Forever (12 page)

Roni leaned over and kissed Scott, “See you out there, Footer!”

Opening Night is kids’ night at the Wild Horse Stampede. The
Honor Escort parades in first; 27 girls in burgundy satin shirts, jeans, with white fringed buckskin vests, gloves, and chaps, matching burgundy boots and white spangled cowboy hats. All with their hair in two braids and perfect make-up. It dated all the way back to Roni’s great-grandma.

Then there was the Princess Parade, when the elementary school-aged royalty came in on ponies, escorted by the Trail Club. And in the middle of the calf-roping, bull-riding and steer wrestling, there was mutton-busting – kids bringing down sheep. Scott, Rick and Mark had all done it in their early years and they still loved watching it.

While they could have joined the families up in their private box, the boys elected to be down front. Maggie was with them with her cameras loaded and ready. At exactly 7:00, the Wild Horse High School band began playing marshal music. Wendell Byrd, the public address announcer, began the evening.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to the 77nd annual Wild Horse Stampede!”

As he thanked the sponsors and volunteers, the gates on the north end of were opening and the Trail Club was forming up. Scott leaned out to look for Roni, and to see who was riding point. It was always a huge honor. She hadn’t said anything about who it was; he assumed it was probably Brooke or one of the senior girls.

“And for the 60th straight year,” Wendell Byrd said, “to open the festivities, please welcome the Cheyenne County Trail Club’s Honor Escort, being led tonight by a 12-year veteran of the club and this year’s Honor Escort coach, Miss Roni McIntyre on her blue roan stallion, Satch.”

Scott’s jaw dropped. He was completely blindsided.

“Did you know about this?” Rick asked.

“No clue,” Scott said. “None.”

“She looks great,” Mark said. “Look at her.”

The crowd cheered, and the music came up even louder. In the entrance to the gate, Roni’s hand went up and her voice could be heard through the din, “Forward!”

Her hand went forward. She
led them out, with Brooke and Kelly Simonson flanking her, a length back. Behind them were four rows of six riders. They entered at an easy trot along the far fence line. The cowboys, drovers and clowns cheered down the backside and as they reached the south end, Roni turned Satch toward the grandstand and formation followed.

They turned again to parade past the grandstand, and as they did, Roni peeled away from the group, turned around and went back to spot about a quarter of the way down the grandstand. The leader of the first column stopped on Roni’s spot, then she galloped to the middle of the grandstand, where the second column stopped, then down further the third, and finally the fourth, at the north end.

Roni then galloped Satch back in front of the formation. Brooke and Kelly again flanked her. As the crowd went quiet, she shouted out in her loudest voice, “The Honor Escort is ready! We declare open the 77th Wild Horse Rodeo!”

The crowd again came to its feet with applause, cheers, hoots and hollers. Scott stood, cheering along with them all, his eyes fixed on Roni. He had never been more proud. The band broke into “The Star Spangled Banner.”

“You should see the look on your face,” Mark said with huge grin on his face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look this happy, Footer,” said Rick.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy,” Scott said.

The song ended. Roni shot a quick glace his way, and their eyes locked for a moment.  She nodded, but kept stoic, then ran Satch back to the north end and led her Honor Escort back off the parade ground.

****

CHAPTER 14

The sun had already been up for hours by the time Scott opened his eyes on Sunday morning. The first two realizations that came to him were that Roni was asleep next to him and they weren’t naked. The third one was even better. He was finally in Roni McIntyre’s bedroom!  He had dreamed of waking up in Roni McIntyre’s bedroom since he understood what that actually meant.

She was on her right side, facing him. He propped himself on his elbow and watched her sleep. “My poor, tired little cowgirl,” he whispered.

By the time the rodeo ended, the first night of fireworks lit up the Colorado sky and the horses bedded, it was 10:30. Kimmy stayed with his parents in Grandpa and Grandma Hanna’s Winnebago. Scott guessed Mark and Amy were in the house on Princeton Court. The rest of the McIntyres were staying in the Airstream, but Roni wanted to go back the house, as she had an ulterior motive.

Rick and Maggie took the Sky Bird to Rick’s parents’ house and Scott and Roni climbed into
Sarge. They pulled back onto Bowling and were headed toward downtown Wild Horse.

“I’m going rest a little,” she said, as she lay down on her back with her head against Scott’s leg and her feet against the passenger door. But by the time they’d driven three blocks, she was already asleep. “Tiny Dancer” came on the radio as they crossed 40/287 and onto the county road that took them to the McIntyre’s ranch.

When they returned to the ranch, Scott carried Roni inside. She was still in her buckskins. She’d taken off her make-up, but her hair was still braided. She looked like one of her little Honor Escort girls, as opposed to their leader.

He went back out to the truck to grab her bags but by the time he went back into the house, she’d slithered off the big leather couch in the living room and made her way upstairs.

When he walked in, she was standing in the middle of the bedroom. The vest and burgundy satin shirt were on the floor with her bra. She stood there topless and almost sad.

“Footer, I’m sorry, but I am so tired,” she said. “I owe you. OK?”

“I am totally and completely crushed, McIntyre,” he said, trying to hide a giggle. “Get your ass to bed. I’m going to watch Saturday Night Live and then I’ll be up.”

Roni was fiddling with her belt, and finally, frustrated, she whimpered, “Footer, I can’t go to bed.”

“Why?”

“I can’t get my chaps off,” she pouted.

Scott stifled a laugh, and with a crooked smile he walked over and unbuckled the belt and untied the straps on her legs. She pulled them off then hugged him tightly. He wrapped his arms across her bare back. She felt cold.

“My hero,” she said, weakly, looking up at him.

“Get to bed,” he ordered, kissing her softly.

It wasn’t long after Scott woke up that Roni stretched and opened her eyes.

