Lost Highways (A Valentine Novel) (15 page)

Kinship

“I
really need to get him a bowl today,” Rainey said, crumbling the sausage biscuits on the paper bag for the puppy. She had been using Uncle Doyle’s dishes when she had bought his food.

“I imagine ol’ Roscoe would appreciate that, wouldn’t you, buddy?” Harry said, petting the dog.

He and the dog seemed to have grown quite close. Rainey experienced a little slice of jealousy, followed by panic. What if the dog went off with Harry, when he went off? At the thought of Harry leaving, her mind seemed to short-circuit and go blank.

She took a breath and said, “His name is not Roscoe,” as she put the food down. She was pleased with the way the puppy politely sat and waited and didn’t bump her arm. He ate very delicately, too.

“Then what is his name?”

“I don’t know yet. I have to wait for the right one to come to me.” She gazed at the puppy. “Duke. Duke is a good honorable name.”

“Duke is the name of a hound dog.”

She looked at Harry with some surprise. “Why would Duke have to be the name of a hound dog?”

“It just is. In all the movies, the hound laying on the porch is always Duke.”

When they went into the horse barn to get Lulu, they saw that the cutting competition was in progress in the arena there. Harry was keenly interested.

“I haven’t actually seen cutting,” he said, “but one of the doctors at the hospital had cutting horses and was always talking about them.”

“Well, let’s go up and sit down for a while. I have plenty of time to work Lulu.”

The stands were not very crowded. Rainey led the way to the middle, which she thought gave a good view of the goings-on in the arena. She explained the happenings and gave her opinion as to the ability and performances of each horse and rider. Harry got so caught up that he leaned forward and appeared to be trying to help the horse in its challenge with the steer.

Rainey looked at the back of his head. He kept taking his hat off and holding it, then slapping it back on his head, all in unconscious motions. She gazed at his thick, lustrous hair, at it curling down upon his collar. Imagined putting her fingers into it and playing with it.

She was so confused about Harry. She couldn’t let herself care for him. They were just friends spending a weekend together. Mutual need. He needed her company, and she supposed she needed his, although she didn’t want him to know that. She didn’t even want to know it herself.

She wondered if she was going to get foolish and sleep with Harry.

Almost as if he heard this thought, Harry glanced over his shoulder to see her gazing at him. “What?” he said with little-boy innocence.

“You,” she said, grasping at so many impressions at once. “I thought you didn’t much like horses.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like horses. I said I didn’t trust them. I can trust them when I’m not having anything to do with them.”

“That makes good sense, fella,” a man sitting on the other side of Harry said.

Rainey glanced over to see a man, alone, one boot up on the bleacher in front of him. He was one of the old cowboy type common in that part of Texas, wiry and hunched over, pant legs tucked into his boots, the brim of his straw cowboy hat turned up sharply at the sides, and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

“Don’t ever trust a wild animal,” the man said around the cigarette. “And horses are wild animals, no matter how much they’ve been kept up. You can ride one and pet it and love it, but you’d better not trust it one hundred percent.”

“My father always said that,” Rainey said, feeling called on to say something to be polite.

“Well, he’s right. I been run over by a number of perfectly tame horses. Not out of meanness, now I don’t mean that, but a horse can get spooked or just throw a plain ol’ hissy fit. The dang thing is a thousand pounds, and half the time he don’t know his own power. He’s like a little spoiled kid, and he can get scare’t of the least thing. The son of a buck might have seen a hundred blowin’ paper bags, and then one flies past and suddenly he’s higher than a kite and comin’ down on you.

“You’re Coweta Valentine’s girl, aren’t ya?” he asked.

The question startled her. She had been trying to watch the current horse and rider cutting in the arena, while appearing to listen to the man’s exposition. She had not expected him to say
anything important, certainly not to make a reference to her mother. For an instant she felt she’d been caught not paying attention, and then the full import of the question hit her.

“Yes,” she said slowly, searching his face. He peered intently at her with blue eyes shining like lights out of his darkly tanned face.

“You must be her last one…Rainey?” he asked, as if bringing the name up from deep in his memory.

“Yes, I am. You knew my mother?” She wondered all about it, felt her blood coming fast.

