Chapter 4 #3
“Well, there you are, JJ,” her dad said.
William Hancock was a mythical sort of figure.
His large mustache was gray now, but his figure was still wiry as ever.
His brows were dark slashes in his face, his eyes deep set and weathered.
The cowboy hat on his head had a beaded band and cards from what he claimed was a winning poker game stuffed into it.
His jacket was buckskin, with fringe hanging off the sleeves.
Just right for when he spread his arms wide and welcomed everybody to the show.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said.
“As long as you were having a good time,” her dad said, a merry twinkle in his eye.
“Yes,” she said.
West had his arms crossed, and he was looking down at her from his position on the horse. “Were you?”
“Yep,” she said. “Late night, early morning.”
Her dad chuckled.
Not for the first time, she realized how weird her family was.
Her parents, William and Lucinda, had always wanted to be friends with their kids.
Not in the way that some parents tried to be, hoping to be cool.
That wasn’t what it was about. They wanted to be close.
In a way that they hadn’t been with their own parents.
They wanted camaraderie. And they really wanted their kids to care about the same things they did.
The show, the animals. And in truth, she and West both did.
But their whole existence was unorthodox.
She loved her parents, but in some ways, they were children. Which meant that she and West had to be adults. Her parents just wanted to have fun, but somebody had to keep things going. Another reason she was so good at wearing the particular mask she wore.
She also thought it was the reason she had some gaps in her résumé. The reason she was so good at so many things, and a whole lot less experienced in other areas.
“You need to rehearse the runaway horse routine,” her dad said, gesturing back toward the holding stalls.
“Yeah, I know.”
They were putting together a routine that made it look as if her horse went rogue, and while it was running laps in the arena, she did a complex series of acrobatics, as if she was trying to stay on the horse, though of course all of it would be meticulously scripted and rehearsed.
West would, of course, do a savior routine, which Jessie had initially balked at. She objected that it was sexist, but her dad had pointed out that West wasn’t as agile on a horse, so he couldn’t do the acrobatics that she could.
In fairness to West, it was because he was six foot four.
And while he was strong and could definitely hold his own in rodeo events and balancing acts, he wasn’t going to be hanging sideways off the horse or flipping himself upside down.
Jessie wasn’t short, but at five foot seven, she was a lot more able to do flips and other impressive saddle tricks.
Privately, she thought part of the reason West didn’t want to do the routine was that it was too showy. Though he was happy to participate in certain aspects of the show, he was not in his soul a performer.
Bull riding and bucking broncos were another thing. He loved that. And he was always the house favorite during rodeo events, in which he often held his own against professional competitors.
Some of their most popular stunts were the bullfighting events, which was what West insisted they call them instead of rodeo clown antics.
West and a few other daring performers sat at a table and played poker, waiting to see who could flirt with the bull that was loose in the arena the longest before they got nervous and abandoned the game.
West always won.
Of course, West did not wear clown makeup.
He wore a black cowboy hat and tight jeans and as a result got exponentially laid for his feats of bravery. Whatever.
“Starlight is just over there waiting for you,” her dad said, gesturing to one of the holding stalls.
She crossed the distance to him and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, Dad.”
His whole face crinkled up with his smile.
He smelled like tobacco and arena dirt. Her heart clenched.
She had been feeling bitter lately. She loved her dad.
She didn’t need to focus on the ways in which her childhood had been difficult.
And anything that held her back now … that was her own problem.
Yes, there were things about her childhood that were tough, but there were also things that were great.
Hell, hanging out with Flynn should be a reminder of that. His dad was gone, and his mother was in town but didn’t even want to see him. Childhood trauma was a many splendored thing.
At least her parents loved her.
She walked back to the stall and started to open the gate. She didn’t hear her brother approaching and jumped half a foot when he leaned in and spoke.
“What are you up to?”
“What the hell?”
“That’s what I’m asking you. Where were you?”
“None of your business.”
“It is my business. Because you’re scheming.”
“I know, I know, you’re very concerned about my scheming.”
“You’re hiding something, and I don’t like it. Because we never even had to hide weed from Mom and Dad, because they were also smoking it.”
“I never smoked it, West.”
He breezed right past that. “So the fact that you’re stooping to subterfuge of any kind makes me concerned that it might end in a federal investigation.”
“You have so little faith in me.”
“No, Jessie, I have too much faith in you. Which means I don’t put anything past you.”
“We have a routine to rehearse, bro.”
“You’re really annoying, do you know that?”
“I’ve heard. Where’s Mom?”
He shrugged. “At home. She was doing something with her crystals?”
Jessie rolled her eyes, but affectionately. Then she went into the stall and patted Starlight on the neck. She was such a beautiful horse. White with gray speckles. Jessie got on her back and leaned in. “Ready?”
West gave her a look, but opened the gate, and then she and Starlight were off.
For a little while, she forgot about everything.
Any resentment over the past, all the tension of being around Flynn.
The paperwork she had just filed, and the signs she had ordered.
For a little bit, she was just Jessie Jane Hancock, in her element.
Where none of the deficiencies of her growing-up years mattered at all, because they had made her the best at what she did here.
There were worse things.