Page 27

The bleacher seating at Garrett Dillon’s roping arena was packed. The noise in the crowd was at its usual rumble as they waited for the next round of events.

And then the announcer’s voice…speaking the name of a man they once thought dead. Shouting with excitement as he walked into the arena alone and then watched as he turned and whistled.

Within seconds, a big black-and-white Appaloosa came running, heading straight for Sonny as the announcer was shouting another name above the roar of the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen…Fancy Dancer!”

And as Dancer ran past, Sonny grabbed on to his mane and in two long steps, swung himself up onto the back of the horse and let him run.

No saddle. No bridle. Not even a rope around his neck.

The crowd went wild, watching Sonny as he put him through the paces of a show horse, letting him run like the wind with nothing but the pressure of his knees or the touch of his boots, staying seated with only the strength of his own legs and the beautiful balance between horse and man.

And then Sonny rode him to a sliding halt into the middle of the arena and swung his leg over the side and slid off. He took a bow, and then stood there while Dancer nosed every pocket Sonny had. Finally, Sonny pulled out the apple treat in front of the crowd, held it up for them to see, and then gave it to Dancer, waved at the crowd again, and walked out of the arena with Dancer right beside him.

Sonny thought it was over until he walked into a wall of reporters and photographers and realized Garrett Dillion had really hyped up his appearance.

He posed with Dancer for pictures and answered questions until he and the horse had both had enough, and ended it.

“Dancer is ready to go home, and so am I. Been good visiting with you,” he said.

“Are you going to take him on the circuit?” a reporter asked.

“No, Dancer likes to run, but he doesn’t like to ride. I train horses now. Thanks for coming.”

And he slipped a rope around Dancer’s neck as they left the arena, then loaded him up and drove away.

But it was the advertisement he’d needed. Within days, he was getting calls, wanting him to train horses, or wanting to know what he had to sell, and as the work came in, so did his need for help, but it had to be people he could trust. So, he gave his request to the ancestors, and let it go.

Then one day while Maggie was at work, he had a vision. He saw a cowboy filling up his truck with gas at the station at Crossroads, and saw him paying with cash inside the store, and looking to see if there was enough money to buy a cold drink and a snack, then putting the wallet back in his pocket. Then he saw Maggie pull into the station and park at the pump on the other side of the man’s truck, and the vision faded.

Sonny immediately called Maggie, and she answered just as fast.

“Hi, honey. I’m just about to gas up and head home.”

“Is there a thirty-something cowboy parked beside you? Driving an old green truck?”

“Yes, why?”

“He needs a job. Tell him I’ve got one for him.”

“What…wait…what if he doesn’t…”

“Then hand him your phone. Tell him your husband wants to talk to him. Hurry.”

Maggie sighed, then turned around and spoke. “Excuse me, but my husband is on the phone and wants to talk to you about a job.”

The man blinked. “Say what?”

Maggie laughed. “I know…and I live with him. Just talk to him please,” and handed him her phone.

“Hello? This is Chris Jackson. I think you have the wrong—”

“Hello, Chris. My name is Sonny Bluejacket. That woman you were talking to is my wife. I’m told you cowboy up. Do you want a job? I need a hired hand.”

“THE Sonny Bluejacket…bull-rider Bluejacket?”

“Yes. Our place is only three miles south of Crossroads. If you are interested, follow Maggie home. But be polite. I put the last man who laid his hands on her in a hospital. He is residing in a Texas state prison as we speak.”

Chris turned and stared at Maggie. “Is he for real?”

“Just as real as the Yellow Rose where I work.”

He handed back her phone. “Tell him yes I will follow you home, and yes, I am interested in a job but I don’t have the money to pay rent, and if that’s a deal-breaker then that’s where we stand.”

Maggie’s eyes widened, as she put the phone to her ear. “Did you hear what he said?”

Sonny chuckled. “Every word. Tell him we’ll figure it out. Just come talk to me. See you soon.”

Maggie put the phone in her pocket. “Mr. Jackson, if you’ll give me a few minutes to refuel, then we’ll be heading home.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Chris said, and got in his truck in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening, and yet it was. If ever there was a time to believe in angels, this might be it. A few minutes later, he was following the pretty woman out of town, and when she took a turn off the road and drove under the big metal sign that said Sunset Ranch, he followed.

It wasn’t until he saw the big man standing in the front yard that he knew this was really happening. He knew that man’s face by heart. He’d watched him ride, and he thought he’d watched him die.

Clearly, he’d been mistaken.

