If Wishes Were Horses (38 page)

“Who am I racin’?” she asked.

“Sissy Post, that barrel racer.”

Etta experienced a slice of alarm followed by increasing curiosity. She wondered if she could beat the woman in a race. She really wanted to beat her. She would be awfully embarrassed if she lost.

A race was about to get under way on the track, and people were calling odds and bets to each other. Little Gus, having had the edge run off him, was no longer agitated and stood calmly, although his ears twitched with interest in the goings-on around him.

Sissy Post rode up, making her horse prance by tapping it with her spurs, causing it, and herself, to appear quite flashy. “You ready?” she asked.

Etta nodded. She thought that she could be equally as cool and crisp as the other woman.

Johnny sent a message to the announcer’s box with word of their match race, and they had to await their turn, as this sort of thing was being done again and again, races being vigorously drawn up between competitors. Harry Flagg and his daughter were holding furious bets again over at his flatbed truck.

It suddenly occurred to Etta to wonder about the wager Johnny had made with Sissy. She had neglected to ask him, and she could not now, as he was talking with several men.

She had been remiss in allowing herself to be dragged along almost like an observer, she thought, and felt a little sick with the memory of the disappointment she had suffered at losing the earlier race. It was not a feeling she wanted to repeat, most especially with this flamboyant, confident woman.

Yet Etta also found a spirit of competition rising in her. This was a revelation, as she had never before felt such a sense of rivalry. Usually she was trying too hard to be refined to pay attention to competitive feelings.

At this moment, the sense of competition caused her heart to beat faster and anticipation to rise at an equal rate to apprehension. She gave up a little prayer for God to understand that she didn’t mean to be petty, but she really would like to win. She studied Sissy Post’s roan and thought that it seemed a little narrow in the chest.

Then Johnny was leading Little Gus to the track and helping to line him up beside Sissy Post on her roan.

Resting a warm hand on Etta’s knee, Johnny beckoned with his callused finger. She leaned toward him. His eyes were bright and shining.

“Little Gus can take that roan,” he said. “It’s fast, but it’ll give out at three hundred feet, and you’re gonna go four. Let Little Gus jump out like he does, then hold him while the roan wears himself out getting a length ahead. Then just lean forward and go.”

Looking into his eyes, Etta believed every word he said, as if it had all already happened.

The next instant he put his hand to the back of her head, pulled her down and kissed her hard and fast right there in view of everyone.

She straightened, blinking and seeking to calm herself. She realized then that she could feel Little Gus tensing beneath her, could feel him draw back into his hips and gather his energy in a way he did not do when practicing on the pasture track.

At the instant the flag went down, Little Gus sprang forward as if shot out of a cannon. He was instantly in front, but the roan gained. Etta, although frantic, held Little Gus, while the roan and Sissy Post’s fluttering fringed shirt went past. She counted seconds in her head and then let Little Gus go, leaned forward, thinking:
Go . . . Go . . . Go!

Little Gus came up on the roan and went past him so quickly that Etta had the urge to wave goodbye. Seconds later Little Gus flew over the finish line, way ahead of the roan, just as Johnny had said he would do.

Etta leaned down and hugged Little Gus’s neck, then she looked around for Johnny and, rode eagerly toward him, as he smiled his I-knew-and-ain’t-life-grand smile.

“We won,” she said.

“Yep,” he said, his eyes bright and grin wide.

Sissy Post came over at a run, then pulled her horse up quick, sawing on his mouth. Her face was red. She dug into her pocket and handed Etta a couple of folded bills. “Congratulations.” She turned the roan and spurred him and was off.

Etta slipped to the ground and unfolded the money Sissy had given her. It was two hundred-dollar bills.

“What if I had lost?” she said, frowning.

Johnny grinned. “Then we would have had to pay up. But we didn’t lose. And seein’ as how we’re sort of partners, are you gonna split that with me?”

He stood very close, was gazing down at her with his eyes warm and bright and making her think of all manner of things that had nothing to do with money. She folded one of the bills and gingerly tucked it into the pocket of his starched shirt. Her fingers felt his chest muscle jump at her touch.

