Chapter Sixteen

Renee did punish him on the flight, but in the best possible way with unrelenting sex. Though the jet possessed a very comfortable bed because his father liked to sleep on overseas travel, she refused to use it. The bathroom proved to be much roomier than those on commercial flights. She pointed that out along with the lack of challenge as no one would be waiting in line to take a piss. Positioning him on the commode, Renee spread her legs over his lap, set her knees and did most of the work the first time.

For the second round after a light lunch, she decided on doing it upright with him supporting most of her weight against the wall. Narrower compartments actually made this easier, she felt compelled to point out, as she could have braced her legs on the other side. The third, thankfully, they completed in the bed. Renee appeared to be trying to prove what a total slut she could be, daring him to still care about her, making an effort to tame her. Leopards could not change their spots, nor did tigers their stripes.

But she had changed irrevocably, and Clint knew it. Renee’s inner spirit, the one he was sure she possessed, revived in the northwest, or maybe her soul responded to the mountain view corner suite at the Inn in Suncadia Resort that Clint booked. She’d settled into the buttery leather seats of the luxury rental car for a snooze as Clint drove to Ellensburg where she insisted they take full advantage of the vast bed and fluffy comforter again. But to his surprise, she hadn’t wanted to stay behind in the morning, soaking in the tub, and ordering up breakfast on a tray and an in-room massage.

Instead, Renee came into town with him and scarfed up a plate of hotcakes and sausage at the traditional rodeo pancake breakfast, passed up shopping in six brick blocks of shops housed in late Victorian buildings, and went along to find Snuffy. Clint found his motorcoach parked in a logjam of vehicles in for the rodeo. Snuffy had made himself right at home apparently. When they discovered the clown at his ease, Jones was enjoying his second cup of coffee brewed from freshly ground beans in Clint’s espresso maker. A shining brass spittoon sat handily at his feet.

“Sit yourself down in that nice leather chair, sweetheart, and have a donut,” Snuffy offered expansively.

“Too full,” Renee answered. “Mr. Jones, I have a confession to make. I take complete responsibility for my actions.”

Clint startled, and Snuffy shot him a look. The baby couldn’t possibly belong to Snuffy! They’d met Renee at the same time. He figured Bodey as the best possibility. Some men strayed when their wives were pregnant, and the bull rider had a history with Renee. Still, Clint reassured himself again that Bodey was too deeply in love with his ethereal Eve to wander. He waited tensely for the confession.

“I accidently burned The Tin Can to the ground. It’s not Clint’s fault. He wasn’t there at the time. I know how you loved that trailer.”

Clint exhaled and dove into the conversation. “I’ll sign the motorcoach over to you, Snuff.” Not that it would be a big sacrifice. Although Snuffy had gone upscale, dotting brass spittoons all over the place to catch tobacco juice, the flooring had some brown stains—and the air did have that funky smell.

Snuffy flung himself back in his seat and pressed a hand to his chest. “Oh, my heart! And the Belly Nelle? Is she gone, too?”

“No, no, safe at airport parking in San Antone.”

“She could be vandalized sitting there all alone.”

“Come on, Snuffy, how would you be able to tell? No one will bother the Nelle. After this event, I’ll drive her to whatever destination you say. How about your place in Wyoming?”

“Thank you, son. That’d be good. I guess I’ll continue to suffer here in this luxurious vehicle because I got no other choice.” Snuffy buried his face with its two-day stubble in his hands.

Renee moved over to console the clown. He snuggled into the crack between her breasts and moved a hand around to squeeze her backside. Renee jumped.

“Had you both going now, didn’t I?” Snuffy Jones cackled. “I was thinking a while back that I’d gotten so spoiled I was gonna have to buy one of these rigs for myself and retire The Tin Can like a worn out cutting horse. Renee, you want to come clowning with me while this idiot works out on his exercise machines?”

“I’d like that more than anything, but I have to tell you, my short shorts—even if I could get into them—burned in the fire.”

“No problem, baby. Clint, you run along. We got a clown to create.

The next time Clint saw Renee, she was trailing Snuffy with the bag of toys the old clown collected in his travels and answering to the name of Bright Eyes. In a parody of her old make-up, Snuffy had applied ridiculously long fake lashes to Renee’s lids and smeared green paint in an arc up to peaked brows far higher than her natural ones. The rest of her face was dead white except for two red circles drawn on her cheeks and a big rosebud of a mouth that seemed to be in a permanent pucker.

She wore the tight red and white striped shirt again. The red suspenders held up baggy pants with large, attention-drawing crimson patches on both butt cheeks. A shaggy orange wig topped her head, and her nose tip supported a pink foam ball. Clint recognized her by the black cowboy boots. Renee and Snuffy were doing the “I’ll follow you anywhere” routine and doling out toys to the kiddies. Clint thought she looked happy—or maybe the makeup made her face seem that way.

“I was going to take you out for a fancy dinner tonight, but maybe we should find a Mickey D’s and get Big Macs. I can fix you up with Ronald McDonald.”

Inside the painted rosebud mouth, Renee smiled showing her perfect, white teeth. “Snuffy says I can shower and clean up in his motorcoach. Hey, he paid me forty dollars for today’s work.” Renee fished two twenties out of her cleavage.

“And I’ll bet he enjoyed paying you, too. Come on, let’s get ready to eat.”

“Great. I’m ravenous.”

****

He must be strict. No sex tonight. Tomorrow at eight p.m., Clint Beck had to be in top form for the PRCA Xtreme Bulls Event, well-rested and centered on his duties. So, they sat out on the private deck and watched the sun go down over the Cascades. Renee decided to get up early to eat more pancakes and see the Yakama Indians in full war bonnet regalia ride into the arena. She wanted to participate in the tribal dancing and win prizes on the midway. He wanted a long nap in the afternoon before he went over to the rodeo to stretch and warm up. Still wearing the hoop earrings with a sliver bucking bull on the loops that she’d bought with her clowning money, Renee fell asleep in her chair.

Clint carried her inside and striped off the inn’s thick robe. He laid her beneath the covers and, tossing his own robe aside, took his place next to Renee in the large bed. She automatically fitted her hips against his crotch. Clint put one hand over her protruding belly. He didn’t feel any movement. His mother and Mabel and the woman in Walmart could be wrong.

Regardless, when his rodeo duties were over, he’d get a gourmet picnic lunch from the Inn and take Renee for a hike up to Long’s Pass. With one of the most beautiful views in the northwest for his backdrop, he planned to get down on his knees in the grass and propose. He’d offer the ring from the parure of Zuni jewelry he’d kept hidden for so long and had transferred to his bag of bullfighting gear for the flight. The old Renee would have demanded a diamond the size of both her former engagement rings combined. This new Renee, the one who put on a clown face to entertain children, would desire a ring with meaning and some history behind it now. He’d tell her he wanted both her and the child, no matter who the daddy really was, even if it drove a wedge between him and Bodey. The best laid plans don’t always work out, but he felt fairly sure of the outcome of this one.