One Little Lie… by Christine Platt #4
He paused for a moment, shocked by her bluntness. But, as usual, she was right.
“Well, I reckon it’s the truth anyhow,” Leo said as he restarted the engine and shifted the truck into drive. “Might as well quit my bellyachin’, bite the bullet, and get on with it.”
“Wait, what ? How did you do that?” Layla laughed, unsure if he was joking.
“I said hold on, baby.” Leo veered slightly to the right and began to accelerate. “We ’bout to go the whole hog!”
“Do what now? You sound like…” Layla paused, struggling to find the right words. “Like, country bumpkin. Like, a cowboy or something.”
“Well now, I reckon I sound that way ’cause that’s who and what I am.” And he nodded in her direction, encouraging her to look out the passenger window.
“Oh. My. God. Leo! ”
Layla just sat staring out the window, unable to move.
So Leo had gotten out the truck and walked around the passenger side to open her door.
She was still speechless, even as he took her hand to help her step out the cabin.
For some reason, he’d expected her to be scared shocked, not excited shocked. Not joyfully shocked.
But there was Layla. Standing on Magnolia Ranch, looking absolutely and positively happy to be there.
Now. Leo smiled. Now is the perfect time.
He reached into the truck’s cabin and pressed the play button. As the voice of Willie Nelson began to sing through the speaker, Leo grabbed Layla’s hand and pulled her in to him for a long-overdue embrace.
Dirt swirled in the cold air as Leo leaned lower on his weathered saddle, gently poking his spurs into the side of Lady’s sleek black coat.
While gripping the reins in his left hand, he tightened his hold on the piggin’ string in his right.
Then, standing ten toes down in Grandpop’s old riding boots, Leo raised up slightly as Lady turned and began slowly trotting toward the brown-and-white calf bucking wildly in the far corner of the roping arena.
Wearing Grandpop’s boots made Leo feel like his granddaddy was in the arena with him, just like he used to be.
Just like they used to be. Flannel shirts under their Sherpa-lined denim jackets.
Wrangler jeans under their chaps, their belts proudly boasting oversized silver buckles highlighting their rodeo accomplishments.
Wide-brimmed Stetsons perfectly leveled, just the way cowboys’ hats should be.
Leo looked over at Layla. He still couldn’t believe she was standing outside the fenced area wearing a borrowed insulated vest over layers of flannel.
Her pink Timberlands on the bottom rung, her arms crossed over the top rung just like his cousins, Lessie and Viola, on either side of her.
The three women uncrossed their arms to wave at him, and he laughed as Layla quickly grabbed the top rung before she lost her balance.
Leo’s brows furrowed as he leaned down and whispered into Lady’s ear, “You ready, girl? We got ourselves an audience. Let’s show Layla what we can do!”
Wisps of Lady’s thick black mane slapped against Leo’s face as they pounded down the stretch and rounded the corner in a fast gallop. As always, his heartbeat was in sync with the sound of Lady’s hooves. They were close like that. Close like a cowboy and his first love, his horse, should be.
The butterflies were there too. Dancing in Leo’s belly in excitement. Only now he noticed their rhythm wasn’t the same as it was for Layla. For some reason, that made him smile. Of course, he loved them both. Of course, his love for them was special, separate, yet able to coexist.
As they neared the bucking calf, Leo stood up in his stirrups, his chaps pressed against Lady’s side to hold himself steady as he began twirling the piggin’ string above his head in small circles. This was the moment—these were the moments—that made him different.
Eye on the mark…
Leo still recited the poem Grandpop had taught him back when he was just a button, a young cowboy preparing for his first rodeo.
At the time, he hadn’t even been old enough for calf roping, but Grandpop shared the poem with him anyway.
Said it worked for cowboys young and old, and that Leo could use it anytime he needed to rope anything:
Eye on the mark.
Lasso-a-loo.
Rope high in the air.
That’s how cowboys do!
“Gotcha!” Leo shouted as his piggin’ string whipped through the air and wrapped around the calf’s neck.
Quickly, he slid off his saddle and dug his knees into the frosted clay dirt to anchor himself while he tied the thin rope around the calf’s legs.
No one on the ranch could loop a hooey in a piggin’ string faster than Leo.
As soon as he tied the finishing knot, Leo slapped it once and threw his hands in the air.
“And that’s how it’s done, folks!” Leo stood up, took off his Stetson, twirled it in the air, and let out a loud whoop. Then he bowed toward Layla, who was still hanging on the fence, her mouth wide open in disbelief.
“Well done,” Lessie shouted. “Well done! We’re coming in!”
Lessie hopped off the fence and ran over to open the gate while Viola walked with Layla. Viola was slightly older than his girlfriend, and Leo could tell she’d already taken a liking to the girl he’d brought home from college.
“Eight seconds!” Lessie double-checked her stopwatch before she let out a whoop. “Looks like college ain’t take the cowboy outcha,” she teased.
“Nothing is ever taking the cowboy outta me,” Leo promised.
It felt so good being back on his saddle, to be back on the ranch. And so good to be there with Layla. He smiled as she entered the roping arena with Viola, opening his arms wide. Layla ran to him, throwing herself into his embrace.
“That was unbelievable !” she said excitedly. “Like, unbelievable, Leo. You’re like, a real cowboy. ”
Which of course made Lessie and Viola laugh. He knew that this statement—and the way his girlfriend said it—would make its way around the ranch before nightfall and that he’d be teased about it for years to come.
“Is he alright?” she asked, looking over at the calf, who was still bound.
