Kristen could not prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Portland’s first annual Rose City Rodeo was the strangest incarnation of the rodeo ever, but a preponderance of the evidence pointed in that direction. She stood in the shade of the Sadfire Distillery, enjoying the summer spectacle.
At Marydale’s urging, the rodeo featured only those events that had been certified cruelty-free by all major animal rights organizations and certified animal fun by Sierra’s spinoff nonprofit the HumAnimal Collective. This, along with the constraints of space—the rodeo was hosted in the small industrial park that housed the distillery—left the rodeo without the traditional calf roping and bronco riding.
The PDX Bike Co-op subbed in with a variety of bike-like contraptions. As Kristen watched, a man in a top hat cycled by on a bicycle ten or twelve feet tall. Pugs in the Park had agreed to host a pug meet-up in lieu of the usual small-livestock competitions. Kristen stood in the fenced-in space, awash with brachycephalic dogs, to which Meatball happily added his number. Some of the dogs were in costume, and the rodeo queen—a very pretty boy named Duchess—was handing out organic dog biscuits and blue ribbons to all the contenders. Across the way, two women had brought alpacas and were doing a weaving demonstration while the source of the wool wandered over to the popcorn stand to graze.
Despite Sierra’s avowal that Fishbowl Pocket Moon never played small shows, they were, in fact, a trio of not-so-starving real estate brokers who would play any weekend venue that invited them. They were setting up near the Sadfire tasting booth where Aldean and Marydale were already pouring samples of their latest release, the Rodeo Queen Revival. Behind the tasting booth a twenty-foot banner bore the Sadfire logo, the motto slightly modified. At Marydale’s request, she and Aldean had changed the order of the words so it now read DOLERE. SPERO. AMANT. Grieve. Hope. Love. Kristen was so entranced by the rodeo and by watching Marydale pouring whiskey that she didn’t notice Donna striding over.
“Can you explain any of this to me?” Donna asked, staying safely on the non-puggy side of the plastic fence.
Kristen couldn’t stop smiling. “No,” she said. “None of it.”
Marydale lit a torch, its whiskey-soaked flames flickering in the late-afternoon sunshine. She held it up to the gathered crowd, then lowered it into her mouth until it disappeared.
“Has she thought about my offer?” Donna asked. “We start with Tristess County. Wrongful imprisonment. Nepotism. Then we go after Ronald Holten in civil court. He’s broke, but he’s got a lot of assets. Where Marydale came from, there are bound to be more lawsuits. It’ll open a whole new division for Falcon Law.”
Marydale’s voice drifted over the crowd. “Now, here you’re going to taste some things you don’t expect. There is a sweetness to the Rodeo Queen Revival that should come as a surprise and yet not a surprise. It’s the sun rising over familiar terrain, a girl’s first glimpse of her own beauty. It’s a woman looking back. It’s love, both ethereal and carnal, and yes, you can taste the salt of a woman’s body in that sweetness.”
“I’ll remind her that you asked,” Kristen said.
“Convince her!” Donna said. “This is the Powerball jackpot of civil rights lawsuits. Why wouldn’t she say yes?”
Kristen watched Marydale raise her glass to the flame. “I think she feels like she’s already won.”
“And you?” Donna asked. “When are you going to come back to the Falcon Law Group? We’re going to sue Tri-State Global for price fixing. It’ll be great. You could be front and center on that one. You can’t just hide away doing small claims and I don’t know…What are you doing?”
Kristen thought of her private practice with the window looking onto the tree-lined street and a bed for Meatball in the corner. Most days, Kristen drove up to Sadfire for lunch. As soon as the weather had cleared, she and Marydale had taken to eating sandwiches on the deck of the Tristess. They were always off work by five, and the city spread itself out for them like a banquet of concerts and the food fairs and the strange festivals to which the Rose City Rodeo added its number.
She didn’t remind Donna that a quarter of the Falcon Law Group’s clients had followed her to her new practice, as was their legal right.
“A lot of small-business stuff,” Kristen said casually. “A little defense work. A few parole cases. Tri-State Global says they might be getting sued. We’ve been talking. I haven’t taken a retainer yet. I’m being selective.”
“Damn you,” Donna said with grudging admiration. “But you should be selective with us.”
From behind the bar, Marydale caught sight of Kristen, tipped her white Stetson, then blew her a kiss.
“Thanks,” Kristen said. “But I’ve got everything I want right here.”