Everything that Glitters

I was a grown up with a child and husband, so I can't blame my bad decisions entirely on him, but he convinced me using cocaine would only help me ride faster, and that I deserved to enjoy my youth and celebrity. He made fun of Zane and Casey, called them my rope and chain, and said Zane wasn't good enough to win on the tour so he was trying to keep me barefoot and pregnant so I wouldn't become a star.

That sounds so stupid, lame, and ridiculous sober, but filled with arrogance and drunk or high on weed or cocaine, it sounded reasonable.

So I partied, I enjoyed my celebrity, I got used by people and I used people, until my barrel times started falling off and the media stopped calling for interviews. I felt dazed and confused all the time, my blood pressure was high, and what I thought was a bad UTI turned out to be a STD. I wallowed in self-pity and self-loathing until that Sunday morning that changed my life. '

She said she didn't want me to intervene for her, or anything like that; she just wanted to tell me herself what a fool she had been and that she's changed. She said after two years clean and sober passed in a few weeks, she would approach you and talk about letting her back into Casey's life."

The kids chose that moment to come storming back into the house wanting more ice cream, so David got them each a cone. The adults sat there staring at each other and the table. When the kids were back outside, Elle said, "Carole, did you get her phone number? I would like to talk to her. I know I swore I'd never forgive either one of them, but it sounds like my daughter has seen the light."

Carole said she had her number, and would text it to Elle and anyone else who wanted it. Sue did, but Zane said nothing; Carole included him anyway.

"Did she say anything about her asshole sperm donor?" Elle asked.

"Only that she has refused to have anything to do with him since that Sunday."

Zane put a very tired daughter to bed at 8:30, and then sat up until after mid-night considering all he had heard and all the possible ramifications. Cassie had turned his world on its ear yet again.

***

Brad and Zane worked on their ranches, worked with their cattle and horses, and enjoyed a couple of weeks off. Oh, they ran up to Cleburne and Weatherford just to blow out a little soot, but mostly they stayed around home until the they headed to another of the world's oldest rodeos, the West of the Pecos Rodeo in Pecos, TX.

They then headed for Reno, Nevada; on to Cody, Wyoming; Belle Fourche, South Dakota; Mandan, North Dakota; back to Livingston, Montana; and then down to Casper, Wyoming. All those rodeos, and they had yet to encounter Cassandra. Zane couldn't figure out if that was good or bad luck; part of him wanted to see her, part of him wanted to keep his distance.

That streak ended in Cheyenne when she walked up with a lawn chair for the sing-a-long Zane was playing by himself. No hoodie or hiding this time; she wore shorts, a tee shirt, and sandals with her hair in a ponytail. The others greeted her cordially; Zane turned away before she caught him watching her.

Casey and her friends were singing silly songs and clowning around to entertain the crowd, so she didn't see Cassie until Zane took a break after 20 minutes.

"Daddy...?" his confused daughter asked quietly.

"Yes, Casey, that is her. Why don't you go over, say hello, and introduce your friends to her. She would like that."

"But Daddy..."

"No buts, Casey. Stacy, Sammy, come on with us and I'll introduce you to Casey's mom, Cassie."

"The glittery lady on the poster riding the golden horse? She's here?" Sammy asked. Zane nodded, the girls all joined hands, and they approached Cassie.

"Cassandra, I want you to meet Brad and Carole's girls, Stacy and Sammy." Cassie slid off her chair, knelt down, and shook hands very formally with the three girls. Casey stared at her intently. Cassie's lip quivered, but she recovered and invited them to tell her about their trip to Casper, Wyoming and the big carnival at the fair.

Zane interjected, "If you don't mind, I'm going to leave them with you for a minute while I take care of something." Cassie nodded and mouthed, "Thank you."

When he turned, Zane saw that Brad and Carole, as well as pretty much everyone else, was watching him. Apparently, having a civil, if brief, conversation with his ex-wife was big news.

Ten minutes later Zane returned to his stool from inside his trailer with a new classical guitar. He warned that he had only been practicing on it for a short while, so cut him a little slack.

The three little girls had been joined by a few more boys and girls, all of whom Cassie was animatedly entertaining. Brad and Carole had brought their chairs over to sit by her, and they were watching and smiling at how good she was with the kids.

