Marry A Man Who Will Dance. Ann Major
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summer he comes, you want to race bulls or something else crazy!”
“No, Daddy—”
He slammed the chain down on Roque’s back.
Roque screamed. Caleb jumped as if he’d been hit. The next blow cut Roque’s thighs and sent him sprawling facedown into wood shavings. He hit the ground so hard he swallowed dust laced with horse dung.
As he spit and choked, Caleb hurled himself at his father’s knees.
“You idiot!” Benny yelled at Roque. “You won’t stop until you kill my good son—you, who never should have been born!”
Again the chain zinged, this time gouging out a hunk of flesh. Roque rolled into a ball, grabbed his knees.
“Say you won’t disobey….”
“You’re not my father!”
“Say you’re sorry!”
“Go to hell.”
“He wouldn’t hurt me, Daddy!” Caleb shouted. “He’s not stupid. He was teaching me horse and…and to ride.”
When Benny raised the chain again, Caleb let go of his father’s leg and threw himself on top of Roque. “He’s sorry, Daddy.”
Caleb’s thin body was hot, and he was crying as he circled Roque’s neck with his arms. “If you hurt him, I’ll…. I-I’ll run away to Mexico! I’ll be a Mexican, too!”
“Get off me, kid!” Roque whispered. “I don’t want you to hate him…or love me.”
“But I do…love you.”
Her soft voice cut through Roque’s anguish and pain. Her gentle fingers trailed his throat, soothed. He strangled a curse.
Dios. Pain stabbed him again.
“I’ll even give you Buttercup!” the girl said.
Chinga!
She was holding something and praying to St. Jude. Roque wasn’t religious. Still, he’d been brought up Catholic.
He hung on every syllable of the girl’s prayer and went still when she fastened her St. Jude medal around his neck. When her voice died, her hand skimmed along his throat and jawline. She lifted her medal and kissed it.
So, it had been her last night. Her. He’d wanted to hold this girl close and dance near the fire, to dance. Suddenly he wanted to feel those lips on his skin.
“So, you’re just scared there won’t be anybody to teach you horse if I die. I—I could teach you to kiss too,” he whispered.
She dropped the medal and jumped back.
Híjole!
He stole a peek. Big glasses. Smudged clothes. She wasn’t much to look at—at least, not yet. Better to keep his eyes closed. But she sure as hell had a pretty voice, especially when she prayed. Those low, husky tones shouldn’t belong to a bratty little girl with wires in her mouth. That voice went with a real woman.
Dios. She was just a kid. Younger than Caleb.
Her fingers came back, cautiously gliding along his skin as she prayed again, her comforting words and warm breath falling against his earlobe.
Uno. Dos. Tres… He never made it to ten. The pressure against his fly was too extreme.
Pervert. She was a kid. Fourteen. Not even pretty.
When her gaze drifted down his body, he broke into a sweat. Then he slitted his good eye wider. Even though he was partially color blind, his vision at night was extraordinary. Like a cat, he could see shapes and figures that were invisible to anyone with normal eyesight.
Like now. Every freckle on her pert, slightly upturned nose stood out. Her tears glistened like diamonds. More than a hundred yards away, he saw Buttercup grooming herself.
A sliver of moon in a vast black sky peppered with stars enveloped them. Cicadas were buzzing louder than ever. In the moonlight her ugly glasses glimmered on her thin, unsmiling face. If only she’d been pretty like her friend with the big boobs.
It was hard to imagine her ever growing a figure or ever being beautiful. But she’d spied on him last night and today she’d stood up to him. She’d flown with him. He’d had fun with her before he’d fallen and hit his head. With her he didn’t feel homesick.
Nobody here, except for Caleb, ever made him feel as if he belonged.
But she did. Maybe she was a Keller, but she was an innocent, shy and sweet. As sweet as Mamacita when he’d had the mumps.
Chinga!
She was sweeter than Ana and Carmela, his sisters, when they were in good moods and hovered over him.
I can’t like you, girl! You’re the high and mighty Keller princess!
“Don’t die.” She squeezed his hand.
“I’m just a Mexican,” he growled. “You couldn’t care less whether I live or die.”
She ripped her silky fingers that had his groin in an uproar from his throat.
“Be…be careful,” she said in that supersweet voice. “I think your arm…. It’s all funny and twisted.”
“It’s broken. What’s it to you?”
She shoved her ugly wire-rimmed glasses up her nose. “Nothing. I’m only waiting for your father to come back. He’s sending an ambulance.”
“So, how come you didn’t take your horse and run when you could, little girl?”
“’Cause… ’cause my knee got hurt.”
“Aren’t you scared of being out here all alone in the dark? You ran last night….”
She hesitated and then shook her head. “I didn’t want to run. I wanted to dance.”
“You’re all alone with me,” he whispered, “in the dark. I could make you kiss me.”
She was slower to answer. “I’d stomp on your broken arm if you did.”
He laughed. Then he puckered his mouth and leaned toward her. “Last chance to get your kissing lesson from the best kisser in Mexico.”
“No…” Holding her knee, she scooted a few inches away from him.
He lay beside her, silent, wondering what to say to make her come back, but he couldn’t think of anything. All too soon he heard his daddy’s pickup roaring along the caliche road even before he saw his lights. Finally it stopped. The headlights went out.
Flashlights bobbed. Dogs yapped. Benny Blackstone shouted above their frenzied barks. Then an ambulance screamed on a distant ranch road.
“Over here,” Ritz called.
His father waved his flashlight.
Suddenly everything dimmed—their voices, her plain, skinny face—even the barking dogs racing toward him.
“I don’t feel too good,” he whispered right before he began to shake. “Kiss me.” When she still hesitated, he said. “If I die, you’ll never get to—”
She put her arms around him and kissed his cheek really fast. “You’re gonna be okay.”
“I came to this pond hating life here, hating—I…I…” He stopped himself before he blurted something really stupid. On a different track, he said, “I don’t want you scared of me. And…and…. Hey, there’s a key to the gate in my left pocket. Get it. Take your old horse.”
“Where is she?”
“Over there.” He pointed. “I don’t want her. I never did. I was just teasing you because I wanted to meet your sexy friend.”