“He’s just fine,” Leo said. “C’mon, get close. Let me show you.”
He kneeled next to the calf and Layla did the same. Still tied up in the piggin’ string, the calf squirmed beside them, its eyes wide and frightened, as Leo began talking to it softly.
“It’s alright now, little buddy. You’re alright.” He gave a slight tug on Lady’s reins to give the rope around the calf’s neck some slack as he continued speaking softly. “Don’t worry, lil’ buddy. Ain’t no harm gon’ come to you. You’ll be free again soon enough.”
“Can I touch him?” Layla asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“Of course,” Leo said. “You can pet him, just like you’d do a dog or cat. See? He likes that. He likes you. ”
Layla continued to pet the calf as Leo untied him. After, she walked with Leo as he put him back in the holding pen.
“That was seriously amazing.” She was holding Leo’s hand now, swinging their arms slightly as they walked toward the main house. “I can’t believe that was the secret you were keeping from me, that you’d made this whole other facade for? And that Lady is…a horse.” Layla shook her head.
“I mean, how was I to know—” Leo stopped under one of the magnolia trees and turned Layla to face him.
“You know what? There’s no excuse. I’m sorry I lied.
It’s just that I never imagined I’d be the only cowboy at Langston University.
But when I showed up that first day, and everyone was looking like rappers and fly girls, rocking all this fly gear and listening to music I’d never heard before… ”
Leo’s eyes welled with tears as he thought back to the first day he stepped on campus.
His suitcase full of pearl-snap shirts and flannels, high-waist Wrangler and Levi’s jeans, and duck-cloth pants.
His favorite T-shirts were not only too fitted, but they were also branded with Western imagery instead of FUBU, Cross Colours, or Hilfiger.
Because he’d been rushing, he’d left his Stetson in the cabin of his truck.
And he’d felt awful leaving it there the entire semester, hiding under Granny’s knit blanket.
“I felt so different, Layla. It felt like I didn’t belong,” Leo whispered.
“So, I just panicked. I started lying because I thought it would be better to fit in than stand out. Then I had to keep lying. It’s been awful, believe me.
I hate it. Hated it,” he corrected himself.
“If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I promise to never lie to you again.”
Layla took his hands and placed them over her heart. “I forgive you, Leo. And love you.”
Ranch work wrapped early given the shorter winter days, and as soon as Leo finished helping his family with chores, he took Layla on a horseback ride.
“Whoa, Lady.” Leo pulled his reins as they came upon Magnolia Lake at sunset. Layla was riding Viola’s horse, Daisy, who knew to follow Lady’s lead.
After dismounting, Leo walked over to help Layla do the same. She looked so beautiful dressed like a cowgirl that he had to steal a few kisses before they walked the horses to the bank for a drink.
“This is so unbelievable. And I know I keep saying that but it’s truly the only word I can think of.” Layla stared across the vast blue water reflecting the bright sun as it descended from the orange-and-purple-laced sky. “Like, this doesn’t even seem real!”
“Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet.” He laughed. “Out here, day and night are always in competition to see who can put on the best show.”
Just as he promised, as soon as the sun set, the sky turned blue-black and twinkled as countless stars found their place in the heavens.
Leo and Layla stood at the water’s edge in silence and in awe, staring up at God’s magnificence until they heard a bell clanging, letting them know dinner was ready.
Leo smiled as his family watched his girlfriend stack a plate with ribs, baked beans, cornbread muffins, and smoked corn on the cob.
That’s right. My Layla can eat !
After dinner, everyone normally sat on the porch, sharing memories and pointing out the constellations.
But Leo had brought a girl home for the first time—a special occasion worthy of gathering around a bonfire.
Which Layla, of course, thought was unbelievable.
Especially when Grandpop began telling stories about old Oklahoma.
“Miss Layla, did you know the first Black cowboys came from Africa?” Grandpop asked.
“No, sir,” she admitted. “I mean, I never even knew there were Black cowboys until today.”
Everyone laughed.
“Well now, that’s alright.” Grandpop chuckled. “Now you know. And let me teach you a bit more of your history. See, the Africans that were enslaved and made to work out West was a bit different than the ones in the South. Still our brethren, still our kinfolk. But the work was different.
“Our ancestors wrangled herds of cattle all ’cross the grasslands. They were the ones breaking in horses, pulling cattle out of mud, and releasing longhorns caught in the brush. Just like they’d done in Africa, before they were stolen.
“And once they got their freedom, first thing Black cowboys did was form their own ranches, like ours here.
Once they had they own ranches, they returned to their trailblazing, sharpshooting, horseback riding roots.
And we still here. Doing just what they taught us—working hard, playing hard, and loving harder.
“So you see, Layla,” Grandpop concluded. “Being a cowboy is more than what we do. It’s who we are. And my grandson there is one of the best.”
As Layla sat with her head on his shoulder, cuddling as they wrapped one of Granny’s thick quilts around themselves and stared out at the fire, Leo realized just how much he loved being a cowboy.
Things would be different when he returned to Langston University.
He wasn’t quite sure how yet. But Leo knew he’d never lie about where he came from and most certainly not about who he came from ever again.
“What are you thinking about? Looking so serious,” Layla teased as she pinched one of his dimpled cheeks.
“Thinking ’bout you,” Leo said, no longer hiding his Western drawl.
“Is that right?” She giggled. “Well then tell me something cowboys say in moments like these.”
Leo cleared his throat as he tipped his Stetson before leaning in for a kiss. “I love you, woman. And hope you know you’re finer than frog hair split four ways!”