With the youngsters still going strong, Zane led everyone in singing gospel songs: Will the Circle be Unbroken, In the Sweet Bye and Bye, When the Roll is called up Yonder, Unclouded Day, Swing Low Sweet Chariot, and Amazing Grace. By then the kids were playing out, so Zane took another break.

Casey was sitting in her momma's lap, barely awake, but she resisted being put to bed, saying she wanted her mommy to hold her while her daddy played and sang. Cassie looked so hopeful that he agreed. Against his better judgment, of course.

"My mom, Sue, loved the music her parents played on their stereo when she was a child, so the playlist around our house was different. Most of you know who The Everly Brothers, Ricky Nelson, Patsy Cline, and Elvis are, or at least know some of their music, and I hope you enjoy this homage to our grandparents and the late 1950s and early 1960s.

Like any good entertainer, Zane sang to the women in the crowd, maintaining eye contact with each one for at least a part of a song or songs. He started with the Everly Brothers classics, Let it be Me, and Wake up Little Susie. He introduced All I Have to do is Dream by saying this song described the way rodeo cowboys and cowgirls felt when on the road with their families back home. Cathy's Clown, which sounded almost like Cassie's Clown, was quickly followed by Ricky Nelson's Poor Little Fool, Never Be Anyone Else but You, and Lonesome Town.

He then sang Crazy and Hello Walls by Willie Nelson, and ended with three of Elvis's best. He began with Are You Lonesome Tonight, and then insisted the men sing to their women on the last two songs; Love Me Tender and I Can't Help Falling in Love. It was sappy but effective; everyone left arm in arm, leaving Zane alone with Cassie, who was holding a sleeping Casey.

With a firm jaw, Cassie confronted him. "One thing we both know is that you were never Cassie's clown, Zane. I was Cassie the Clown; you were the hero who took care of our child, our ranch, our horses, and our businesses. You were at home doing the right things for our family while I was using drugs and making a mockery of our marriage vows. As soon as you had proof, you confronted me and ditched me, as you should have.

It was I who disrespected our marriage and our daughter, who threw away the future we had dreamed of and planned for. It was I who disrespected me, who let me be used by men - and women. You were never anyone's clown, and certainly not mine!

Carole let me know that she had told you my sad tale, so all I'm going to say is, I know I don't deserve a chance to get to know my daughter, to be in her life or yours; my sins against you are too great. But if you can find it in your heart to give me more of these moments...if you can find the grace to forgive the unforgiveable and allow me to see my daughter, I swear to you -- and to God -- that I will respect whatever boundaries you set, and abide by any rules you make!"

"I want to say that your vows don't mean much, Cassandra, but I won't. Let me think on it and we can talk again sometime. We'll likely be here because we're not going to chase any more money while Cheyenne is going on, so check back with me when you are around.

Now, would you like to put her to bed?"

Casey didn't say anything about her dreams when she woke up, but Zane dreamed of a blonde angel who had fallen from grace and was petitioning for help to avoid the fires of hell. He awoke in the chilly Wyoming morning covered in sweat.

***

Two days later, with a winning run in team roping and a second in calf roping under their belts, Brad, Carole, and two other couples asked Zane to host another get together. Brad said they would grill hot dogs, sausage, and burgers, and would provide all the sides, if he would have another singalong. He had been practicing with his new guitar and was anxious to try some new songs, so he readily agreed.

After the meal, Zane had the kids singing Hap Palmer and Sesame Street songs, and reading Dr. Seuss to guitar music, before blending in some of their favorites like She'll be Coming Around the Mountain, I've Been Working on the Railroad, and Texas Star. They took a break for dessert and had just settled back into their chairs when a pickup blaring Hip Hop roared up alongside them and a guy yelled, "Hey, Cuck! Good to see that you're back together with your slut! We do appreciate you staying home and letting us use her whenever we want!"

As soon as he saw who it was, Zane had pulled a couple of rocks up by his boots. His guns were inside, but he knew Clay was packing and would take care of things if Rick and his boys went that route. Casey was sitting on her mom's lap in the first row; she looked puzzled, her mom looked devastated.

Without moving from his chair, Zane hollered, "Why don't you boys come on over here and talk to me up close. Hard to hear ya with that crap playing so loud!"

"Nah, we'll let you pussies sit around and sing love songs to your wives, and then we'll give them a good fucking while you're gone!" Rick yelled.

Every man in the crowd arose as one; Rick laughed, gunned his engine, and spun his tires in the gravel.

