Beau and Sweetheart of the Show

It took everything I had in me not to "lead them in prayer" right then and there in the back of that van. The only thing that held me was the knowledge that Pattie could write me first if she only would.

A month later, I gave Eric and Jay the beating they so richly deserved and threw Keston one for trying to back them up. Pattie hadn't written and I was beginning to doubt she ever would.

It took me a week to track down the address of the school emblazoned on the backs of those red jackets and I fired off a pair of letters as a forlorn hope; one to Pattie and one to Buck. Both came back a couple of weeks later.

What the hell was this?

I put the envelopes, still unopened, in another pair with a note explaining what had happened the first round. With the, very patient, assistance of our local postmaster, I verified the address again and sent them on their way. It was late April by that time.

In May, I got them back and gave up. Whatever was going on, it was apparent, to me at least, that I wasn't going to be able to reach them.

Life had gone on, as it has a tendency to do.

Helen had gone to the local Sweetheart's dance with Upchuck. And they had, as she'd hoped, won those rinky-dink stupid plastic crowns. Yet, they (and quite a few others) had made cracks about my belt buckle I continued to wear every day.

And, yes, they'd done just what I'd thought they'd do after the dance.

Upchuck had gone on to do the same thing with not one but two of his sister's college friends over spring break. At the same time.

I didn't know why Helen thought I should know. Or why she found it necessary to tell me she no longer had a date to Senior Banquet. And I told her so before turning my back and walking away. In fairness, I guess I had always twitched when she'd jerked the ring in my nose before. But, it was a new day and a new me. The me I'd become after meeting Pattie. And Helen didn't even know that new me, much less have a hold on me.

Summer was a strange season that year.

Mom started trying to pack for me in June but quit when I asked if she was trying to get rid of me.

Dad hired a hand who, in my opinion, was about as useless as tits on a boar and had to be told everything every time before he would do it. I swear I couldn't get half of what I could've done by myself because I'd have to run him down and straighten him out.

"I'm getting old to be doing it alone, son," Dad said. "And you're not going to be here. No. Better to get him solid before you go off to school."

Matt came sniffing around a little more often. Often enough I pointed out to him I wasn't gone yet. And even when I was, I would only be a phone call and a four-hour drive from whipping his ass.

The little pecker just grinned and nodded at me and walked off humming the tune to "Meet Me in the Middle." Cheeky little bastard.

Then it was time. I loaded up only about half the shit Mom thought I should take and headed off into the sunrise.

College surprised me. I'd expected it to be a little more than high school on a grander scale but with no brakes. I burned through three roommates that fall before housing gave up in early November.

Over Christmas break, I found out the hired hand hadn't worked out. Matt Buchanan, of all people, had replaced him.

I don't know. I guess it made a certain amount of sense since Dan and Mandi had tied the knot and Dan had taken to working her daddy's small farm in addition to helping his father with the Carver's much bigger spread. And I guess they needed the extra since Mandi was set to foal any day.

But, I still took Matt out behind the barn to explain the way the world would be for him if I caught one whisper, just one hint, that he was doing less than his very best for mine.

Spring was shaping up to be more of the same with classes I couldn't believe they thought anyone needed who had managed to get through high school or pass the high school equivalency exam which was supposed to be a prerequisite to attend.

But, I didn't really have the time, nor the inclination, to get involved in the usual college shenanigans that went on over the weekends and holidays.

And as a result, about all the attention I paid to that impending Valentine's Day was to get out my modified belt buckle from the year before to wear.

Old Mr. Peterson from my hometown who did that kind of work for our local shows had let me talk him into adding one small modification to the lower corner where there was an empty spot. He'd added two conjoined hearts, one upside down to the other, the shape of the ring I'd bought for Helen, but given to Pattie.

The ring I only half hoped Pattie might wear and think of me occasionally.

I was cutting across campus on a path I'd never used before since I didn't have my next class, the professor being out of town for some reason, when someone fell into step with me.

I glanced over and a stiff wind could have knocked me over when I saw long curly black hair under a white Stetson with a white lock falling over her left brow. I couldn't think what to say. I wasn't even completely sure I wasn't hallucinating.

"How you been, Curds?"

"Oh, you know how it is, Cow Pie. Just nursing a broken heart since my girl never once wrote me in the year since I saw her."

"I know what you mean," Pattie nodded. "I had the same happen to me. Gave my heart to a guy and the bastard never once wrote me. What say me and you forget about those two, cowboy? And maybe we go out dancing tonight instead?"

"Why the hell not?" I said. "It is Valentine's Day after all."

I carefully didn't reach for Pattie's hand. But, when she reached out for mine, I took it hard enough that damn ring left an imprint.

--Epilogue--

"I don't see why we have to go to this stupid show every year anyway."

I eyed the black haired top of my oldest daughter's head as she bent to her lamb's left hindquarters with the hand sheers in her hand and bit my tongue to keep from saying "because I say so" or the much more impressive "because your mother says so."

Life would have been much easier if I were the type to just give her a fat lip and we could have moved on.

"What's the problem with this show, Lamb Pie?" I asked. "You don't seem to have a problem with any of the others."

"It's because it's Valentine's," Curtis, her younger brother supplied. "And Tricia is sweet on Kevin Hardin. And he finally asked her to the dance. Only she couldn't go because she had to come here. So, he asked Jenny Kester instead."

I sighed and reached out to catch my fifteen-year-old daughter as she circled me in hot pursuit of her fourteen-year-old brother brandishing the sheers. I wondered briefly where their mother was, but she was most likely over in the cattle barn with Mark and Sharon Dodson working with them and their steers. Tricia was just fifteen, damn it. Much too young for me to be worried about this kind of thing, or I was much too old or something.

"Come here, you two," I said, guiding them over to their show boxes where we took a seat, one under each of my arms to keep them from escaping. "Listen, I know this is hard to understand, young as you are. But the world is a great big place. Much bigger than our small town. That's what this is all about. To give you a chance to meet people from all over the country in the hopes that you might make a friend, or at least an acquaintance, who can give you a peek at what it's like somewhere other than where you live day after day after day."

"Yeah, yeah," Tricia interrupted. "And you met Mom at one of these. We know. But, Daddy, not everyone is you and Mom."

"No, they aren't," I said instead of what I wanted to say. "Some people are too busy seeing what is coming in the future or what lays behind them in the past to see what is right in front of them in the now."

"Whatever," Tricia said. "Can I finish Blackie now?"

"Go ahead," I sighed.

As Tricia got up, I noticed that Curtis wasn't moving and wasn't paying attention. I followed his gaze and spotted a blonde cowgirl in a black Stetson and jeans that were much too tight for anyone that young to be wearing. I shook my head ruefully and made a note to have a talk with their mother when I could.

But, in the meantime, I needed to go check on the students with pigs. I stood, straightened my FFA jacket with my instructor's badge, and strolled that direction whistling an old tune Pattie and I had danced to at our wedding.

"Seven hundred fence posts from your place to ours," I half sang as I walked.

*****

If you made it this far, slap us a star or three. And if it wasn't your cup of tea, there's more writers than me. Please do give all their efforts a read.

Literotica.com Valentine's Day Contest 2018