted from his horse and sidled over to me.
“Avelina.” He tilted the brim of his beige felt Stetson.
“Russell. You take your wedding ring off when you compete?”
“I got a divorce,” he said, looking down and tapping the toe of his boot against the wooden post. I studied the broad line of his jaw and the curve of his strongly made shoulders, not unlike Jake’s but not the same either. Jake had a boyishness to him that Russell didn’t. They both rode their horses the same way, with a command so obvious that it seemed as if man and animal were one.
“I’m sorry to hear.”
“What are your plans for tonight?”
“No plans,” I lied.
“We’re going for drinks at Pete’s.”
“Okay. Can I ride with you?”
“Sure,” he said simply. “Let me load up my horses. My truck is the blue one; go ahead and get in.”
“I can help you.”
“Pfft. Help me with what?”
“Loading up the horses.”
“Nah, that’s no job for you.”
I blinked, taken aback, then quickly shrugged it off and headed for the cab of his truck. In the side mirror I could see Bea coming toward me with a vengeance.
She stalked up to the window and gestured for me to roll it down. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”
“We’re just going to Pete’s for a drink.”
“Did you think of tellin’ anybody or were you just gonna slip off into the night?”
“Why are you being dramatic, Bea?” I looked into the mirror again and saw Russell watching us.
She whispered angrily near my ear, “Are you gonna go gallivantin’ through town with a married man?”
“He’s divorced.”
“That man is bad news. I bet he’s divorced all right, ’cause he’s a wife-beater. I’ve heard the rumors and I know you have, too.”
“Have I?” My facial expression didn’t change. I didn’t care what happened to me anymore. I could hardly remember what it was like to worry about my own safety. I welcomed the danger, and I wanted pain because at least it would dull the hurt inside.
“Nate is going to be at the ranch tomorrow.”
“I wonder if he’ll bring the woman.”
“Stop this nonsense.”
“Do you know what it’s like to be constantly let down by life and then feel like it’s your fault?”
“I’m getting Red.”
“We’re leaving,” Russell interrupted. He hopped into the driver’s seat, started the engine, revved it two or three times, and then put it in gear and drove away.
“What was that all about?” he asked.
“Nothin’.”
Walking through Pete’s, I could see the looks of disapproval on people’s faces; some even looked slightly mortified. Maybe they thought of me as the town black widow, some wicked husband killer trying to get my claws into the next victim.
“I feel like everyone is staring at us.”
“So what,” Russell said, his tone purely indifferent.
“Whiskey, neat.” Out of the corner of my eye I thought I could see Russell scowl when I ordered my drink.
“The same,” he added.
“You got it,” the bartender said.
“So why did you get a divorce?”
“Didn’t get along. My ex is a bitch.”
“Oh.” We shared few words after that. Russell wasn’t much of a talker. After the third or fourth whiskey, I expected Redman or Bea to walk in, pull me off the bar stool, and drag me out by my hair, but they didn’t. I glanced at my phone and saw three missed calls from Nate. It was eleven o’clock and the whiskey was going straight to my brain.