Zane had a rock in each hand; he fired the first rock at the driver's window like the baseball pitcher he used to be. It went straight through the open window, hit Rick on the chin, and glanced off onto the dashboard, bringing the loud music to an abrupt end. The second rock was in his hand now, and it flew through the window, where it busted the windshield from the inside, glanced off, and busted the face of the passenger.

Rick momentarily lost control of his truck and sideswiped a corner post of the horse barn. His truck died, and you could hear the loud-mouth passengers screaming, "Get it going! They are coming to get us! Get out of here!"

The posse of pissed off cowboys got there just as Rick backed his truck away from the barn, slammed on the brakes, and tried to put it in drive. Someone yelled, "Pick up the rear wheels!" Six or seven big men grabbed wheel wells and the back bumper, lifted, and held the rear end off the ground while other men started pulling doors open. Rick was racing his engine, as if the tires would catch in air.

The four punks were pulled out of the cabs, and someone turned the ignition off. They set the rear end down, and the posse marched the punks into an unused barn off to the left.

Zane wasn't a part of the posse, but he reached the back of the barn just in time to see Rick get his belly punched by a big fist, and his face slapped by another when he bent over in pain. "You punk-ass sons of bitches think you're gonna come over by our families and talk like that?" asked a huge bulldogger belligerently. He drew back his fist: "We're fixing to teach you little candy-asses some manners!"

"Hold on!" Zane ordered loudly.

The bulldogger paused, fist drawn back, and said, "Come on Zane, we're just handling your light work. Let me rearrange his face a little!"

"Don't give a hairy rat's ass what you do to the others, Rambo, but this piece of shit is mine! Ricky-boy, you had a lot to say to me back there while you were in your truck and I was surrounded by children. I couldn't hear you clearly then; how about you repeat it now, with me face-to-face with you?"

"Look Zane, we was just funning you a bit. We're glad you're back, and we wanted to give you a hard time as a welcome, of sorts," Rick said with a lopsided grin.

"Gutless as always, I see. Can't catch a calf when the pressure is on, and you damn sure can't face a man one-on-one, can you sissy-boy? How about you other punks -- what were you yelling? Something about fucking somebody, it sounded like. Maybe each other? You all look like girly boys to me."

"Look, Zane," Rick began.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, ASSHOLE!

I'll tell you what we're gonna do. You boys are gonna take off your belts and hand them to a real man. Then you're gonna drop your drawers, bend over, and we're gonna do what your daddies should have done! We're gonna take turns wearing your scrawny asses out with your own belts!"

Rick shook his head. "You ain't gonna do no such thing! You touch me and my daddy's lawyers will have you in jail tomorrow!"

"Well, boys," Zane said to the posse. "In that case, I say we tuss 'em up, toss 'em in the back of Rick's pickup, ride 'em out to the canyon west of town, put a rock on the accelerator, and run this piece of shit truck with these four pieces of shit right off the rim. What is that? About a thousand foot drop? Daddy's lawyers won't be much help then, will they?"

"Great idea, but I've got a better one! Let's strip them naked, tie them together in a daisy chain, and then run the truck off the cliff! You three get some ropes and piggin strings; the rest of y'all cut their clothes off with your knives!"

"Wait! Wait!" cried one of the youngest-looking loudmouths, "I was just along for the ride! Rick said we were gonna do some weed and some ladies! I swear I didn't know he was gonna do something stupid like that! Fuck, everyone but that dumb ass knows you don't fuck with the old men on the tour, and especially not with Zane! Let me go, and I'll swear you never left the singalong!"

The other one they drug from the back seat chimed in, sobbing and swearing he would never say a word to anyone if they let him go.

"Okay, Ricky and Ricky's ass kisser -- what will it be? You pull your pants down for a whuppin, or over the cliff?"

"You wouldn't really..." Ricky's ass kisser started. Rambo grabbed him by the throat, lifted him onto his tiptoes, and growled for the others to cut his clothes off. He flounced around, croaking "No! No! Whippin!"

Rambo released his grip; "What you say, boy?"

"Whippin! Whippin!" he croaked again, holding his throat.

"Then hand me your belt and drop trou. By the way, boy, that means you gonna swear none of this happened too, doesn't it?"

"Yes Sir! I'll never say a word to anyone. If they ask, I'll say none of you ever left the singalong!"

