by Lori Wilde
He shrugged. “Is what it is.”
She stopped putting on her shorts, mid-pull. “No.” She scooted to the edge of the table and wrapped her arms around him. “Don’t shut me out like I’m somebody who doesn’t matter. You’re hurting. I’m here. Lean on me.”
He held himself stiff—apart. For about thirty seconds. Then, without his say so, his arms went around her. He rested his cheek on the top of her head and breathed in her scent. Her acceptance. He stayed there until his jaw unlocked. When he lifted her chin and kissed her, his brain got all mixed up with wanting, and gratitude, and . . . he steered his thoughts away before they went off a cliff. He couldn’t love someone. He made that vow years ago . . .
“It’s a good thing your father didn’t open this door.”
“Mom!” Harper jerked upright to face the ample woman who stood towering in the doorway, much more than a five-foot-nothing woman should be able to.
“Sitting there with your pants around your ankles, kissing this . . .” She looked him up and down, like he was a wad of shit tracked in on someone’s shoe. “drifter—there’d be a wedding. With or without a shotgun motif.”
Harper hopped off the table and pulled up her shorts faster than he’d thought possible. “We got locked in.” She stepped into her shoes.
“I see that.”
Harper’s chin notched up. “I’m a full-grown woman, mom. I’d say it’s about time I had someone.”
The woman’s mouth remained a thin line. Her toe-tapping didn’t slow.
But there might have been a twinkle in her eye. “So would I.”
Harper handed Stead his dress shirt, took his hand and, nose in the air, led the way past her mother and out the door. Stead inhaled air laced with the smell of donuts and baking bread. His stomach growled as she dragged him past several workers to the front of the store.
Damn, Harper was a force. He’d face down a bull in the arena alone before he’d be stuck in a room with a pissed-off momma.
The counter was crowded with customers, the line snaking out the door. Harper’s chin notched higher, but her steps didn’t slow. The room went from Monday-morning-babble to midnight-funeral-home when she dragged him past the refrigerator cases at the entrance. There, she stopped and stared down the crowd while he shrugged into his shirt.
This was her hometown. She knew these people, probably some since she sat in diapers in the local sandbox. And there she stood, daring someone to judge her. A tide of tenderness rose in him. He whispered over her shoulder, “Let’s give ‘em something to talk about.” He pulled her around, laid her back against his arm and kissed the hell out of her.
Every thought of the bystanders, her mother, and everything else flew out of his head, as he kissed his little warrior for all he was worth.
When he ended it, she looked up at him, eyes unfocused and yearning. It gave him crazy ideas. “You sure you don’t want to leave all this and come on the road with me?”
Her smile was wistful. “Don’t think it’s not tempting. But I’ve got to get to school. I’m late.”
“All right then.” He set her on her feet, patted her on the ass, and said, “But don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily, Beautiful.” He winked, walked past the gawkers and out the door.
A little over an hour later, he and Ace were on the road. Stead rolled his window down.
“Hey, what’re you doing?” Wrist slung over the steering wheel, Ace glanced from the road.
“I like the fresh air.”
“Since when? What the hell’s gotten into you? You look happier’n a boxful of puppies.”
The fact that his cheeks were starting to cramp couldn’t stop his smile. “Shut the hell up and drive.”
“Somebody got laid last night. About time.”
“Hey. Don’t you be crass.”
His head snapped around. “Crass? Who are you?”
He flipped Ace the bird, picked up his phone and texted:
Miss you already.
In a few seconds, his phone dinged:
I know you. You’re that horny bull rider. I know what you miss.
He chuckled and texted back:
Aw, don’t sell yourself short. Has your mother disowned you?
Nah. I think in a perverse way, she kind of approves. Break’s over. I’ve got to go fill kids’ brains now.
He looked up to Ace’s raised brow. “You gonna tell me now, or do I have to pull over and beat it out of you?”
“I don’t know where to start. Oh, wait, yes I do. You gotta get all your buds to agree to do Rodeo on the Rez.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a rodeo in El Paso, after the first of the year. Proceeds go to the Rez outside of town.”
