Chapter 3
At least two of the guys in the laundromat were cowboys he knew, Richard and Brian.
Several more were there, guys he recognized, but he didn’t know their names, and in the back was a little cluster of girls who appeared to be barrel racers, based on all the western shirts in their baskets.
The roll of quarters in his pocket was heavy, and he set down his basket and started pulling things out, throwing them into a washer.
As soon as he started it, he heard a male voice say, “Well, who do we have here?”
Shyanna made her way from the front door to the first table she saw and set down her basket.
“Look at that! Hey, honey, since you’re here, why don’t you do our laundry too?
It’s a shame we’re having to do it, seeing as how it’s girls’ work,” some man Jensen didn’t know said as the others laughed. Shyanna ignored him.
Another man―Jensen thought his name was Chuck―walked up to Shyanna’s basket and reached in.
He pulled out a bra and held it up. “The new cowboy attire!” he crowed as the rest laughed.
As Jensen watched, Shyanna’s head dropped lower and lower, and she struggled to get her things into a washer with three of the men standing between her and the machine, bobbing back and forth to keep her from reaching it.
When she tried again, he didn’t see what she had in her hand, but one of the men snatched it.
A pair of panties. He held them to his face and sniffed. “Lawd have mercy, darlin’, smells like a heifer!”
That was the tipping point. Jensen thundered up to the group, snatched the panties out of the cowboy’s hand, and tossed them back in Shyanna’s basket. “Cut it the hell out and leave her alone. She’s not interfering with your laundry, so don’t interfere with hers.”
“Jensen, don’t …” Shyanna started.
“Yeah, Jensen, don’t!” one of them mocked in a squealy tone, and they all laughed.
Two of the guys were taller than Jensen, but none of them were brawnier. “Don’t you guys have something better to do than pick on a lady?”
“That’s no lady. That’s a cowboy!” one of them sang out and the others laughed.
Jensen stepped up to him and glared into his face. “What. Did. You. Say?”
“Jensen, it’s okay,” he heard Shyanna say and felt her grip his arm.
“No. It’s not okay. How would you feel if I talked about your mama like that?” Jensen asked.
“You leave my mama out of this!” the man yelled.
“Why? Did it ever occur to you that she could be somebody’s mama? Hmmm? Back off or I’ll help you back off,” Jensen warned.
“And what exactly will you do?” one of the men asked.
“Hey,” a voice said, cutting through the noise. “Listen to him and leave her alone.” In his peripheral vision, Jensen could see Richard.
“What business is it of yours?” another man asked. Jensen thought his name was Travis, but he wasn’t sure.
“It’s my business,” yet another voice said and, without checking, Jensen was pretty sure it was Brian. “You heard Strader. Leave her the hell alone.”
“God, can’t take a joke,” one of them said.
“It’s no joke. It’s harassment,” Jensen muttered, his voice smoldering. “I’ll be watching all of you. You mess with her, you’re messing with me.”
“And me,” Richard echoed.
Brian added, “Me too.”
As they walked away, occasionally turning to stare at the three men who’d come to her defense, Shyanna sighed. “You shouldn’t have done that. Now they’ll target the three of you. I can handle myself,” she said in a voice that was strong and determined.
“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to. We are rodeo. We don’t allow that shit,” Richard said, then added, “Oh, sorry, ma’am. We don’t allow that stuff.”
“Relax,” Shyanna said, her voice lighter. “I’m not offended. You have no idea the words that were cycling in my head as they were saying all that shit.”
“Oh, I’ve got an idea, and I wish you’d said them,” Jensen said with a little laugh. “Next time, cut loose and let the chips fall where they may.”
Her smile was huge. “Will do. But thanks―all three of you. I appreciate it. Nobody’s ever had my back before. Feels kinda good.”
Brian turned back toward his basket. “You’re welcome. Gotta get back to my laundry. Good talking to you.”
“Me too. You guys take it easy,” Richard said, then tipped his hat toward Shyanna. “Ma’am.”
She nodded and he stepped away. Before Jensen could say anything, she asked, “So how much laundry do you have?”
He glanced at his basket. “Two loads.”
“Me too. Want to get something to eat when we’re finished?”
