"No, that's right, you don't." He reached up and touched the side of my head, his hand coming away covered with blood. "You can just bleed all over yourself until you die." He was getting worked up again. His jaw twitched angrily. "You don't need a damn hospital. What you need is a little time in jail for obstructing justice!"

The sight of blood, my blood on his hand, suddenly made me feel a little woozy. Weathers sensed this and softened a little.

"It ain't gonna kill you, but you'll need some stitches."

I looked past him and saw Sheila walking toward me with Vernell on one side and Keith on the other. Sheila was clinging to her father's arm, her head on his shoulder. Keith seemed to have been forgotten, and, if I knew my ever-changeable daughter, that probably meant he was already a fading memory. True life-and-death trauma can take the thrill out of young-love romance. Slowly, the world seemed to come back into focus, and I realized how tired I was, and how scared I'd been.

"Is it really over?" I asked Marshall.

"Yeah, honey," he said gently, "it's really over."

It was good to be back, doing the one thing that seemed to come natural to me: singing. When I walked into the Golden Stallion, for the first time in days, the boys fell all over themselves. Was I sure I wanted to sing tonight? Was I really all right? They didn't know how badly I needed this time, how much I wanted to feel normal again. Harmonica Jack knew. He didn't say a word, just smiled and took my guitar from me.

"I'll put it out on its stand," he said. "You go puke or whatever it is you do in the ladies' room."

I wanted to say something to him, but it wasn't necessary. Whatever might have passed between us was best not examined. We had a connection that bridged the usual man-woman type stuff, and I'd never had that before. So, I walked away.

Just before the band got started, Jack walked up again. A tall, very thin woman with short silver hair stood by his side, smiling expectantly. She looked like a floating angel, barely touching the ground, her skin a translucent white. I knew in an instant who she was, and I also knew something else. She was very, very ill.

"Hey, Maggie," he said. "This is Evelyn. Mom, this is Maggie."

Evelyn reached out and slipped a thin hand into mine. "I've been waiting to meet you," she said, her voice escaping in a delicate whisper, "but my body doesn't seem to want to cooperate these days."

My eyes met Jack and finally I understood his sadness.

"Evelyn's gonna stay for the first set," he said softly. "I'll go get her settled in."

Evelyn and I looked at each other and smiled.

"I really like your son," I said. "He's always talking about you."

Evelyn smiled and slipped her arm through his. "I'm right fond of him myself," she said. "But he needs to eat more." She looked from him back to me, her head moving quickly, like a little bird. "Maybe you can make sure he eats now and then?" she said.

"There's nothing I like better than laying on a home-cooked meal," I said. "Maybe I can get you both over for a Sunday dinner."

"Maybe," she said, her face suddenly wistful.

Sparks looked over and gave us the high sign; it was time. Jack steered Evelyn away and I walked offstage to wait for my cue.

The first set went off like clockwork, not a missed note, not a harmony out of place. I was back and it was good. Even Sparks was happy, his ten-gallon, white straw Stetson nodding over the pedal steel. But I should've known it wouldn't last. In the middle of the second set, while I was singing a particularly slow ballad, I saw Sugar Bear look offstage at something I couldn't see, nod, and walk over to Sparks.

This was all accomplished while Sugar Bear was picking out his solo, but he never missed a note. Jack didn't see the conversation between Sparks and Sugar Bear because he was trying to put a riff behind Bear's solo. I came back in for the last few lines, but not before I saw Sparks look over at me, frown, and then give the nod to Sugar Bear.

Before the next song could start, Sparks beckoned me over.

"Maggie, sit this one out."

"What do you mean, sit this one out? I'm the singer. I don't sit out!" If there was going to be trouble, I wanted in on it. If Sparks still had an axe to grind with me, he'd soon find out that I was no longer a pushover.

"Calm down, Maggie," he sighed. "Bear's just been working on something he wants to try."

"Oh," I said, still suspicious, but relieved that it wasn't a problem with me.

"You can put something behind it if you want," he said.

I looked over at Sugar Bear, who was adjusting my vocal mike to his height. He looked like a frightened teddy bear. To my knowledge, Sugar Bear had never sung the lead on a song. He was too bashful. In fact, I couldn't recall ever hearing him hum, let alone sing.

"What's he going to do?" I asked.

Sparks shoved his hat back on his head. "Some request. A Clint Black tune. 'Our Kind of Love.' You know it?"

Know it? It was my favorite cut off my favorite CD. Before Jimmy'd died, I'd listened to it almost every day. I'd sung the harmony along with Allison Krauss so many times, I could probably sing it in my sleep.

"Great! No problem. I'll do the harmony."

Sparks wasn't listening. He was counting off the intro and giving Bear an intense glare that said, "You'd best not mess this up!"

I walked to the side of the stage and brought Bear's mike down to my level. Jack was all the way across the stage, blowing his harmonica with his eyes closed, dancing in place. I started nodding, tapping my foot in time to the bass. When Sugar Bear began to sing, I stopped short. His voice rang through, rich and deep and very pure.

"Long ago, with a younger partner…"

"Now they hold their own, out on the liner…" I came in with the harmony, goose bumps raising up on my arms at the sound of our voices blending together. Out on the floor, the two-steppers swung into action. It was the perfect two-step tune.

As I watched, my eyes were drawn to a tall, lanky cowboy wandering through the dancers, his intense blue eyes staring into mine, his thick cowboy mustache twitching with a smile that I knew only too well. He walked right up in front of the stage where I stood and crooked his finger at me. He was asking me to dance!

I started to shake my head, my knees trembling just as they had that first night during my audition.

Down on the floor someone shouted, "Go on, Maggie, do it! Dance with him!"

Jack wandered across the floor, still blowing his harmonica while Sugar Bear sang.

"Go, Maggie, we got you covered," he said. He was smiling, and I looked behind him at the others. They were all smiling, and Sparks was actually motioning me off the stage. This was planned. Weathers had set me up again. Only this time I didn't mind at all.

I walked to the edge of the stage and down the steps and into the arms of my blue-eyed cowboy. I looked back at the stage. Jack was mouthing something I could just make out: "Breathe."

Marshall's arm slid around my waist, one firm hand pressing gently against my back, the other resting on my shoulder. We moved off onto the floor. I was dancing, floating in his arms. The boys chimed in behind Bear, blending their voices to make a perfect three-part harmony.

"I've been waiting a long time to do this," he said, his eyes reaching into mine.

I looked up at him and smiled. "A girl could do a lot worse," I said. He laughed and pulled me closer.

Mama's voice floated across the years, taking the place of the music for a brief moment. "Oh, you'll know, honey," she'd said. "You'll just know."

Acknowledgments

In its own wacky way, this book is about the importance of family I would like to acknowledge mine. Without their love and support, this book would never have become a reality and Maggie Reid would never have gotten her shot at stardom.