Rodeo Love Quotes

In all fairness, darlin’, I should probably warn you that this ain’t my first rodeo.

You're gonna have to hold on tight, because this rodeo is just getting started.

To be content, horse people need only a horse, or, lacking that, someone else who loves horses with whom they can talk. It was always that way with my grandfather. He took me places just so we could see horses, be near them. We went to the circus and the rodeo at Madison Square Garden. We watched parades down Fifth Avenue. Finding a horse, real or imagined, was like finding a dab of magic potion that enlivened us both. Sometimes I'd tell my grandfather about all the horses in my eleborate dreams. He'd lean over, smile, and assure me that, one day, I'd have one for real. And if my grandfather, my Opa, told me something was going to come true, it always did.

...What time are you seeing her?' 'How do you know it's a woman?' 'This isn't my first rodeo 'What do you mean?' 'You look like you got hit by a bus, and you dusted yourself off, and did it again for the hell of it. You look like you're wondering when the next time you can get hit by that bus is.

I don't get as much fan mail as an actor or singer would, but when I get a letter 99% of the time it's pointing out something that really had an impact. Like after 'My Own Private Rodeo' all these people wrote to me and said Dale's dad inspired them to come out. And this was when it was still illegal to be gay in Texas and a few other states. Another one that really stuck with me was this girl who survived Columbine. See, "Wings of the Dope," the episode where Luanne's boyfriend comes back as an angel, aired two weeks after the shooting. About a month after that, I got a letter from a girl who was there and hid somewhere in the school when it was all going on. She said the first thing she was gonna do if she survived was tell a friend of hers she was in love with him. She never did. He ended up being one of the kids responsible for it. So you can imagine how - you know, to her, it felt wrong to grieve almost, and she bottled it up. But she saw that episode and Buckley walking away at the end and something just let her finally break down and greive and miss the guy. I remember she quoted Luanne - 'I wonder if he's guardianing some other girl,' or something along that line, because she never had the guts to tell the kid. That really gets to people at Comic Con.

this town has no soul. and nobody yields to your love. nobody yields, period.

I love the contented sigh you make whenever I touch you.

I'll be waiting for you. As long as it takes, Celia. I love you.

...What time are you seeing her?' 'How do you know it's a woman?' 'This isn't my first rodeo' 'What do you mean?' 'You look like you got hit by a bus, and you dusted yourself off, and did it again for the hell of it. You look like you're wondering when the next time you can get hit by that bus is.

You’re so busy running around being a showboat rodeo boy that you don’t even realize what you’ve got. You think we all pick on you for riding bulls because we’re just being dicks? It’s because we love you. You don’t remember when mom died. But I do. I was there. I watched our dad hold her while she bled out. Suddenly, at eight, I was wrangling you and Beau because dad was a shell of himself, focused on taking care of Violet. And now I’m a single dad. I watch Luke grow every day and dread the day I can’t be the one to keep him safe.” I bite my inner cheek. I know Cade is serious right now because I don’t think I can remember him ever telling me that he loves me. “When you have a kid, everyone warns you about the sleepless nights. The explosive diaper changes. How they grow so fast that you hemorrhage money on clothing them. What they don’t tell you is that you’ll never spend another day of your life without worrying about another person. You’ll never completely relax again because that person you created will always, always be on your mind. You’ll wonder where they are, what they’re doing, and if they’re okay.

Sometimes the world begins To set you up on your feet again It wipes the tears from your eyes How will you ever know The way that circumstances go Always going to hit you by surprise I know my past You were there In everything I've done You are the one

Growing up, I figured God must really love farmers. Just look at how often sowing and reaping are mentioned in the Bible! Over and over again the Good Book references barns overflowing, bringing in the harvest, and casting seed on fertile ground. It does take incredible faith to be in a profession where so much is out of your control.

