“I thought so.See you.”Dick pedaled off, humming the theme fromRocky.
Quinn gazed after him.“So you don’t think I can ride well enough to lead the grand parade?”
“Maybe.Depending on the horse you choose.But you’re taking a big chance, Quinn.I think you’d be better off if you?—”
“Said my jock itch flared up again?”He sounded testy.
“I’m sorry.It was the first thing I thought of, and I couldn’t very well say you were saddle sore, could I?”
“And what makes you think I am?”
“The way you walked out on this porch.”
“You’re walking with a certain amount of care yourself this morning,” he said.
Her cheeks warmed.
“Will you be riding in this grand parade?”he asked.
“Yes.All of the contestants ride in it, and I always do the barrel racing event.”
“Barrel racing, huh?And how will that feel after...last night?”
She couldn’t look at him.“I admit that I’m a little tender.”
“Then I guess we’ll suffer together.Because I’m going to lead that grand parade regardless of my delicate condition.”
“Okay, then I’d recommend riding Butternut.He’s?—”
“Thanks, but I’ll pick my own horse.”
Jo groaned.“Don’t tell me.”
“Yep.I’ll be lookin’ good.I’m riding Hyper.”
ChapterTwenty-Four
His crotch hurt like hell.Quinn sat atop a restless Hyper at the entrance to the small rodeo arena outside Ugly Bug and wished he’d used the jock itch excuse, after all.But when Jo had automatically assumed he couldn’t even lead a sedate little parade, he’d taken offense.He’d decided he had something to prove to her before he left on the red-eye tonight.
Besides, after watching people steer horses down Fifth Avenue during parades in New York City, he figured there was nothing to it.This would be even easier because it was contained inside a fence.
He hadn’t counted on the fact that the leader had to carry an American flag big enough to wrap a body in.And he hadn’t counted on wind.
Hyper jumped sideways with every snap and billow of the massive flag.And with each jump, Quinn was painfully reminded of his manly attributes.Jo was somewhere behind him in line, along with Benny, Dick and a bunch of other real cowboys and cowgirls.Mostly they’d behaved themselves, and only a couple had asked for autographs, which he’d politely postponed until after the parade.With luck he’d sprain his wrist in the next twenty minutes, because he’d never gotten around to practicing Hastings’ signature.
The other residents of Ugly Bug, however, weren’t behaving themselves.Whistling, stomping and calling out his name, or rather Hastings’ name, they jammed the modest bleachers.Camera flashes popped constantly, even though it was the middle of the day.At least ten homemade signs waved in the crowd.The more conservative ones said things like Brian Hastings for President, or We Love You, Brian, but one held by a rowdy band of high-school-age girls was covered in huge lipstick kisses with red, glittery letters that spelled out Take Me, Brian!Take Me Now!
A couple of Western lawmen types had positioned themselves at either end of the bleachers.Quinn appreciated having them there, but if the mob decided to rush him, even Marshal Matt Dillon wouldn’t be able to control this crowd.
Quinn swallowed.If he survived the parade, he was supposed to sit in a special section smack-dab in the center of those bleachers.The roped-off area already held Doobie and his tush-fixated wife, along with several other middle-aged couples.Jo had wrangled a place in that section for Fred and Emmy Lou, thank God.Maybe they’d help protect him.
As Quinn waited for the gate to open, sweat dampened the black Western shirt with pearl buttons that Benny had insisted he wear.Benny had also donated his best black Stetson, and Fred had brought out silver spurs that winked in the sunlight.Hyper’s coat shone like polished mahogany, and his mane and tail were braided with red ribbon.The horse looked great, just as Quinn had imagined.All Quinn had to do was stay on him.
A wizened old cowboy swung open the arena gate, and members of the Ugly Bug High School Band swung into a fast-paced march.Quinn mentally reviewed his instructions.Once around the arena, then straight up the middle to face the grandstands.The other riders would fan out on either side of him, forming a line facing the bleachers as the band played the national anthem.Then he’d lead the riders around to the exit.Taking a firm grip on the flag, he nudged Hyper in the ribs with Fred’s silver spurs, and the crowd surged to its feet, applauding loudly.
With a piercing whinny, Hyper reared.
Quinn grabbed at the saddle horn with his free hand and by some miracle hung on, but by the time Hyper’s front feet hit the ground, the horse had the bit in his teeth.
