Slick Bart stole my heart and kept on riding out of town where he hung it like a Christmas ornament from a branch on the old Oak at the edge of the Hemphill farm. Two-shot Sam came along and took aim, gunning it to the ground on his second shot, whooping “Yippee!” He left it there to rot but before it did, a herd of cattle stomped it right good. I reckon it was the rain, though, that really finished it off, fertilizer for nothing.
Down by the brook, I felt light as a feather without that damn heart always stopping and stalling me in my tracks. I lied back on Flat Rock taking a sunbath thinking about absolutely nothing when a cloud darkened the sky. Go on, then, pour down on me. But no! It wasn’t thunderclouds that took the light. I squinted up at the sound of her voice.
“You really gonna’ just lie there all your days?”
“What’s it to you?” I spat.
I couldn’t make out her face up there on her high horse, but I could see she was tossing something beautiful and shimmery in her right hand. “What’s that you got?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Not much. Just curious is all. Go on now, go on your way.”
“Here. Catch.”
She tossed the glowing slippery orb, and I sat up and caught it in my left hand and nearly dropped it, it was so slick and smooth, made my whole insides warm.
“I’ll be darned. Is this what I think it is?”
“Sure is. Thought you’d be missing it soon. You ain’t gonna’ get far without it, that’s for dang sure.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.” I tucked it in my satchel all the same.
“Be seein’ you.”
“Yeah, see you.”
“Stay away from Bart, ya’ hear?” And before she burned the breeze, I heard her say under her breath, “For the hundredth time.”
It seemed like good advice, but I was feeling stronger and decided to take one last trip through town. Sure enough, ‘ole Bart was standing out front of the saloon, right there on Main, admiring his reflection in the window. I admired it, too. He sure did look fine, that Bart. And then he saw me reflected behind his own reflection and turned his attention my way.
“Say, don’t I know you?”
“Nah. Maybe you got me mixed up with some other gal. Just passin’ through.”
I tipped my hat, pulled the reins and dug in my spurs. “Giddyup, Gypsy. We have places to go, things to see, world savin’ stuff to do.”
Wild heart, strap on your biker boots and take me places I would never dare. Reckless, guileless, bold and brave, tell the voices and distractions to get out of our way.
When I was about five-years-old my mom made me a pair of pajamas with a waistband that was too big. I strutted around the kitchen table at breakfast modeling them for my father and brothers until they fell down around my ankles. In that moment I learned the high of making people I love laugh. Naturally, I had to repeat it, pulling my pajamas up and letting them fall down, until I wore out the effect, and my mother made me stop. But it was done. I was a certifiable goofball and proud of it.
Divine Ready 