Incident in San Francisco

Ranny knew that it would be useless to protest his innocence or to beg for his job, so he ripped off his employee badge and slapped it down on the desk. Then he turned and stormed out of the office, closing the door behind him with the amount of force just below what would be considered slamming.

If they thought they had seen the last of Ranny Worlham, they were so wrong.

Chapter 16

Monty was nervous when he parked his pickup in the yellow loading zone near the front of the Marriott on Thursday afternoon at 5. He’d tossed and turned for a long time last night on his bed in the motel in South San Francisco before finally falling asleep. It wasn’t that the bed was uncomfortable, and he’d sometimes slept on the ground with nothing under him but the bottom layer of a sleeping bag. But it was a long time, too long, since he’d spent much time with a woman, and never with a woman as attractive, witty, down-to-earth yet apparently sophisticated, as Laura. He couldn’t get her out of his mind, and kept reliving the previous evening, involuntarily smiling at some of the fun things she’d said, and reflecting on the intelligent curiosity she’d shown in her questions about ranching life and about the rodeo.

When he woke in the morning, he let the hot shower water cascade over his head for longer than usual, trying to clear his mind. Was last night all a dream? Had his lack of experience conversing with such a woman caused him to say anything stupid, or to ramble on about things important to him, and she was just feigning interest out of politeness? Yet he could recall nothing which had struck a sour note, and he remembered how quickly she had accepted his offer of a drive back to the city, and then his invitation to attend the Cattlemen’s Day celebration tonight.

Yet now that he was here to pick her up, for what was in all respects a date, all his doubts rushed back. Maybe it was just the novelty of attending a rodeo and meeting a real cowboy that had made Laura so enthusiastic last night, and maybe she’d come to her senses today and regret having agreed to accompany him. Maybe she wouldn’t even show up: they hadn’t exchanged phone numbers last night, the name of his motel hadn’t come up, and while he could have looked up the number and called her at her hotel, his self-doubts had led him to just show up at the agreed-upon time, and see if she was there.

All of his doubts were swept away when he stepped into the lobby, and all of his breath was knocked out of him. Laura had been sitting in one of the overstuffed leather chairs in the lobby, facing the front entrance, and she stood up quickly with a radiant smile when she saw Monty enter. While she had felt that her clothing last night had been acceptable, she wanted to fit in more tonight. At morning break, she had scanned the San Francisco Yellow Pages, looking for Western wear stores. To her surprise, there was actually one listed in the city, and it was on Third Street, only 2 blocks from her hotel. She forced herself to pay attention to the rest of the morning’s session, but when they broke for lunch, she rushed out and around the corner to the store.

The store had obviously been there for along time, judging by the worn, scarred pine floor and old counters. And it definitely had Western wear – in fact, there was not an article in the place which would not be at home on the range. Men’s and women’s clothing ran the gamut from simple, everyday working cowboy wear, to flashy square dance costumes, to elegant dresses and suits of Western cut. One entire side wall held cowboy boots in every imaginable leather, from plain rough-out suede to alligator to ostrich. Women’s boots were more colorful, with more exotic patterns on the shafts, in reds, blues, greens, as well as the traditional browns and blacks. Racks on the other side held cowboy hats, again with the women’s hats styled the same as men’s but in a variety of colors besides the white, brown, and black of men’s hats. Glass cases held a huge assortment of Western accessories and jewelry – oval belt buckles in silver and gold, with embossed patterns or Western scenes, tie pins and earrings in the shapes of saddles, boots, horses, Longhorn steer heads. It was all so overwhelming that Laura hardly knew where to begin.

Her thinking had been that she would try to find perhaps just a Western-style blouse or shirt. Despite the plethora of choices, she quickly settled on a long-sleeved shirt in a pale creamy yellow, with narrow vertical stripes in a medium brown. It had Western-style yokes front and back, light bronze pearl snaps, and was cut to fit perfectly over the swell of her breasts and was tapered to hug her small waist. The mirror showed her that the colors set off her dark hair perfectly. However, she was wearing the blue dress slacks that she’d worn to class today, and while she could visualize that new top with her jeans of last night, she suddenly wanted something a little dressier than jeans. As she remembered again how handsome her seat companion was last night, she blushed slightly as the thought popped unbidden into her head – she also wanted to look a little sexier.