Okay, look,” I explained, pointing up at the front of the bus. “Look at Rodeo up there. There’s plenty of reasons anyone might love him if they could get past that greasy doormat he calls hair: He’s kind to everyone, he helps strangers, he’s a gold-medal listener. That’s all great stuff, right? But that’s different than why I love him.” Lester snorted. “Then why do you love him?” I thought for a moment. “I love Rodeo because if tomorrow I spit in his face and threw all his favorite books out the window and called him all the worst words I could think of, he wouldn’t love me one little bit less.” The bus rocked and swayed underneath us. I kept my eyes on Rodeo, on the back of his shaggy head bobbing to the music. “I love Rodeo because on the worst day of my life he held me and held me and held me and held me and didn’t let me go.” I tried to clear my throat but kinda failed,

Love is like a zebra refereeing a football game. I should know, because I am the rodeo cowboy riding that zebra.

Do I like them? Are you kidding me? I love them. But these are from the first rodeo we went to?” I shrug. “Did you order them or something?” “Nope.” “You bought them while we were there?” “Yup.

Somehow they stayed that way For those 5 days in May Made all the stars around them shine Funny how you can look in vain Living on nerves and such sweet pain The loneliness that cuts so fine To find the face you've seen a thousand times

His eyes are cold and restless His wounds have almost healed And she'd give half of Texas Just to change the way he feels She knows his love's in Tulsa And she knows he's gonna go Well it ain't no woman flesh and blood It's that damned old rodeo Well it's bulls and blood It's dust and mud It's the roar of a Sunday crowd It's the white in his knuckles The gold in the buckle He'll win the next go 'round It's boots and chaps It's cowboy hats It's spurs and latigo It's the ropes and the reins And the joy and the pain And they call the thing rodeo She does her best to hold him When his love comes to call But his need for it controls him And her back's against the wall And it's So long girl I'll see you When it's time for him to go You know the woman wants her cowboy Like he wants his rodeo

Tenemos que dar un rodeo, dejar las colinas y los bosques y volver a nuestros estudios, a la iglesia, a nuestra Biblia y a ponernos de rodillas. De otro modo, el amor por la naturaleza empezaría a convertirse en una religión de la naturaleza, y entonces, aun cuando no nos condujera a «los oscuros dioses de la sangre», nos llevaría a un alto grado de insensatez.

Cowboy Rodeo was a very simple man. He liked his life simple. He liked his ranch full of animals, he liked the breeze across the plains, and he liked when the sun rose and set. He liked strong, cold whiskey and the stars at night. Cowboy Rodeo realized at that moment he also really, really liked corsets and black pencil skirts that showed off the curve of the hip.

Just wait until the square dance tomorrow night,” said Bess. “I’ll bet Dave’s a marvelous dancer.” “I wish,” said Alice, “that there was somebody to take me.” There was a gleam in Bess’s eye as she said, “Don’t give up hope, Alice. You might meet somebody at the rodeo or barbecue.” George looked at her cousin quizzically and Nancy smiled. Both knew Bess loved playing the role of matchmaker! “What have you got up your sleeve?” George demanded. “Just my arm,” replied Bess, but she grinned.

You’re so busy running around being a showboat rodeo boy that you don’t even realize what you’ve got. You think we all pick on you for riding bulls because we’re just being dicks? It’s because we love you. You don’t remember when mom died. But I do. I was there. I watched our dad hold her while she bled out. Suddenly, at eight, I was wrangling you and Beau because dad was a shell of himself, focused on taking care of Violet. And now I’m a single dad. I watch Luke grow every day and dread the day I can’t be the one to keep him safe.

Contrary to her sister-in-law Janie’s claims, Celia hadn’t been in love with Kyle Gilchrist since her childhood—she’d simply loved to annoy him. ... Armed with childish logic, Celia made it her mission to get under Kyle’s skin as often as possible. She’d drawn hearts emblazoned with her name on every one of his school notebooks. He’d retaliated by stringing up her My Little Pony collection from a tree. She’d pushed him into the stock tank. He’d held her down and tickled her until she peed her pants. She’d put a snapping turtle in his gym bag. He’d tied her to the tire swing and spun her until she puked. All harmless pranks that demanded retaliation.

