The Cowboy Way

by Christine Wenger

  “But how does he look?” Jake pushed.

  “He looks happier than I’ve ever seen him. He looks like a ten year old should. He has kids around him who are in wheelchairs like he is. He’s making friends, branching out, and he’s mesmerized by the cowboy who’s twirling a rope over his head.”

  “That’s Jason Wyatt doing the teaching. He has five kids of his own. He comes from a big, extended ranch-family with lots of nieces and nephews. I’d say he knows his way around kids like he knows his way around bulls.”

  “Kevin’s having fun.”

  “Fun? That’s part of it. He’s fingering a rope. Dying to try it himself. But what I’m getting at is that you were gone for a while and he’s perfectly okay. You can have some time to yourself without worrying about Kevin so much.”

  She stepped away. Her legs were working again. “Tell me, Jake, how would you feel if you saw your child all broken and bleeding?”

  He winced. That question hit him right in the gut. He didn’t want to see any kids like that. Kids were cute and fun and trusting, and he hated to see them hurt or suffering. “Kevin was barely conscious in the ambulance after the accident. I held his hand, and I wouldn’t let it go until they pried me away. With every breath I drew, I willed him to live. Otherwise I couldn’t have gone on living or breathing myself.”

  “I’d feel the same way,” Jake said softly.

  “Can you understand, then, why I protect him? Why I keep him close by my side and fuss over him? Why I give him everything I possibly can in the world?”

  “That’s why you brought him here,” Jake said. It was a statement, not a question.

  “Yes. That’s why I brought him here.”

  “Then why don’t you let him have some fun? And while you’re at it, let yourself have some fun.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “You’re still punishing yourself. You won’t allow yourself to have fun because you feel you don’t deserve it. I see it all the time with parents who come here.”

  A major curse word was on the tip of her tongue, but she held it back. Her hands balled into fists, and she pressed them to her sides in case she was tempted to let them fly into his jaw.

  But how could she, when deep down inside she knew that the cowboy was absolutely correct? Still, however good his intentions, his criticism cut deep.

  “Beth, I’m sorry. Like you said before, I have no right.”

  She held a hand up for him to stop. “Seems like all we do is apologize to each other. Maybe we should just keep our distance.”

  Chapter Five

  “I’m an idiot,” Jake mumbled as he mucked out Thunder’s stall. “A complete jackass. Why the hell am I getting involved with guests? Why her?”

  He nudged Lance’s rump out of the way and chucked a pitchfork full of matted hay into a wheelbarrow. Lance pushed him in the back with his nose, and Jake almost fell in the stuff.

  “I’m not in the mood, Lance.”

  He wheeled the load out and closed the stall. Then Jake spotted him—Clint Scully, the best rodeo clown in the business.

  Clint yawned from his cocoon in the fresh hay. “Can’t a guy get any sleep in this outfit?” He extended his hand.

  Jake took Clint’s hand and pulled him out of the loose hay. “Is the bunkhouse too modern for you?”

  “Too much noise.” Clint gave another big yawn, then stuck the end of a blade of hay into his mouth. “What’s up?”

  “What makes you think that anything is up?”

  “I’ve known you long enough to know that when you’re talking to yourself and mucking stalls like you’re mining the mother lode, you’re bothered about something. Now, if it ain’t something to do with bull riding, it has to be a woman. So which one is it?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Tell Uncle Clint. I can help.”

  “You’re not my uncle, and you have enough woman trouble of your own.”

  Clint sat down on a folding chair. “Ah, so it is a woman that has your jeans in a knot?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s go to the Last Chance tonight and you can cry in your beer.”

  “Can’t do it, Clint. I got a million things to do before tomorrow. And I could use your help.”

  Clint brushed some hay off his sleeves. “That’s why I’m here. Since you’ve just changed the subject, I’ll assume you want me to mind my own business.”

  “You got it.”

  “Then give me something to do.”

  Jake handed him the mucking rake. “How about finishing this while I go pick some apology wildflowers for a lady.”