He couldn’t believe it―she was asking him to dinner! “Uh, well, yeah. Sure! That sounds good. Where are we going?”
“I saw a little Italian place down the road. How does that sound?”
He nodded. “Sounds great. Put your stuff in the washers beside mine and we can sit here together to wait for them to get done.”
“Sounds good.” Shyanna retrieved her basket and started the two washers.
Jensen had to do it, had to know more about her. “So where are you from?”
Shyanna sat down in one of the orange retro bucket chairs and crossed an ankle onto the opposite knee. “Crestwood Lake, Florida.”
“You said you rodeoed in college?”
Shyanna nodded her head. “Yeah. I went to community college and when I was finished, I started on the women’s barrel circuit, but I knew that wasn’t for me. All I really wanted to do was ride broncs and bulls.”
“How old were you?”
She grinned without ever looking at him.
“Twenty-one. My grandpa gave me a loan to get a trailer and have some gas money. That’s how I started out.
Of course, my parents thought I was crazy.
They thought anybody was crazy who spent their money on something other than drinking their lives away.
” There was silence for a few minutes, almost as though she was waiting for him to ask her something else.
When he didn’t, she asked him, “And you?”
“The university in Greenville, South Carolina, near home. I started in rodeo in 4-H and kept going. By the time I graduated, I had a scholarship for my Master’s program. Agricultural sciences, concentration in animal husbandry.”
“Ah. Ranching.”
Jensen chuckled. “Around there we don’t call it ranching. It’s just cattle farming.”
“Um-hmmm. Gotcha.” Sitting there doodling with a ring she wore on her right index finger, she asked, “How do your folks feel about all this? Rodeo, I mean?”
Jensen shrugged. “They’re fine with it after everything I …” When he realized his near slip, he stopped cold.
“What everything?” Jensen left her waiting as he tried to figure out something to say that would cover for his goof. Before he could come up with anything, she said, “I’m sorry. I’m being nosy.”
“No, no. It’s just that … Let’s just say I got out of a very bad relationship and leave it at that,” he said. That seemed good enough.
“I know the feeling.” He wondered what the hell that meant, but he was a little afraid to ask. If he asked too much, she might ask him more, and he really didn’t want to say.
Steering the conversation elsewhere seemed the way to go, so he asked, “You started out when you were twenty-one. So how long have you been doing this?”
She shrugged. “Well, let’s see. Originally, I did it for four years. This time, it’s been about seven years.”
“This time?” She nodded. “Did you do something else at some point?”
She nodded again. “Yeah. Six years in a women’s correctional facility in Missouri.
” Jensen didn’t know what to say, and he was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open.
“What? You look so shocked. Is this where you tell me you don’t want to hang out with somebody who’s a criminal?
” she asked, her face suddenly drawn and her eyes looking tired and sad.
“Uh, no. Besides, I can’t believe you did anything very bad,” he offered, hoping he was right.
“Nearly killed a guy.”
Jensen didn’t know how to respond. He finally stammered out, “Well, he must’ve had it coming.”
“Oh, trust me, he did. He’d already put me in the hospital three times.” Her face flushed scarlet and Jensen was a little afraid of what she’d offer as an explanation. “So believe me, if you say you were in a bad relationship, I know exactly what that means.”
“Oh, no, nothing like that!” he was quick to offer. “No, not like that at all. Just got left at the altar.”
“Wish I had. Instead, two of these teeth on the left are implants and I’ve got wires in my jaw and some in here,” she said, pointing to her eye.
“Occipital fractures. Never got hurt as badly riding bulls or broncs as I did by that sumbitch when he got drunk. And when I confronted him about the women, he almost killed me. Of course, when I finally stood up for myself and took a two-by-four to him, I wound up in jail. Ain’t that always the way? ” she muttered.
Jensen felt horrible for her. She’d put up with alcoholic parents who didn’t give a shit about her and an abusive partner who’d almost killed her without any consequences, and then managed to wind up in jail for taking up for herself.
There was no fairness there, not a smidgen.
“I’m sorry you’ve had to live with all that,” he almost whispered.
It sounded lame, he was sure, but he didn’t know what else to say.