Tyrell and Danny left early that morning to pick Ann up. It was a clear and sunny high desert day, no wind to kick up dust. Perfect weather for rodeo competition. Danny was sorry Ricky had to miss it, but he had to go to Medford with his family. Danny grinned, thinking of him sitting in the chute on the stock-still steer.
After a few minutes of silence, Danny turned to Tyrell. “Want to hear something weird?”
“Tell me.”
“Couple days ago I found an empty beer bottle up on the ridge. There was still some beer in it.”
“Strange. How you suppose it got there?”
Danny looked at him.
Tyrell laughed. “Wasn’t me, little brother.”
“Then who?”
“Ghosts,” Tyrell said.
Danny looked out the window, the country rolling by, gold and clean in the morning sun. Ghosts. Almost funny, because the mysterious beer bottle haunted him.
Danny closed his eyes and slept until they got to Ann’s house.
“Thanks for inviting me,” Ann said as she sat between them on the bench seat in Tyrell’s truck. She elbowed Danny. “Nervous?”
“Me?”
“The rodeo.”
He held out a hand. “Steady as a tire iron.”
Of course he was nervous. If he ever wasn’t, then that was when he should be. Nerves gave him a sharper edge.
“Don’t you need a horse?” Ann asked.
Tyrell barked a laugh.
“Dad drove the horses over this morning,” Danny said.
Warm air flowed in the window. Danny took a deep breath. “Love that country air.”
“Smells like cow manure,” Ann said.
“That’s what I mean.”
Ann laughed. “Cowboys.”
“Tie-down roper, ma’am,” Tyrell said. “That’s what he is. Team roper, too.”
Danny tapped the door with his hand. “I’m hoping to get a rodeo scholarship at Colorado State and compete in the college nationals.”
Ann smiled. “I hope you do, too….And don’t you boys call me ma’am.”
Tyrell turned to her. “Yes, miss.”
She slugged him.
“Hey. That’s my tire-changing arm.”
Danny drifted off in a confusion of thoughts.
Banjo.
Meg Harris.
Dad.
Lies.
Stop! Focus!
He couldn’t let Dad down in the arena. They were a team. If one of them couldn’t concentrate, they’d both pay the price.
He’d call Meg right after the rodeo.
And he’d tell Dad the truth…tonight.
Looking at the landscape made him feel lighter; it filled him with something good, this place of outrageous skies, mountains, icy clean waters that flowed in creeks and streams and rivers. Dad called it “God’s country.”
Up ahead, trucks and cars were lined along the road, turning off toward the rodeo grounds. Danny clicked on country music radio to get into the spirit.
Ann leaned forward. “I love this!”
Tyrell tapped to the beat on the steering wheel as they turned in. When they parked, Danny jumped out and offered his hand to Ann.
“Thank you, Mr. Tie-Down Roper.”
Danny touched his hat. “A pleasure, miss.” He cracked up.
Danny wore a silver rodeo buckle, a blue snap-button shirt, and his black Resistol triple-X hat, pulled down to his ears, shading his face, almost hiding it. There wasn’t anything else in the world as good as rodeo. Except maybe Ricky’s mom’s peach pie.
Ann hooked one arm through his and one through Tyrell’s as they headed toward the arena. They walked along with women in tight jeans, some wearing wide-brimmed hats like Danny’s, and guys in Wranglers with belts and big silver buckles.
“We need to find Dad,” Danny said. “But first, let’s get you a seat with the sun to your back ’fore they’re all taken.”
Tyrell ran ahead and picked out a spot, dead center.
As Ann sat down, Danny said, “See you in a bit. I got to get ready.”
Tyrell touched Ann’s shoulder. “Save my seat. I’ll check in with Dad, then get us something to drink.”
“Don’t worry about me. Great people watching.”
Danny and Tyrell headed down the stands.