Riker Sweet is standing in the doorway.
Chapter Fifty-Four
“WHO’S THIS?” HE asks coldly. I can smell whatever he’s been drinking from across the room, like he’s been rotting in it.
Justin speaks so softly I can barely hear him. “Just a girl from the ranch. She’s leaving. Her truck’s down the road.”
Riker walks in and leans against the inside of his crumbling trailer. When he hunches over his paunch makes him look pregnant. He’s Justin’s height but a lot heavier. He pulls a toothpick from somewhere in his mouth. With a sick shock, I recognize the eyes, the mouth, even the broad shoulders. Riker is how Justin could look in twenty years, minus the broken nose.
“Why’s she here?” says Riker. His words are slurred lightly so they rattle. But softer than I remember. He and Justin kind of sound the same, too.
I say, “I came to get Justin. Coulter needs him.”
“Coulter, huh? Coulter’s in jail.”
Justin doesn’t say anything. He just leans forward on the couch.
“You trying to get my son arrested?”
I say, “Not at all, Mr. Sweet.”
“—Mr. Sweet? Listen to those manners. You’re coming up in the world, Justin. Well, look, young lady, you need to understand something.” His watery eyes stare through me. “This is not your house or your business. Justin is all done working for Timothy Coulter. And you need to leave.”
He takes a few steps toward me. He may be drunk, but he moves just fine.
Justin puts both feet on the floor and braces himself with his arms. “She’s going.”
I turn to Justin. “Come on, Justin.”
Justin nods. “I’ll walk you to your truck.”
“Like hell you will,” says his dad. All the gentle is out of his voice. He’s the guy at the rodeo. Then he turns to me. “I bet you think you’ve got yourself a real cowboy. He’s a cowboy, all right. Justin gets a kick out of stealing and wrecking things. Loves those damn horses more than his own father. He’s disgraced me in my own town. I’ve given up everything for him. And now I have to give up my job to keep him out of jail.” He rubs the gray stubble on his chin. “Unfortunately, my son is also a piece of ungrateful gutter trash.”
“Stop it, Mr. Sweet,” I say.
“Trust me. I’m doing you a favor. Let’s go, boy. We’ll stock up when we cross the border.”
Justin pulls himself to standing. He won’t look at me.
Riker’s voice goes icy. “I told you to start packing. That asshole Hanks could be here any minute.”
I know Justin doesn’t want me to see this. This trailer is his private hell. Justin keeps his head down. “I’m going to walk her out.”
Riker grabs an empty cardboard box and holds it out to Justin. “Don’t go showing off. She found her way out here, she can find her way home. We need to get gone. You done enough damage.”
Because that’s not ironic.
Justin takes the box and puts it down next to him. It’s crazy. Even though he’s a lot taller than I am, it seems like he’s shrinking right in front of me. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’m not messin’ with you, boy,” says Riker. “You got to think about our family now. You owe me that.”
“Walk me out, Justin,” I say.
Mr. Sweet looks at me and steps closer. The smell alone could kill me. “People are always sticking their nose in where it doesn’t belong.” His voice goes hard. “They just want to judge you and tell you what a bad father you are. No one seems to care when you got no help and a kid who can’t stay out of trouble to save his own life.”
Justin steps toward the door.
His father is across the trailer in two steps, standing in front of Justin, clenching a fleshy hand. I can’t help it. My feet won’t stay still. I bolt. But I’m not running away this time. I’m right between Justin and Riker. It all happens so fast there are no thoughts or words. But I know that Justin can’t take one more blow. I won’t let him.
Then I feel the full weight of Riker’s hand swing across my face, and I’m lifting sideways. I’m airborne in a blur that ends with me smacking into the corner of something with my face. Pain cannonballs into my cheek and jaw. Everything spins. I close my eyes, and when I open them I see the outline of Justin’s face over mine.
My guts are in my ears. It feels like someone just ice-picked my cheek. “I’m okay,” I blurt. Then I suck back something like a groan.
Justin takes both my hands and pulls me up. He looks at his dad, who is shoving things into a plastic shopping bag.
“She’s fine,” his dad growls. “Let’s get going.”
“No, Dad.” Justin’s voice is so quiet I can barely be sure what he said. Or maybe that’s because I’m distracted by trying to stay conscious. “I’m not going.”
Riker Sweet doesn’t even look up. “Yes, you are.”
Justin’s voice is louder this time, but still shaky. “I’m taking Cassidy to her truck.”
My head is spinning. I’m not entirely sure what I’m seeing is actually happening. Riker squares off in front of Justin. “They’ll put you in jail. Coulter will get it, too. Your precious pony ranch will be gone for good. Is that what you want? For what? If you come with me, we get a fresh start. Just you and me. Like it used to be.”
“Like it used to be?” says Justin, his voice dipping down.
His father nods. “You and me.”