All A players have six common denominators. They have a scoreboard that tells them if they are winning or losing and what needs to be done to change their performance. They will not play if they can’t see the scoreboard. They have a high internal, emotional need to succeed. They do not need to be externally motivated or begged to do their job. They want to succeed because it is who they are . . . winners. People often ask me how I motivate my employees. My response is, “I hire them.” Motivation is for amateurs. Pros never need motivating. (Inspiration is another story.) Instead of trying to design a pep talk to motivate your people, why not create a challenge for them? A players love being tested and challenged. They love to be measured and held accountable for their results. Like the straight-A classmate in your high school geometry class, an A player can hardly wait for report card day. C players dread report card day because they are reminded of how average or deficient they are. To an A player, a report card with a B or a C is devastating and a call for renewed commitment and remedial actions. They have the technical chops to do the job. This is not their first rodeo. They have been there, done that, and they are technically very good at what they do. They are humble enough to ask for coaching. The three most important questions an employee can ask are: What else can I do? Where can I get better? What do I need to do or learn so that I continue to grow? If you have someone on your team asking all three of these questions, you have an A player in the making. If you agree these three questions would fundamentally change the game for your team, why not enroll them in asking these questions? They see opportunities. C players see only problems. Every situation is asking a very simple question: Do you want me to be a problem or an opportunity? Your choice. You know the job has outgrown the person when all you hear are problems. The cost of a bad employee is never the salary. My rules for hiring and retaining A players are: Interview rigorously. (Who by Geoff Smart is a spectacular resource on this subject.) Compensate generously. Onboard effectively. Measure consistently. Coach continuously.

Think you can last eight seconds?” Joss was one hundred percent, absolutely, positively certain that she would not. She was even more certain that she’d break something. Unfortunately, nerves made her mouthy. “Eight seconds, huh? I heard you rodeo guys had a short fuse. We have pills for that now you know?” He laughed and his lips were suddenly close to her ear again. “I can go longer than eight seconds as you well know. But even if that were true, I promise you, doc, it’d be the best eight seconds of your life.” Great. Now all she was going to think about while a piece of machinery spun and bucked beneath her was riding Troy in exactly the same way. Was it possible to have a mechanical-bull-induced orgasm? That would be seriously embarrassing. Certainly more than the good folk of Plainview would have expected from an innocent night out at the Bull Bar. There were children watching for the love of Mike.

Our relationship quickly grew. I was living in Long Beach at the time; Chris was in San Diego. Conservatively speaking, that’s a two-hour drive. But Chris drove it often. He’d get off work, hop in his pickup, and be at my condo before dark. And not just on the weekends: he often rose before the sun to get to work in Coronado Beach. We’d go out to eat, maybe take in a movie, play miniature golf, bowl, see friends--the usual date stuff. But our most fun was just hanging out together. I pinned a picture of Chris up near my desk. (It’s the profile picture on his Facebook page, if you’re interested.) Under it, I taped a quote that went along the lines of: Life is not about the number of breaths you take; it’s the moments that take your breath away. Chris was all about those breathtaking moments--riding broncs in the rodeo, jumping out of planes. He worked hard and played hard--but was just as likely to relax completely, sitting comfortably on the couch with a beer or whatever as he took it easy. It was a paradox; I loved both sides.