While many of the women in the audience at the performance last had been wearing jeans, and most of them looked very good in jeans, a sizeable number did wear skirts or dresses. While wandering around the concession stand area before and after the performance, she had noticed a few long-legged young women who wore very short denim miniskirts. These girls were accompanied by much older men who looked like wealthy ranchers away from home without their wives: she doubted these girls were their nieces. But she had also noticed a few women with good legs who wore skirts or dresses which were more modest in length, and they looked very good.

She found a skirt in light brown denim with dark brown fringe on the edges of the pockets and on the hem. With her height, in her waist size the actual hemline was a couple of inches above her knee, with the 2-inch fringe giving it at the same time a more modest and yet a more sexy look. When she saw the reflection presented her with this shirt and skirt, she knew that she would be the equal of any woman at the Cow Palace that night.

But the shoes, and the hiking boots she’d worn last night, just didn’t go with this outfit. Thinking how ridiculous it was to buy yet another thing she might never wear again, Laura perused the shelves of women’s cowboy boots. Before she could talk herself out of it, because she needed to act fast and get back to the afternoon session at the hotel, she grabbed a pair of boots in a medium tan color, with a flame pattern stitched on the shaft in dark brown threads. She snatched up a pair of the little nylon socks they provided for trying on boots, pulled those on, then slid her foot into the unfamiliar footwear. When her foot reached the bottom of the shaft, she found that she had to hook her fingers into the leather loops on each side at the top of the boot shaft, and tug on those while pushing her foot into the boot bottom. But when she had both boots on, she took a few tentative steps and was surprised at how comfortable these felt. The heels, while high, were not as high as on some of her dress shoes, and the wider base of the heel made walking easy.

Did she dare complete the picture, and rack up even more charges on her Visa card, by buying a cowboy hat? Normally, Laura was very decisive. Having to make choices quickly when she was dealing with a broken computer program in a production environment had given her the habit of making snap decisions. But would it appear that she was trying too hard to look like something she wasn’t? Would Monty be embarrassed if she showed up in a Stetson? Would Monty even show up, and she’d have wasted all this money for nothing?

She decided that enough was enough and had the clerk ring up her purchases, without a hat. Although the clerk wore Western wear, she could tell that he was gay so she wasn’t offended when he took much less notice of her than she was accustomed to when being waited on by a man. She hoped that her new outfit would spark much more interest than that in Monty.

And she was right. When she stood up with a big smile and took a step towards Monty, she looked so gorgeous that Monty was absolutely awe-struck. As he drove in to the city, he had been remembering how she had looked last night in her fitted blouse, jeans, and those cute hiking boots. While he still saw the same beautiful face tonight, the Western clothes she had selected went so perfectly with her coloring, and the skirt and boots showed off her legs so well that she was simply stunning. Monty stood stock-still for what seemed like an eternity, and almost stumbled when he forward started to meet her.

“You look wonderful!” he blurted.

“Thanks. I just didn’t want to look like a city mouse among all the country mice tonight”, smiled Laura, very pleased by the effect she apparently made on Monty.

Monty was recovering some of his poise, and replied, “City or country, there’s no way you’d ever look like a mouse. That’s really a becoming outfit – you’ll not only fit in tonight, you’ll stand out. You sure know how to pick an outfit”.

“Well“, Laura replied, “I did notice what all the women were wearing last night and found a store right by the hotel, so I made some quick purchases, and here I am. I’m glad you like it”.

“Like it? I’ll be the envy of every cowboy in the Cow Palace tonight” Monty said. “But where’s your hat?”.

“I thought about one, but then I thought I’d look too phony, like I was trying to be something I wasn’t”, Laura said apologetically.

“No, really, Laura, you look as though you’d been wearing clothes like that all your life. No one would ever know that you’re a big-city girl. With those clothes, I think you’d look great in a cowboy hat”.

