A Wild Red Rose by Lynn Shurr

wrinkled his brow as if wondering what possible use she could be outside of a bedroom, then snapped his fingers. “I’ll put you down to be a hugger. Sleep tight now.” The clown chortled as he walked away.
    “Clint, what’s a hugger?”
    “You know, you give out hugs after the kids finish their races. Hugs, like this.” He opened his arms wide, and Renee stepped into them. Clint drew her tight against him and gave her a squeeze. She nestled her head against her chest and sighed.
    “Hey, that’s a snuggle, not a hug. You got to let go after a hug, or you’ll give some of these boys the wrong idea. Now, if you want to snuggle, we got a bed in the trailer.”
    “What if all I want to do is snuggle?”
    “Then, that’s all we’ll do.”
    “Really? Tonight, I might want to do something more, but I may take you up on that offer another time.” Renee swayed away from Clint drawing him after her like the Belly Nelle towing The Tin Can.
    ****
    Come morning, Clint fried eggs using some of the bacon grease. Renee wrinkled her nose and accepted only slices of wheat toast slathered with the organic strawberry preserves and the coffee he perked in the old pot. As Clint, eating right out of the pan, mopped up the broken yolks with his bread, Renee twisted a finger in her long red hair and questioned him.
    “How come we’re living like this and Snuffy has that gorgeous motorcoach and a ranch?”
    “Oh, Snuff’s been on the circuit a long time. He’s been careful with his money and saved up. I told you I’m putting away for a doublewide, so The Tin Can will have to do for now.”
    “I see.” She sighed, not the kind of sigh she’d given him last night. “So, what does a hugger wear for this event?”
    “Oh, they’ll give you a T-shirt. I’d wear jeans and athletic shoes if you don’t have boots. There’s bound to be horse manure and cow plop down in the arena area where you have to stand.”
    “Great. So, all these kids are—ah—retarded.”
    “I think the term used now is special needs children.”
    “We didn’t have special needs children at Mt. Carmel. I’m not sure I can do this. The idea kind of sickens me, and I’m not good with children anyhow.” Renee wrinkled her nose even though she knew it emphasized other tiny lines in her face.
    “Renee, they are only kids who want to have some fun and get a hug at the end of their event. Tell them how good they did and don’t sweat it. We got to hustle before they run out of T-shirts in your size. Not many of those. Come on now.”
    Renee came, dressed as Clint recommended and still feeling squeamish. She shrugged into an XXL yellow cotton shirt proclaiming Snuffy’s Special Rodeo in bright red letters and pulled it over the tight turquoise tank tucked into her snug black jeans. She checked her outfit in the window of the snack bar. The hump of the bucking bull on the shirt sat roundly on the end of one of her breasts and looked extra-extra large as well. It wasn’t haute couture. Maybe the hat would help. She settled the straw cowboy hat with the little feathers in the band that Clint had given her on her head. Good, no one she knew would recognize her—if they happened to be in Casper, Wyoming at the end of June, unthinkable for most of her crowd except maybe Bodey Landrum.
    She turned to find Clint had disappeared into a crowd of children who remembered him from past appearances. A big woman with a clipboard shouted, “Huggers over here!” That’s where she went.
    The ring cleared of volunteers who had been giving pony rides. Stepping carefully, Renee took her assigned place and waited patiently while one child after another tried to rope a mounted steer’s head. Each awkward contestant seemed to get an infinite number of chances to succeed, and when they did, they came running for their hug. Some whooped, some lumbered, some jerked with uncontrollable spasms in her arms. She tried not to flinch and received hugs as well as gave them. An