“What?” He waved a hand. “You’d better back up and start at the beginning. And if you can’t explain, I’m getting my gun out and shooting you, because Vulcans have done that mind-meld thing on you.”
Stead explained. It took some time. But it must have made sense, because Ace didn’t reach for the locked glove compartment.
“Damn, Bro. That’s about the wildest thing I’ve heard since that steer got out on I-10 in the ice storm, and we had to go rope it.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. Just goes to prove, you can be lost one day, and find your future the next.”
“I assume this Harper chick is a part of that future?”
“I think the jury is still out for her, but as far as I’m concerned?” He stretched out and put his hands behind his head. “Oh, hell yeah. If she’d let me, I’d hang out like a dog on her porch. I’d paint her toenails.”
Ace had been taking a sip of his soda. It sprayed all over the windshield. “Damn, man.”
Stead smiled at his friend as he mopped his face. “Okay, so I made up the toenail thing, but the rest? I’m all in.”
Ace rolled his eyes to the roof of the truck. “Oh God, if this is love, please save me from it.”
“You know me. I’m a zero or a ten. Not so good at the in-between numbers.”
“No shit.”
Stomach jumping, he made sure his eyes stayed on the sage covered landscape out the window. “Oh, and you’re gonna have a vacancy in your shotgun seat next year.”
Ace snorted. “Right. What, are you going to open a nail salon?”
He shot Ace a look.
“You’re serious. Why? I mean, I know you wanna see her, but—”
“Got nothing to do with her. It’s got to do with the brain scramble from last year.”
“But you—”
“Got lucky. Right up to the finals. Put a top-tier bull under me, and I’m off in, what was it, 3.5 seconds?”
“You had a bad wreck. It’s gonna take time to shake off the rust.”
“If it were rust, I’d agree. But if your reflexes were off, would you know it?”
A muscle worked in Ace’s jaw. The only sound was the wind whistling in the window.
Stead’s stomach went into freefall with the realization he had been hoping Ace would come up with some logic to make it not true.
“So, besides the ‘apology tour’, this season is gonna be my goodbye tour.”
Ace glanced over, his heavy brows drawn like a shelf over troubled eyes. “Shit, what am I gonna do? It’s always been you and me, since I can remember. You’re my partner.”
“Just be sure the next guy can read you those bedtime stories you love so much.” Stead reached across the seat and grabbed Ace’s shoulder and shook it. “It’s still you and me, Ace. You don’t leave family behind. Wherever I wash up, the door will always be open and there’ll be a beer in the fridge.”
Ace’s voice wavered a bit. “You’re assuming you are gonna have a door. Without me to keep an eye out, you’ll probably end up in a gutter.”
“I wouldn’t rule it out, Partner. I really wouldn’t.” He patted Ace’s massive shoulder. “If so, I’ll save you a spot next to me.”
Chapter 8
“Have good trust in yours
elf …
not in the One that you think you should be, but in the One that you are.”
Maezumi Roshi - Zen for Dummies
April 1:
H: Hey, how’d you do last weekend?
S: About the same. Made it to the finals, bucked off my last bull. Which sucks. But since I know now this is my last year, I’m following the advice of Zen for Dummies, and trying to enjoy the present. Except. After January, I’m going to need a new job.
H: I was thinking. Why don’t you consider becoming a plumber for your next career? You already have some experience from when you were young. And I know a guy. The best plumber in El Paso is my dad’s best friend, Greg. I don’t know where you’re planning on settling, but I bet (if you wanted) he’d take you on as an apprentice.
S: I don’t know. . . working in a wet hole, crawling around under houses . . .
H: Too lowly for Mr. Big Time?
S: More like, Mr. Buck-off. And at the end of the season, I’ll be Mr. Retired Buck-off. I’ll think about it.
H: I really do get it. But do yourself a favor and look up the starting salary.
S: How did the Cammo Queen’s wedding go? Did she carry a gun instead of a bouquet? (thank God for spell check. Who decided that word needed a Q in it?)