“Too late now”, laughed Laura ruefully. “The store where I bought these closed at 5 tonight, and my credit card took a beating already on clothes I won’t have much use for after tonight”.

Monty didn’t say anything, but he had a sudden thought: there were lots of vendors selling Western wear, including hats, at the Cow Palace so he lost no time in getting there. They parked in the exhibitors’ area by the cow barns, and he kept up a conversation with Laura as he maneuvered her skillfully through the barn area and into the passage way under the stands where the concessions were. When they neared one selling cowboy hats, he reached out and plucked a light tan felt woman’s cowboy hat and set it on Laura’s head.

“Oh!” Laura exclaimed, flustered. She stepped in front of the head-height mirror provided and adjusted the hat so that it sat squarely on her head like Monty’s, not tilted far back on the head the way long-ago movie cowboys wore theirs. “I do like the way it looks, but I think I’ve had more than enough foolish extravagances for one day”.

“No, this is on me.” said Monty, handing the seller several twenties. “This is your souvenir of your visit to the Cow Palace”.

“Oh, Monty, I couldn’t. I saw what these cost in the store in San Francisco today, and that’s way too much for you to spend on a souvenir. But thanks for the thought. That was nice of you.”

“No, I insist. It’s perfect with your outfit – you look really great. Besides, I paid a lot less for the bulls I bought yesterday than I’d planned, so I can easily afford it”, smiled Monty.

“I don’t know how I’ll take this on the plane with me, and I still think it’s too much, but thank you very much”, Laura said sincerely. “I do love the hat.” She liked how the hat completed her look, and was secretly pleased with the fact that Monty apparently was very happy with how she looked, too. But at the same time, she had a sudden momentary feeling of a coming loss, the loss that would happen when this night ended and they returned to their respective homes, and lifestyles, so many thousands of miles apart.

She brightened suddenly. “You didn’t tell me you’d bought bulls yesterday. Are they still here? Can I see them?” she asked eagerly.

“Yes, they’re still here, and we can certainly go back down below and I can show you them. In fact, I should load them in the trailer after the barbeque because I have to have them removed tonight. But don’t worry, I won’t strand you here after the show tonight – it’s not a problem to go into the city with the truck and trailer”, smiled Monty. He turned his face slightly away for a moment to hide the look of pain he couldn’t hide, as he, too, suddenly thought how in just a few hours he and Laura would be parting.

He could never have imagined the circumstances which instead would mean that shortly they’d be thrown together closer, and for a longer time, than few other newly-acquainted couples had ever experienced.

Chapter 17

Early Thursday evening at mealtime saw two very different scenes just a few miles apart in San Francisco.

Inside the Cow Palace, Monty and Laura were enjoying themselves hugely. To minimize the time his new bulls would spend in the trailer, Monty had suggested to Laura that they try to get in line early for the barbeque, then go down to the bull pens and she could see his purchases while they were being loaded. Since it would take quite a while to feed all the hungry cattlemen and women who were crowded into the arena, they should be back inside in time for the evening’s performance.

At his mealtime, Ranny was in an ugly mood. After his ignominious firing from his job at the Cow Palace, he had gone home, showered for a very long time, and changed into clean clothes. Ignoring the fact that he was now unemployed and would be better conserving his money, he had gone out to his neighborhood working-man’s bar which served minimal meals from a scanty menu. He ordered a cheeseburger and fries, then had two quick glasses of draft beer with chaser shots of cheap well bourbon while he waited impatiently for his food. His surly expression and curt tone when he ordered did not encourage the bartender to spend any time conversing at that end of the bar. Besides, the older man, who was also part owner of the place, had been behind the bar on other occasions when this customer had made one of his infrequent visits here, and he remembered the trivial number of coins left as a tip. In a bar like this, drinks were paid for when received, but patrons often waited until they had their last drink before leaving the tip. When the tray of food was passed through from the small greasy kitchen behind, he slid it down the bar in front of Ranny.