“Is that what we are—partners?” she asked.

He shifted, looked off over her head for several seconds and then back into her eyes. “I guess that’s what we are for now.”

There was a sort of sad questioning in his voice and in his eyes, and she thought he seemed as wanting and confused as she felt.

She saw, too, what he left unsaid, which was that he was making no promises for anything except that day.

She touched his arm, her hand coming up as if of its own accord to lie lightly on his forearm and to feel the strength and heat of him. A crooked grin came on his lips, and he pressed his rough, scratchy palm to her cheek for the space of seconds.

Then, with a hard sigh, he took the reins from her, saying, “Well now, I guess I’d better cool this son-of-a-buck down.”

He did not ask her to walk with him. She watched him lead Little Gus away toward a more deserted area along a creek bed with tall trees. Then she looked down at the bill she still held in her hand.

Turning and tucking the money into her pocket, she went back to Latrice and Obie, who were unpacking the picnic basket and preparing to enjoy the feast Latrice had prepared. Etta sat on a blanket in the shade of Latrice’s big umbrella, with Lattie Kate cooing beside her, and told about winning the match race and how Sissy Post had been mad enough to pull her hair out. This was the part that most interested Latrice.

That afternoon, before the nightly rodeo events got under way, they all toured the carnival. Etta pushed Lattie Kate in her carriage, with Johnny walking alongside. Ahead of them Latrice, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat Etta had bought her, walked with her hand in the crook of Obie’s arm. At the pitching booth Obie threw balls and won Latrice an entire set of red glass plates. Johnny stopped at the shooting booth and won a stuffed panda for Lattie Kate. When Obie and Latrice decided to play bingo, where they could sit for a while, Etta and Johnny left Lattie Kate with them and strolled on. Johnny took her hand, as if they were on a date.

“I saw Latrice and Obie kissing this mornin’,” Etta told Johnny. She did not know why she picked that moment to say this. She had been dying to discuss it with him, to see his reaction. She wondered if he had known about it all along, but when surprise crossed his face, she knew he hadn’t. She was glad of this.

“Kissin’? Really?” he said.

Etta nodded. “Obie has been in love with Latrice for years.”

Johnny averted his eyes. “I know.”

“I guess he finally wore her down.”

“He has seemed pretty happy recently,” Johnny said.

“He has, hasn’t he?” Etta wondered how far this thing had gone. It was a little disconcerting, thinking of Latrice and Obie having sex. Surely it had not gone that far. Latrice was a very proper woman.

Johnny stopped walking. “You want some cotton candy?” He gestured at the booth where there was a machine making pink cotton candy.

Etta said she did, and he bought a big stick of cotton candy to share. They each peeled off small pieces and ate them. Then Etta tore off a piece and put it up to Johnny’s mouth. He smiled and took it, his lips touching her fingertips. Then he fed her a piece. He looked at her in that quiet way that seemed to say:
Well now.

She thought to say,
Where are we goin’? Are we headin’ in the same direction as Latrice and Obie?
But she decided not to complicate the day.

They continued to stroll, took a ride on the small carousel and rode the Ferris wheel, where Johnny put his arm around her shoulder. Laying her head back on his arm, she let herself feel the heat of him and the sweet stirrings his nearness wrought inside her.

Later Latrice and Obie kept Lattie Kate with them at the truck, and Etta and Johnny went to watch the rodeo from the stands. During the bronc riding, Johnny left her and went down to the chutes, speaking to men he knew. Etta watched him there climbing up the rails and helping this one and that one position himself. It came to her that this had been his world, something he had loved to do and had excelled at, and had been forced to give up when he’d had his knee permanently damaged.

He was back at her side for the barrel racing, which she watched with avid fascination, plying Johnny with questions as to each rider’s technique and the horse’s ability. When the rider would round the third barrel and head for home, Etta would get so excited that she would jump up and down, while shaking Johnny’s arm.

“I can see that you are enthused, Miss Etta,” he said, laughing at her.

“I think I can do that,” she told him. “I really think I can.”

“I have no doubt,” he told her.

Etta was pleased at the confident light she saw in his eyes.