Zane stepped up right in Ricky's face, grabbed him by the throat, raised him back on his tiptoes, and said, "That just leaves you, Ricky-boy. Since you're gonna die at the hands of unknown assailants anyway, I think I'll just fuck you up a bit first. Maybe rearrange that face you're so proud of, pull off an ear, use your nuts as a punching bag, and then cut your pitiful little dicky off and stick it in your mouth. None of that will matter anyway, because I'm going to set the truck on fire with you in it and let you cook a little while before I run it off the cliff! Hell, your parents won't even have to have your remains cremated!"

He released the pressure on his throat, and for the first time, Rick looked really scared. "Look," he began, "I apologize..."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP! I DON'T WANT AN APOLOGY -- I WANT TO KNOW WHETHER YOU ARE GOING TO HAND ME YOUR BELT OR BRAD IS GOING TO CUT YOUR CLOTHES OFF! NOTHING ELSE!"

"Whipping!" Rick responded, and unhooked his belt buckle.

Zane took it and waited while Rick equivocated. "Get your pants down! Panties too!"

"Please..." he begged pitifully.

Zane stepped lifted him up by the throat again. "You know why I'm doing this? I'll bet you think it's about what you yelled, don't you? Nah, it's because you have been a spoiled rotten little bitch your whole life! All you've done is corrupt people and do evil. You bully people with daddy's money, drug women and girls and claim you seduced them, and brag about it to your minions. Guess what? That shit ends tonight! It ends with you having your ass on fire from the beating, or with your ass on fire going over a cliff, but it ends! Comprende?"

Rick nodded as best he could; Zane released the pressure, and Rick unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. He looked at Zane, hoping to see mercy, but saw icy resolve instead. He dropped his trousers and bent over.

"Hands on knees!" Zane ordered. When he complied, Zane hit him a mighty blow across the ass with the folded leather belt. He screamed, and someone stuck a dirty rag in his mouth as a gag. Zane handed the belt to Brad, and he hit him even harder; Rick whimpered and began pissing on his clothes, bunched around his feet. The line formed behind Rambo and Clay, but after Rambo busted his ass so hard Rick had to be restrained, Clay retargeted the belt across his upper thighs, which also busted his balls. Rick screamed and passed out.

"Who's next?" Clay asked of the terrified threesome. All three were sobbing and almost incoherently begging for mercy.

"Have you boys learned a lesson here today?" Brad asked. They nodded frantically and chorused, "Yessir!"

"Then take your sniveling friend here back to his trailer. And boys, if a police officer shows up at any of our trailers, tonight or anytime in the future, they will find your brutalized and burned bodies in a canyon, somewhere, in the near future. So if this piece of shit tries to call the law, or call daddy and have him sic the law on us, you boys need to help him see the light. Is that clear enough, or do I need to repeat myself?"

He did not need to repeat himself.

Rambo threw Rick over his shoulder and the posse escorted the boys back to the truck. They laid Rick in the bed, and his ass kisser drove the bent up truck away.

The men of the posse returned to their seats and apologized to their wives and families for being called away for so long. Zane picked up his guitar, apologized for the lengthy break, and asked if they wanted to continue, or if it was time for the kids to go to be in bed.

***

Rick the rich badass died that night. Not physically, but he turned out his calf the next day, gingerly climbed into his beat-to-hell truck holding a pillow to sit on, and drove off with his trailer and horse in tow. His running buddies were asked what was going on, and somehow the story of him getting a spanking for bad language, bad comportment, and being a little bitch his whole life got out.

The part of the story about cliffs and burning bodies wasn't told, but him bent over, bare ass in the wind, crying like a baby while pissing on his clothes made the rounds, and he became the laughing stock of the rodeo tour.

When he failed to show at any more rodeos no one mourned. His stature in the rodeo world was summed up by others as "Good riddance to bad rubbish" and "Even mounted on the best horses his daddy could buy he was a poor excuse for a roper, and an even worse excuse for a man."

After the shortened singalong, Cassandra carried Casey to Zane's trailer, laid her down in her bed, and kissed her. Then she sat down and told her story from its start, when she and daddy left the ranch to go conquer the tour, to the fateful Sunday morning when she literally saw the light, and then to the present.

Zane sat quietly, watching her impassively, as she described the lonesome nights after she first left, and how her father made fun of her husband and daughter while plying her with alcohol and offering weed, coke, and pills. He even brought men to their trailer trying to tempt her, she said, and he took her to parties that were more like drug-enhanced orgies.