Chapter 20 #3
“Really, you couldn’t tell me you had a twin brother?”
“I didn’t think it was important.”
“How about when I just wrapped my arms around him? Did you think it was important then?”
The scene was fun and playful. Molly wasn’t angry, just embarrassed.
She stuck her hand out to Brett and said, “Hi Brett, I’m Molly.”
Brett brushed her hand aside and moved in for a full hug, then pushed back. “Hi Molly, pleased to meet you.”
Molly turned to the ladies, shaking her head. They were all enjoying the scene.
Exasperated, Molly said, “Are there any more surprises I need to be prepared for?”
The ladies excused themselves to freshen up and change.
Molly took a quick shower as she had guests waiting.
She selected embroidered jeans, a bright red western shirt, a bolo tie, and the leather hat, vest, and moccasins that Bart made.
That was what he was wearing. After checking herself out in the mirror with approval, she ventured out.
Bart was waiting in the kitchen and took her outside for introductions.
It was a hot day, and she decided on a cold beer, seeing it appeared to be the drink of choice at the moment.
Waylon Jennings was loud on the sound system.
Cassie, Kitty, and Cheyenne had not returned yet, so she steered Bart toward Darcy who was standing with Brett, Chet, and Brad.
Bart did introductions.
Molly said, “Did you hear I attacked your husband in the kitchen?”
Darcy was five or ten years younger than Brett, a pretty, petite, artistic, dark-skinned woman, adorned in jeans, western shirt, and Native American jewelry.
“I heard the whole story. Not to worry, you aren’t the first to make that mistake. It still happens at the grocery store in Kalispell. I’m pretty used to it.”
She had a soft, pleasant manner. Molly instantly liked her. “Some of the ladies took a ride today. I’m sorry we left before you arrived.”
“No worries. I understand the relay ladies are practicing in the morning. Bart said he’d take those of us not in the race for a ride. I’m looking forward to it.” She turned to the lake and mountains. “It’s so beautiful here. Breathtaking, really.”
“Did you grow up riding?”
“Yes. I grew up on the Flathead Reservation.”
“Are you a tribal member?”
“Yes, my father is Crow and my mother is Chippewa. By birthright, I’m enrolled in both tribes.”
Bart and Brett were watching the conversation. Molly liked Darcy and wanted to know more.
“How did you and Brett meet?”
“We’re both metal workers. He does heavy industrial like gates, fences, wind vanes, and metal sculpture. I do fine work, jewelry mostly. We met at an art show and got married five years ago. We’re running our businesses out of his shop.”
“Did you make the jewelry you’re wearing?”
“Of course. And I made you this as a small token of appreciation for hosting us this weekend.” She handed Molly a small velvet pouch that she opened, pulling out a silver broach with a lovely turquoise stone.
“It’s beautiful.” Molly fastened it to the leather vest Bart made for her. “I think I’m going to change my bolo tie to one that matches better.”
“No need. It looks great on that vest. Where’d you get that?”
“Bart made it. The hat and moccasins, too. He’s a leather worker.”
“It’s all really beautiful. Brett does some leather work too.”
Molly changed the subject. “Do you know about the Suicide Race?”
“Oh, my, no. Should I?”
“I only ask because it’s the most famous and controversial part of the Omak Stampede dating back almost a hundred years.
It happens late Saturday as the final rodeo event.
Young Native American riders from the Colville Reservation compete in a daredevil horse race.
It’s a rite of passage for young tribal riders.
They race their horses down Suicide Hill into the Okanogan River, cross the river, and ride up into the rodeo arena.
It’s terribly exciting with thousands of screaming spectators. The winner earns $25,000.”
“Why is it controversial?”
“It’s dangerous, and animal rights activists show up annually to protest. You’ll see them protesting at the rodeo.
The rodeo debates every year whether to continue the race, but the tribe supports it as part of Native American heritage, and so the race goes on.
Sadly, it’s not unusual to have to put an injured horse down after the race. ”
“Oh, my. Are we going to watch?”
“I’ll leave that up to the family.”
“So, is someone going to tell me the story of Ginger and Ruby?”
The family was sitting around the campfire. The flames were shooting high in the air. The sunset was sending color high in the sky and across the lake. It was a beautiful late summer evening at Summer’s End.
Molly’s question sent all eyes to Kitty.
“We know the family that bred Ruby. The sire was a well-respected stud who sired a number of successful race horses. The dam was a champion quarter horse who did track and barrel racing. The family knew Mom was interested in a foal from that breeding, and she purchased Ruby as a colt four years ago and trained her. Mom has raced her in regional track and relay events. As you could see today, she’s fast. Like, really fast.”
“She’s a beautiful horse.”
“So, two years later the family repeated the same breeding that resulted in Ginger. Ginger went at auction to a Montana family and was given to Kylie, their daughter. Ginger was professionally trained, and Kylie was barrel racing her. That’s when I first saw Ginger.
Of course, I was fascinated, seeing the spitting image of Ruby on the circuit.
Tragically, Kylie was in a serious car accident and suffered neck and back injuries. ”
“That’s so sad,” Molly said. “I mean, that could happen to any of us.” Molly shuddered at the thought of an accident that would end her riding career.
“We knew about Kylie’s accident because she was active on the circuit.
When I got word from Silas and Bart that you were looking for a horse, I called Kylie and asked about her plans.
She said the doctors wouldn’t let her ride for a while, perhaps years.
She liked the idea of Ruby and Ginger being in the same family.
There was a little negotiation, and Bart became the new owner of Ginger. ”
Molly turned to Bart and said simply, “Thank you.”
Kitty resumed, “Of course, Bart didn’t know how much he paid, but he didn’t seem to care. I think he must have stolen a bundle from an Afghani warlord.”
Cheyenne said to Kitty, “On second thought, maybe Bart is going to get laid tonight.”
Bart didn’t say a word, sitting next to Molly, nursing his cognac.
Molly asked, “So, how’d the evening go?”
Molly and Bart were naked in bed, the family all gone.
The party had lasted from 4:00 until 10:00.
Everyone stayed to help clean up. Molly was happy.
The food was put away and the kitchen was clean.
The meal had been a huge hit. The men barbequed the ribs to a perfect char and cut them into two heaping bowls.
The oversized mac and cheese dish was bubbling and delicious.
Beer and drinks flowed. The music was perfect.
Conversation was loud and continuous. Molly had enjoyed every part of the party, but particularly the evening’s end sitting around the fire, drinking cognac, and watching night fall on the lake and mountains.
“I don’t see how it could have gone any better.”
“Your family was so good to bring the ribs and help out. I think everyone who came was helping on something. That makes a party like that pretty easy.”
“It was easy because of all the work you did in advance.”
“Cheyenne thinks you’re going to get lucky tonight.”
“It doesn’t matter what Cheyenne thinks. It only matters what you think.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I’m going to get lucky.”
“That works for me.”
“Do you mind if I just lie on my back, spread my legs, and let you do the work? I’m exhausted.”
He didn’t answer, but ten minutes later Molly had her legs pointed straight up in the air and was gasping and groaning like a happy cowgirl on the last leg of a fantastic race.