“Don't work too hard,” was all she said. A month before, six months before… a year before… she'd have felt like a monster for what she wasn't saying. But now she felt nothing at all as she said good-bye and hung up the phone, and hurried out the door to meet the others for dinner.
The two-step lesson that night was even more fun than anticipated. All the guests came, and Zoe sat wrapped in a blue cashmere shawl, she was wearing a soft chamois dress and beautiful turquoise earrings, and she looked lovely as she sat there. Some of the other guests had worn skirts that swirled as they danced. Tanya looked spectacular as usual in a white lace antique Victorian dress that managed to make her look both innocent and sexy. And Gordon looked totally overwhelmed by her when he saw her. He was wearing jeans and a clean cowboy shirt, a black Stetson and black boots. Tanya told him when they met that he looked like a cowboy in a movie. And Charlotte Collins asked that Gordon do the demonstration. He had apparently won several prizes for his two-step.
“Not just for riding bulls and saddle broncs, although he won't tell you that,” she teased. She was a wise and canny old woman. And she was keeping a motherly eye on Zoe, who was content to sit on the couch. She was not yet feeling up to dancing, but she was having a good time chatting with John Kroner, who had come for dinner and the evening. Charlotte invited him frequently, and he had come tonight just for the pleasure of seeing Zoe and to get a chance to talk to his hero.
“Has anyone here ever done the two-step before?” Charlotte asked, as Gordon came forward and several return guests raised their hands awkwardly, and Tanya couldn't help laughing.
“Not since I was about fourteen, Miss Charlotte.”
“That's right,” Charlotte smiled warmly at her, “we have a girl from Texas. Will you give it a whirl?” she asked, as though Tanya would be doing her a favor, and the guests instantly applauded. If they couldn't hear her sing, at least they could watch her do the two-step.
“I'm afraid I'll disgrace myself,” she laughed, “and you,” she said to Gordon as he approached her. But the temptation to dance with him was too great, the lure of him too strong, and she slipped her hand gently in his and headed for the middle of the floor as they turned on the music, and Charlotte explained to everyone how you did it. Gordon went through the motions with her slowly first, and then with the next song, he spun her around, walked her forward and back and twirled her, and everyone clapped, they looked fantastic together. It looked like a professional demonstration, and Gordon looked as though he were going to die of joy as Tanya twirled lithely around him and he took her in his arms as the song concluded.
“You Texas turkey,” he whispered to her with a broad smile, “you're better than I am. Don't tell me you haven't done that in a while.”
“I haven't,” she whispered back, but she'd had a great time. And they danced again, as the other couples joined them, and everyone tried and most of them stumbled. She and Gordon danced four more times, and then he changed partners and showed several others how to do it. But at the very end, he came back to her, and they did it one last time. Everyone had had a great time, and people were admiring her, but they left her alone now. They hardly even whispered when they saw her. She was a familiar sight here, and she was very comfortable on the ranch, and even more so with Gordon.
When the music was over, he stood around, and several other wranglers were talking to the guests as well. After five days together, they were all good friends, and a relationship had developed among them, though none quite as intense as Tanya and Gordon's. But much to their relief, absolutely no one seemed to suspect what had happened.
“I had a great time,” he smiled down at her, and she looked up at him with eyes full of excitement and laughter.
“Me too. You're a good dancer, Mr. Washbaugh.”
“Thank you, ma'am.” He stretched out his drawl and bowed to her and they laughed as Charlotte Collins joined them.
“You two should enter the contest at the state fair,” she said with a broad smile. “It sure is pretty when it's done right.”
“I'm afraid I'm pretty rusty,” Tanya said modestly. But she and Bobby Joe had entered all those contests and won them.
“Is everything all right?” Charlotte asked. She had been very concerned about Zoe. John Kroner hadn't told her what it was, but he said her condition was serious, and it concerned her. “Dr. Phillips is looking a little brighter.” But she was still pale, and in spite of her animated look, she seemed very fragile.
“She's feeling a lot better tonight,” Tanya said, looking relieved but still somewhat worried. When she took a little distance from her, she noticed again how pale and thin Zoe was. It was hard not to, but when you were talking to her, she was so alive and so intense that you forgot it.
“I see you're going back to the rodeo tomorrow,” Charlotte said with a smile. Tanya and the others had just ordered tickets before they went to dinner.
“Are you going to sing again tomorrow night? You were the talk of the town after Wednesday.”
“I'd like to,” Tanya smiled generously, tossing her long blond hair over her shoulder, and she saw out of the corner of her eye that Gordon was frowning. “Well see if they ask me, and how the crowd looks.” If she saw a lot of drunks, or it looked rowdier than it had on Wednesday night, then she wouldn't.
“Oh, they'll ask you. It was the high point of the year in Jackson Hole. Maybe the decade. You were nice to do it.” She smiled and then moved on to the other guests, and Gordon was still frowning.
“I don't want you to do that,” he whispered. “I don't like the way people get when you're close like that. If you're up on a stage, with security, they can't hurt you.”
“Yes, they can,” she said honestly, and she knew they might someday. She had worn a bullet-proof vest at a concert in the Philippines once and swore she'd never do that again. She had been shaking from head to foot and ready to throw up through the entire concert. “That's why I rode the horse the other night,” she said matter-of-factly. “I knew I could get the hell out of Dodge if I had to.”
“I don't like you taking chances,” he said, not wanting to be overbearing with her, but genuinely worried.
“I don't like you riding bulls and broncos.” She looked him straight in the eye while she said it. She knew this cowboy life. She came from it. And she knew the price you paid, and its dangers. But she knew her own world too, better than he did.
“Tell you what,” he said honestly, “we ever make a go of it, and I'll give up the bulls and broncs.”
“I'll hold you to it,” she said softly, and then she wanted to be honest with him too, “but I can't give up concerts, Gordon. That's how I make my living.”
“I know that. I wouldn't expect you to. I just don't want you to do some two-bit thing to be nice to them, and get hurt. It's just not worth it. They don't deserve it.”
“I know,” she sighed, looking up at him. It was hard to believe they were having this conversation, negotiating their future, what they would each give up and what they wouldn't. But there was no harm done, if it ever happened. “I just like to sing for the hell of it sometimes, without the promoters and the contracts and the hype and all the bullshit. It's fun to just do it.”
“Then sing for me,” he smiled.
“I'd love that.” There was an old Texas song she would have loved to sing for him. She had sung it as a kid at high school dances, and it had gotten popular since, but she had always thought of it as her song. “I will one day.”