Page 71 of One Last Rodeo

The way she sits up straight in the saddle because she can't help it, it's just how she's built. The way her dark curls lift slightly in the breeze coming down off the hills. The way her expression has shifted from serious and scared to more relaxed and excited.

I think I'm in trouble. I've known it for a while. But watching her up there, seeing her in Tennessee, this woman who lives in a world of precision and control and sterile surfaces and things that must be exactly right is letting a horse move her hips and going with it instead of fighting it. I wonder what else she’d be willing to stop fighting. Like maybe the feelings I know she’s developing for me.

Suddenly, Maggie steps over a divot in the dirt at the edge of the fence line, shifts her weight unexpectedly, and Catalina starts to tip. It's not a fall. It's barely even a near-fall—Maggie corrects immediately, and Catalina grabs the saddle horn and rightsherself in about half a second. But in the half-second it takes for it to happen, my heart leaves my body entirely.

My hand is on Maggie's bridle instantly pulling her to a gentle stop, my eyes going straight to Catalina's hands. Both are still on the horn. Intact. Unharmed.

"Hey—" my voice comes out rough. “Shit, Kitty. I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

She looks down at me. A little startled, a little nervous then finally she lands on a laugh. Not the dry, controlled laugh she uses when she’s trying to play a part. Not the polite smile she gives in professional settings. It’s a real laugh, full and surprised, her head tipping back slightly; one hand coming up to cover her mouth like she’s just as surprised as I am that she’s laughing.

"What?" I demand, my heart still somewhere in my boots. “Are you okay? Did she hurt you?”

I look at her hands again. Her legs covered in denim. Her face. She’s smiling. She’s okay. I still can’t breathe properly.

"Your face," she says, still laughing a little. "Jensen, I barely moved. I’m fine."

"You almost fell off."

“I didn't almost fall. Maggie shifted and corrected herself. I adjusted.”

“You almost fell,” I repeat with a growl.

“I buckled at best.”

"You could have—your hands—"

"Are fine." She holds them both out from the saddle horn, spread wide, perfectly steady, showing me. "See? All ten fingers. Fully operational."

I exhale. "Don't do that."

"I didn't do anything."

"I know," I say. "Just put your hands back on the horn. Please.” I rub the back of my neck, trying to locate my pulse, which seems to have walked off somewhere down the fence line without me. "Don't scare me like that."

She looks at me for a long moment from up in the saddle, and something in her expression softens. "You were scared about me getting hurt?"

"Yes."

"For me, or for my hands?"

I meet her eyes. "Both. But mostly for you."

She holds my gaze for a second longer. Then she settles back into the saddle, takes the reins again, and tilts her chin at the fence line ahead of us.

“I want to see the rest of the property. Let’s go.”

We do. I’m nervous the entire way.

***

We're back at grandma's cabin by eight, full of her cooking and the warmth that comes from sitting around a kitchen table with someone who loves you unconditionally. Grandma asked Catalina fourteen questions about growing up in California and listened to every answer like each one was the most interesting thing she'd ever heard. Catalina answered all fourteen with more openness than I've seen her give anyone, and I caught her smiling at the table twice without remembering to rein it back in. I was right. Grandma loves her.

My childhood bedroom is small and hasn't changed since I was seventeen. Same narrow, full-sized bed, same wood-plank walls, same window that looks out at the lake when the moon is brightenough. I've slept in it on visits back enough times that it doesn't feel small anymore. It just feels like mine.

Catalina stands in the middle of it in an oversized sleep shirt, her hair loose, looking at the rodeo ribbon tacked to the wall above the dresser.

"First place," she says. "How old were you when you got this?"