Taken By The Bull

“That’s not true.” Steve kept his eyes on her as she stroked the animal, looking a little like a parent watching over a child petting an unknown dog. “Cattle are colorblind.”

“Then, why do people wave red capes at them, and why do those rodeo clowns wear so much red?”

“It’s just a nice color. So I hear.”

She turned her head at that, narrowing her eyes as the sunlight caught her full in the face. His arms were folded comfortably across his chest, shirt-sleeves rolled up over strong forearms. “You can’t see colors?”

“I see shades of things. But, if I was in a movie and someone asked me to cut the green wire and not the red one, there’s a fifty-fifty chance we’d all be blown skyward.”

“Huh…” A part of her felt as she should express sympathy for that – as if saying ‘sorry’ actually had any meaning. He didn’t seem bothered by it; more interested in her reaction. “I guess, you’re lucky you’re not a woman, then. A lot of us get awfully heated up over matching nail polish colors with our shoes, and you don’t even want to know about that deal with the color-changing dress.”

“What about you?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. “That kind of thing bother you? You don’t seem like the kind of person who worries about your shoes.”

“I haven’t had time for that, in – in well, a long time.” Staci brushed the question aside, feeling a little awkward. “Unless I’m getting all cleaned up for the camera, and that doesn’t happen often. Mostly I’m racing around trying to scrounge up information for someone else’s report, and there’s never any time to stop and worry about the color of my nails.”

“And here was me, thinking I was dealing with a veritable April O’Neil!” His sociable grin faltered suddenly. “I didn’t mean that in a rude way.”

“No – no, it’s okay.” She shrugged it off and turned back to looking out over the North field, resting her elbows on the fence post. “I’m on my way up. You’ll see me on the National news within a year, so my mother says. Of course, she’s – she’s been saying that since I was twenty-one, but these things take time. Just like with Seth.”

Though she half-expected Steve to say something quick and friendly, the way he always seemed to, she was met with silence. A pretty discomfiting one, after all that warm chatter. Turning back, she saw him standing perfectly still with one hand raised to shade his eyes, staring back out towards the ranch house. “Steve? What is it?”

“Looks like we got a small storm blowing in from the South,” he murmured. “A cold front, you might say.”

Her mouth pulled tight. What’s he talking about…? Her eyes lifted to follow his gaze and saw a tall blonde woman striding across the field towards them.

Oh, my. That’s her. The ex. Dawn, was it? Instinctively Staci’s hand moved to the pocket of her shirt where the tiny microphone was clipped, as if checking it was still there – checking that it would be catching all of this. Just in case.

Always, just in case.