Without bothering to say thanks, Ranny grabbed the burger and started wolfing it down. Half-done, he set it down and called for another beer and shot, then splashed ketchup from the bottle in front of him onto his fries. He started picking those up eating them, ignoring the ketchup on his fingers, but his expression showed no enjoyment in his food, only anger. By the time he had eaten half the fries and started on the last of the burger, he had also finished his drinks and impatiently waved at the bartender. Busy talking at the bar’s serving station to the well-built young blond waitress in a scoop-necked white T-shirt and tight jeans, the barman wasn’t quick enough to suit Ranny, who half rose off his stool to wave one arm furiously while he clenched the remnant of his meal in his other hand. The bartender barely managed to conceal his distaste for this customer, but the fresh drinks were served quickly this time, because he hoped that Ranny would finish his meal and drinks and leave the place. The feeling of depression in that area of the bar was almost palpable, and the bartender liked his place to have a happy clientele, not surly drinkers like this one. But he had to serve one more set of drinks before Ranny stood up unsteadily, tossed on the bar a small handful of some of the change he’d been receiving from his drink and food orders, and lurched out the door. His ordinary drink of choice was just beer, and the unaccustomed addition of the liquor had made him more intoxicated than usual.

Since Monty had been to the Cattleman’s Day celebrations before, he knew the drill and putting his hand lightly on Laura’s arm just above the elbow, guided her through the gathering throng so that they ended up very near the front of the line which was forming for food. She was impressed by how he managed to get them there so quickly without giving any appearance of being pushy, even pausing for a moment to say hello to someone he knew, then moving on until they took their place at the end of the short but quickly-growing line of couples. Then they relaxed and for a moment just took in the scene. A far cry from suburban backyard barbeques, these were heavy metal bins about 4 feet wide and 10 feet long holding the glowing oak coals. Insulated metal fenders protected the 4 trailer tires from the fierce heat of the fire. Vertical frames in an inverted V shape at each end supported a long axle turned by a spoked metal wheel attached to one end. That allowed raising and lowering the large grate, suspended by chains, so that the right temperature was always maintained for the dozens of 5- or 6-pound chucks of prime tri-tip beef slowly cooking on each of the half-dozen setups. Mixed with the mouth-watering aroma of the basted meat was the not-unpleasant smell of the smoke from the oak wood fires, and the smoke created a light haze as it filled the arena on its way to ventilator openings high in the rafters.

“Hey, Monty, how’d an ugly old boy like you get to stand beside such a good-looking lady?” was the boisterous greeting from a big man who stepped out of the crowd and shook Monty’s hand. A bit older and not quite as tall as Monty, he outweighed him by considerably more than 50 pounds and his barrel chest and huge arms threatened to pop the snaps on his Western shirt. His deeply-tanned face under the brim of his big white Stetson wore a huge grin that said he was happy to see a familiar face in this crowd who had come from all over the Western states.

“Laura, this is my neighbor Curtis Williams, and you’ll have to excuse his manners - they don’t allow him to wander off the ranch and into the city with civilized folks very often” was Monty’s good-natured retort. “And Curt, I’m not just standing beside this good-looking lady, she actually agreed to accompany me to this event. We happened to have seats together at last night’s show.”

The implication that this was their second night together wasn’t lost on Curt, but despite Monty’s jibe, he was well-mannered and didn’t comment on that further. Instead, he tilted his hat as he took Laura’s offered hand and said, “Pleased to meet you, Laura. I may be married, but I still notice pretty girls and I’m sure I’ve never seen you around before. What part of the country do you hail from?”

“Oh, I’m not even from this country, and certainly not from the kind of country you guys are from” she laughed, pleased that her Western clothing apparently made her look to Curtis like a real cowgirl, not like a dude. “I’m Canadian, from Montreal, in town for a computer course, and I decided to see what a Western rodeo was like. Monty has been very helpful in educating me – even showing me how to judge bronc-riding”, she said, giving Monty a sly nudge in the ribs.

“Well, Monty’s as good a teacher as you could have. I’ve known his family for years, and known Monty since he was born, and he’s one of the best young cattlemen I know. His steers usually top the market at auction, his place is one of the best-run ranches in our area, and his fences are always kept up”, said Curt, serious now.

