“I know it was,” he said, taking a sip of coffee.
“How?”
“Because,” he said, “only fucking idiot men can’t tell when an orgasm isn’t real.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I could feel how hard you were squeezing me. My fingers and …”
Her face went cherry-red. “Oh.”
“You came hard.”
He was starting to feel hard again. On edge. But in a good way.
“I did,” she whispered. And then a little smile curved her lips. “I really did.”
“You’re a legend, Jessie Jane.”
“I fucking am.”
He drove her over to the arena for practice, and just as she said, her family didn’t make a big deal out of his presence. He had never actually met William Hancock before. But when he took his seat in the front row of the bleachers, the older man came to where he sat and stuck out his hand. “The name’s William.”
“Flynn,” he said, standing as he shook the other man’s hand. “Flynn Wilder.”
“Nice of you to come by and watch the practice.”
“I’ve been wanting to see the routine.”
“I know you Wilders generally frown on the show. Don’t like the spectacle.”
“That is my oldest brother,” Flynn said. “Though we did all come to a show last year. He’s softening in his old age.”
“Well, that’s good to know. We’ve never meant any harm. But we like the sensationalized version of the story. The sensationalized version of the Wild West. Sure, in reality, it was grim and gritty and there was a lot of dysentery. But there were heroes too. And sharpshooters. There were incredible horse riders and feats of derring-do. There were also villains, and I know our family was among them. Both our families were. I don’t really mind that they pulled off stagecoach robberies. But it never sat right with me that Butch Hancock betrayed members of his own gang. There should be honor among thieves.”
Jessie was right. Her dad was a showman.
He looked past William at Jessie, who was on her horse in the arena, staring over at them and looking very worried.
He smiled, just to make sure Jessie knew that he was fine.
“You know, if one of you ever wanted to join the show …”
“That might be a bridge too far,” Flynn said, “though never say never. Maybe when Jessie is mayor.”
William chuckled. “Oh. I appreciate her courage in running, but they’ll never elect her. This town is too boring.”
Flynn wanted to defend Jessie, because he thought she would be great at the job, actually. But it wasn’t his daughter that William didn’t believe in. It was the town. And he imagined that just like Flynn, he had plenty of reasons to doubt his neighbors.
“Rehearsal begins,” William said, tipping his hat and moving away from Flynn toward the arena. He stood up on a platform, and music began to play. Flynn had the impression that rather than running through William’s whole spiel, they were timing certain things. Jessie started to ride in a circle, keeping a slow pace. And then she stood up on the back of her horse, dropped down, flipped upside down, and hung beneath the running beast.
Flynn’s heart climbed up into his throat. And it didn’t leave the entire time she was riding. He kept telling himself the routine was designed to look as if she needed help. And at the climax of the music, West rode up beside her and helped her onto his horse, which was also running. Then she stood up behind her brother, held onto his shoulders, and the two of them rode off.
“Perfect!” He heard West’s shout across the arena, and Jessie cheered.
What happened when they messed up? They seemed awfully excited about getting itright.
It hadn’t really occurred to him how dangerous Jessie’s work could be. Hell, he had seen the show a year ago and it hadn’t occurred to him. He had just assumed the act would all work out fine because they rehearsed it.