He nodded, squinching his blue eyes. “From a long ways back. Dang, if you ain’t Coweta made over. You look just like she did at yer age.”

“People say that.”

She saw that Harry was looking at her, a curious expression on his face. She sort of smiled at him, and very conveniently a cheering rose up for the horse that had just completed its go, so it was natural for her to turn her eyes to the activity in the arena. Still, all her attention remained focused on the old cowboy.

Was he her father?

Oh, Lord, it was crazy. But he could be. That was just the thing of it. He could be. Stranger things had happened in this world.

She saw then quite clearly that the thought had been with her all these months. While she’d been traveling all over looking for herself, a part of her had been searching for the man who had sired her, too. Oh, maybe not searching, but keeping an eye out, just in case.

She heard the man move, saw him out of the corner of her eye stretching his bony leg. Was he someone her mother would have fallen in love with?

He looked a little short for her mother, but then, her mother never had looked on the outward man.

“I imagine you ride horses, like your mama,” he said. She looked over to see him stamp his cigarette out on the footboard. “Barrel racer?”

She nodded. “I’m ridin’ Mama’s horse right now. Lulu. Mama died last spring,” she said. It occurred to her that he might not know, and she spoke gently, not wanting to bring him a shock. He looked pretty old.

He nodded, his old face going long. “I heard that back in the summer, and awful sorry to hear it, too. Your mama was real special. Real good with horses…and people.” He spoke thoughtfully, as if holding a secret, she thought.

“What’s your name?” she asked, heart beating fast.

“Herb Longstreet.”

He had a beak nose and high, flat cheekbones, lots of Indian in him, no doubt. Her mother might have been attracted to him some thirty-five years ago.

He leaned over and stuck out his hand, and she shook it; it was thick and rough. Then Harry did the same, introducing himself.

“Are you an oil geologist, Mr. Longstreet?” Rainey asked, unable not to.

She saw Harry’s raised eyebrow out of the corner of her eye.

The old man looked surprised. “Why, no, ma’am. I guess I done a lot of things in my life, but I ain’t never messed with the damn oil. No, sir.” He laughed, showing worn teeth.

“How did you know my mama?”

The man’s lips quirked. “Sold her a horse I should have kept once.” He shook his head and chuckled. “I thought I was gonna put one over on her, and she put it over on me instead. Coweta made somethin’ of that horse, and ended up makin’ five thousand dollars in the bargain. It was all a long time back, when I was down around that country ‘round Valentine. We’d see each
other from time to time, though, over the years. She done me many a good deed, too.”

Rainey thought: He loved Mama. For certain he did.

Then he asked, “How’s Winston doin’?”

A little surprised, she said, “He’s okay. Misses Mom.” She didn’t suppose she needed to mention that the widow Mildred Covington was taking up the slack.

The old man nodded, coughed hard into his hand and pulled out a package of cigarettes. Quite suddenly the look on his face was very sad. Probably he was thinking about Mama being dead, and how old he himself was and that he could go any minute.

Maybe she had gotten the facts wrong, Rainey thought. Maybe her real father had not been an oil geologist. She wished her mother would have said a name. She should have asked, but it had not seemed the thing to do at the time, to grab her dying mother and yell: “Tell me!”

Harry had sat back up straight. He watched the cutting but kept glancing at her. She didn’t want him to know she was upset. It was silly of her to be upset. She watched the horse and rider cutting and commented that the horse had trouble turning left.

“That horse ain’t never gonna be able to turn left,” Mr. Longstreet commented.

Rainey wondered about Mr. Longstreet and her mother. Men had all the time been in love with her mama, she knew. She felt as if her breath was squeezing out of her lungs, as if she might at any minute jump up and demand that the man tell her about his relationship with her mother.

She got so afraid she might do this that she touched Harry’s leg and told him she was going to get Lulu. “I need to work her for tonight,” she said, striving to act perfectly normal while she practically jumped to her feet.

“Okay.” He started to get up.

“You go ahead and stay here,” she said, touching his shoulder. “There isn’t anything you can do.” She looked at the old man. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Longstreet.” Her voice croaked.

