He's the One Read Free

of that rig before
     they trample each other,” he called. He squinted at me, but quickly lost interest.
     Story of my life. Sometimes, I think I’m invisible. “Jim and Roy are up on the ridge
     road, unloading the horses. We’re gonna need ’em to keep the cattle from scattering
     all over the county.”
    Tristan nodded, and I looked up, trying to locate the aforementioned ridge road. High
     above, I saw two long horse trailers, pulled by more pickup trucks, perched on what
     looked like an impossibly narrow strip of land. I counted two riders and some dozen
     horses making their careful way down the hillside.
    “What’s she doing here?” the wrecker guy asked Tristan, after cocking a thumb at me.
    I didn’t hear Tristan’s answer over all the ruckus. Oh, well. I probably wouldn’t
     have liked it anyway.
    “Get out of the way,” Tristan told me, as he and the guys from the flotilla of pickup
     trucks up ahead got ready to unload the cattle. I retreated a ways, and watched as
     he climbed onto the back of the semi-trailer, threw the heavy steel bolts that held
     the doors closed, and climbed inside.
    An image came to my mind, of the whole shebang rolling over the cliff, with Tristan
     inside, and I almost threw up the twenty-six peanuts, along with the Big Mac and the
     fries.
    The horsemen arrived, and several of the men on the ground immediately mounted up.
     Tristan threw down a ramp from inside.
    “Watch out them cattle don’t trample you!” the grandfather called. He’d gone back
     to his truck for a lasso, and he looked ready to rope.
    Over the uproar, I distinctly heard Tristan laugh.
    A couple of cows came down the ramp, looking surprised to find themselves on a mountain
     road. The noise increased as the animals came down the metal ramp. The trailer rocked
     with the shifting weight, and the wheels slipped slightly.
    “Easy!” Grampa yelled.
    “I’m doing the best I can, old man!” Tristan yelled back.
    The trailer was big. Just the same, I would never have guessed it could hold that
     many cattle. They just kept coming, like the critters bailing out of Noah’s Ark after
     the flood, except that they didn’t travel two by two.
    Before long, the road was choked with them. There was dust, and a lot of cowboys on
     horseback, yelling “Hyaww!” I concentrated on staying out of the way, and wished I
     hadn’t worn linen pants and a white blouse. On the other hand, how do you dress for
     something like that?
    Tristan came down the ramp, at long last, and I let out my breath.
    He wasn’t going to plunge to his death in a cattle truck.
    I found a tree stump and sat down on it.
    I lost track of Tristan in all the fuss. The cattle were trying to get away, fanning
     out over the road, trying to climb the hillside, even heading for the steep drop on
     the other side of the road. The cowboys yelled and whistled and rode in every direction.
    All of a sudden, Tristan was right in front of me, mounted on a big bay gelding. A
     grin flashed on his dusty face. “Come on,” he said, leaning down to offer me a hand.
     “I’ll take you into town. It’ll be a while before the road’s clear.”
    I cupped my hands around my mouth to be heard over the din. “What about my car?”
    “One of the men will bring it to you later.”
    I hadn’t ridden a horse since the summer of my American Cowboy, but I knew I’d get
     trampled if I tried to walk through the milling herd. I went to stand up, but my butt
     was stuck to the stump.
    Tristan threw back his head and laughed.
    “What?” I shouted, mortified and still struggling.
    “Pitch,” he said. “You might have to take off your pants.”
    “In your dreams,” I retorted, and struggled some more, with equal futility.
    Grinning, Tristan swung down out of the saddle, took a grip on the waistband of my
     slacks at either side, and wrenched me to my feet. I felt the linen tear away at the
     back, and my derriere blowing in the breeze. If I’d had my purse,