Riding Lessons [2]

CHAPTER TWO

Song: Rodeo, Garth Brooks

“If yer still hellbent on this damn fool idea of yours, you gotta wear something else.” Cliff coughs delicately, moving his finger up and down to indicate the dress. They’re standing under the pines, killing time. A blush creeps up his neck. “Just think what kind of example you’re settin’ for Duke’s girl.” 

“I think it’s mad cool, grandpa!” Brooklynne squeals, hugging Juniper around the waist. “I’m gonna vlog the whole thing!” 

Juniper looks at Cliff, though she doesn’t need his permission, she feels chastised all the same. She looks to Brooklynne. “Brook, what size shorts are you wearing?” 

Cliff’s eyes bulge. “Oh, hell no. Duke would never forgive me if I let –” but Juniper is already tugging Brooklynne towards the bathrooms. 

“This dress would look real pretty on you, Brook. In fact, if you like it, I’ll let you keep it.” Juniper keeps talking as they head into the bathroom and surpass the line, going straight into two neighboring stalls. 

“They’re actually a little too big?” Brooklynne squeaks from the next stall. 

“Perfect.” Juniper may have her mama’s hips, but she can make it work. “Shirt too.” Brooklynne’s shirt and shorts sail over the partition, and Juniper passes Brooklynne the dress. She stole it from Caitlín before she left, hell, she stole Caitlín’s boyfriend, Sully, too. But he didn’t touch me the way Dick Mulligan... She pushes that thought away, but the memory of his touch is branded on her skin, she’s aching all over with the need for him to touch her again, Just like that. 

Seven minutes later, Juniper is in Brooklynne’s hacked off jeans, now a pair of teeny tiny Daisy Dukes that hug her curves like a second skin. The tank top might be a problem, she acknowledges grudgingly to herself as she looks in the mirror. My breasts are the problem. She’s wearing a red lace balconette bra that seemed like a good idea at the time, but is completely out of place under the black tank top, which barely skims her belly button.

“Here, Juniper.” Asha appears, looking her critically up and down before passing her a plaid shirt, and Juniper rolls the sleeves up, tying it under her breasts. 

“That’s not what I…” Asha’s eyes bug out. “Never mind. Looks cute, I guess. You might even pass for one of us, if you wore it the way God intended you to.” 

Is that supposed to be a compliment? Juniper doesn’t answer, intent on braiding her hair, out of her face. “Thanks, babe.” She blows an air kiss, and Asha recoils like she’s been slapped. 

“How’s this?” Brooklynne taps Juniper on the shoulder, and she hears Asha suck in a horrified breath. 

“Oh, sugar, ain’t you a picture!” Her mama’s words come out of her mouth before she can stop them, and Juniper coughs to cover her slip. “You look beautiful. Don’t she, Asha?” 

Asha is staring at Brooklynne like she’s somehow become wild, feral. “You’d better cover yourself up! Juniper,” she continues in a dark, urgent whisper, “I’m surprised — no, shocked at you! You can’t let that baby girl go out in the fair looking like, like — that.” They both look at Brooklynne, who is twirling dreamily in the mirror, the skirt fanning out around her knees, looking five years older already, the kind of girl who runs off with a carnival boy and never looks back. “When her pa sees that he’s gonna –” 

“What’s Duke gonna do? Oh, hell.” Juliette pops her head in through the door to the cement washroom. “Asha, you better take that kid to get a cover-up on before Duke and Cliff see her. Juniper, you come with me.” 

“And where the hell are you taking her?!” Asha demands, exasperation coloring her tone. “The rodeo starts in…” she checks her clipboard. “In less than fifty minutes!” 

Juliette ignores her, pulling Juniper out into the sunlight. She takes a good look up and down at the tied plaid and the Daisy Dukes, letting out a wolf whistle. “Damn, girl! They gonna let you ride in that?” She waits until they’re out of earshot, then her face splits into a big grin. “You’re riding in the rodeo! Sawyer told me,” she goes on, unaware of how her face lights up when she talks about him, like no one can tell how she feels inside. 

