Chapter 5
FOREARM VEINS ARE MY THING
“None of that ‘watchin’ my figure’ stuff in Sable Sky, honey,” Mabel says, flipping another flapjack onto my plate, which already has two, along with three slices of bacon, and two sunny-side up eggs.
I sip my coffee from the old porcelain mug. “I’m not usually a breakfast girl,” I admit, pinching a piece of hotcake off and dipping it in the egg yolk. A few chews and— “I don’t have bad manners,” I say around the bite, “but, Mabel Sable! These are the best pancakes I’ve ever eaten.”
She hums delightedly, a smirk curving her thin lips. “You know who used to say that, too. He always loved everything I made, especially my flapjacks and chicken fried steak.”
I dunk a strip of bacon into syrup and take a crunchy bite. “Are you ever gonna tell me who he is?” The first night I came here, Mabel welcomed me into her home with stories about her life, and the juiciest story was the one about the former love of her life, and his hidden identity.
She shakes her head, miming zipping her lips. “I don’t kiss and tell, sweetheart.”
I point the tines of my fork at her between bites. “I’m going to meet a lot of people while I’m working on the film. If I meet him, will you at least tell me at the end?”
Mabel plops down across from me, handing off a burnt piece of bacon to her dog beneath the table. “Maybe is the best I can do.”
“I’ll take it.” I smile, then push the plate away in favor of another cup of coffee. “It’s delicious, Mabel, thank you.” I flip open my notebook while sipping my caffeine, and scrawl a few notes down for the day.
Before lunch, I’m meeting some former bull riders in town at the diner. Mabel set it up, and I’m eager to hear what others can tell me about Sable Sky, the ritual of rodeo, and anything else that can add layers to the film.
I ignore the flutter of excitement that hits my belly when I think about seeing Landry and Sadie again.
At the diner, Mabel saunters off to go chat with a waitress, leaving me at the table with Chuck and Norris (seriously), the two former bull riding ranchers who agreed to tell me all about the rodeo.
I’ve researched, of course, but reading about something online is a lot different than hearing about it from someone whose entire life was shaped by the sport.
A couple months ago the last time I’d thought of or mentioned horses was when I added Ginuwine to my workout playlist. But just being here a few days, the magic of making a documentary and romantic allure of small-town life has me hooked.
“That’s how you know you’re in the right job,” my mom said this morning, when I called her to share the day's plans. I told her how excited I am to meet rodeo folk, then told her about how Landry kind of teased me a little, omitting the part where he put his hand on my head to protect me out of instinct. That part makes my stomach a little wobbly, and since I’m here to work and have no business being wobbly anywhere, I stuff it down.
I do think I'm in the right job, and that’s all the more reason I’m angry with myself for letting my personal life affect my work on my last project. That’s so unlike me. I won’t let that happen in Sable Sky. I won’t let that happen to The Comeback Rider.
“Most demanding event in the rodeo,” Chuck says, pouring his sixth mini creamer cup into his coffee.
I don’t ask their age, though they look like they have a healthy twenty-five years on Landry, with white streaking Chuck’s mustache, and lots of sunwear on Norris’s forehead.
Their hats, stained with sweat, rest atop the table, next to my messenger bag.
Norris lifts his hand, catching the waitress’s attention for more coffee. He strokes a weathered hand over his mostly dark beard, and nods in agreement. “You know how the event started?”
I nod. “To break a wild horse in the old days.”
“Make him ride-able, usable, that’s right.” Norris smiles, wagging his finger at me. “You did your research, pink boots and all.”
“I certainly did. But there’s nothing like pink boots on the ground, meeting people, and learning firsthand.
” I glance back at Mabel, who is still happily chatting, and flip the page in my notebook.
“So tell me about what the rodeo means to Sable Sky, and talk to me a bit about the six years the town didn’t host.”
Chuck and Norris both lift their mugs of coffee and take long drinks, and I can’t help but think they’re buying time, and that I’ve struck a chord with this topic. I follow suit, sipping my coffee, and finally, Chuck responds.
“Well, first, I think it’s important to know that Sable Sky is a ranching town. There ain’t a single person in this town that isn’t connected to ranching somehow.” He glances at my notebook, where my pen is hovering, and nods for me to write that down. Sable Sky is a ranching town.