  Clint slapped a hand on his heart. “Picking flowers? Shoot. You got it bad, you know that?”

  “Ya’ think?”

  “Yup.”

  You won’t allow yourself to have fun because you think you don’t deserve it.

  Beth wasn’t really concentrating on the roping instruction. She was enjoying the company of Kevin and the other kids who had arrived early, but Jake’s words kept running through her mind.

  When it was Kevin’s turn to give it a try, he circled the official Jake Dixon rope over his head and let it loose. He lassoed the horns on the plastic steer head and pulled the rope taut.

  Beth let out a cheer, but Kevin didn’t seem to hear. He was too busy high-fiveing the cowboys and the other kids.

  Inez, the owner of the apartment complex where she worked, once said that after children are born it’s the responsibility of the parents to start preparing them to leave the nest. “Just like the birds, Beth. Just like the birds,” she’d said.

  But her little bird was broken and scarred from too many operations: his femur, his pelvis, his collarbone, discs…

  She couldn’t push him out of the nest, so to speak. But she could give him more space to spread his wings.

  Darn that Jake Dixon. He might be right.

  She walked over to Kevin, leaned over and whispered that she was going to grab a bite to eat in the mess hall. “Would you like to join me?”

  He looked around her at the next roper. “No way, Mom. This is so awesome.” When he made eye contact with her, he explained, “I want to eat with the other kids and the cowboys. Okay?”

  “That’s fine, Kevin. You have a good time.”

  “We’ll see that he gets something to eat, ma’am,” said a cowboy twirling a rope over his head. “Cookie’s putting on some hot dogs and hamburgers and a big pot of beans.”

  “Did you hear that, Mom? Beans!”

  A bean had never crossed Kevin’s lips.

  She ruffled his hair and immediately regretted it when she heard a snicker from the boy sitting next to him. She noticed the embarrassed flush on his cheeks as he smoothed his hair back down.

  “See ya’ later, Mom.”

  “Have a great time,” she said, but Kevin’s attention was on another cowboy who was demonstrating “wrist action.”

  Beth walked to her cabin to freshen up. When she climbed the stairs to the porch, a flash of color caught her eye. On one of the rocking chairs was a bouquet of wildflowers. She froze as unhappy memories flooded her.

  Brad had given her flowers all the time. Flowers when he didn’t show up for dinner, when he forgot Kevin’s games because he was at a bar, whenever they fought over his drinking…

  She picked these flowers up and inhaled their fragrance. They were a colorful mix that she didn’t recognize. There were yellows and purples, and some white Queen Anne’s Lace.

  Were they from Jake?

  Maybe they were his way of apologizing for his earlier unsolicited advice.

  She smiled as she inhaled again. They weren’t fancy flowers from a shop, but they held more meaning for her. Jake had picked them himself; he hadn’t simply picked up a phone and ordered them. Not that he could. There probably wasn’t a flower shop within two hundred miles of here.

  She put them in a glass and filled it with water. Then she placed it on the kitchen table. They looked perfec
t in the rustic cabin.

  Then she did another thing she hadn’t done in years—a luxury that she never allowed herself. She went back on the porch, plopped herself in the hammock and closed her eyes.

  She was going to take a nap in the middle of the afternoon.

  Three hours later, she woke to the squeak of Kevin’s wheelchair coming up the ramp.

  “Are you okay, Mom?”

  She yawned and wiped at her eyes. “I’m fine. Why?”

  “You’re sleeping in the middle of the day.”

  “It must be the fresh air.”

  “You’re not sick?”

  “I’m just fine.” And she was. The nap had been just what she’d needed.

  “We’re supposed to meet Jake over at the mess hall for supper. Hear that, Mom? We’re going to eat supper with Jake Dixon.”

  If Kevin were any happier, he’d burst. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she’d rather not and that she’d decided to keep her distance from the amateur cowboy-psychiatrist. If she wanted analysis, she’d go to a professional.

  She took a deep breath and put a smile on her face. “Dinner with Jake would be fine, Kevin. About what time?”

  “He said six o’clock.”

