Forever (11 page)

“Well,” Wayne said, “Roni and Maggie were here at 8 to pick the girls up and they’re already at the fairgrounds. Mark is picking you up at 12:30 for rehearsal, then at 3:00, you and I have an appointment before we go over to the fairgrounds.”

“What appointment?” Scott asked.

“It’s a surprise,” Wayne said with a little wink.

Scott had come to appreciate surprises lately, so he accepted that answer pretty easily; on to other things. “Mom, where did that picture of Roni and I come from?”

“Oh, Roni brought that over,” she said. “Your friend, Andy, his mom took that and sent it to her. She had some 8x10s made. That one is staying here, but there’s another one for you to take with you. It’s such a good picture.”

Scott smiled and kissed his mom on the cheek. “Yes it is. What’s for breakfast?

After pancakes and sausage, Scott hit the shower and dressed. He dug out an old Royals’ cap, just to cover up his short hair, and then pulled out his guitars for practice. There was the Ovation that Roni had brought along, his classic electric Fender Stratocaster, and his pride and joy, his acoustic Martin12-string.

He was tuning the guitars at the piano when he looked outside and realized the Creamsicle was no longer sitting out front. “Where’s my truck?” he asked to whoever would answer him.

“Oh, um, your Dad took it over to McIntyre’s to get it greased and the oil changed,” Donna said. “Rick is picking him up. You guys can go get it after practice.”

“Since when do they do oil changes on Saturdays?” Scott asked, even more confused.

“Since you’re dating the boss’ daughter, dear,” Donna answered, patting him on the head as she passed through the room.

Practice went great for the reunited members of Snakebite. They worked out about three 30-minute set lists. They were playing for Sunday night’s Queen’s Dance from 9 to 11. The idea was to play music for people to dance to, but from experience, there was just stuff people wanted to hear. And they all decided this was Snakebite’s last stand. “Let’s go out with a big show,” Mark said.

At 2:30, Wayne walked into the Wild Horse Junior High gym, just as everyone was packing up. They’d have another rehearsal Sunday, then pack up the instruments and get them over to the Stampede Arena stage. In the meantime, Scott and Wayne apparently had some other business to take care of.

Wayne had snuck out in Scott’s baby, his 1972 Honda 750-4 to pick-up his son from practice. Donna hated motorcycles, but she’d learned to put up with it.

“Can I drive it over to McIntyre’s?” Wayne asked playfully.

“Uh, no,” Scott said. “I’ve been waiting since March for this.”

He climbed on, kick-started the bike, and waited for his dad to climb on before he headed out of the parking lot and up Bowling Street toward the dealership.

They soon pulled into the sprawling lot of McIntyre Motors. Scott was looking around for the Creamsicle; normally if it was done, it would be sitting outside the shop next to the building. “I don’t see it,” Scott said to his dad.

“Well, let’s go check with Ray,” he said.

They walked into the building and across the showroom. It was then Scott spotted the Sky Bird out front. Ray was on the phone as they walked in, and Roni was standing there.

“Hi, baby,” she said as she came over to
give Scott a kiss. “Hi, Wayne. You guys have good timing.”

She was wearing cutoff jean shorts and a gray t-shirt with “1975 Wild Horse Stampede STAFF” printed across the heart. Her legs were dirty to from the bottom of the shorts to mid-calf, and her hair was in a bun and her face and arms were dirty all over.

“You’ve been working the horses, honey?” Scott asked.

“I thought I told you that. Yeah, I’ve been helping with
Honor Escort this summer,” she said. “So, I’ve been helping the little girls get their horses ready for the parade tonight. I’m just gross.”

The Cheyenne County Trail Club was a Western rid
ing club for girls that Roni’s Great-Grandma McIntyre helped found back in 1917. Roni and Brooke were fourth-generation members; there was always a McIntyre in the club, but Roni hadn’t ridden in the rodeo since high school. Honor Escort was for the most experienced, elite riders.

Scott loved to ride, and for a “townie,” he was pretty good. He hoped to have to time to ride with her while they were home.