After the rodeo they returned to Johnny’s truck. Things looked different in the pitch dark and with occasional headlights shining in their eyes as vehicles left the grounds.

When Etta and Johnny did reach his truck, they found Latrice over at a nearby car, tending a man who’d had his foot run over by his wife as she was backing up, trying to get their car out of a tight parking spot. The woman had so panicked that she had almost fainted and been of no help to the husband. In the low glow of the car interior light, Latrice got the man’s boot off and studied the foot, finding it swelling quite rapidly. Latrice instructed the woman, who seemed recovered enough to follow instructions, to take the man directly to the emergency room to have the foot checked for broken bones. Luckily the man was not in a great deal of pain, as he was drunk.

Obie reported that this was the second accident Latrice had attended during the time the rodeo was going on. She had also helped a man whose horse had gotten spooked by a car, thrown him, and then stepped on him. She had been certain the man’s collarbone had been broken, so she’d tied his arm up and sent him on his way to the hospital, too.

“I think I should stay on duty for accidents for a while longer,” Latrice told them, when she returned to Johnny’s truck and sat down in one of the porch chairs. "At least until everyone who’s leavin’ tonight gets gone and things settle down.”

Johnny said to Etta, “In that case, would you like to go over and have a couple of dances?”

Etta, quite excited by the prospect, looked over at where the lights were strung and the band already beginning to play. She nodded. “Yes . . . that’d be very nice.” She sounded so formal, so silly really, when inside she was already dancing.

Johnny’s hand closed around hers, and he held on to her all the way there. Etta felt her breath coming very shallowly, which seemed absurd, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to fling herself at Johnny and have him hold her tight.

When they reached the dance, the band happened to be playing a slow tune. Johnny pulled her into his arms and waltzed her around, with amazing smoothness, considering his bum knee. The next tune was a little faster, but they could still dance in each other’s arms.

He gazed down at her, and she gazed up at him, or she laid her head on his shoulder, and he rested his cheek against her hair. His shoulder was strong beneath her hand. Their thighs brushed.

Then the band played a swinging tune, and they stood on the sidelines, watching couples square dance. Etta clapped in rhythm as everyone else did, while she wished very hard that the band would get back to a slow tune. When it did, she turned to Johnny and rushed into his arms, causing him to give her that easy grin. For a long minute after the band finished playing, while everyone melted off the dance floor, the two of them stood there gazing intimately at each other.

At last Johnny said, “Well now . . . if we’re gonna do this all over again tomorrow, we’d better get home.”

He slid his arm around her and led her back across the fairly empty grounds beneath the starry sky to where Obie and Latrice sat beside the truck. Latrice, still keeping a lookout for an injury that might require her attention, reluctantly agreed that it was time to leave.

They drove home through the summer night, Etta holding Lattie Kate in her arms and leaning into the curve of Johnny’s shoulder.

The next day, just after noon when church let out, they returned to the rodeo grounds. This time Latrice was eager to go, as she was certain there would be further accidents to which she could attend.

“And I rather enjoy Obie’s company,” she said privately to Etta. “He dresses up very fine, doesn’t he?”

Etta agreed, but held her tongue against asking if Latrice was going to marry Obie. She did not want to face it, and she did not want to get into a deep discussion when she was in fact focusing a great deal on her own affairs—and the particular affair that was not happening with Johnny.

Somewhat to Etta’s surprise, Latrice asked how things were progressing between Etta and Johnny. Etta was struck by the word
progressing
.

“We’re partners,” she replied, then took Lattie Kate up and went out to the truck, where Johnny was already waiting.

Twice that afternoon, Etta again raced Little Gus, both times in races with a purse, which she preferred.

The first race was three hundred and fifty feet against a field of eight other horses, six of those seasoned ones. “Just lean forward and ride like hell,” Johnny told her and smacked Little Gus on the rump as she rode over to the starting line.

She had barely gotten Little Gus straight at the line before the flag went down and they were off. Little Gus sprang forward, and Etta crouched on top of him, letting him have his rein and thinking with all her will,
Run, Gus, run
, while she held on tight and the wind beat in her face.