“If that’s what they’re called.”
“I don’t think those flowers have a smell.” “Yes, they do. It’s subtle, but there. Unique.”
She picked up a stick and dragged it through the dirt. “There’s an old horseman’s myth about clematis. Pop told it to me.”
“What’s that?”
“That if you crush the roots of the vine and rub them inside a tired horse’s nostrils, he’ll revive and go on.”
“Interesting. I never heard that.” “Well, now you have.”
Austin leaned in close. He lifted her hair and inhaled deeply at the back of her neck. “Yep, it’s those purple flowers.”
Rose sat very still. Her neck felt all prickly. “I think I’ll go to look at the merchandise booths.”
“You in the market for some sex toys?” “Why not? I’ve heard they’re very reliable.”
Austin threw his napkins away and caught up with her. “You don’t have to come along.”
“Maybe I just felt like being with you.” “Ha. You’re afraid to be alone. Admit it.”
Austin opened his mouth to argue, then shut it. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m counting the hours. This place gives me the willies.”
“Poor baby. Well, I suppose I owe you for the save back there at the arena fence. Come along, then. We can pretend we like each other. Won’t that feel safe?”
He shook his finger at her. “Keep it up, Mrs. Flynn.” She smiled. “You know I will.”
There were NMGRA T-shirts for sale, chances to be bought on a basket full of goodies that included an X-rated video, massage oil, personal lubricants, sex toys, and more condoms than it looked like even Lily could use in a lifetime. They passed a booth for gay Christians, where a woman with pale, empty eyes handed out tracts, and to be
polite, Rose accepted one. At the pet products booth, she felt safe stopping to look around. Rainbow dog leashes and collars, reason- ably priced, but when she looked closer there were distinct differ- ences. If tags reading Butch Bitch or Dyke Dog didn’t alert her that she was a minority in new territory, then the fact that at the same booth she could buy Chachi flea spray and herself some UltraGlide drove the point home. Packaged in a variety of neon colors, in easy- to-open, single-use pouches, was an aquarium full of the personal lubricant. Rose was dying to pick one up to read the ingredients, but she didn’t dare, not with Austin there, ready to make some hu- miliating comment.
A call for the vet came over the PA system, and he took off. Rose watched him jog to his truck. Austin was still her friend, wasn’t he? Maybe one day they could move past this awkwardness and feel comfortable with each other. The guy working the pet products booth handed her a pouch of hot-pink lubricant. “That’s okay,” she told him. “I was just looking.”
“Take it,” he said. “They’re free samples.” Rose quickly shoved the pouch into her jeans pocket.
On her way back to the arena she was ambushed by two young men handing out condoms. In Rose’s youth such items were scan- dalous.
Portalápiz
, the kids had called them in high school, which translated to something like “pencil boxes.” Like the lubricant, the condoms were all racy colors. “Everybody needs latex,” they said, dropping three into her hands and then racing off to find another victim in need of public embarrassment. The young men wore tur- quoise satin jackets with “Wrap that Rascal” embroidered in silver script across the backs. She tucked the condoms into her pocket next to the lubricant and wondered what someone might offer her next. She would have gladly accepted a free vibrator. It would be less nerve-racking to acquire one here than through the mail.
She arrived back at the bleachers just as the Goat Dressing event began. Two teams raced against the clock to a tethered goat and pulled a pair of Jockey shorts over its hind end, then raced back to the start. If the goat managed to extricate itself before the team crossed the finish line, they were DQ’ed. The goats quickly grew wise to this game and kept slipping through their tethers and escap- ing. They ran around the arena just out of reach and ducked under a loose section of fence, coming out right where Austin’s truck was parked. Every time he
brought one back the crowd went wild. The rodeo announcer pro- claimed Austin a “goat tamer deluxe” and cries of “Hey, Doc, want to tame my animal?” filled the arena. Rose found herself laughing as hard as everyone else, and after awhile, even Austin could smile at the silliness. Then he needed her to hold a twitched mare while he took stitches in the animal’s flank, where she’d torn herself open on the sharp edge of a trailer.