“I think you look adorable, honey,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. “But yeah, you need a shower.”

“Oh I do?” Roni asked. She then grabbed Scott by the back on the neck pulled his head down and shoved her armpit into his face.

“How’s that, Footer?” she said, laughing manically. “Do I really need a shower?”

“RONI!”
Scott hollered, pulling back in disgust. “Damn! I’m going to live with you?”

She swatted him on the arm as Ray hung up the phone. “Roni Rae, you are supposed to be a grown-up now. Try acting like one.”

“Yes Daddy,” Roni said sweetly, then turned to Scott and stuck out her tongue.

“Way
ne!” Ray said to Scott’s dad. “I just made arrangements for our food and beer for the weekend. Are you guys going to stay over? We already have the Airstream out in the campgrounds.”

“Yep,” Wayne said. “
Donna’s folks have the motor home ready and we’re going to be parked and ready for barbecue.”

“Good to see you, Scotty,” Ray said, reaching across to shake his hand. “You look great. Love the haircut!”

Roni shot her father a pained look. “I miss his hair, Daddy,” she said.

“Roni said you’ve been working on kicking again,” he said. “
You going to give it another try when you get out?”

“I’d like to,” Scott said.
“If I can get anyone to take me.”

“Well,” Ray said. “I guess you need some wheels, don’t you?”

“Yes I do, sir,” Scott said. The “sir” thing had become habit.

“Let’s go take a look.”

They walked back out on the lot toward a row of new GMC trucks. On the end was a silver C-2500. It had three shades of thick red stripes down each side, a CB antenna on top.

“Man, that is gorgeous,” he said. “Is that a ‘Sarge’?”

Scott had been doing his research. The
Sarge was special edition truck. He had seen pictures of them, but this was the first one in person. Like Roni’s Sky Bird and the Smokey and the Bandit Trans Am, they were sought-after and rare special editions.

“Yes it is, Scott,” Ray said warily.

“It’s awesome,” Scott said.

“You want the most expensive one?” Roni asked.

“Are you kidding?” he said. “It’s amazing.”

“Can you afford this, son?” Wayne asked.

Scott glanced at Roni, then went over and looked at the sticker.

“$4,756?”
Scott asked Ray.

“Well, that’s the sticker,” he said, smiling. “Why don’t you and Roni take it for a ride?”

“Yeah, let’s take it for a ride,” Scott said. “Just roll your window down, baby.”

Roni rolled her eyes and flipped him off.
“Asshole.”

They pulled off the lot and drove north on Bowling.

“I know you want a new truck,” Roni said. “But this one?”

The
Sarge was something else. It came standard with air conditioning, cruise control, an AM-FM-8 track and even a factory CB radio. But it was also pricy.

Scott loved it.
Like Roni with the Sky Bird, the Sarge seemed to speak to him.

“Baby, if I bought another one, we’d have to spend the money on a stereo, a CB, cruise and that kind of stuff. It would end up costing us just as much,” he said. “This way, it’s all already there and it’s covered under warranty.”

Roni paused. “Damn you being practical,” she said. “OK, let’s see what Daddy says.”

By the time they reached the lot, Ray had dropped the price to $4,000 and gave Scott $800 as a trade-in for the
Creamsicle. Plus, Scott had put away almost $6,000 in student loan money he’d never used. He took $1,200 of that to add to a down payment. He’d finance the other $2000 through GMAC.

“If this is the one you want,” Ray said, “let’s get things signed and you can drive it the Fairgrounds tonight.”

“If we’re done, I’m going to run home and take a shower,” Roni said, giving Scott a quick kiss. “I’ll see you for barbecue about 5:30, Footer.”

“Let’s go sign the papers,” Ray said.

“Dad, you can go ahead and take the bike home,” Scott said. “I’ll finish up here.”

“Oh, OK,” Wayne said. “Ray, thank you. We’ll see you in a bit.”

Scott and Ray walked back into the showroom. “There was something else I wanted to talk to you about, Ray,” Scott said.