H: Ha. No, she looked very pretty. The groom’s hunting dog was his best man. He had the ring tied to its collar. They loved the cake, by the way.
S: Yeah, me too. But that wasn’t the sweetest part. Oh, and I picked up a couple more books on Zen and all that. I have to look up half the words, but once I get the meaning, it makes sense. Told you I was going to continue to recover from being an asshole.
H: About time. Lol.
Date: May 30
To: Rafe Hosa
From: Stead James
Subj: From the dumb bull rider
Hey, kid. Harper, the ‘kid police’, finally said it was ok for me to write you. She says she’ll let you use her laptop, if you want to write me back. How’s school? Hope you like it better than I did. Study hard, so you don’t end up a dumb bull rider. ;)
You been practicing roping? Ace says hi, and says when he’s back for Rodeo on the Rez, he’ll give you some more lessons, if you want.
You’re probably wondering why I’m writing. I just wanted you to know, I had a pretty crappy childhood too. I was in an orphanage from the time I was a baby, and sometimes it wasn’t so fun. If you’re like me, you probably feel alone sometimes, or sad, or confused. If you ever want to talk, I’m your man. Just tell Harp, and she’ll let you use her phone.
Well, gotta go teach some bulls some manners. Write if you want. Ok?
July 7:
S: I still can’t believe you came to see me ride in Las Cruces over the Fourth!
H: Well, school’s out, and I had nothing to do . . .
S: Sure, sure. I know what you wanted. Damn, woman, I almost missed my event because you wouldn’t let me out of bed! But nothing will ever beat that cooler. Do you think of it when you go in there?
H: Only Every. Single. Time.
Date: July 15
To: Rafe Hosa
From: Stead James
Subj: Roping tips from Ace
Hey, kid. You asked about roping tips, so I asked Ace. This is what he said:
Quit dropping your elbow!
Choke up on your spoke. You always keep yours too long. Should be at 12 and 3 (like on a clock).
Aim for the base of the right horn.
He said if you’ve got the roping dummy down, when we get back to town we’ll put you up on a horse, and you can try from there.
SO, PRACTICE!
That is all.
August 8:
S: Since you brought it up, I couldn’t get that DNA thing out of my head (thanks a pantload). I just sent off the sample. This is going to be all your fault.
H: I can live with that. Question is, can you? Are you going to be okay if it comes back Native American?
S: I’ll let you know when I find out.
August 9:
S: Hey, just read this in one of my books: “Guilt, regret, resentment, sadness & all forms of nonforgiveness are caused by too much past & not enough presence.” Eckhart Tolle wrote that. Do you think that’s true? Would it ever be okay to let go of that crap?
H: It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Stead. You can let it go anytime.
S: Maybe someday. I have Karma to overcome, first.
H: Hey, speaking of that, Rafe has been borrowing my laptop a lot lately. You’re not corrupting him, right?
S: You know me.
H: That’s why I ask.
October 5:
H: I miss you. Love talking on the phone, but it’s not as good as seeing you, and you’re nowhere close enough for me to get there on a weekend.
S: Tell me about it. I’m in unchartered territory here. I’ve never felt like this before.
H: Well, I hope that’s a good thing.
S: It’s the best thing. Except we’re not in the same area code. I’m thinking about letting my apartment go, and maybe moving closer to El Paso when the season is over. What would you think of that?
H: SERIOUSLY?
S: Well, yeah.
H: I just squealed in the teacher’s lounge, like one of my students. Does that give you your answer? HELL YES!
S: Cool. Hey, did you know that drunks in bars are dumb as a box of rocks?
H: Everyone knows that. You hanging in bars with buckle bunnies again?
S: No, I keep my promises now. It was Ace’s birthday, so I took him for a drink (mine was Dr. Pepper). As the night went on, I watched the room’s I.Q. go down by the hour. Ended up in a bar brawl. Ace got a shiner, and I got our asses out of there before the cops showed. Man, it’s flat-out embarrassing to think that used to be fun.