Rose held the halter and watched the needle flash as Austin did his work. The horse was nervous, and Rose tried to soothe her by speaking low, breathing into her flaring nostrils to help her relax. The owner was nearly hysterical, and repeatedly apologized for what clearly had been an avoidable accident. Austin didn’t pass judgment; he tied his knots, and the girl whose horse this was stopped crying long enough to thank him. “Rita Mae is my life,” she said. “This won’t leave a scar, will it?”
“Not so anybody’ll notice.”
She impulsively gave him a hug before leading her horse away. “Hugged by a lesbian,” Rose said. “You’ll never be the same.”
“Go watch the rough stock,” he told her. “You’re starting to feel like part of Eloy’s sentence.”
Inside the arena the bull riding was now underway, but Rose quickly wearied of Carmen Miranda drag queens getting pitched into the dirt. The whole thing sickened her, actually; bulls didn’t want to be ridden, they wanted to stand around like Ferdinand and contemplate their lives. Instead they were prodded into this nonsense so people could enjoy ten seconds of heightened excitement. She returned to Austin’s truck and sat down on the bumper. “You sewed that mare like you were performing plastic surgery, Austin. Such tiny stitches.”
“Figured it was a chance to practice. Got a little sloppy there for awhile when I was tippling, didn’t I?”
“Oh, not so anybody would notice.” “Except you.”
There was truth in his words, and Rose had to acknowledge it. “You’re right about me being too demanding. For years my children told me I was too hard on people. Lily says I expect a hundred fifty percent all the time. My father delights in telling me that I chase after everyone else’s misgivings in order to ignore my own. If I treated you that way, Austin, I apologize.”
The vet squirted water on his hands and wiped them dry with a
towel. “I don’t know that I’d call it a fault. More of a guaranteed method to stay dissatisfied. People are human, Rose; they screw up.”
Nobody knew that better than she did. “So? Maybe the trick is to learn to love them in spite of their shortcomings.”
“You really think you can do that?”
She didn’t have to think of Philip to answer. “I know I can.”
Austin looked surprised. “Come on, let’s go watch the bull riders break a few legs. Anybody who gets hurt now needs the rodeo doc, not a vet.”
Austin bet Rose quarters on which bull would throw the cowboy, and nine times out of ten, she won. They smiled at the lime green chaps and sequined shirts, the cowboy dressed like Judy Garland, and shot each other astonished looks when a bull rider’s hometown was announced as Floralee. “I had no idea this many gay folk lived in the Land of Enchantment,” Austin said. “This whole day has been one long eye-opener for yours truly. Well, it looks like things are shutting down for the night. I’m supposed to check all the broncs before I leave. Shouldn’t take me too long. I have to say it, these people may dress strange, but they treat their animals humanely. Regular old rodeo could take a lesson.”
The crowds began to filter out of the arena bleachers. Rose spotted the rodeo queen posing for a photographer. The red-haired woman was pretty, but she had about twelve piercings in her earlobes, which made Rose think of Amanda. The uncertainty of her children’s whereabouts made worry her constant companion. At least Mami hadn’t shown up, which made the day a whole lot more pleasant than she expected it would be. Austin’s remark about the clematis vine intrigued her. Next spring she’d trailer Max out to the Philmont area and look for some, check to see if it indeed had a smell. She touched the lump in her pocket that was the lubricant and the con- doms. First she wanted to look at them, in case she was missing anything, then after that she’d ditch them in the nearest trash can.
Austin leaned on the horn, and Rose hurried down the bleacher steps to meet him. She slid into the driver’s seat and asked him if he wanted to be driven home or to the clinic.
“Let me take you to dinner. Make up for ruining your Saturday. I recall some important business about dyeing your hair. I guess I’m
glad to have interrupted that. I like the way you can see glints of silver against the black.”
“Sure, all men love gray hair. That’s why all the supermodels have it.”
“Rose.”
The look on his face was hard to read. Austin was generous with his smile. Maybe he was gearing up to ask her to work tomorrow, too. “Know what? I’m not really all that hungry.”
“Well, I am.” He patted his belly. “You’re losing weight, and I’m gaining it. I have a thirty-two inch waist now. I’m busting out of my jeans.”
Rose reached over and placed her palm against his stomach. “You don’t even know what a belly is until you’ve had babies. I don’t want to hear another word about it. I’ll drink some coffee while you eat. Where do you want to go?”