Embarrassed at this unexpected praise, Monty flushed slightly and replied jokingly, “And I’m expecting to find some of my fences between our places broken shortly. I bought 5 excellent Brangus bulls yesterday, and I’m sure you’ll be wanting to get some of that good breeding into that herd of mangy Herefords you run”.

Laura wasn’t used to hearing grown men exchange insults, even good-natured ones, and was shaking her head and laughing as Curtis tipped his hat to her once more, and said, “Very nice to have met you, Laura, and Monty, I’m sure I’ll see you back home sometime. You two enjoy the evening, now” and he smiled as he turned and wandered off to find the end of the ever-growing line.

“He seems like a nice man, your neighbor” Laura said when he’d left.

“He is. Curt is one of the best. But actually, all my neighbors are nice people. The ranches are so far apart – Curt’s house is two miles from mine – that we depend on each other if we need something without driving to town for it, or if we get in a jam. When we work cattle, all the neighbors get together to help gather the cattle and brand the calves, and then the owner throws a big barbeque to repay them. Anyone who was nasty or unfriendly would have a pretty hard life of it out in the country”.

The line had finally started to move, and Laura was silent as she thought over what she’d heard during the last few minutes. She could tell that Curt had been completely sincere when he had given Monty such high praise, and it reinforced Laura’s high opinion of this man she’d only met last night. And the easy way the two neighbors had acted with each other, and Monty’s description of the life with his ranching neighbors in the country, made her realize that life there must be much different from life among the varied types of people crowded together in the big city. Much different, and probably, she thought, much better.

Then they reached the tables serving the food, and she realized that she was really hungry. She’d skipped lunch to do her shopping for the Western outfit and hadn’t eaten anything since a hurried breakfast in the hotel coffee shop. So when the man carving thick slices off the steaming chunk of tri-tip asked, “Two slices or three, miss?” she smiled and said “Three, please. I skipped lunch today”.

‘This should make up for lunch, then” he said as he sliced 3 thick slices and laid them on her plate, their centers pink and their edges darkly crusted with the spices which had been rubbed in and the sauce basted on as the final step in cooking.

One fragment of meat had dropped away from the slices, and Laura sneaked it off her plate and into her mouth as she carried the plate along to the next table to get the baked beans. The taste was indescribably good, nothing like any beef she’d eaten before, and the texture surprised her with how tender it was. She could understand now how she’d be able to cut the meat using only the serrated plastic knife in the package of utensils, and the sample of meat she’d eaten made her eager to get started. But first, one aproned woman ladled a big scoop of savory baked beans, with fragments of onion and bacon visible, into a second compartment on her plate, and a second woman used large tongs to fill the third compartment with crackling-fresh salad. Laura chose blue cheese from the selection of dressings available on the last table and drizzled some lightly over her salad. Unlike the vegetables she usually ate, which had traveled many miles and days to her grocery store in Montreal, the lettuce and other vegetables in the salad had been growing in fields in the Salinas Valley only yesterday. She knew she didn’t need to spice up or disguise the taste of this salad with a lot of dressing.

Monty had followed behind, loading up his plate too, and pointed to a couple of empty seats where they could sit to enjoy the meal. And they did enjoy their evening meal to the fullest, both the excellent food and each other’s company here in the Cow Palace on Cattlemen’s Day.

Little did they know that a disgruntled former employee of the Cow Palace had finished his evening meal at about the same time, nor could they have had any inkling that information would have any meaning for them.

Chapter 18

When they had eaten the last morsel of food, exclaiming over the taste of each item, Monty took their trash to a nearby barrel and then took Laura’s hand to better lead her through the throng in the arena. When they took one of the many exits under the stands and were out into the wide passageway circling the building, it seemed natural to keep holding hands although the crowds here were much thinner. There were a few people who hadn’t gone to the barbeque, and they were checking out the goods in the vendors’ stands, or purchasing beer, hot dogs, or other foodstuffs to tide them through the coming performance.