I realized something tonight when you were in the arena doing your thing.” She took another deep breath of the roses’ scent. “What was it?” “I love you, Elle.” Her eyes flared wide to search his and her heart stopped. “Do you love me?” “Yes, I love you, Chase.” Simple, sure, an indisputable fact she couldn’t’ve held on her tongue if she’d wanted to. But was she ready to love somebody who loved her back? Was she? “You had me since Spin Master,” he said, with that grin she loved. “But I didn’t know it ‘til tonight.” “Oh, well, then, I get it,” she said, smiling back. “You only loved me ‘cause I saved your life.” “I want you to save it again.” He stood up to pull something out of the front pocket of his starched jeans. He reached for her hand. “I’m asking you to marry me, Elle. Will you?” Tears blurred her vision. They caught in her throat. Oh, God, how could she ever be a wife again? But how could she ever leave Chase? She tried to buy herself a little time to think. “You said you don’t trust women.” “Only you. I trust you. I trusted you with my life the first time I ever saw you.” That made her grin. And then she felt very solemn. He was looking right into her soul, holding her hand in his big calloused one. She clung to it. “You’re in a league of your own, Elle. Not just was a bull-fighter, but in every way.” She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to think. She knew she loved him, but this was scary. “You’re not the marrying kind, Chase. You’ve told me that a dozen times.” “I changed my mind.” “I’ve been married, Chase. It didn’t last. I left him.” He lifted one big shoulder. “What will last is that I love you,” he said. “That’ll never change. I’ll follow you all over the country if I have to, just to get a glimpse of you. Just to hear you laugh. You can work as many rodeos as you want. You can do anything you want and even if I’m not there, wherever I am, I’ll be loving you. Until I die.” “You’re looking at me as if it’s a done deal,” she said, smiling. His grin broadened. “It is. I can convince you. I know I’m good.” She laughed. “You might as well save us some time. You know I got no quit in me.” “Yes, I do know that.” “So what do you say?” “The main problem is that you’re not the man who’ll do everything I say. I told you that’s what I have to have before I’ll marry again.” “How d’you know I’m not him? I’ve been pretty pliable here lately, wouldn’t you say?” “You are so full of it, Chase Lomax.” “You’re the one who told me I have to get a life after rodeo. Well, that’s exactly what I’m tryin’ to do, right here.

In late fall, I had a phone sessions with my Oregon therapist. For some reason, we started talking about happiness. “Chris achieved happiness so easily,” I said to him. “And I don’t.” The counselor interrupted me. “Do you know how he did?” I started to answer that I didn’t. But then I realized that Chris had set out to do many things, and he’d achieved them. He’d wanted to be a rodeo competitor, work as a cowboy, join the SEALs. He’d done all of those. What’s more, he excelled at them. Those achievements made him happy, or at least confident enough that he could be happy. As we talked, the counselor noted that I, too, had my own achievements. But I told him--as he already knew--that I wanted to do so many more things. And I always do. Was that a reason not to be happy? The counselor pointed out that I tend to focus on what I haven’t done, rather than what I’ve achieved. My thinking runs; If I do A, then B, then C, then I’ll be happy. But when I achieve A, rather than saying “Yay!” I say, “I haven’t done B and C, so I can’t be happy.” Why focus on what I haven’t done? Why not celebrate those things I have done, even as I look forward to doing other things on my list? Those achievements are accomplishments--I should feel good about them, confident I can do more. And happy. Or at least happier. Another lesson. There are other components to happiness beyond achievement. “Smaller” things, like carving out time for workouts as well as the kids, are actually big things when they are added up. Yet I often feel those things are distractions from what I really want to achieve. Blockers, rather than stepping-stones. Obviously, the wrong way to think about them. On paper, it doesn’t seem like a very profound realization. But put into practice, it means that I--we, all of us--have to keep things in the larger perspective. If you want to achieve a lot, then the reality is that you are always going to have something else you want to do. Keep trying to achieve, but don’t beat yourself up for not getting everything done. The “smaller” things are just as essential to happiness. So: the key to my happiness is appreciating what I have and what I’ve done, and realizing that I’ll always have something else to do. Profound? No, but empowering. I might never have realized it had I not been grieving so deeply. I would have felt silly, really, talking about achieving happiness when Chris was alive. Why wouldn’t I be happy with a great husband and wonderful children? I was happy. But not at the deepest level. I’m not there yet, obviously. But it is possible now. And yet I still wonder: How can I possibly be happy with Chris gone?

