Aiming for the Cowboy. Mary Leo

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      “He wants you to come down and pick a piggy for the race,” Gavin told him.

      “Pick number one, Papa, Bob Beboar. He’s the biggest,” Joey ordered, then burst out laughing again.

      But Colt couldn’t seem to move. Way too many things were going on at the same time.

      “Daddy, hurry up. You’re holding up the race,” Gavin ordered.

      “What? No. This is a kid’s race,” Colt mumbled, feeling like a first-class fool.

      “Come on down, sir. Come get your snout on,” the Swinemaster shouted, holding up a rubber pig snout attached to a white stretchy band. Then the Swinemaster proceeded to pick three other volunteers, kids well under the age of ten.

      Feeling completely discomfited, Colt made his way down the metal stairs with everyone cheering him on as they made a path for him to get by.

      When he passed Helen, he said, “I didn’t think it was true.”

      “That’s why we need to talk,” she said over the hoots coming from the crowd. “If you can tear yourself away from Lana Thomson long enough for a private conversation.”

      “What? No. You have the wrong idea. We’re not—”

      “It seems one of our team captains is holding up the race,” the Swinemaster bellowed. “Sir, we need you to pick out your favorite piggy.”

      Everyone in Colt’s section began hooting and yelling for him to get down to the front.

      “Don’t leave,” he told Helen, hoping she wouldn’t lose interest in talking to him because of Lana.

      “I’ll be here,” she said, but she didn’t look happy.

      He walked off toward the Swinemaster and the piglet cages at the start line. It seemed as if everyone in the entire arena was cheering for him. Of all the confounded situations for him to find himself in, this certainly was not one he had anticipated when he left the ranch that morning.

      The Swinemaster handed Colt and the three children, two boys and a girl, their rubber snouts. Colt stared at it for a moment, as if there was no way he was slipping the silly thing on his face, until the other kids started poking him to put it on. He really had little choice in the matter. He slipped off his cowboy hat, and snapped the contraption around his head, making sure his snout was securely in place over his nose.

      “Of all the crazy things...”

      The audience seemed to love the entire spectacle and continued to cheer and laugh. Whatever friends he had in the audience called out his name, then whistled. He wondered if he would ever be able to live it down.

      “And what’s your name, sonny?” the Swinemaster asked Colt, thrusting the microphone in front of his face, obviously milking the situation.

      “Colt.”

      “And how old are you, Colt?”

      “You’re kidding, right?”

      “Nope. How old are you?”

      “Too old.”

      “Apparently you’re not too old to wear a snout.”

      Colt could feel himself blush as he adjusted his snout. “Apparently.”

      The crowd roared with laughter as Colt decided to roll with it.

      “And seeing as how you’re the tallest, we’ll give you first pick.”

      “My boys told me to pick Bob Beboar.”

      His section clapped and cheered as the Swinemaster’s male helper secured a large number one on either side of the baby swine.

      Then the other kids were asked the same questions while Colt watched as Helen was offered a seat in the first row. Soon his three boys had made their way down to where Helen sat and squeezed in around her, with Joey sitting on her lap. His boys seemed to enjoy being around Helen, and he felt the feeling was mutual on her part. She could always get them to laugh and they loved hearing her stories from being on the circuit. If it wasn’t for her gypsy soul, he probably would’ve considered seriously dating her a long time ago.

      Lana now sat alone up in the stands, straining to get his attention. He caught her waving out of the corner of his eye. When he finally glanced her way, she threw him a kiss, keeping her cherry-colored lips puckered while she pretended to blow the kiss his way. Colt didn’t exactly know what to do with that, so he grinned and nodded, not wanting to seem rude. She instantly feigned a demure pose and blinked her eyes several times.

      To Colt’s complete dismay he realized she thought he was flirting with her. And to compound matters, it was at that exact moment when Helen glanced back at Lana, then back at Colt. He caught the snide look on her face just before she said something to his boys, stood and scooted Joey into her seat, then headed for the exit.

      Colt didn’t want her to go, not without talking to her about her baby. Plus, he really didn’t want her to think there was anything between him and Lana but air.

      “No! Helen, wait!” he shouted, and that was all it took for his boys to go tearing after her at the exact moment the piglets took off on the track.

      What happened next was something the townsfolk would talk about for years to come.

      In Joey’s enthusiasm to catch up with Helen, he jumped the barrier to try to stop her. His foot must have gotten tangled up on the piglet-size metal fence, and just as Bob Beboar, who happened to be in the lead, along with Stephanie Porkman on his tail, rounded the turn, the barrier flopped down and all four piglets ran off in different directions into the stunned crowd.

      Soon piglet mayhem erupted while Colt tried to catch his boys. The entire throng of people went completely hog wild, with adults, kids, pigs and the Swinemaster trying their darnedest to catch the little critters before they disrupted the entire festival.

      Within minutes, Colt managed to grab a hold of Bob Beboar in one arm and catch Joey around the waist in his other arm. He couldn’t tell which squirmed more, the piggy or his son, both equally angry for the sudden loss of freedom. Gavin and Buddy were too slippery for him, and disappeared chasing down the piglets with Helen in hot pursuit.

      “I’ll catch the boys,” she yelled back at Colt.

      Lana, on the other hand, managed to remain unruffled, that is until Colt walked up to her as she stood chatting with one of the pig wranglers who’d stayed behind, undoubtedly, to collect the returned piglets and to protect the other sixteen swine from escaping in the confusion.

      “Thanks,” the wrangler said, tipping his black hat in Colt’s direction then grabbing hold of the wiggling piglet with both hands.

      Soon Olive Oinkly was returned, along with Josephine Hoglarson, and the pandemonium seemed to be dying down in their immediate area. But Colt could hear screams and roars coming from the booths where the crafts and various vintners displayed their finest.

      With judicious hesitation, Colt put Joey down, but held on to the back of his cotton tee.

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