If this wasn’t all a means to an end, Juniper would let herself give them both a little push in the right direction, but she can’t let herself get attached — it hurts too much to say goodbye that way, and she never says goodbye, not if she can help it. “What else did he say?” Juniper plays with a loose thread on the shorts, which threaten to cut off her circulation at the hips. When all of this is over, and she’s made it safely over the border, she’s going to take a long soak in a copper tub, sloughing off this false identity like the dirt from the road. But until then, she’s here in East Podunk, lying low, safe from the long arm of the law. “What?” 

Juliette waves a hand in front of her face. “You in there, June Bug? I said that Sawyer was real worried about you, but I told him I’d take care of it. And first order of business is gettin’ you some ridin’ boots and a hat. You’re representin’ Oakley Ranch, after all.” Juliette winks at her. “What size shoe you wear?” 

“Six.” But Juliette is already handing Juniper her boots.

Juliette runs a hand through her dark curls. “The toe box might be a little wonky, but I think you’ll be all right. Those are five and a half’s. They okay?” 

The boots fit like a dream almost to the toe box, which pinches. But it’s only for a few hours. Juniper feels a warm feeling of gratitude bubble up in her chest, but she pushes it away. The less beholden she is to these people, to this place, the better. She wiggles her toes. “Thanks, I think these will be fine.”

By the time they finish, Juniper is wearing a red hat edged with cheap silver ribbon, and there are only fifteen minutes left before the rodeo starts. Juliette leads her to a roped off area near the gate, crowded with people and press milling around. “You just go over there and find Asha. She’s probably by thie chute. She’ll assign you your number. You want me to come?” 

“Nah, I got this. Thanks again.” Juniper hugs Juliette quick, kissing her on the cheek. Juliette smells of bourbon and green apple shampoo. She gives a little wave to Juniper.

“Good luck!” 

•••

With a swing in her hips and a confidence she doesn’t feel, Juniper waltzes up to the crowd of cowboys.  Even in Juliette’s boots, it’s hard to see over the bobbing sea of ten gallon hats. There are rodeo cowboys and rodeo queens with spangles on their boots, there are little boys and girls in chaps leaning on the fence watching, and teenage boys swaggering around. 

She’s never seen so many girls in painted on jeans, sparkly cowboy hats, and push up bras in her life. Somewhere in the crowd, she can hear Dick’s deep baritone, and the high pitched giggles of girls. She looks for a familiar face, but she’s hemmed in on all sides. She spots Dick, surrounded by several stage five clingers, all spray-tanned and bleached blonde with their hair teased to high heaven. They’re pouting, trying to get his attention, but he’s busy talking to some dark haired guy who’s dressed as casually as the others, yet looks somehow out of place. As if he can sense her eyes on him, the stranger raises his head, scanning the crowd, and Juniper ducks down, frantically backpedaling. 

Dave Reyes. The long arm of the law has found her at last. I’m not ready. Not yet, please, not yet! She feels like she can’t breathe, and sucks in several deep, rapid breaths, her heart rate speeding up. Her vision swims with black spots, and as she tries to fight her way back out of the crowd,  she feels a wave of dizziness slam into her. 

“Hey now, what do we have here?” A guy with a blonde crew cut, press badge, and a blue vest over a short-sleeved flannel shirt that looks like it came from the Sprawlmart clearance rack grabs her arm, smacking his lips as he surveys her. She’s too out of it to slap him the way she yearns to, and instead a feeble protest leaves her lips as he hauls her forward. 

“No!” Juniper tries to tug her arm back, but the guy isn’t listening. 

“A buckle bunny! Martin, look! I got us a real live buckle bunny!” he leers in Juniper’s face, addressing her breasts. “How-de-doo, little bunny. I’m TJ.” He snaps a selfie with a full flash, blinding her, and then gropes her ass. “Maybe you’ve heard of–” TJ has barely opened his mouth to start his spiel when Dick shoves his way through the crowd to step between them, his body shielding Juniper. 

“The lady said no. Are ya as dumb as ya look, or are ya deaf, too?” Dick snarls menacingly. 

With an irritated scowl, TJ puts his hands up like he’ll shove Dick in the chest, then some sense of self preservation kicks in, and he steps back. “Get your own buckle bunny, man.” 