The town fair, which took place over the last weekend of August each year, was just over a month away. If their family agreed about anything, it was the town fair. Twiss loved the Wild West game and the spun sugar; their father loved the putting game and the caramel apples; their mother loved the bean counting game- last year she'd guessed 1,245 beans and won a forty-pound sack of kidney beans- and the Ferris wheel; and Milly loved what everyone else loved, except the livestock show and the amateur rodeo, where boys from the 4-H club wrestled calves to the ground for giant gold belt buckles. Milly also loved how the fair transformed the abandoned field behind the high school from twenty-five dandelion-inhabited acres that went unnoticed most of the year into a kind of fairy-tale place, where people sucked on cherry-flavored ice chips and honey-roasted peanuts, and the Ferris wheel went round and round, and the firecrackers reached higher and higher.

This wasn't my first rodeo in Unrequited Land. In fact, I had a season pass. Each new crush, I'd find myself standing there, fast pass in hand, wishing that someone who had zero interest in me would finally open their eyes and see me standing in front of them.

I am queer for my lover's body. Horehound is mescalinestrong. Dazzling as expensive fireworks. One taste of my Horehound's feast and I beg for his tendrils to twine around my genitals like how a bull is primed for a rodeo. I am ready to be ridden until I kneel on the dusty ground, horns to the dirt, begging to be tamed. Tame me, my sweet, my bitter Horehound. Make me grow unfettered around your body, as your namesake grows. Lie still; let my tongue function as fingertips, my senses of touch and taste meld. Let me be the cartographer of your body I know how to start: from your left nipple, closer to your heart, where the pump of blood heats that tit more than the other. A more flavourful place to begin, no? Let me suck, childhungry, until it spurts bitter on my tongue, pushing my mission to the hollow under your left arm, again warmer because of your pumping heart. I will nestle in your brush, press my mouth and nose close to your skin, follow the flow of your blood as a paper boat in a storm drain does, forcefully, involuntarily, to your left wrist, kiss your fingers as if they were a sacrament, read the lines in your palm. I will find the oases, the monuments, the dikes, the hells, the battlegrounds of your body so I will know where to hide when you love me or when you fury me.

Life's a rodeo. It's full of ups and downs, twists and turns, love and loss. There's only one go-round, so enjoy the ride.

face. Then she was gone. I patted Rusty on the shoulder. She is not going away. Good, said Rusty. Twilight snorted her approval and bunted Tumpoo with her head, pushing him toward home. It was time to head back. The evening sky was turning red again and this sunset promised to be as dazzling as the last. Twilight and Tumpoo started playing a chasing game in front of us, as Rusty walked serenely along. “What goofs,” I said and Loonie looked up at me, a big doggy grin on her face. She loved coming with us so much – and I loved her to come. My smile slipped from my face. Now that the excitement of the rodeo was over and Kestrel was staying, I needed to take care of some important stuff. First, Loonie’s days of running beside us were ending. I needed to face it. She was not only half blind, but going deaf.

I love Rodeo because on the worst day of my life he held me and held me and held me and held me and didn't let me go.

I love Rodeo because if tomorrow I spit in his face and threw all his favorite books out the window and called him all the worst words I could think of, he wouldn’t love me one little bit less.