Austin stared out the windshield into the dusk. The long line of cars exiting the arena had just about dispersed. “Didn’t realize how dirty I was. I guess just take me by the Chat ’n’ Chew and I’ll have another hamburger. Been eating enough of those lately I can tell when the night shift takes over cooking for the day crew.”
Rose hesitated. “Look. I had the urge to cook this week, and it’s hard to make anything that just feeds one. There’s leftovers in my fridge that will rot if nobody eats them. Nothing special, just
ropa vieja
. We could stop by my place and heat some up. You could look at Max, too. After, I’ll drive you home.”
“It’s been a long time since you cooked me anything. I’d be grateful for eggs and toast.”
“Well, you’re getting
ropa
.” “My lucky day.”
“This is about food, Austin, pure and simple.”
They drove in silence to the lane where her plain house stood, needing paint, the same way it had for the last five years. When the truck tires met the gravel, Max started in whinnying. Rose smiled. “He sounds the veterinary alarm whenever he hears you drive up.” “Then I guess I’ll go throw him his dinner and give him an adjust-
ment.”
“Come in the house first. You can take him some carrots. They’re just about on their last legs, but Max won’t mind.”
Austin stood behind her while she bent over in front of the refrig-
erator. Painfully aware of how that looked, at once Rose straightened up. He took the carrots, and she heard the back door shut. Chachi leaped at her legs while she opened a can of dog food and fed him. While the
ropa
bubbled in the saucepan, she heated corn tortillas, seeded and chopped tomatoes for
salsa fresca
, and set the small kit- chen table for two. She lit one of the Eternalux candles and placed it in the center of the table. That looked too romantic, so she blew the candle out. Beer was the traditional beverage to serve with
ropa
, but lemonade was what they were having tonight. She tore greens for a salad, toasted a few
piñones
in a dry frying pan, scattered them on top of the salad and whisked up a balsamic dressing she had tasted once at the Apple Tree restaurant. Experimenting, she’d du- plicated it at home in her kitchen. Fresh always tasted twice as good, plus it cost less to make than to buy.
Austin washed up at the sink and sat down at the table. He filled his plate three times and ate all the tortillas. Rose poked her fork around her food, remembering the casseroles she’d made over the last year that Austin had eaten by himself. A week would go by, and she’d walk into her office one morning and find the empty dish on her desk, washed clean. Back then, he hadn’t possessed the vocabulary or the dignity required to say thanks. Now, sitting at her table, watching him eat almost made up for that.
“You should open a restaurant,” Austin told her between mouthfuls.
Rose laughed. “No thanks. It can’t be as much fun as cooking in my own kitchen.”
“Still, you’re that good a cook.” He pushed his plate away and folded his napkin.
“You want a cup of tea? The water’s hot.”
“Sure.” Austin got up and walked into the front room where he stood rubbing his arms. “Chilly tonight. Bet it snows early this year. I could light the fire. Get it going good so it’ll last until morning.”
“That would be nice.”
She set the dishes into the sink and wiped the table clean. When she brought Austin his tea, he had the fire all set, and the smell of burning fatwood perfumed the small room. Rose sat down on the couch and stared into the flames. The fire would last long after Austin had gone home.
He moved aside her stack of romance novels and sat down on the
edge of the coffee table facing her, his back to the fire. Since the night of the kiss in Taos, Rose no longer cared who saw her books. She certainly didn’t need Austin’s approval for reading material. In her opinion Ernest Hemingway didn’t comprehend the first thing about romance or women. She thought he should have stuck to fishing, which he did seem to understand but made far too big a thing of. Austin sipped from his cup, then set it down and looked at her.
“Appreciate you coming with me today. And in case I don’t say it enough, thanks for all your hard work, and the dinners.”
He’d never said it until now. “You’re welcome.”
“You mean a lot to me, Rose. Lately, I think about that.” “You could have fooled me.”
“I know things are strained between us, and me acting distant hasn’t helped. Getting sober’s part of it.”
She thought of the gentle sparring they’d engaged in all day long. Nothing new there, but something else lurked behind the teasing. A man didn’t go out of his way to remark on a woman’s perfume, real or imagined, unless she was on his mind. He’d worked eighty hours this week, easily, but he wasn’t sleeping in his bed, he was sitting in her living room. “And the other part?”