by Jane Porter
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I just wish I’d know then that I wasn’t responsible for their unhappiness. I thought it was my job to fix things, and I couldn’t.”
*
Billy suddenly understood her so much better. He now understood why she’d studied psychology and counseling. He understood why she’d been so determined to reunite Beck with him. He also understood why she hadn’t believed she could manage raising Beck on her own.
She didn’t believe she could.
She didn’t think she had value.
She saw herself as inherently broken.
And it killed him because she was undoubtedly one of the kindest, strongest, most generous women he’d ever met. She asked for little for herself, and yet when she made a mistake, beat herself up endlessly. “What about you and April?” he asked. “Were you close growing up?”
“We used to see each other at Christmas and other holidays as Aunt Sara would try to join us at Christmas, but as we grew older, and Aunt Sara’s boyfriends grew worse, Dad didn’t want Sara over. Sara and April were always welcome, but not Sara’s boyfriends.”
“So Sara stopped coming.”
Erika nodded, her eyes, such an unusual mix of green and blue that they looked different every day, narrowed. “By the time we were teenagers, April and I had very little contact. I didn’t even know I was her emergency contact until they called me after her accident. I feel bad—”
“About everything,” he said, cutting her off. “I know.”
“That’s not fair,” she protested.
“Maybe not, but I have a feeling it’s pretty accurate.”
She lifted her head and looked at him, brow creasing. Thick golden hair framed her stunning face. He wondered if she had any idea of just how beautiful she was, inside and out. If she wasn’t Beck’s person, he’d find it awfully hard to keep his distance. But Beck didn’t just need him, he needed her, and Erika wasn’t the kind of woman you took to bed and then kicked out the next morning, and that was the only kind of woman he got involved with because just as she knew her limitations, he knew his. He wasn’t relationship material. He cared about people, but he didn’t love, not deeply love, not the way a woman wanted to be loved.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked huskily.
“Everyone should be this nice to you. You’re a really good person, Erika Baylor.”
Her mouth curved and then trembled. “Am I?”
He nodded, a peculiar pang in his chest. “One in a million.”
*
Erika went to bed and dreamed sweet dreams. Billy had made her feel good last night, something remarkable considering their fight earlier. After she lost her cool, she usually hated herself for a long time, loathing her lack of control, loathing her inability to handle difficult situations. But Billy had been kind to her and comforting, as well. He’d managed to help salvage an evening that could have been disastrous. She was grateful. However, his insights into her were a little too accurate, and a little too unsettling, but since he didn’t seem to mind that she was flawed, then she was going to let go of everything and just try to move forward.
She certainly moved forward in her dreams. She dreamed that she and Billy were together—not necessarily a couple—but they were hanging out and things were fun and there was no Beck. It was just them and they were driving through mountains and everything was bright and glazed with sunshine. She was laughing at something he said and then somehow they were parked and he was kissing her, really kissing her and she was on his lap and she’d never been kissed like that before, where everything felt so good, and so warm, and so perfect.
She woke up still warm, and happy, feeling relaxed, as well as loved.
And then she realized she was in the dark motel room and that warm glowing buoyant feeling was from a dream. There was no wonderful drive through mountains, no gilded light, no wind in her hair, no kiss that made her feel like she was made of glitter and sunshine.
Her eyes burned and she pressed the pillow over her face, overwhelmed by a disappointment she didn’t understand.
*
Two hours later, Erika was changing Beck’s diaper when Billy texted.
“I’ll have a ticket for you at WILL CALL if you want to come today. I understand if you don’t. Either way, let’s go out to eat tonight. Craving a good steak.”
The wobbly sensation returned to her insides, and she felt a little glimmer of the sun she’d felt in her dream. It wasn’t a date tonight but it did sound fun to go out and have a meal somewhere besides her motel room.
She texted back an answer. “Beck and I will be in the stands cheering for you. Good luck!”
It was different arriving at the rodeo fairgrounds today. She felt as if she belonged there, and today, all the fans looked friendly and almost familiar. Erika found herself wishing she had a cowboy hat to wear, just so she could be part of the fun. But Beck’s dad would be competing, and so was his uncle. Despite Billy’s bad day yesterday, he’d still made it into the finals of a couple of his events, and Erika headed for her seat, determined to keep her distance from Billy today so he could concentrate and prepare for his first event.
Seated, she listened to the crowd chatter around her. Everyone was in a good mood. The weather was cooperating with sun and little wind. Erika had forgotten the baby carrier, so she just sat Beck on her lap, and he was happily eating his fist.
Yesterday she’d missed the opening ceremonies but today she saw it all, and then the first event was announced and Erika’s pulse drummed, aware that Tommy would be riding soon. Billy had told her last night that Tommy was having a great weekend, having placed in the finals in every single event he’d entered. She was excited that she’d have two Wyatts to cheer on today, and Tommy did have an excellent time in his first event. The other cowboys, though, didn’t look so lucky. Most were bucked off right and left, few making the eight second buzzer. The challenging rides continued through the early afternoon. It didn’t seem to matter if it was a horse or bull, but the rodeo clown and announcers made it all entertaining, and Erika was surprised she was enjoying herself so much.