And that’s how Sonny got his first hired hand.

Now Chris Jackson was living in Pearl’s rent house under orders not to tear shit up, and working the ranch with Sonny every day.

***

Four months after Max Andros left Crossroads with the Magnolia Brennen collection, he had a date set for the opening show, advertising in every art venue that mattered, and a suite reserved at one of the best hotels in town. Maggie would work and sell under her maiden name.

The renovations were finished at the ranch, and Maggie had moved into her studio and given notice at the Rose. She was preparing herself for a whole new world, and gone shopping twice in Amarillo for clothes in the styles Max suggested for the events, and brown embroidered boots like the white ones she’d been married in. She was as ready as she was ever going to be to do this.

Sonny took her to the Amarillo airport and told her to trust Max to take care of her, and he’d fly out for the opening, to be with her.

“This moment, Magnolia, is where you spread your wings. Max will be waiting for you at the place where you will collect your luggage. You will know how to get there by following the signs and by asking for help. And if he’s not there in person, he will have sent someone special who will be holding up a sign with your name on it.”

She blinked. “Just like in the movies?”

He hugged her. “Yes, darlin’, just like in the movies. The flight is short. Less than an hour. You’ll be there before you know it. Happy first flight. Within a year, you’re going to be a pro.”

He kissed her soundly and kept the smile on his face until she disappeared beyond the security checkpoint, and then groaned beneath his breath and left the terminal.

“I expect you guys to have her back,” he muttered, then got in the truck and drove away.

***

Maggie spent the next two days in a whirlwind. An on-air interview at a local television station. Photos for publicity packets. Lunches with reporters, and always with Max at her side. She longed for Sonny, but this was her world to conquer, just as he’d conquered the rodeo world.

Maggie woke up with a text from Sonny.

Arriving in Santa Fe around 4:00 p.m. Going straight to the hotel. Be sure to let them know I’m coming so they’ll let me in your room. Can’t wait to see you. I miss your face. Love you forever.—Sonny

She started typing a reply.

I’ve coped without you for too long. Missed you more. I have all my fancy duds ready for tonight, but I can’t wait for you to take them off after it’s over.

She hit Send, then threw back the covers and went to take a shower. Max was sending a car for her at 10:00 a.m. She was getting a full spa treatment today. Sauna. Massage. Hair and nails, and none of this had yet to feel real.

She had rolled her eyes at Max yesterday, when he told her what was next on the agenda, then shook her head and shrugged.

“Max, honey, I’ll go, but I’m just warning you, no amount of hot oil and seasonings are going to turn a pork chop into a steak.”

He frowned. “Magnolia, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Just that there’s not enough hairspray or nail polish to change who I am. I don’t play games with snobs or leeches, and I will not kiss up to anyone.”

He laughed. “Oh, we all already know that, dear. That’s part of your charm. The pretty part is for me wanting you to be admired. I don’t want to change a hair on your head, but a little spritz won’t hurt.”

She nodded. “But we’re doing all this for you, not for me.”

“Deal,” he said.

And that deal was why Maggie was about to have breakfast in bed. She was peopled out and saving herself for tonight. Maybe time at a spa was a good idea after all. No talking required there, either.

Lord. Sonny couldn’t get here too soon.

***

Sonny boarded his flight carrying a garment bag and a carry-on, wearing Wranglers, a blue long-sleeved shirt, his best boots, and a new gray Stetson. His hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, and when he boarded the flight, every eye was on him. He stopped in first class to stow his stuff, then sat down. Folding himself up in coach wasn’t happening. Then he ignored the looks of the boarding passengers and set his hat in his lap.

And of course, someone recognized him and then the hour-long flight became a circus.

By the time they landed, and he got to the hotel, he’d lost his desire to smile. But the moment he got inside Maggie’s suite, and saw her things, and smelled her perfume, and the hairbrush she used when she brushed and braided his hair, he began to relax.

And then he found her note.

We’re having room service snacks in the room before we leave for the gallery, and dinner afterward with Max. I’m exhausted. I’m all smiled out. I miss you so much. This is hard, but I am also learning to be proud of what I can do, and I have you to thank for all of this. Without your belief in me, I would still be serving chicken-fries at the Rose. See you soon. Love you more.

She hadn’t signed her name, but she’d drawn a little flower. It took him a second to realize it was a magnolia. She had signed it after all.

He hung up his dress clothes, laid his hat on the table, and kicked off his boots before stretching out on the bed. He was excited for her. Anxious for people to love her. He already knew they would appreciate her skill. But he wished so much for her to feel the emotions of their delight.