“What can I do for you, son?”

****

CHAPTER 13

“This is your fucking truck?” Rick kept repeating. “Seriously? Jesus, Footer.”

“This is my fucking truck,” Scott responded, as they cruised down South Clayton Street toward the Fairgrounds. “Love it or what?

“You’re definitely sleeping with the right person,” Rick said.

Scott smiled and shook his head. “Do you ever not think with your dick? I don’t have this truck because of Roni.”

“Sure you do, Footer, sure you do,” Rick teased.

“Well, I AM sleeping with the right person,” Scott allowed. “But not for the truck.”

“Man, I bet she looks good naked,” Rick teased again.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Scott should have known better. Trying to get to the Fairgrounds on the opening night of the Wild Horse Stampede after 5 p.m. is a little like getting into a parking lot at Mile High a half-hour before kick-off; if you’re late, it’s nobody’s fault but your own.

Wild Horse was the biggest town in Cheyenne County with just about 2,000 people. Cheyenne Wells might be the county seat, but Wild Horse was the town.

Roni’s great-great-grandfather, John, and his brother James, founded the town in 1878. They started as sheep farmers, but along with their brother-in-law, Fred Goodier, they became huge cattle ranchers in 1899.

Ray and Kathleen (McLain) McIntyre lived on a 40-acre spread north of town that was part of John’s original 500-acre cattle ranch. Grandma and Grandpa McIntyre lived a section over.

Ray and Kat’s house was built in 1904. It had stately wrap-around porches on both the lower and upper levels. All four upstairs bedrooms had a door that opened to the porch.

The Stampede started in 1900 as a way for the drovers who brought their cattle to the holding pens at Wild Horse Station to blow-off steam. It was now 77 years later, and every year
over the Fourth of July weekend, the population of Wild Horse tripled. The Holiday Inn, Motel 6 and Howard Johnson’s on 40/287 were packed, as were the vast campgrounds on the northth end of the Stampede Fairgrounds.

Scott returned home from picking up
Sarge, it was nearly 4:00. By the time he showered, changed and picked Rick up, it was pushing 5:00. And he didn’t want to be late; it was a big night for their ladies.

Maggie had developed into a great photographer. She was shooting for the UNC school paper, for the
Greeley Tribune
, and for the rodeo, the
Wild Horse Daily News
.  And she loved it; Rick had even built her a dark room in the basement of their house in Greeley.

Scott loved what Roni was doing this week. She hadn’t said anything about working with the Trail Club, but it was clear she was enjoying it. He wanted to see more of her, but this was her time; she loved the Stampede.

“OK, I think that’s everything,” Roni said as she grabbed the Cokes from the food counter. Scott was trying to balance two baskets of ribs, brisket, fries, and coleslaw.

“We’ll come back for the pie!” she added, as she led Scott back through the crowd to their table. Their parents were there, along with Brooke, Amy and Kimmy. And Mark, Rick and Maggie were there, too.

“Hungry, Scott?” Brooke asked. “Got enough there?”

“Talk to your sister,” he said, setting dinner on the table. “She just kept us loading up.”

“Hey, I worked my butt off today,” she said. “I’m hungry!”

Scott looked behind her, smiled and patted her backside. “Nah, it’s still there, honey. Right where it’s supposed to be,” he said.

She leaned close and whispered, “Behave yourself, or you won’t be seeing it later, there big boy.”

The food was, as always, incredible, and so was the company. This was the kind of night Scott had been dreaming of; his family, his friends, his best girl, all laughing and talking and having a great time. The Army, Greeley, and the pain of the last year were a million miles away.

Around 6:00, they all finished eating, and were enjoying their time together. Brooke looked across the table. “We’d better get back there, Roni,” she said.

Roni looked at her watch. “Oh, God, you’re right. Let’s go you guys,” she said, hopping to her feet. Amy and Kimmy joined them. They had been helping the riders with their hair, make-up and costumes.  Maggie grabbed her camera and tagged along.