  It was five-thirty now. “I’ll get ready and you get washed up. How did the roping go?”

  “K.C. told me that I was the best.”

  She stopped herself from ruffling his hair. “Cool.”

  “And I had hot dogs and beans. The beans were heated up from a can.”

  “Imagine that!”

  It didn’t take her long to run a comb through her hair, wash her face and put on a little makeup. Dressing up wasn’t necessary. No one wore anything but jeans at the Gold Buckle.

  It took Kevin a little longer, but when he came out of the bathroom, he was freshly scrubbed and he smelled like spices. He had a few more golden freckles across his nose from the sun.

  She sniffed the air. “What’s that you have on, Kevin?”

  “Ramon gave it to all of us cowboys. It’s called Bullistic. The people who make it are one of Ramon’s sponsors. He gave the girls perfume called Yellow Rose too.” He reached into the pouch that hung from his wheelchair and handed her a little box. “I asked Ramon for one for you.”

  “Why, how nice. Thanks for thinking of me, sweetie.”

  “Sure.”

  She dabbed a little perfume on her wrists. “Mmm…smells good.” It had a musky rose scent.

  “Hey, Mom?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you like Jake?” His eyes were hopeful.

  “Why…yes, sure. He’s a nice man. Why do you ask?” She took a deep breath.

  “I was just wondering.”

  “Honey, he’s a nice man. That’s all.”

  Kevin’s face showed exactly what he had on his mind—hope that Jake Dixon would be more to them than a “nice man.”

  “Let’s go eat, okay?” she said.

  “Mom, I forgot to tell you that I get to move into the bunkhouse with the other kids tonight. Isn’t that cool?”

  “Very cool, Kevin.” But her heart sank. Would he really be safe there?

  “You’ll be all alone,” he said, a touch of concern in his expression.

  Beth shrugged off her fears and smiled. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m absolutely sure.”

  That perked him up. Then she saw that although his eyes were bright, they were a little droopy. “You’ve had a long day. Let me push your wheelchair to dinner. I had a nice, long nap, so I’m wide awake.”

  “Naw, I’ll do it. I don’t want anyone to think I’m a wimp.”

  Beth walked slowly beside Kevin. When they got to the mess hall, a slim cowboy with a huge spongy orange cowboy hat perched on his head was leading a sing-along to “Home on the Range.”

  Pots clanged, dishes and glasses tinkled, laughter rang out. Beth and Kevin dodged wheelchairs, crutches and pedestrians and made their way to an empty table.

  “Mom, there’s Clint Scully! And J.C.! And Ross and Justin! Oh, there’s Gilbert and Adam! And here comes Jake!”

  They all looked familiar from TV and she’d read about them, but she didn’t recognize them the way Kevin did. She did see Jake making his way through the crowd to their table. Along the way, he stopped and talked. He shook hands with the kids and sometimes he crouched down to get eye-to-eye with them. There was always pain etched on his face when he tried to get back up.

  He had changed into a dark pair of jeans, or else they were brand new and never washed. He wore a dark green shirt with long sleeves with some kind of logo on it. Sponsor advertising, she guessed.

  He seemed inches taller than everyone else, or maybe it was just his presence that commanded attention. Whatever it was, Beth couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  “Howdy, Kev!” He shook hands with him, then tweaked his hat to her. “How are you doing, Beth?”

  “Fine. Do I have you to thank for the flowers?”

  He nodded. “Apology accepted?”

  “Accepted.”

  “Good. Shall we get some grub?”

  He put his hand on the small of her back, directing her to the line. Then he picked up a red plastic tray and handed one to her and one to Kevin. As they moved their trays along, they helped themselves to fried chicken, mashed potatoes and a tossed green salad.

  Kevin kept up his endless chatter, so it was easy for her to sit back and watch Jake Dixon. She loved how he related to Kevin and never talked down to her son. Several cowboys, kids and parents stopped by to talk to Jake. He was gracious to everyone, and she could tell they all adored him.