What’s the news?” she said, foregoing a greeting for the obvious. That’s Georgia—take the bull by the horns. It was one of the things I loved most about her, one of the things that had saved us when our own love story took a few tragic turns. The phrase awakened a memory and instead of answering I said, “Do you know that Tag actually grabbed a bull by the horns once? I saw him do it.” Georgia was silent for a heartbeat before she pressed me again. “Moses? What are you talking about, baby? What’s going on with Tag?” “We were in Spain. In San Sebastian. It’s Basque country, you know. Did you know there are blond Spaniards? I didn’t. I kept seeing blond women and they all reminded me of you. I was in a horrible mood so Tag got this bright idea that we should go to Pamplona for the Running of the Bulls. He said a shot of adrenaline was just what I needed to cheer me up. Pamplona isn’t that far from San Sebastian. Just an hour south by bus. I knew Tag had a death wish. At least he did at Montlake. And I knew he was a little crazy. But he actually waited for the bull to run past him. And then he chased the bull. When the bull turned on him, he grabbed it by its horns and did one of those twist and roll things that cowboys do at rodeos.” “Steer wrestling?” Georgia still sounded confused, but she was listening. “Yeah. Steer wrestling. Tag tried to wrestle a bull. The bull won, but Tag got away without a scratch. I still don’t know how. I was screaming so loud I was hoarse for a week. Which was fine. Because I didn’t talk to Tag for two. That son-of-a-bitch. I thought he was going to die.” I stopped talking, emotion choking off my ability to speak. But Georgia heard what I couldn’t say.

La felicidad y la desdicha están a veces muy cerca. Expresado de otra forma se podría decir que la felicidad da a veces curiosos rodeos.

I loved Grandpa Reed. Without a doubt, he was my favorite grandparent.

Beyond the Judging Eyes” Down a dusty road where the judgments fly, Where the gossips whisper and the rumors pry, If you're lean as a rail, they'll say you're chasing a high, If you're round as a barrel, they'll tell you to diet, oh my. But I'm sick of the box, sick of the fake, We're all just folks, make no mistake. Let's sing it loud, under the wide-open sky, We're all kin in this rodeo of life, Mending fences, not just tearing 'em down, In this country song, we all wear the crown. Dress up like a star, they'll say you're too proud, Wear your workin' boots, they claim you've fallen out, Speak your heart, they'll call you a loudmouth, Keep it to yourself, you're aloof, no doubt. But I'm done with the noise, done with the scorn, We're all diamonds, rough or adorned. Let's sing it loud, under the wide-open sky, We're all kin in this rodeo of life, Mending fences, not just tearing 'em down, In this country song, we all wear the crown. Whether you're the toast of the town hall dance, Or love the quiet of a wide-open expanse, We're each a verse in life's grand old song, In the chorus together, where we all belong. Let's sing it loud, under the wide-open sky, We're all kin in this rodeo of life, Mending fences, not just tearing 'em down, In this country song, we all wear the crown. We're side by side, through the highs and the lows, Lifting each other, that's how it goes, Forget the critics, their talk's just strife, We're the best we can be, in this country life.

Goddamn, I love me some cowboys in tight Wranglers. ’Tis the rodeo season for fine asses,” my childhood best friend, Magnolia, blurts way too loudly.

You win some, you lose some. You try and sometimes fail. You grind, grin, and win. You love and remember loss. Everyday is a new day. Every moment another chance. Every road a new sight. All that matters is that you keep going. Stay as present as you can. Spend your time well. Choose your emotions as much as you can. But above all, choose love as much as you can. Forgive sincerely. Laugh fully. Hug closely. Kiss deeply. Leave nothing unsaid. Look straight into stars and sunsets and tears. Hold on. Hold each other. Hold close to all that matters to your heart. To dreams and smiles and people. The rodeo is life. You’re the rider. Saddle up, ride hard, and hold on tight. But whatever you do. Just keep on riding.

I've learned two very important things with you,” he said. “First of all, I've learned that there is a big difference between having sex and making love. I'm forty years old, and no, this is not my first rodeo, but I've realized that I have never made love in my life, until now.” He kissed her again and continued. “I've also realized that I've never been in love before either, until you.” He looked at her lovingly, his face betraying everything he felt for her. He knew he was putting himself out there, baring his raw soul to her, but he wanted her to know all that she was to him. That's How You Know by Julie Simmons (Chapter 11)

First Corinthians 13:4-8 is a well-known passage, often used at weddings, and there's a saying that if you can substitute the name of your potential spouse for the word "love," you know you have someone worth holding on to forever. The passage goes like this: Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. (NIV)

So please... put down your smartphones, turn off your TVs... Spend time with your family. Call a loved one. Just take a break. Focus on the good things that you have in your life---the blessings...A threat like this can break us down, or it can make us truly appreciate the many blessings that we do have... It's okay to be uncertain, but at the same time, we can also pour ourselves into our families, into our neighbors, and into our communities. People are afraid, and they're worried. And some may be losing hope. But my message to you is hang in there. We will get through this, and we will persevere...If there's anything that we all can rally around today, it's that we all have a common enemy---and that's this virus.