Mr. Longstreet nodded, his eyes intent on her for a second, before she turned to make her way down the bleachers. She had to pay close attention not to step on any hands or trip over someone, and not to shake, which she had begun doing. She had not realized her mental state was so strained.

She also didn’t realize until she reached the bottom that Harry had followed her. She wished he hadn’t. She felt really funny, not herself at all. She didn’t trust herself around people right that minute.

“You didn’t need to come with me,” she said to Harry, more sharply than she had intended. “I’m just goin’ to exercise Lulu, and you’ll be bored.”

“I can watch,” he said calmly. Right that minute his calmness annoyed her.

“I’ve got to go to the bathroom,” she said and ducked into the ladies’ room.

She stared at herself for a minute in the mirror. Her eyes were golden-green. Sort of hot looking, she thought. She thought that she looked exactly like Mama, not whoever was her father. She knew that Mr. Longstreet had cared for her mother. She wondered if her mother had cared for Mr. Longstreet. She wondered if she’d known her mother at all.

Turning on the water, she wet a towel and then wiped beneath her eyes, to get any mascara smudges. She couldn’t tolerate mascara smudges. Then she noticed one of her fingernails had a bad chip. She dug a bottle of polish from her purse, quickly touching up her nails, thinking that she might ask Mr.
Longstreet about his relationship with her mother. She could do that. She could find a gentle way to do it, so as not to embarrass Mr. Longstreet. She wouldn’t do it around Harry, though. He would think she was a mess, if he didn’t already.

She was standing there, waving her hands to dry her fingernail, when the most startling thing happened: her cousin Leanne came bursting through the door.

Leanne glanced at Rainey and kept on going without a word, into a stall and slamming the door.

Rainey, as amazed as could be, stood there, her hands frozen in the air. She had not seen her cousin in a year, maybe two. She certainly would not have expected to see Leanne show up at this rodeo; Leanne was a professional barrel racer so successful that she mainly kept to high-stakes barrel racing futurities and the major championship rodeos.

With a burst of motion, Rainey threw her cosmetics back into her purse, intending to slip out the door. Such action was a little low, but apparently Leanne hadn’t recognized her, so she wouldn’t know. Leanne had a personality that wore Rainey out, and right then she did not feel at all up to her cousin.

Just then Leanne called from the stall, “Rainey? Good golly, girl, is that you?”

In a flash Rainey considered just not answering and leaving, but she also thought about Leanne being her cousin, flesh and blood. She said, “Well, is that you, Leanne?”

“Yes, honey! I just now realized that was you standin’ there. I bet I looked like a crazy woman racin’ in here, but I’ve had to go for the last hour and Clay wouldn’t stop. He just won’t make pit stops.”

Rainey wondered what this Clay expected a person to do, but she said, “Leanne, hon, I’m glad to see you, but I’ve got someone waitin’ for me. I’ll see you later, though.”

“Wait, Rainey! Give me a dang minute, will ya’?”

“Well, okay.” She felt ashamed of being rude. And she thought Leanne’s voice sounded a little desperate, although this was natural, considering.

A minute later, Leanne came out of the stall, zipping her turquoise jeans. “Whew! I feel better. Clay wanted me to pee in a paper cup.”

“Why didn’t you just make him pull over?”

“Oh…” Leanne gave a vague wave of her hand as she turned the water on in the sink. “It wasn’t any big deal.”

Rainey would have considered it a big deal. But everyone had their own ideas, she guessed.

“I’m goin’ with Clay Lovett now,” Leanne said, drying her hands on a paper towel.

Rainey figured she was supposed to be impressed. “Oh?”

Leanne looked at her. “He’s one of the top bull and bronc riders,” she said. “This is a good rodeo for those men’s timed events. Pete Lucas is here.” Apparently Pete Lucas was someone else she should have heard of, Rainy thought. “Clay and Pete are good buddies. And Clay’s Mr. November on the cowboy calendar this year.”

“I haven’t seen the calendar,” Rainey said.

“Well, Clay and I have been together for almost nine months now, and we’re really serious, but he’s been married before, and there’s all sorts of complications. He’s a little gun-shy.”

Rainey could understand that. She wondered if anyone in the world ever stayed married anymore. She also wondered why Leanne felt the need to speak straightaway these intimate details of her life.