Pickup Cowboy 2

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The young aide was clearly drunk.
“Was there a Roy Rogers flea market?”
“Didn’t anyone tell you this wasn’t a costume party?”

Ann saw the look on the cowboy’s face, and stepped in quickly. This was not the place for a Senator’s aide to be thrown into the punchbowl — even if he deserved it, and even if the thought brought a smile to her face. “Did you see the painting on our way in?” She maneuvered him away from the loudmouth who was still jabbering. “It’s of my great-grandfather.”
The cowboy took one more sideways look at the aide before allowing himself to be escorted into the next room. “I was looking forward to meeting your Dad.”
“Plenty of time for that. He’s pretty busy with the other congressmen.”
The other congressmen? He had been impressed when he thought there was just a single Senator in the room. Now he felt completely out of his league.
The long hallway lobby was decorated with what looked like a felt design on the wallpaper, and several huge chandeliers spaced along the ceiling. Just past the entrance, she pointed to a painting of an energetic looking man with long muttonchop sideburns. “That’s great-grampaw,” she said. The small metal plaque under the painting read, “Governor Kenneth Abrams, (1896-1952).”
“Huh,” he mumbled. “Any politics in your family?”
“I don’t know how many generations,” she said. “I personally continued the trend by getting elected President of my Skeet Club.”
“You shoot?” He realized he shouldn’t be surprised. She seemed pretty good at everything.
“A little.” She didn’t mention her two AAU trophies. “We should go to my club sometime.” And I’ll see if you can shoot, she thought.
“Ok.”
They continued walking down the corridor.
Ann’s face turned serious. “I’m a little worried about my Dad. I think he’s under some kind of pressure.”
“Pressure about what?”
“I’m not exactly sure, but I was going to ask him about it tonight. He’s just been acting a little off.”

They walked a few steps further down the hall when there was the unmistakable sound of a gunshot, followed by people screaming.
Suddenly frantic attendees were streaming out of the ballroom, and the cowboy and Ann were pushed down the narrow hall toward the exit. Ann looked around desperately for her father, but soon they were outside in the entrance driveway, and she couldn’t see him anywhere. “Move away from the doors!”
Security and police were trying to control the crowd, and people were moving in every direction. Some were crying, and others were clearly in shock. Ann grabbed the sleeve of someone who looked familiar. “What happened?”
“I couldn’t see. There was a shot, and then everyone started running.”
“Did you see the Senator?”
“No, sorry.”
An ambulance siren filled the air, and police vehicles began to arrive with red and blue lights pulsing and reflecting on the white entrance doors.
Ann approached a police officer. “I have to get back inside. My father is still in there.”
“No one goes in, ma’am.”
Ann turned away, and the cowboy saw a tear in her eye.

A few anxious minutes later, two policemen walked up to the cowboy. “Could you come with us, sir?”
“What’s this about, officer?”
“There’s been a shooting, sir.” (No kidding, he thought.) “We just have a few questions.”
Ann said, “He was with me. We were in the hall when we heard the shot.”
The officer looked at her sternly. “That’s fine, ma’am. We still need to ask a few questions.”

And they walked away with the cowboy.

To be continued …