Then finally it was Billy’s turn, and he came flying out of the narrow chute on the big chestnut horse, the bronc jumped and bucked, hind legs flying. It was simultaneously spectacular and thrilling as the horse and Billy went up, down, the horse kicking up back legs so high, he went down—all the way to the ground, the horse rolling over on Billy, with Billy still tangled in one stirrup. The crowd gasped and surged to their feet and Erika was on her feet, too.
As if in slow motion, she saw the bronc’s hooves connect with Billy, as they both tried to escape each other. Then the horse was free, still bucking and kicking. Billy struggled to get to his feet but crumpled back to the ground, dirt clouding around him. That was when the crowd went silent, and everyone stood in silence as medics ran out.
Gradually, everyone around her began sitting back down, and Erika slowly sat, too, heart in her throat. Seeing Billy on the ground sent panic through her.
Beck needed his dad.
She needed Beck’s dad.
Billy had to be okay.
Tommy was out there in the arena now, too, and Tommy and one of the medics assisted Billy to his feet, but Billy couldn’t straighten. He stood hunched, his torso bent, left arm hanging limply. He lifted his right hand to the crowd in an attempt to wave, as if reassuring the fans he was fine, but he would have fallen if it weren’t for Tommy holding him up.
Billy was half carried, half dragged from the ring, disappearing behind the tall gates that shut behind him, blocking the view.
The crowd was still quiet and the announcers in the high box began their cheerful chatter again, smoothing over the frightening scene, talking about what a cowboy Billy Wyatt was, that all of the Wyatts were true cowboys, and that the announcer had had the privilege of knowing Billy’s father, JC Wyatt, a legend in his time.
Erika tuned out the announcer and tried to th
ink what she should do. Beck made a little peeping sound and she nodded. Beck was right. Find Billy. That was what she needed to do. With trembling hands, she gathered their things, shifted Beck to the other arm, and made her way through the stands, past the snack and food stands, to the pens where livestock waited. She knew now where the cowboys warmed up, and she went there, slipping between cowboys, heading toward an open ambulance that had someone on the gurney in back. She spotted Tommy then, standing near the ambulance talking to someone in a blue chambray shirt with a stethoscope around his neck. Tommy looked grim, nodding once, and then his head turned and his gaze met hers. He said something to the man and then walked toward her.
“He’s going to be okay,” Tommy said, without preamble. “They’re taking him to the hospital in town, and it’s serious, but doc doesn’t think it’s life-threatening. They’re leaving now, though, and they’ll call me later with updates.”
She looked up into his face, trying to read his expression. “You’re not going?”
“No.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Compete.”
She didn’t understand. The brothers were close, almost inseparable. “You’re still going to ride, even with Billy hurt?”
“He’s going to be in surgery. It will be hours. There’s nothing I can do until later.” Tommy must have seen her confusion, because he added, “This is our agreement. This is what we do. If it’s life-threatening, the other goes. If it’s just some broken bones, punctured lung—”
“Punctured lung?”
“We carry on. It’s the only way competing makes sense. Otherwise, we’d never get any wins, or money, under our belt.”
“Should I go to the hospital?”
Tommy glanced from her down to Beck, who was chewing his hand. “And do what?” he asked, tone kind. “You’re going to sit around all day, in a germ-filled waiting room. It will be hours before Billy’s out of surgery. Then he’d be in recovery, and they’ll be monitoring him as he wakes up. Might as well stay here, in the sunshine, soaking up vitamin D, and then when I’m done, I’ll drive you over. We’ll go together. I promise that that’s what Billy would want, too.”
It made sense, in a horrible sort of way. “Does this happen often?” she asked, heartsick, because to be honest, it hadn’t crossed her mind that they’d get hurt very often. They were both so successful that it seemed as if they had a pretty good handle on how competition worked.
“Often enough we have the drill down. Going to the hospital is never cheap, either. No one likes to get hurt. That’s not why we ride and rope. We’re trying to earn money, not spend it.”
“Are you sure I shouldn’t—”
He nodded. “I’m sure. And I promise we will go straight away when I’m done. I’ll be finished long before Billy is out of recovery.”
Erika returned to the stands but her heart wasn’t in it anymore. The afternoon passed slowly, and what had been so exciting earlier, now filled her with dread. It didn’t help that all she could think about was Billy, and wondering about his surgery and how he was doing.
It was late when Tommy found her in the stands. “Ready?” he asked.
She nodded, more than ready. Tommy took Beck from her and they walked out of the rodeo grounds together. “Should we take your car since it has the car seat already in it?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll drive, though,” he said. “I know Boise probably better than you.”
“I know the motel, and the fairgrounds, and that’s it.”
He flashed her a smile. “Sounds like you need to get out more.”
“Tell that to your brother.”
“I will.”
She unlocked the car as they approached it, and then handed him the keys. “Have you heard from the hospital?”
He nodded as he opened the door for her, so that she could buckle Beck in. “He’s awake, grouchy as a bear.”