One of Washington's worst assumptions is this belief that bureaucrats in a handful of federal agencies in DC know more and care more about the natural environment than the people who own, cultivate, and depend on that land for their very survival. In reality, there are no greater environmentalists than farmers. They love their land. For so many of them, it's their legacy---what they hope to leave to their children someday. People tend to take pretty good care of their legacies. Farmers do so because we literally live the lessons of the land in our daily work. We teach our kids how to protect it, because we'll go broke and starve if we don't.

Tori reined her horse around to continue on their way. “I have seriously considered suing the Beatles for letting me grow up believing that all you need is love. How come nobody wants to admit that it’s more like happily-if-you-work-your-ass-off-at-it-ever-after?” “Because if you put it that way no one would bother to try?” Carma suggested. “I guess you have to lure ’em in somehow,” Tori admitted grudgingly, then grinned. “And it is so worth it.

All Brewton belonged to them. Crump wanted to stay around and cash in on that fact but Santo talked him into driving him and Mary Tate and Craig back to Birmingham. Willy, Ruben and Pi did stay. The last Craig saw of them they each had a gin and tonic in hand and were chatting to interested little groups of Brewtonites. This was at Seymour Hanes's barbecue after the rodeo, in honor of Santo-Crump. 'Stay hungry,' Santo told Willy as they were leaving. Willy was unhurt except for a bruised tail and a few glamorous abrasions on his face, but he looked like a different man. The clown had told Santo at the rodeo that Willy had wedged his hand under the rope with the left-hand glove. 'I love you,' he told Santo. 'Hang in there,' Santo said and poked at his belly. 'Peace,' said Pi. Ruben smiled. They took ten slabs of barbecue ribs in a sack and ate them in the car. When Mary Tate finished hers she leaned against Craig, tucked her legs under her and put her left hand up high on his leg. Her face was flushed and beautiful. 'I loved you today, Swamp. You had fun, didn't you?' Craig's head was already beginning to buzz. His thoughts were going soft and he wanted to sleep. She kissed him slowly and quietly and he saw a thought distract her, saw it ripple over her eyes. 'How come that boy said he loved you, baby?' she asked Santo. 'Huh? Oh. He didn't mean me exactly,' Santo said and went back to talking rodeo with Shorty Crump.

He kissed her again, pulling her up against him and running his hands up and down her back. As he deepened the kiss, he became aware of clapping, cheers and catcalls. No doubt Chase had gone into the restaurant and rounded up the whole Fool’s Gold crowd to come watch the show. Zane figured they might as well get their money’s worth. He pulled back slightly and took her hand in his as he lowered himself to one knee. He took off his hat and said, “Phoebe, will you marry me?” Her eyes widened, then filled with tears. “Yes, I will.” Contentment filled him, blending with the love already in his heart. He pulled the small box from his jacket pocket. While Maya had been busy running to the meeting, Zane had spent some time on Rodeo Drive. The Tiffany’s store had a nice collection of engagement rings. He’d chosen a perfect round diamond set on a platinum band that looked like braided rope. He slipped the ring on her finger, and she gasped. “It’s so beautiful.” “I’m glad you like it. Now keep it away from the raccoons.” “I’ll never take it off. Ever.” She stared at him. “I really love you, Zane.” He didn’t doubt her for a second and knew that he never would. He and Phoebe would be together for the rest of their lives. It was going to be a hell of a ride, and he couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

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