And then he heard a click at the door and knew someone had just swiped their key card. That someone had to be her. He bolted toward the door just as she walked in.

“Now I can breathe,” he said, and kissed her, then kept kissing her—on her neck, on her chin, the tip of her nose, until she was laughing.

“These were the hardest three days of my life without you,” she said.

“Come sit, baby. You look beautiful, by the way. Where have you been?”

She sat and kicked off her shoes. “At a spa. Max’s request. Sauna. Massage. Facial. Hair and nails. I did it because he said I had to.”

“But now you are rested and relaxed and you will enjoy tonight. I will make sure of it. Consider me your bodyguard.”

“I want you there as my husband. The beautiful man from the painting, which, by the way, is the first thing you see when you enter the gallery. Prepare yourself.”

“I’m still trying to get over the flight out,” he said. “They had me cornered. I had no place to hide.”

She laughed. “Well, we’ll soon be back to the ranch and our real lives, so I guess enjoy it while we can.”

Then there was a knock at the door. “That will be room service.”

“I’ll get it,” Sonny said.

The man wheeled a food-laden cart into the room, then set the food trays out. Maggie signed the ticket, added a tip, and then he was gone.

“I haven’t eaten since breakfast,” Maggie said, and popped a cold shrimp in her mouth.

“What time does the event begin?” Sonny asked.

“At 7:00 and ends at 9:00 p.m., but he said sometimes it goes over. He’s sending a limo to pick us up at 7:00, after which we will make a late grand entrance after patrons are already there. At least that’s his plan. Lord, I hope all of this works. He’s invested so much time and money.”

“I wouldn’t worry about Max. He knows what he’s doing, and he has people who will come to make up the numbers if he’s worried. Kind of like baiting prospective buyers. If they think others want something, then they want it first.”

She frowned. “How do you know all this?”

He shrugged. “Lots of personal appearances and signing poster events.”

She smiled. “In a way, I am following in your footsteps. I like knowing that.”

He laughed. “Darlin’, you are already so far out of my realm, and you don’t even know it, but I have a feeling you will before this night is over.”

They grazed through the appetizers, talking as they ate, with an eye on the time they needed to get dressed.

Maggie glanced at the time, then made herself get up and went to wash up.

Sonny put the trays back on the cart and pushed it out into the hall. As soon as Maggie came out and started to get dressed, he confiscated the bathroom.

They were ready and waiting when Maggie got a text that their driver was waiting downstairs. Sonny grabbed his hat and pocketed the key card, and they headed to the elevator.

“It’s ninety degrees outside and I’m wearing denim and suede. I hope Max is happy,” Maggie said.

“But you look stunning, and you do realize he’s dressed you to fit the theme of your work and the Santa Fe vibe.”

They crossed the lobby and were soon in the limo and on their way to the Andros Gallery.

***

Everything Max had hoped for was happening so fast that even he couldn’t believe it. The oohs and aahs, the gasps, the tears, and SOLD tags already going up on the frames was surprising even him. But it was the crowd standing around Sonny’s portrait that had congested the flow of people coming in. She had named the portrait Bluejacket , and they couldn’t get enough.

The myriad choices of sunsets and the varied colors of the sky were viewer favorites, until they came to the room called Diners at the Yellow Rose. That’s where the gasps of disbelief began. Pointing out the tears on a little girl’s face. The ketchup on a little boy’s shirt and chin. Sad people. Happy people. People you could tell were there—in that place—in that moment—because they had nowhere else to go.

And then there was a flurry at the door.

Max turned. They were here! His heart thumped as they walked in. The first thought that went through his head was Western Royalty. Lord in heaven, what a couple they made. Bluejacket from the painting, alive and walking inside, and Magnolia Brennen—the young beauty who painted humanity into every face she put on canvas.

Max saw the crowd parting like Moses parting the Red Sea as they headed toward him. He opened his arms in a dramatic fashion.

“Magnolia! It’s time to be introduced to the world. Sonny! I’m so glad you could be here for her!”

“Wouldn’t be anywhere else,” Sonny said.

Max moved them to the portrait. “You two stand here. I’ll be on the other side.”

The media on-site were already taking pictures, and two photographers from local TV stations were there with video cams.

Max picked up a mic, tapped it to see if it was live, and then cleared his throat.

