Page 85 of You've Got a Place Here, Too
“First, I know I’ve said it before, but I just want to say it again. I’m sorry, Layla. I’m sorry for lying to you, for not telling you the truth from the beginning—”
“Leo, just…stop,” Layla said. “Just show me whatever you need to show me, okay? I can’t…I can’t keep doing thisyou’re so sorryandyou’re so differentdance with you. Like, just show me already.”
He paused for a moment, shocked by her bluntness. But, as usual, she was right.
“Well, I reckon it’s the truth anyhow,” Leo said as he restarted the engine and shifted the truck into drive. “Might as well quit my bellyachin’, bite the bullet, and get on with it.”
“Wait,what? How did you do that?” Layla laughed, unsure if he was joking.
“I said hold on, baby.” Leo veered slightly to the right and began to accelerate. “We ’bout to go the whole hog!”
“Do what now? You sound like…” Layla paused, struggling to find the right words. “Like, country bumpkin. Like, a cowboy or something.”
“Well now, I reckon I sound that way ’cause that’s who and what I am.” And he nodded in her direction, encouraging her to look out the passenger window.
“Oh. My. God.Leo!”
Layla just sat staring out the window, unable to move. So Leo had gotten out the truck and walked around the passenger side to open her door. She was still speechless, even as he took her hand to help her step out the cabin. For some reason, he’d expected her to be scared shocked, not excited shocked. Not joyfully shocked.
But there was Layla. Standing on Magnolia Ranch, looking absolutely and positively happy to be there.
Now.Leo smiled.Now is the perfect time.
He reached into the truck’s cabin and pressed the play button. As the voice of Willie Nelson began to sing through the speaker, Leo grabbed Layla’s hand and pulled her in to him for a long-overdue embrace.
Dirt swirled in the cold air as Leo leaned lower on his weathered saddle, gently poking his spurs into the side of Lady’s sleek black coat. While gripping the reins in his left hand, he tightened his hold on the piggin’ string in his right. Then, standing ten toesdown in Grandpop’s old riding boots, Leo raised up slightly as Lady turned and began slowly trotting toward the brown-and-white calf bucking wildly in the far corner of the roping arena.
Wearing Grandpop’s boots made Leo feel like his granddaddy was in the arena with him, just like he used to be. Just liketheyused to be. Flannel shirts under their Sherpa-lined denim jackets. Wrangler jeans under their chaps, their belts proudly boasting oversized silver buckles highlighting their rodeo accomplishments. Wide-brimmed Stetsons perfectly leveled, just the way cowboys’ hats should be.
Leo looked over at Layla. He still couldn’t believe she was standing outside the fenced area wearing a borrowed insulated vest over layers of flannel. Her pink Timberlands on the bottom rung, her arms crossed over the top rung just like his cousins, Lessie and Viola, on either side of her. The three women uncrossed their arms to wave at him, and he laughed as Layla quickly grabbed the top rung before she lost her balance.
Leo’s brows furrowed as he leaned down and whispered into Lady’s ear, “You ready, girl? We got ourselves an audience. Let’s show Layla what we can do!”
Wisps of Lady’s thick black mane slapped against Leo’s face as they pounded down the stretch and rounded the corner in a fast gallop. As always, his heartbeat was in sync with the sound of Lady’s hooves. They were close like that. Close like a cowboy and his first love, his horse, should be.
The butterflies were there too. Dancing in Leo’s belly in excitement. Only now he noticed their rhythm wasn’t the same as it was for Layla. For some reason, that made him smile. Of course, he loved them both. Of course, his love for them was special, separate, yet able to coexist.
As they neared the bucking calf, Leo stood up in his stirrups, his chaps pressed against Lady’s side to hold himself steady as he began twirling the piggin’ string above his head in small circles. This was the moment—these were the moments—that made him different.
Eye on the mark…
Leo still recited the poem Grandpop had taught him back when he was just a button, a young cowboy preparing for his first rodeo. At the time, he hadn’t even been old enough for calf roping, but Grandpop shared the poem with him anyway. Said it worked for cowboys young and old, and that Leo could use it anytime he needed to rope anything:
Eye on the mark.
Lasso-a-loo.
Rope high in the air.
That’s how cowboys do!
“Gotcha!” Leo shouted as his piggin’ string whipped through the air and wrapped around the calf’s neck.
Quickly, he slid off his saddle and dug his knees into the frosted clay dirt to anchor himself while he tied the thin rope around the calf’s legs. No one on the ranch could loop a hooey in a piggin’ string faster than Leo. As soon as he tied the finishing knot, Leo slapped it once and threw his hands in the air.
“And that’s how it’s done, folks!” Leo stood up, took off his Stetson, twirled it in the air, and let out a loud whoop. Then he bowed toward Layla, who was still hanging on the fence, her mouth wide open in disbelief.
“Well done,” Lessie shouted. “Well done! We’re coming in!”