“Surgery went well?” she asked, stepping back.
He closed the door and then opened her door. “Seems so.”
Erika slid into the passenger seat and pulled the seat belt across her. “Are you sure this doesn’t happen often?”
Tommy didn’t answer until he was behind the steering wheel and typing the hospital’s address into his phone. “We’ve been lucky.” He paused. “For the most part.”
“It was terrible to watch.”
“The majority of injuries occur during rough stock events.”
“Rough stock?”
“Bull riding, bareback riding, and saddle bronc riding.” Tommy shifted into gear, and followed the GPS directions which indicated that it would take them about fifteen minutes to get across town. Neither of them said much on the way, and it wasn’t until Tommy had found a spot in the parking lot that she asked him if he was worried about Billy. “You have to be a little bit concerned?”
Tommy shrugged as he stepped out of the car. “Every injury makes it a little harder to stay in the game, so there’s that.”
She shouldered Beck and fell into step with Tommy’s long strides. “And?”
“Billy’s going to be bummed. He was having a good year.”
“He’s done for the year?”
“I didn’t say that. But no one wants to miss a week, much less a month or two, and he’s going to miss a fair amount of time. Just how long is yet to be seen.”
*
The doctors spoke to Tommy, not her, which made sense as she wasn’t family, but she stood off by the tan vinyl chairs, gently bouncing Beck to keep him asleep as she strained to hear what the surgeon was telling Billy’s brother. Tommy looked grave, but not horrified or distraught—not that the Wyatt brothers would ever look distraught—so the update couldn’t have been a complete shock to Tommy.
Tommy joined her a few minutes later and filled her in quickly, so quickly that she struggled to process it all. Clavicle fracture, scapula fracture, broken ribs, punctured lungs. Surgery repaired the broken bones, displacement, and lungs. Billy was out of recovery in a room now, but still heavily sedated since he’d done some thrashing about when he first woke up and so he was sleeping now, which the doctor thought was a good thing.
Erika’s brow creased as Tommy spoke, her frown deepening as he continued through the litany of injuries. “He’ll recover, right?”
“Oh, yeah. He’ll be back in the saddle late summer.”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”
“Knowing my brother, he’ll want to be competing sooner. It just depends on his rehab.”
“Where will he go for rehab?”
“Oh, he won’t. He’ll just do it at home. Billy’s been through this before. We all have. Even though a physical therapist is recommended, we’d rather do the exercises on our own.”
“So, he’s going back to your ranch.”
“No, he’ll want to go to his place in Utah. Pulling the trailer, it’s about eight and a half hours from here.”
Erika stared at him, perplexed. “He must be close to Las Vegas?”
“His place is closer to Bryce. I’m assuming that’s where he’d want to go, but I guess we’ll need to see what he’s thinking when he wakes up.” Tommy glanced at his watch. “Why don’t I drive you to your hotel so you and Beck can have dinner and relax? I’ll worry about Billy.”
She hesitated. “I feel bad that I’m not doing anything.”
“But what can you do?”
She had no answer for that.
Chapter Six
Billy had been bucked, kicked, rolled on, and stomped on before.
He’d been gored.
He’d been thrown.
He’d been dragged around in the arena, foot caught in ropes.
He’d been afraid before. It was only natural when an animal weighing more than a thousand pounds was doing the stomping, rolling, dragging, and kicking, but this time, this injury was different. This time, as the horse rolled on him, pinning him beneath, he thought of only one thing—his son. Not tr
ue, he thought of Beck in Erika’s arms, her lovely golden head tipped as she gave the top of his bald head a kiss. And in that moment of stunning pain, Billy knew he had to be okay. His son needed him to be okay. It wouldn’t be fair to Erika to disappear on them now.
It was while being transported in the ambulance, and then rushed into surgery, brain cloudy with drugs and pain, he realized something about himself. He was full of bull. He acted like he didn’t have a care in the world, when he had many. He loved his mom profoundly, and his grandfather meant everything to him. His brothers were his best friends and he knew that if anything happened to him, the whole family would suffer. They would hurt, and he would never want them to grieve, not for him, or over him. He liked making his mom laugh. He enjoyed being one of her ‘bad boys,’ not because he was truly bad, but because it made her lips quirk, and her head shake, and yet even then, her eyes would light up with a secret, silent amusement.
But his family were adults, and his brothers were men. They could all fend for themselves. But Beck was just an infant, and he deserved better. He deserved more. Beck had already lost his mother. He shouldn’t lose his father.
It was his last thought before he went under the anesthesia, and the first thought when he began to come round in recovery. He was a dad now. He had to do better. Be better. Even groggy, his limbs so heavy he couldn’t move, Billy vowed to step up.
But when Erika visited with Beck later that evening, he didn’t know how to say any of this, not when his body throbbed, and his head ached, and he felt almost as helpless as Beck.
“Thanks for coming,” he said, his voice raspy.
“Of course,” she answered, taking a step closer to the bed, the baby on her hip. “How do you feel?”
“How do I look?”
“Pretty rough.”
“Makes sense, because that’s how I feel.”