  Although she continued to recognize several of the cowboys when Jake introduced her, Kevin knew their stats, their current ranking for the Finals, their injuries and their ninety-point rides. Kevin couldn’t be happier, and that did her heart good. This was just what she’d hoped for.

  After eating what he could between interruptions, Jake excused himself to make an announcement. With his long, uneven strides that she had come to recognize, she watched as he climbed the two steps to the raised platform. She waited for the pain to appear on his face, and it did.

  “Welcome, everyone, to the annual Gold Buckle Wheelchair Rodeo.” Jake took his hat off and waved it in the air. “We are going to have a great time!”

  His enthusiasm was contagious. There was hooting and hollering and hat tossing. The cowboys were getting the kids excited, and the kids got right into it.

  “After dinner, the Wheelchair Rodeo participants will move into the bunkhouses. The bunkhouse with the blue door is for the cowboys, and the one with the pink door is for the cowgirls.”

  There was more hand clapping and hooting.

  “The program will begin at eight o’clock in the morning with the Pledge of Allegiance and a nondenominational cowboy and cowgirl prayer at the flagpole. Family and friends are welcome. A schedule of each day’s events will be available on your way out. In two days, the overnight trail ride will begin. This will be followed by Wheelchair Rodeo, where prizes will be given in each event.” He paused. “And that means Gold Buckles!”

  There was pounding on the tables, whistling and several yee-haws. The kids were in a frenzy, as excited as they could be. Their faces were flushed, their bodies were wiggling and a few wheelchairs spun in circles. Kevin was no exception. He was ready to rocket out of his wheelchair.

  “Now my mother, Mrs. Emily Dixon, would like to say a few words.”

  When Jake came down from the platform and walked back toward Beth, his limp was even more pronounced.

  As he sat down, his shoulder brushed hers, and when he reached for the hot sauce at the same time as she reached for a napkin, their fingers touched. A rush of heat coursed through her when he smiled.

  She tried to listen to Emily’s words, but Jake was too distracting. His Bull-istic aftershave drifted her way when he leaned over to say something to Kevin. Taki
ng a deep breath, she committed the scent to memory.

  Her mouth was dry, and she felt like a high school freshman with a crush. She reached for her iced tea and drank what was left in one gulp. She chewed on the remaining ice cubes, although she wanted to drop them in her bra or press them to her forehead to cool herself down.

  Jake stood up after Emily was done with her speech and everyone started moving out. “I’ll walk you two back to your cabin and help move Kevin’s gear into the bunkhouse.”

  “Thank you,” Beth said.

  She felt his hand, hot on her back, as he guided her through the crowd leaving the hall. As they walked to her cabin, she was grateful for the crisp air. It was helping her cool off.

  The thud-thud of Jake’s boots on the gravel made her smile. All that was needed was the twinkle of spurs and a Colt dangling from each hip, and they could be walking down the main street of a small Western town in 1880.

  A little later, as she was gathering Kevin’s gear and putting it in his saddle bag, it hit her that she’d be alone at the cabin.

  She felt giddy—and guilty—at the thought. It’d been a long time since she’d been free of responsibility, free to do anything she wanted during the next day.

  So take that, Jake Dixon. Maybe there was hope for her yet.

  She walked back into the living room and Jake took the bag from her.

  “Don’t worry about Kevin. He’ll be fine. But how about you? Are you going to be okay here alone?”

  Alone. There had been many times that she’d been alone in her marriage, even when Brad was there. But she wasn’t thinking of Brad. She was thinking of Jake.

  She pictured Jake stretched out naked on her bed. His hat was on the bedpost. His boots and jeans were in a pile on the floor. His blue eyes were dark with passion. She was wearing her buy-one-get-one-free red nightgown from Wal-Mart. He’d hold out his hand, much as he was doing now, and he’d say…

  “Beth, are you okay?” He shook her hand. “We’ll take good care of Kev. I promise.” He stressed the last two words. “See you at the flagpole at eight a.m. sharp.”

  She took a deep breath and exhaled, letting her daydream vanish. “’Night. I will hold you to your promise, Jake.”