Читать книгу The Prodigal Cowboy - Kathleen Eagle, Kathleen Eagle - Страница 10

Bella’s interview with the chairman of the Rapid City Autumn Art Festival had gone well. Carson Watts described the juried competition and made a point of mentioning several of the Native artists by name. The city was gaining a reputation for galleries and shops specializing in American Indian art, and the annual festival in the fall rivaled the one that marked the beginning of tourist season in early June.

Of course, holding the art show the same weekend as Pumpkin Fest didn’t hurt, Watts admitted. You had your pumpkin catapult and your beer garden with the oompah band going full tilt downtown, while the east end of Main Street hosted the more “genteel” residents and visitors. What he hadn’t said—but she knew—was that his brother-in-law was the head honcho of the pumpkin party, and his own wife had chosen chairmanship of her brother’s quilt show committee over her regular fund-raising assignment for the art festival. Bella had interviewed the Pumpkin Fest planners earlier in the week. They’d had her cameraman sampling German beer and opining on brands of bratwurst. She had laughed off the offer of beer for breakfast and thought better of telling the friendly group how much she hated bratwurst.

With the community celebrations covered, Bella had convinced her producer to let her take a look at the Double D Wild Horse Sanctuary for a possible story about the training competition, which would come to an end in another few weeks with some kind of performance. She was reminded that a story about the competition had been aired and that it would make sense for the same reporter to do a follow-up.

Or maybe it didn’t really matter.

Go ahead, Bella. And since the wild horse place isn’t too far from the reservation, why don’t you check with your sources there? See if there’s anything interesting going on.

She would take that as an assignment.

Her car rumbled over the cattle guard at the gate to the Double D Wild Horse Sanctuary. It had once been a cattle ranch, and she passed a few Herefords grazing alongside their white-faced black calves as she sped down the gravel access road toward an imposing white house. Upon closer inspection the place became less imposing. It was big, but the white paint needed refurbishing. The Office sign told her the house was more than a home, and the wiry old cowboy standing on the porch looked like a fixture worth investigating.

He rattled down the front porch steps on bowed legs, pumping his elbows like a flightless chicken as Bella approached. She read Where have I seen you? in his eyes and cheerfully introduced herself. She enjoyed being recognized.

“I’m looking for one of the D’s—whichever Drexler sister is in charge today.”

“No more Drexlers. We got Night Horse and Beaudry, but no Drexler. Both girls are married now.”

Bella smiled. “Are you Night Horse or Beaudry?”

“Me? No. Gosh, no, not me.” Blushing, the little man adjusted his straw cowboy hat and did a little boot scoot in the dirt. “Them girls are like my own kin. Hoolihan’s the name.” He stuck out his hand. “Everybody calls me Hoolie. The girls are around here somewhere. Pretty sure Sally’s over by …” He nodded toward the barn. “Here, let me show you.”

Bella followed the old cowboy, whose friendly chatter reached the ears of a lovely blonde, who appeared in the open doorway leaning heavily on a sturdy cane with a tripod base. The woman shaded her eyes with her free hand and then flashed a huge smile.

“Well, I’ll be damned. The paparazzi have finally tracked me down.”

Bella recognized the former Sally Drexler from the original KOZY interview. The new last names would come naturally soon enough.

“Where’s your camera, Miss Primeaux?” Sally laughingly demanded as she emerged from the barn. “I’m ready for my close-up.”

“What’ve you done now, girl?” Hoolie chided. “I told you, my film star days are over, so don’t be signing me up for any more of them promotional videos.”

“You’re our most authentic-looking relic of the Old West, Hoolie.” Sally turned to Bella as she pulled off her work gloves. “You do a story on the Double D, you get Hoolie in the picture for free. For a donation, he comes with woolly chaps.” She offered a handshake. “Sally Night Horse.” She glanced at Hoolie, grinning. “I love saying that. Sally Night Horse.” To Bella she added, “We’re newlyweds.”

“Not me,” said Hoolie.

“Hoolie turned me down years ago,” Sally said. “You KOZY people sure are quick. I just sent the email this morning.”