H: Jeez, are you okay? I thought all I had to worry about with you was mean bulls, not cops! Maybe next year, you two can go bowling or something . . .
S: Next year, I won’t be with Ace for his birthday.
H: Oh yeah. Big ouch. Sorry.
October 20:
S: Did I tell you I enrolled in an online vocational course for plumbing? I got my books, and am working my way through the lessons.
H: You know very well you didn’t tell me, you sneaky thing. That’s awesome. Why the secret?
S: I didn’t want to make a big deal, in case I flunked. But you know what’s weird? I HATED math in school, and there’s a lot of math in plumbing, but I get it now. It’s like, because the numbers are actually useful for something, everything falls into place. I guess I just needed a practical application for math. Anyway, I’m surprised, but I kinda like it. Weird to say, but I think my guilt about all the crap that happened on the reservation kinda poured over on my opinion of plumbing.
H: I knew you can do anything you put your mind to. And it’s not weird at all…I’m proud of you.
S: Let’s not get carried away. It’s not a slam dunk I’ll pass this class.
H: Aw, don’t sell yourself short.
November 3:
H: What are you doing for Thanksgiving?
S: Probably going to Denny’s for dinner. That’s what we usually do.
H: Why don’t you and Ace come to my house for dinner? Dad smokes a turkey (I promise he won’t hit you – I’ve been working on him), and mom fixes a mean pecan pie. Say you’ll try? It’d mean a lot to me . . .
S: Wow. I’ve never been to a family Thanksgiving before. We’re in Wichita the weekend before-it’d be a trek, but . . . let me check with Ace, and get back to you. Sure would be great.
Date: November 7
To: Rafe Hosa
From: Stead James
Subj: Thanksgiving
Hey kid. Me ‘n Ace are coming to El Paso for Thanksgiving. How cool is that? Ace says that if you want, we could come out to the Rez and he could give you, and maybe a couple of your buds, some roping and tying lessons. What do you think?
They had to drive most of the
night, but got to El Paso on Thanksgiving Day around nine, Ace pulled the truck up a country lane outside town. At the end stood a white, clapboard-sided house with a broad covered front porch, a pole barn and paddocks behind it.
A curtain twitched at the window, then the door opened and Harper, in a halter top, shorts and sandals stepped out onto the porch.
Stead’s heart slammed and he had to stop himself from bouncing on the seat like a five-year-old in the Disneyland parking lot. With a start, Mr. Johnson woke from hibernation.
Ace whistled through his teeth. “Damn, Partner, if I had that waiting for me, I’d never leave home.”
Stead didn’t tell him he was wrong on so many levels: Harper wasn’t why he was leaving rodeo, this wasn’t home, and she wasn’t his. Yet.
She waved, loped down the sidewalk and waited for Ace to brake to a stop before crossing in front of the truck.
Stead rolled down his window. “Damn, does El Paso ever cool down?”
She grabbed his face, pulled it through the window and kissed him.
After a minute, Ace cleared his throat. “Not when you two are around.”
Her face an adorable crimson, she backed up, but didn’t let go.
“Harper, this is by best friend, Ace.”
“Ma’am.” Ace lifted his gimmie cap. “I thought this dog was just bragging. Now I see he’s not. You don’t happen to have a sister in that house, do you?”
Harper laughed. “Lord I hope not. Daddy claims one daughter about did him in.” She reached across Stead’s chest to shake hands, then backed out of the window and pointed to the dead-end at the corral. You can pull up there.”
“You go in with Harper. I’ll catch up.”
Stead scrambled out of the truck, lifted Harper off her feet and swung her around.
“Put me down, you idiot.”
“I’m just so damned happy to see you.” He lowered her, and by the time her feet touched gravel, he was kissing her.
Through a fog of happy lust, he became aware of a heavy cough somewhere nearby. He raised his head to see her father standing on the other side of the driveway, watching them with a disgusted look. Stead snatched his hands from Harper like she was a rattler.