“What?” Jessie seemed bewildered by Henry’s behavior.

“It’s a movie theater,” Henry blurted.

Jessie walked back to where he was standing. “Never seen one before?”

“Sure I have. I guess it’s just been a while.”

“Really? How long of a while?”

“Boy.” Henry stopped to think. “Years.” He looked back up at the marquee. “A lot of years.”

“No kidding?” Jessie grinned, seeing an opportunity that she couldn’t pass up. “How about you and I go to a movie some time. My treat.”

“Really?”

“Sure.” She turned and began walking again. “I think you’d like it. They have sound now and everything.”

Henry heard the humor in her voice, and couldn’t help but smile.

“We should probably get on back,” she said. “I expect they’ve got the truck loaded by now.”

“Okay,” Henry agreed. Just as he turned to follow, a flyer in the window of the store next to the theater caught his eye. On a brightly colored ten-by-twenty sheet of posterboard read: 63rd Annual 4th of July Celebration. Fireworks, hayrides, watermelon seed spitting contest, dunk tank, potluck supper in the park. Dance at the American Legion—8pm–12 midnight. Live music by the Clifford County Wranglers.

The item on the poster that really caught Henry’s attention was the second to the last, Dance at the American Legion—8pm–12 midnight.

A dance, Henry thought.

The ride back to the ranch wasn’t any smoother and only slightly less hurried than the ride into town had been. As they pulled into the yard, Mrs. Rodriguez stepped from the house and walked toward the truck. Henry unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed from the cab, not quite as nauseous as he had been when he’d gotten out at the feed store. Mrs. Rodriguez’ glance as she walked past him said I told you so, and Henry knew then that if she suggested something to him in the future, he should definitely pay attention.

CHAPTER 28

By the time Henry had finished his dinner that evening and gotten to the bunkhouse he was feeling much better. Yet, it didn’t help the fact that, as was his nightly custom, he fought with first one boot as he peeled it off his foot, then he fought with the other, before dropping them both unceremoniously to the floor. He sat for a minute on the edge of his bed, shaking his head and cursing the fact that he didn’t have a bootjack, when, through the nearby open window he heard what was by now starting to become a familiar sound. Already certain of what he would see, Henry rose from his bed and looked out the window, across the yard and into the pasture where Jessie was standing with horses milling around her as if she were some kind of rock star being surrounded by adoring fans.

It was the third time in as many weeks that he had seen the horses of the herd come to her like she was the pied piper. It was the seventh time overall. In nearly every case, as soon as Jessie had finished with the horses and left the pen or pasture, Henry would sneak in behind her and try to replicate what she could so effortlessly achieve. So far, he was zero for seven.