“Back off,” Dick growls. “You really wanna test me, city boy?” 

TJ mumbles something Juniper can’t hear, and she whimpers. Dick whips around so fast she swears she can hear his spurs jangle, and then his arms are around her and he’s carrying her through the crowd, all the way to a quiet corner in the back of the barn. 

Dick sets her down on a crate, rubbing small circles on her back. He clears his throat. “He didn’t hurt ya, did he, Goldilocks?” 

Dizzy and nauseous, she shakes her head, and Dick passes her a flask from his pocket. She can’t even touch it, too intent on trying to breathe. 

“Good. I thought…” Dick shakes his head, then starts rubbing her back, his deep voice low and soothing in Juniper’s ears. “Put your head between your legs, cup your hands over your mouth, and take some nice, easy breaths,” he murmurs, beard tickling her earlobe and setting off butterflies in her stomach. “I swear to God, if I see that city boy with his hands on you again –” she hears the sound of Asha’s irritated voice, and then Dick’s big, warm hand leaves her back as he stands up. She can hear Asha upbraiding him for “harassing the press”. 

“You okay?” Asha crouches down near her, and Juniper nods, focusing on each small breath. Asha stands up, apparently satisfied with that answer, because she pats Juniper’s shoulder awkwardly, and then fades back into the crowd when someone calls her name. 

From the corner of her eye, Juniper sees Dave again, and she ducks her head beneath the brim of her hat, hoping against hope he hasn’t recognized her. She starts sweating, and then she’s shaking uncontrollably, trying to fight the wave of blackness that threatens to engulf her. Voices swim around her in the darkness, and then she feels Dick’s hand on her back again, tethering her to the here and now. 

“You clean up real good, Goldilocks,” he whispers. “Knew I was gonna have to fight ’em off the minute I saw ya in them Daisy Dukes.” When she looks over at him in surprise, he tips his hat and winks at her, then stands up, holding out a hand. “Ain’t you gonna wish me luck?” 

Juniper stands up, the world righting itself again. She scans the crowd for Reyes, but he’s melted away, as though he never was. She bites her lip. Maybe she was just imagining things. Maybe… “Good luck? Shouldn’t you be wishin’ me luck, cowboy?” she pokes Dick in the chest, and then he’s pressing her up against the barn, their lips a hairsbreadth away. She feels drunken, dizzy, though she hasn’t touched a drop. Dick tilts her chin up with two fingers, and just as he bends his head, his breath warm on her lips, she hears Asha calling her name. 

“Juniper!” Asha’s voice, so close, makes her jump, and she wriggles past Dick, making her way towards Asha, who rubs the bridge of her nose in annoyance. Did she see Juniper and Dick, so close they almost could have kissed? Undoubtedly. Asha’s voice is colored by something deep and green when she speaks again, and Juniper shifts uncomfortably in Juliette’s borrowed boots. Her feet are beginning to hurt. “It’s not too late to back out…”

Just lay low as long as you can, honey pie, Opal Mae’s voice whispers in the back of her mind, as though her mama is standing right beside her. It’s living out in the open that’ll get ya. Ghosters are livin’ dead people’s lives for ’em. If the Feds don’t know where ya are, they’ll never catch up to ya. 

But the money… they can start over with that kind of money, they can stop running for good. Three notes, Ellie. She thinks of the last postcard she sent, musical notes interspersed amidst her cramped handwriting. Ellie remembers, right? She must. It was all Opal ever whistled when it meant You’re safe now, little chicks, the coast is clear. 

“June?” Asha touches her shoulder. For a moment, Juniper loses her train of thought as she hears the national anthem start up, and Dick Mulligan swaggers past her in his chaps and black hat, raising his brows at her and giving her a nod as he passes. 

One last con, one last game, you can do this, she tells herself. “I’m not backing out. I can do this, Asha.” 

Asha exhales through her nose. “Right.” She hands Juniper a number on a piece of paper. “You’re after Mulligan. Remember to mark the horse out, or you’ll be disqualified on the spot.” Her fingers brush a stray curl that’s come loose from Juniper’s braid. “Lucky number seven.” 

Lucky number seven. That’s gotta count for something, right?