“And as far as the rodeo being at Oakdale Rodeo Grounds for the last few years, well, it’s a historic location, good energy.” He thumps his knuckles against the table. “Good place.”
Norris says nothing, which in a place like this, says a lot. I point the end of my pen toward him. “What aren’t you telling me, Norris?” I smirk, and he lets out a long sigh, blowing up the paper napkin beneath his mug for a moment.
“The thing is, rodeo brings people together, and in a place like Sable Sky, we’re already close, you know?”
I nod my head. I don’t know, because I live in San Francisco, a city of strangers.
Before I bought my tin can car, I rode the city bus every day, with the same driver, and never once was there recognition in his eyes when I climbed on each day.
I can’t self-insert, but I can imagine a place where everyone is friendly, where neighbors help each other out, and where crises don’t feel so bad because a community works together to solve it.
I didn’t think I liked small towns, but a town full of people who help and support one another is pretty special.
“There was a vote,” Norris interjects, “years back, after… well, after Landry’s last win.”
“A vote?” I write this down, but keep my eyes on the man.
He nods, and Chuck picks up where Norris left off. “I’ve known the Vaughn family my entire life. I was friends with his daddy up until he passed ten years back,” he says, a soft smile fanning across his features as he discusses Sable Sky’s history, which is clearly important to him.
Norris, too, who adds, “Same. My ex-wife and Landry’s mom worked at the bakery together. Sweet woman, good family.”
I write these things down, too, because my mind is running overtime, piecing together these sentiments of the past with what I know to be true now.
I think about that first email Devin’s assistant sent, all the information in it.
It occurs to me just then that the mood is changing, evolving from happiness to something more serious, more somber.
Pinching my pen between my teeth, I dig around in my bag and produce my small Sony point-and-shoot, and open the lens.
I point to the camera and split a questioning look between them, looking for approval. They nod.
I place the pen down and hold the camera between my hands, taking a moment to explain things.
I’ve taken lots of photos—in fact, I’ve got two full SD cards already—but I’ve yet to document any people.
“I’d like to continue talking, and you just pretend this camera isn’t here.
I’ll snap some photos, but don’t look at the camera. Like I said, it's not here, okay?”
They both nod.
I write their names down quickly to remind myself that when I’m back at the inn later, I need to get consent forms for Chuck Norris. I mean, Chuck and Norris.
“So, tell me more about this vote,” I hedge softly, snapping a photo of Chuck cautioning a glance at his friend. They share a look, and Norris leans against the blue vinyl booth backing, stroking his hand over his silvering hair as he lets out a deep sigh.
“We voted on whether or not we keep the rodeo in Sable Sky moving forward.”
My brow furrows. “But rodeo is life here, isn’t it? You guys just said—”
Norris raises his hand and my mouth closes. “We love the rodeo. We do. We are unified in many, many good things, and ropin’ and ridin’ is absolutely one of ’em.”
I write down his phrasing, because it’s so good, and take another photo, this time a panorama of the diner, and of the men with me.
“But,” I offer, because I feel one hanging there invisibly as Norris sips the remainder of his dark roast.
“But we love our people more. And after Landry’s last win,” he says, the mention of the inked, gruff cowboy with the heartbreaking past and adorable daughter sending a whoosh of excitement and nerves through my belly.
Norris shakes his head. “How could we have people training all year after what he went through? Make that man see posters for something he used to love while he’s going through what no man ever wants to go through? ”
Chuck pats Norris’s hand as Norris pinches the bridge of his nose, unexpectedly overrun with emotion. “We couldn’t do it.”
My pen stops.
“You know he lost his wife not even two months after his last win, right?” Chuck asks, his voice low, tone somber.
I knew that. Mabel told me on the first day I arrived in Sable Sky. The briefing on him that was included from Devin & his team didn’t even mention it, and it’s arguably the biggest emotional catalyst for Landry, and definitely why he quit, though he hasn’t told me that.
I simply bob my head, chest constricting as I imagine that darling little girl wrapped in a swaddler, in her daddy’s arms, as he sways with her, wondering how he will make everything okay.
“Well, we love the rodeo but… getting it out of his face was important, and an easy choice. The vote was no contest.”
In my periphery, Mabel’s laugh rings out across the diner, and just the light, melodic sound of it contrasting the heaviness of this conversation makes my voice hoarse when I speak. “That was very thoughtful of everyone.”