Whisperer by Jeanne Harrell

had started dancing off to one side and
others were eating. The steaks smelled divine.
    “What’s your
pleasure, sweetheart? Food, drink or dance?”
    “Drink first,
then food, lastly dance.”
    “Let’s do
it.”
    They joined
Jesse and Audrey who were talking to Jason. The noise level had
cranked up a notch with the music. Lily had surprised Sandy with a
local cowboy band determined to keep things hopping.
    Jeanne, who had
seen Colt and Mandy’s serious discussion by the house, whispered to
Sam, “I think we’re in Act Two now, Sam.”
    “What makes you
say that, honey?” He looked over at the couple.
    “I know movies
and this has all the feel of going from ‘All’s well’, to ‘maybe
something’s up’.
    “How do you
know?”
    “I just know,
that’s all. ‘ Philadelphia Story’ ? Not, that’s not right.
‘ Footloose ’? Possibly, when the creepy ex-boyfriend comes
back to bother Kevin Bacon and Lori Singer.”
    “You’re saying
there’s an ex-boyfriend in the picture? How in Heaven’s name could
you know something like that?” He turned to stare at her.
    “Darling, when
you look as good as that girl, there’s ALWAYS an ex-boyfriend.”
    Sam laughed.
“Colt can take him.”
    Several bottles
of Chardonnay later, or beer, take your pick, the party guests were
having a great time. Dinner was excellent, with the birthday boy as
chief chef, and lots of old family stories were told. Jeanne had
brought her famous red velvet cake for Sandy’s birthday and too
many candles were now being lit.
    “Seriously,
Dad,” said Miles, “the house is going to burn down with all that
fire.”
    “You said that
last year, bro,” laughed Janie. “Think of new material. You’re the
author…” Everyone roared and Miles looked sheepish.
    “We need a
toast, someone,” said Lily. “Colt, how about it? Want to toast your
father? That almost sounds like a Freudian slip. And I mean toast
and not roast.” Laughter all around.
    “Sure, Mom.” He
paused and looked over at his dad. “I’d like to give a toast to
Sandy Johnson. A unique man who put me in my first pair of cowboy
boots and taught me about life. Raise your glasses, here’s to my
incredible father.” A few tears in the audience and then, “To
Sandy…” Everyone applauded and Sandy went over to hug Colt. Mandy
got tears in her eyes too. This family really loved each other --
it was obvious to see. She was very happy to be a part of it.
    After blowing
out birthday candles and sharing pieces of cake with everyone,
Sandy was ready for something else.
    “Okay, let the
entertainment begin,” he announced. “Who’ll start us off?” He
looked around the room. “Any takers?”
    Mandy whispered
to Colt, “What’s up?”
    “After an event
like this, we all do a little something for fun. It can take any
form.”
    “You first,
Sandy. It’s your birthday… Give us a poem,” said Sam. “What do you
think, everybody?” The audience applauded raucously. Lots of
whistles and catcalls. A few raspberries…
    Colt explained
to Mandy. “Dad’s a cowboy poet and has participated in many cowboy
poetry gatherings around Nevada. His poetry is well-known in
several western states.”
    The audience
fell quiet. Sandy stood up and began speaking. He spoke eloquently
of his love for his family and the land in which he was born. As
usual, he closed his eyes. He passionately spoke of those big
Nevada skies and the pine and pinion-covered landscapes. Rhythm,
rhyme, image, meter – it was all there. Mandy had closed her eyes
too and could hear the thunder and visualize the lightening. She
could hear the wind in the aspens and see hawks flying above.
    When he
finished, the audience actually hooted and hollered. The Old West
is still alive and kicking, she thought and smiled. He was good …
    Miles got up
next and had brought a copy of his latest book, Tales of
Nevada. It was a collection of short stories, he explained, and
proceeded to read one of them. The story