“Welcome to all of you. It is a thrill to be introducing this amazing new artist to the world. And I must confess that never in my lifetime did I believe raw talent at this level of perfection existed until I saw it for myself. And it happened because this man, Sonny Bluejacket, rodeo royalty in his own right, believed in the woman he loved, and he knew of me and my gallery. When he first saw her work, he begged her to let him show them to me. Magnolia isn’t fond of the limelight, but she has graciously agreed to let me have my moment in the sun. Tonight, I am honored to share her and her talent with all of you. Miss Brennen, could you tell us what this night means to you?”

Maggie glanced at Sonny, felt his hand touch her back for assurance, then clasped the mic and took a breath.

“It means many things, but most of all, it means I am no longer hiding. I no longer care that I don’t know where I came from, or know the names of the people who threw me away. These paintings are me pouring out my heart in a way I could never voice. I didn’t think they would ever matter because I didn’t think I mattered.”

Sonny heard a muffled sob from somewhere in the crowd and knew she had them. She’d revealed her soul and they’d seen past the beauty of her face to her God-given gift of capturing priceless moments that would otherwise have been lost in time.

Maggie continued. “This man beside me is my husband. His name is Sonny Bluejacket, the man of the beautiful face in this portrait, and I will say, he has a heart to match. He has given me the courage to face rejection or success with the same level of belief in myself. We first met at the Yellow Rose. It’s where I was abandoned for a second time by a good-for-nothing boyfriend. The white-haired woman in those paintings is a real woman named Pearl. Pearl picked me up off the steps of the Rose and gave me a job, and a place to live. She became the mother I never had. And every evening when the sun began going down, I would go out onto the front steps of the Rose, and watch the magic and beauty of the sunsets, and tell myself that it was God’s apology for every bad, sad thing I’d ever endured.”

Half the room was now in tears, including Max.

“Nobody knew that when I went home every evening, I painted. Nobody…until Sonny Bluejacket came into my life. A man of the rodeo world. A star. With championship buckles for bull riding, until the night one stomped him into the ground. He died twice that night, but he says the ancestors weren’t through with him. Knowing a man who refused to quit was my blessing. That he promised to never quit me, was all it took. And so, here we are. I am honored you have come to see my work, and Sonny and I are most honored to meet you.”

She handed the mic back to Max, and reporters swarmed, shouting questions at them from every direction until Max called a halt. “Please. She’s said what she felt needed saying, so enjoy the exhibits. Magnolia and Sonny will be moving among the rooms. Feel free to visit.”

***

Max had been right. Closing at nine became a joke. And the longer they were there, the more SOLD stickers went up on paintings. Maggie had seen the prices he put on them and was immediately certain it would be a deterrent. She’d been wrong. And the NOT FOR SALE sticker on the Bluejacket portrait elicited many a groan. She couldn’t begin to imagine the financial boon this was making in her life.

And the best part for Max were the dozens and dozens of other paintings yet to be framed and hung. Selling tonight was only going to make space for the others in the weeks to come. And once Magnolia’s beautiful face and tragic story hit the late-night news, there would be even more art lovers wanting in on the ground floor to collect this brilliant new artist’s work.

When the last buyer was escorted out the door, Max threw his arms around Maggie and shouted.

“You did it, girl! You did it. I did so turn your pork chop into a steak.”

She laughed, and then saw Sonny’s frown. “It was just me being negative. I’ll explain it later.”

“I’m done,” Max said. “Night security is already on duty and we’re turning out the lights and locking up. I’m starving, and there’s food awaiting at my penthouse and my driver is outside. Let’s eat, Cinderella. I can still get you and the prince home before midnight.”

And he did.

***

Long after they were back in their hotel, and way after the afterglow of making love had come and gone, Maggie was asleep in Sonny’s arms.

But he wasn’t sleeping. He was locked into a vision that wouldn’t let him go, watching Walker Bluejacket’s death.

He didn’t know when it would happen, but he knew it would be out in the rec yard, in the bright light of day, because he could see it. The killer, surrounded by a gang of inmates, stabbing him over and over without a sound being uttered. It was only after the inmates were being moved back into the prison that his body was found on the ground, with a river of blood pooling beneath him. Then the voice in Sonny’s ear.

It is done.

In the vision, he had no feeling of remorse for the end of life.

Someone from the prison would call Charlie since he was listed as next of kin. Charlie would call him, and then Walker Bluejacket’s name would be spoken no more.

Maggie jerked in her sleep.

He pulled her closer.

Held her tighter.

And felt lighter, as if a terrible burden had been lifted from his heart.

Like the ancestors said.

It is done.