“I have a funny feeling you’re kidding meabout having lots of time on their hands, but I don’t doubt thequality part.What’s it about?”
“Well, Miss Cable,” Sandy began and steppedaside as someone brushed past him.
“Lily, please.”
“All right, Lily.Cowboy poetry grew out of atradition of cowboys entertaining one another with tall tales andfolk songs around the campfire after a day’s work on cattle drivesor ranches.Poems can be historical or contemporary, but it’s aliving tradition because the work still carries on.”Sandy stoppedabruptly, looking embarrassed.“Sorry, didn’t mean to give you alecture.”
“Please, go on.I’m enjoying this.”
“That’s about it except for the gatheringbeing at 5:00.I have an extra ticket.Would you like to come?”Sandy stuck a hand into his pocket for the ticket.
Jesse spoke up.“Daddy, you didn’t tell heryou were talking tonight too!”Jesse excitedly continued to Lily,“My daddy reads me his poems all the time and helps me to fallasleep.”
They both laughed.“I don’t think he meant itquite like that,” said Sandy.
“I would love to hear your poetry tonight,Mr.Johnson.
I’m impressed that you not only writepoetry, but perform it as well.I write too, but I’m not braveenough to perform in front of people.”
“You read to us all the time at school,” saidJesse.
“Please call me Sandy and Jesse loves yourpoetry.He told me so.”
He handed her the ticket.When their handsmet for a second time, that spark of static electricity wasstronger this time.
“Be our guest at the gathering tonight.”Helooked so deeply into her eyes, Lily forgot what they were talkingabout for a moment.She took the ticket without removing her eyesfrom his face.
“Thanks,” she breathed in a throatywhisper.
Jesse looked from one to the other and smiledshowing a missing front tooth.“See you later, Miss Cable!”heyelled while dashing out the door and into the street.
Sandy moved away from her slowly.It wasobvious he was reluctant to go.“We’ll see you later then, Lily?”Was it really a question?
Lily nodded, too stunned to answer.Wow.She watched him follow Jesse happily running down thestreet.Wow again.Look at those shoulders!She snappedawake and was about to go back to work when out of the corner ofher eye, she saw Amy Breen watching her from across the street.That was not a happy expression on her face.What was that about?And how would it affect her?
* * *
CHAPTER FOUR
Entertainment was everywhere in town thatday.People were singing and making all kinds of music and tribaldancers performed at the town stage.You could take a ghost tour ofthe town or study the native language of the local Washoe Indians.Birders were collecting to go birding and Western dance instructionwas going on in another part of town.
Lily was amazed at the diversity in Westernculture.It had been incredibly different living in San Franciscoand she wanted to soak in all the local customs and traditions.Everywhere she looked, people were eating, exploring, talking,singing and in general, being happy.She had needed a shot in thearm and it looked like she had found the right town to get it.Lilyjust hoped she wouldn’t forever be branded as an outsider.Sometimes you have to be born in some of these places to everreally fit in.
The huge stage occupied a major presence bythe old City Hall.Flags and pennants decorated it with the stateflag of Nevada flying alongside.Battle Born was the state slogan.During the Civil War, President Lincoln had needed the silver andgold ore from the Comstock mines up around Virginia City, so he hadmade Nevada a state.History dripped from everywhere.
Men with huge cowboy hats and long mustachesbegan to assemble on the stage.They wore brightly colored Westernshirts, vests, jeans, and jackets.Every single man had onbeautiful print scarves knotted neatly at their necks.GQ magazinehad nothing on these guys.With some of them, the bigger the hat,the longer the mustache.Their faces were weather-beaten with rosycheeks.Speaking and laughing together, Lily guessed they hadeither known each other forever, were the happiest guys she hadever seen or maybe both.There was indeed something to the cowboyway of life…
She was looking for a seat close to the stagewhen she saw him.Sandy looked more handsome than all of them, andthat was saying a lot.
Lily stopped and stared.
What was it about this guy?
He sure had a certain something – charisma?He wore a terrific red shirt with a silver buckle on his belt thatdecorated his worn jeans.Chaps over his jeans made him look likehe had just galloped in on Ole Paint.She wouldn’t have beensurprised to watch him brush the dust off his jeans or kick the mudoff his boots.
Her eyes fell to those boots.They were thesame ones she saw him wearing that day they’d met in her classroom.Oh, if those boots could talk, what would they say about all thosedays in the wide-open spaces rounding up cattle or roping horses?She wondered what the boots might say about the last time he stoodclose to a woman or danced with her.She wanted those boots to bevery chatty.
Well, it was time to take a breath and findthat seat.“Oops, he’s looking at me too,” she muttered.
