A Cowgirl Never Forgets
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Melinda Curtis
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26
PROLOGUE
“YOU LOOK UNHAPPY, ELIAS. You’ve had the same sour look on your face all day.”
Big E Blackwell grunted at his sister before sipping his beer and mulling her words.
I should be happy.
They sat on his sister’s covered porch at the Silver Spur Ranch in Eagle Springs, Wyoming. It was the Fourth of July. He was surrounded by family, his and his sister’s—children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. There was good food loaded on tables and more on two smoking barbecues. Horses of every color grazed in a nearby pasture, including a fine-looking white horse that held special meaning for Denny and the Silver Spur. The sky was blue, and the sun shone hot enough to make a man appreciate the shade of his Stetson.
“I should be happy.” This time, Big E voiced the sentiment out loud. “Our families are here for a family reunion, Denny. There should be laughter and games. Everywhere.”
“There’s a poker game going on inside.” Denny tilted her brown cowboy hat at a jaunty angle over her short, grayish-white hair. “It’d be my pleasure to show you to a seat and take your lunch money.”
“I’m not an easily fleeced schoolboy,” Big E harrumphed. He was, in fact, in the prime of his eighties. “If you need money, I’ll give you some.”
“You never could see a joke coming,” Denny groused, sitting back in her chair and tapping her cane on the wooden floorboards. “Whatever is the matter with you?”
Big E frowned at his younger sister, an expression that usually made folks nervous but had no impact on her. “Why didn’t you tell me there’s a rift in your family?”
“Are you butting your nose in my business?” Denny narrowed her eyes, not a slouch in the intimidation department herself. She’d built the Silver Spur as a single mother of twin boys on determination and grit.
Big E respected her. He gave a curt nod, biting back a grin. “When it comes to family, I have no problem admitting I’m a meddler.”
Denny chuckled. “I suppose you’re allowed. You showed up when I needed you two years ago.” After being estranged for more than sixty years and with Denny being on the brink of losing her ranch. She took a sip of her iced tea and fixed him with a friendlier smile. “But a rift? Are you talking about my grandson Levi making an early exit? There’s a rodeo at his facility this weekend. I’m sure he’s got lots to do.”
“No.” Big E gestured toward the front yard. “I’m talking about—”
“Corliss and Nash?” Scoffing, Denny waved aside concern for two more of her ten grown grandchildren. “They butt heads on the regular. Isn’t that what siblings do?” She smirked, arching her silver brows until they almost disappeared beneath her hat brim.
“Point taken.” Big E chuckled. “But I’m talking about Barlow.” One of her sons. “He and his wife arrived and went in two separate directions. And Barlow’s wife...” Flora he thought her name was. “She’s been standing under that shade tree for the past half hour holding that little dog in her shoulder bag. Snubbed by one of only two daughters in attendance.” And yet, Flora kept smiling. That was admirable...wasn’t it?
Or could it mean trouble?
“Didn’t I tell you that Flora drove their daughters away? Four of the five anyway.” Denny made a frustrated sound, no longer teasing. She thumped her cane on the wooden porch floor. “When Barlow married her, Flora seemed so nice. She and her sister had a trick riding act. The Belles performed at rodeos, county fairs and such. Back then, those women were horseback riding titans in spandex and sparkles who achieved a small measure of fame on a national level.”
Big E vaguely remembered hearing of their success. “Her sister was named after a flower or a weed or something, wasn’t she?”
“Dandelion,” Denny said in a tone that chastised. “Don’t judge. Barlow and Flora named all their children after flowers—Jasmine Rose, Iris, Violet, Magnolia and Willow.”
“Willow isn’t a flower. It’s a tree.” Big E couldn’t resist ribbing his sister. What good was having family if you couldn’t have fun with them?
“They named them all after plants, you old coot.” Denny grinned. “Is that better?”
Big E nodded, chuckling. “And it all broke down when...”
“It was a slow build to the end, like that last big hill on a roller coaster.” Denny warmed to her story. “Flora and Dandelion taught them trick riding. And most of the five took to it like ducks to water. They loved riding on a horse standing up, hanging upside down from the saddle during a gallop and such. Flora changed the act’s name to the Blackwell Belles and had those girls traveling all over the country with her and her sister. But after Dandelion’s death...the tricks started to become...well, trickier.”
More daring, he thought she meant.
“I recall seeing the Blackwell Belles once on TV. But that must have been over a decade ago.” Before Big E realized family was the most important thing in life.
Denny leaned forward, looking toward her daughter-in-law, who was still standing alone under the tree, smiling at no one as if she was being paid to do so. “Flora became a task master, always pushing those girls to do more dangerous stunts until...disaster struck.” Denny winced. “Sometimes when you try to hold on to something too tight, like Flora was to fame, you risk losing it all. And that’s what happened. They were at a show when Maggie over there, that’s Magnolia, was hurt during a performance.” Denny gestured toward the two sisters in attendance. They were talking to each other, not looking happy to be either. “Tempers flared and the girls scattered to the winds. Flora refused to take the blame. Barlow tried to fix it but eventually, he gave up.”
“They haven’t talked in all this time?” Big E tsked.
“We didn’t talk for over sixty years,” Denny reminded him gently. “I think it’s been twelve years for them.”
“We shouldn’t let it go to thirteen. That’s unlucky.” Since Big E had turned eighty several years back, he’d been determined to mend fences within the Blackwell family tree. So far, he’d worked miracles on three branches of Blackwells. Why not see if he could manage a fourth?
“We shouldn’t let it go?” Denny laughed. “We’re sitting in Wyoming. The Blackwell Belles are far-flung, from here to Texas. What do you suggest we do? Load up in your motor home and mend the rift stitch by stitch, sister by sister?”
“I do, indeed.” Big E got to his feet and helped Denny stand. “What else do we have to do with our time? Our grandchildren run our ranches. And when we’re gone, so will be the tie that binds Barlow and his girls to the Blackwells.”
He walked down the porch stairs with Denny, moving toward Barlow, but he kept Flora and her daughters in the periphery of his gaze.
