He hopped off the horse like a Hollywood cowboy. that well-practiced swing of the leg over the horn, a cause for a head-shake from any up-tight equestrian. He may have been born branding cattle before eating solids but he was barely a man. Once on the ground, the awkwardness showed. Where to put his hands, a slouch or a straight-back, mussed hair or smoothed - he didn't know what to do with himself. Maybe it would come in time, or maybe I made him nervous; of course it could have been what was in my hands.
He finally settled for leaning on his grey tank of a cattle herder, one hand in his pocket, the other arm slung over the saddle. Cowboy couldn't look at me, couldn't take his eyes off the cup made by my hands. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He wasn't the best talker, although when he did, he made sure it was important. Cowboy was the one who settled my anger when I first came here, at the beginning of the dry, burning summer. I was at a loss for words too.
Stepping forward I pushed my hands out to him, trying to get him to understand. His lips turned up in a sympathetic smile yet his eyes had become shaded grey. Coming closer, Cowboy enveloped my hands in his and my heart ruffled like a dying moth.
"Give him to me, Cinch." He could make his voice so soft and it still reverberated within me.
Cowboy lifted his eyes from our hands and brought them to my face. I saw fear in his eyes, creasing the corners and furrowing his brow. The shock from so many things made everything harder to comprehend.
"Why are you worried?"
"Because I know you believe in signs. This isn't one of them. It's the same as everything I've taught you this summer. It's the highs and lows."
My gaze dropped immediately, shame blossoming across my cheeks. I knew he was right. I had selfishly thought this was a sign; that my life was going to hell.
I focused on my hands and the softness cupped inside them. His hands stayed wrapped warmly around mine, waiting. Cowboy continued looking down at me, always patient.
"Why?"
Bursting out, causing my hands to tremble. Cowboy didn't answer for the eternity of a minute. He rubbed his thumbs over my wrists, stabilising me.
" It's not a sign. It's life. Growing up is hard, things don't always survive. What does survive get to experience both the good and bad things of life."
"It's not fair. We watched them all summer. You told me everything about them. They were home-free."
"Nothing is home-free Cinch."
Turning my face away I tried with resolution not to cry like a kid with her candy stolen.
"Hey, Cinch, it's not you," he said, nodding towards our hands, "you fell hard before you came here, but you're standing now. Every time you get back up, it makes it harder to fall."
Cowboy's eyes drove deep and those perfect, silent lips looked like every wonderful memory I had of him: a summer full of trust issues and trail rides and a growing friendship but never a moment where we stood this close or he looked at me in that way. I reeled in confusion as I tried to decipher what it could mean. I was a girl of signs and this one was a murky swamp. The splash of blue in my hands and the feel of his warm breath brushing my lips was a morose and intoxicating picture.
The depressing early morning discovery that weighed my hands pressed me to dread what had brought me to the ranch two months ago. I couldn't be what I was back then. That husk of a person, with more problems than a textbook.
"Cinch."
Startled at being caught in my inner-mind conflict, I looked back up at him. Cowboy had that slanted half-smile on his face, and it made me guess he really knew what I was thinking.
Cowboy squeezed my wrists lighting, tilting his face towards mine. He grazed his lips across my own, brushing my thoughts from me. Gently, he caught my lower lip between his, pressing his mouth to mine. The kiss was Cowboy, patient and quiet with something that made my heart hum. Before the kisses could be become feverish, he broke away. That half-smile stayed on his lips as he steadied his breath and I realized my hands were shaking.
"Let's go bury our friend Cinch, and then we'll watch his brothers fly for the first time."
Pulling away to look up at him, I nodded and looked back down at our hands. Gently pulling mine apart, I lay my little blue bundle into his. The little blue jay looked smaller in his hands. Smiling down at me once more, he turned towards the back yard, his ranch horse calmly following. I felt a small smile on my lips and knew this was a good sign.