“Good morning, Footer,” she said. “What time is it?”

“Good morning, Cowgirl,” he said. “About 8:30.”

“That’s going to stick for a while, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Oh my, yes,” he said.

“Oh, goody,” she said. “Well, I think I owe you something.”

“Yes you do, darling,” Scott said, pulling off his shorts, then the long t-shirt she had on.

They made love, then took a shower and ended up making love in there, too. As always, their lovemaking was more than just about sex. It was what it was supposed to be; a full extension of their love. Scott had his share of sex over the years, but this was so far removed from anything he’d ever had before, it was an entirely different and very beautiful experience.

Roni wanted the shower to herself “to actually take a shower” after they finished. Scott dried off and went back to the bedroom to get dressed.

Roni had a huge bedroom. The bed and other bedroom furniture were on one side while on the other was a desk and an architect’s table, along with a lot of her art supplies. Sketches covered the table, some in charcoal, and others in pencil. Leaning against the table were some canvases, stretched and tacked over wooden frames. Just by the edges most to be looked blank, but one had paint on it. He lifted it out and stared at it, stunned.

It was a painting of Scott. It was the picture the Denver Post had run on the front of the sports section, the morning after UNC beat Western Kentucky on Scott’s field goal in the snow. Danny was leaping in the air, while Scott was facing the camera, 73 across his chest in gold on navy blue, his metallic gold helmet shining. His arms were up with both index fingers extended.

Roni had recreated it perfectly, right down to the snowflakes. She’d even signed it. But what was interesting was the date. Scott expected it to be recent. Instead, it read 12/27/75. She painted it just a month after game. He’d never seen anything like it.

“I was meaning to show you that,” Roni said coming into the room wrapped in a towel.

“It’s amazing,” he said. “You really painted this then?’

“Yeah,” she said. “It was such a great picture; I wanted it on canvas. We’re taking it to Kansas with us.”

“Bet your ass we are,” Scott said, still savoring the picture. “You are amazing, Cowgirl,”

“Bet your ass I am. And I’m planning on painting more of you playing football someday.” she said. “Now go make me breakfast.”

Snakebite had one last rehearsal at the middle school at noon. Scott dropped Roni off at Rick’s to pick-up the Sky Bird, while Maggie hopped in with him. She wanted to shoot pictures of rehearsal, since it would be band’s last one.

“Does it feel weird,” Maggie asked Scott, “knowing this is the end of the band?”

“Yeah,
Mags, it really does,” he said. “But I guess unless we’re going to become REO or Styx or something, it had to end sometime.”

Scott was sad it was ending. It wasn’t like wrestling or football, it had never been the be-all, end-all for him, but it was such a great outlet. And he really hoped football wasn’t over.

He, Mark and Kevin had all taken guitar together as far back as fourth grade. Donna had Scott and the girls in piano lessons by the time each was in third. At first he’d thought piano was kind of girly, then he saw Paul McCartney playing one.

Snakebite really formed in seventh grade and they played school dances, birthday parties and eventually wedding dances and other events. They played the Stampede all three years in high school and were back for one last year.

His music had also afforded him a chance to meet his musical hero. The Friday night of the football team’s Open Week the year before, folksinger Harry Chapin played a concert at Butler-Hancock Hall in Greeley. Harry played alone that night, as he often did for benefit concerts.

Early in the show, he asked if anyone knew some of his songs enough to help him sing along. Sitting in the front row, Scott jumped up on stage. He loved
Harry’s music, had every album and could play almost every song on the guitar.

After a couple of songs, Scott actually garnered enough courage to ask Harry if he had an extra guitar. A roadie grabbed one and gave it to Scott. For two hours, he was in heaven. Maggie even took a picture that ran on the front page of the Mirror. Scott liked it even better than the one of he and Danny that Roni put on canvas.

After rehearsal, the band loaded Sarge and Rick’s dad’s truck with the equipment and headed to the Memorial Park band shell, next to the Rodeo Grandstand. After setting up, Scott hurried off to the concession plaza for the art show.

Roni entered two of her paintings and several sketches in the contest. She really didn’t care about winning anything, but similar to Scott with his music, she just wanted to see people look at her work. At least that’s what she’d told Scott.

Scott and Roni strolled around the plaza and she was getting a lot of compliments. One of the paintings was a sunset. The view was from the upstairs porch, looking west toward Colorado Springs. The other was of Satch. Roni loved that big blue stallion; they had even talked about finding stable space in Manhattan for him.

There was a sketch of her cat,
Miko, sleeping in the porch swing outside of her bedroom, one of her dad with her grandpa at his desk at the dealership and another of her, Brooke and their parents.

But the one that caught Scott’s eye looked very familiar. It was another version of the sketch of him that Roni drew in the backseat of
Ohrt’s station wagon on the way to James Taylor in Denver. Instead of ballpoint pen on a scrap of notebook paper it was now charcoal on parchment.

“When did you do that?” he asked.

“The night I got your first letter,” she said. “I had been thinking about you, and after I wrote back, I pulled out the original and just starting drawing. Was up until 2:30 in the morning. It made me feel closer to you, I guess.”

Standing behind her, he hugged her around the neck.
Never been happier.

The Queen’s Dance was always huge. Usually a big part of the crowd from the second night’s Stampede emptied out into Memorial Park to dance until fireworks started at 11:00. Country music was usually preferred, but the growth of country-rock had become accepted.

Every former Rodeo queen was invited, but usually it would be the last 20 or so who came. Roni was in the court when they were all juniors.

At exactly 9:05, the 1976 Queen, Dawn
Axford, stepped into the spotlight in the middle of the stage. She was in Brooke and Amy’s class, a pretty blonde who had been in Trail Club for years before she broke her leg skiing the previous winter.