* *
“SOUNDS TO ME like you done fell into a barrel of shucks and can’t get yer’self out of the bottom of that there barrel,” Sal offered as he and Carson shuffled along behind the noisy snowblower. Carson held on to the handle and Sal directed their movement up the walkways and driveways. “You gotta start thinkin’ of how to break free of all them shucks. They’ll suffocate ya after too long.”
The snowblower sputtered and Sal hit it with a long stick he kept handy. They methodically moved forward, pure white snow piling up along the outer edges of the sidewalk. The streets were empty, but plowed clean. Most of the cars were tucked away in garages or pulled up into the driveways so the plows had an easy time of it. Ever since Carson had moved back to town, he’d learned the rhythm of its people and tried to comply. He no longer parked his SUV on the street, pulled his garbage cans in after the trucks emptied them and had learned to be friendly to his neighbors, Sal being the result of that friendliness.
“I wanted to work it out, but she didn’t want to hear it,” Carson said as he pushed the blower along his other neighbor’s front walkway. They’d already cleared both their own and now they were onto the rest of the block. There were ten houses on their block and it usually took them about an hour and a half to get through them all. He had a feeling today’s cleanup might take longer, but he didn’t mind. Talking to Sal was already helping his sour mood.
“Workin’ it out with a woman who already moved on ain’t reasonable. It’s like tryin’ to convince the wind not to blow in a hurricane. Ain’t no negotiatin’ with somethin’ that already is.”
Sal had a way of putting everything into perspective. “But I’m still in love with her.” The words came out more as a defense rather than an expression of his true emotions.
“Is that a fact?”
“Of course it is,” Carson insisted, even though he wasn’t sure about anything anymore, including his feelings for his now ex-fiancée.
They walked in silence for a while, the roar of the blower drowning out any other sound. Carson favored his left leg and Sal shuffled his feet as the two men made their way up the sidewalk. They were quite the pair.
Then Sal shook his head as if he was giving his thoughts a jump start. “Seems to me not too long ago you was tellin’ me how your feelin’s for her was slippin’ away. Now that she don’t want you no more, that love done returned? Better think what love is, son, ’cause it don’t sound as if it’s sittin’ in your heart the way it should.”
Carson knew he hadn’t felt the same for Marilyn Rose for a long time, but he’d made excuses for it. Nothing seemed right since he’d had to step away from rodeo life. Not only had he been busy second-guessing his relationship with his fiancée, but he’d speculated on what life would be like if he never went back into an arena, never went back to rodeo. If he worked the family ranch instead. Maybe he’d had enough of saddle bronc riding, of torturing his body, of never being home more than a few weeks at a time. Maybe he needed a change. That simple thought had sent his ego spiraling downward.
If he wasn’t a bronc rider, who was he?
“My heart’s heavy right now, Sal. I don’t know what I want or who I love.”
“Only one person you gotta love. It’s the only way you can pull yourself outta that there barrel.”
The blower sputtered again and Sal banged on it several times. This time, it hesitated, coughed and blew out a red bow from one of the many Christmas decorations on the front lawns and lining some of the walkways. The Christmas season had arrived on Howdy Street and everyone had taken the time to string lights, put up trees and wreaths, and with so much snow had created elaborate snowmen on their front lawns... Everyone except Carson. Now the chances of him celebrating the holiday with even one holly twig seemed remote.
“I already love you, Sal. Heck, I don’t need to love anyone else,” he teased as he draped his good arm around Sal’s shoulders and pulled him in closer for a moment, almost knocking both of them to the ground. Despite Sal’s height, at least six feet, he was as fragile as a bird and couldn’t weigh more than a grasshopper. His winter clothes engulfed him as if he’d shrunk down a few sizes, and his rubber boots rode his spindly legs like hoops around a stick.
“Thanks, but I’m not talkin’ about you lovin’ me. I got a whole brood of family who love me more than I can keep track of. I’m talkin’ about you lovin’ yer’self, son. Seems you forgot how. I know it’s not somthin’ a cowboy thinks about, but it’s somthin’ that either comes naturally or it’s somethin’ you gotta wrangle. You remind me of a sapling. Time to tie you to a stick to keep you upright or you’re gonna fall over and die.”
Carson chuckled at the old man’s analogy. He knew dang well that men from Sal’s generation acted mostly on reason, grit and lust. Where Sal got this whole notion of loving himself was beyond what Carson could grasp. It seemed almost as if Sal’s open-minded tolerance was tangled up in an older person’s body, and his thoughts poured out in a cowboy dialect that reminded Carson of all the old-timers he’d met on the road.
“I’ll take that under advisement, Sal. Thanks for the kick.”
“Whatever I can do,” he said, then he whacked the snowblower with his stick a couple times as they continued up the sidewalk.
* * *
EVENTUALLY CARSON GRANT showed up in Zoe’s small office located inside All About A Bride, a bridal shop owned by Greta Green, distant cousin to Milo Gump, who owned Spud Drive-In, and Belly Up Tavern. He looked like his normal self—incredibly handsome and ready to win his next buckle...kind of. So maybe he still had a limp, used a cane and couldn’t seem to lift his left arm without wincing. Zoe was sure the man was itching to get back in that bronc saddle and make the people of Briggs, Idaho, proud.
“I thought your fiancée would be with you today,” Zoe commented as he took a seat in the empty black chair next to her. He wore a dark blue shirt, a black tie, a dark blue suit coat, jeans and black Western boots. By his somewhat formal attire, Zoe concluded he took wedding planning seriously. It wasn’t what she expected, given he’d been absent for the majority of previous meetings.
They sat in front of a round glass coffee table loaded down with binders that contained swatches of fabric, vendor business cards and photos of past weddings. Her laptop was open to Carson’s account with a depiction of what he and his fiancée had already agreed upon. They wanted a country wedding, complete with a country DJ who would play some of the older hits.
“Something came up,” he said, shifting his eyes away from hers just as Piper walked into the room. Though Piper was Zoe’s opposite in almost every aspect, when it came to the love of a beautiful wedding and business acumen, they were in total agreement. Everything else about Piper, Zoe had learned to accept. Well, everything except Piper’s lack of any kind of thought filter. If something bounced around in her head, she usually had no qualms with dumping it on anyone who happened to be within earshot. Zoe had asked her a thousand times to please lock those thoughts away until a more agreeable moment, but most often Piper simply couldn’t control herself.
“I heard Marilyn Rose was in town last night but left in a hurry,” Piper said, causing Zoe to cringe. Apparently, this was one of those uncontrollable times. “Everything okay with you and your sweetie pie?” Piper asked as she took the seat next to Carson, the seat that was designated for his fiancée.
Except for her cowgirl black boots, Piper was dressed entirely in black Goth today, complete with lacy long sleeves on