“Can you walk, Cass?” Justin asks me.
My eyes are splitting with pain in the back of my head. “Sure.”
Then, unbelievably, Justin says, “Okay. I’ll see you later then, Cassidy.”
I say, “What? You can’t go with him.”
Riker smiles. “Blood is thicker than water, sweetie.” I watch with horror as he reaches for Justin.
Then Justin reaches, too. With his fist. That rock-solid arm I have been looking at all summer swings through the air and lands in the middle of Mr. Sweet’s face. And then the other fist follows. The big man howls in pain and stumbles backward. I sway back against the counter trying to get out of the way.
Riker slams into the wall of the trailer. I wait for him to lunge out and beat Justin to death in front of me. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t cry out at all. He just stands back up and holds his face. His nose is bleeding.
“You see this?” He holds out his hands and shakes them at me. “You want him? You can have the worthless piece of shit. I should have left him long ago. I gave up my life for him. Quit the rodeo so I could take care of him when my wife died. Took a dead-end job. And this is what I get in return.”
This isn’t what I expected. Any of it. I hate Riker, but I feel sorry for him, too. Riker lost his wife and his rodeo career. Justin lost his mom. But Riker takes his sickness out on Justin.
Justin says, “Go to Canada, Dad. I’m going to tell the social workers everything, so you shouldn’t come back. I’m done running from you. Or anyone. You do what you want. But I’m done.”
“You tell those judgmental little pukes all you want. Your record speaks for itself. Can’t blame everything on me, boy. Gotta take your own licks once in a while.”
Justin looks at his father, bleeding from his own hand. “Good-bye, Riker.”
I feel Justin take my elbow and lead me out of the trailer. We walk a little, and then I hear the gravel of a truck approaching. Everything is black and fuzzy except for the headlights. I keep hearing the expression deer in the headlights replaying in my head. That’s what I am. Except I want the truck to give me a ride.
The truck door opens. “Cassidy? Justin?”
Alice jumps out and puts her tiny arms around us both.
“Don’t,” we both shout at the same time.
Once I’m in the truck I’m sure I’m going to throw up. One too many hits to the head today. Maybe two too many. Justin
takes my hand. I hear Coulter’s truck turn and drive out of the yard. Everything hurts. I wish I could see straight. It’s really dark.
Justin says, “I can’t believe you faced off with my old man, Cassidy.”
“You did that?” asks Alice. “He hit you?”
“Then Justin punched him. Twice.” It’s not like I think that’s so great. It’s awful really. But it’s what happened. And Justin is here. Not with his dad. Not going to Canada.
I listen to the gravel under the tires. Everything is still spinning. But it’s okay. It’s just that I have to tell Justin something else. Before anything else happens. It’s something important. Something he has to know. About me and all the things I can do now that I couldn’t do before I came here. About him and all the things he can do if he’ll just give it a chance. About us. Because there is an us, and it doesn’t end when I drive off across the Wyoming state line. I’m not sure where it ends.
I just need to sleep a little first.
* * *
I’M SITTING UNDER a tree. I sit there for a long time. I can’t get up. My head hurts. And then I look up and see my grandfather on his old buckskin. He’s exactly like I remember him.
Seeing him feels more real than being awake.
I stand up and start running. As I get closer I can see every crease in his weathered face. I can hear him humming with an old, wobbly voice, and I can see his long, intelligent fingers. One hand is holding the reins to his horse and the other is waving to me. He’s riding away.
“Stop!” I have serious questions about him, and about me.
He doesn’t slow down. I can smell him from where I chase after him, even though I’m not close enough for that. He smells like coffee and leather and horse.
“Stop!” I yell. I have questions.
He goes through a gate. He waves to me, not hello or good-bye, just a wave. Then he’s gone.
I look around. There are mountains far off. Around me there are miles of alfalfa and clover. Miles and miles and miles. And the only thing I have of my grandfather is that I’m standing on the road where he left me. Alone, but standing. And I’m not afraid, at least not like I used to be.
I guess where I go from here is up to me.
Chapter Fifty-Five
WHEN I WAKE up the next morning, I’m tucked under the covers in the ranch house sickbed. I vaguely remember coming in here last night. Alice called Kaya and told her what happened. Officer Miles got on the phone, and he told her to stay put and he’d come to us. And I remember Justin putting his arm around me when we walked into the house.
When my eyes finally focus I see Coulter staring out the window by the bed. With his back to me, I think it’s my grandfather. When he turns around I’m mostly sure this is real.
“That’s quite a dream you were having,” Coulter says. His sad Santa eyes look red and blurry.
“I thought . . .” I don’t finish. My dream still feels real.
“You thought what? You’d died and gone to heaven when you saw me? You ain’t the first woman to say that about me.”
I’m startled that he calls me a woman. But I guess I am. A woman with a sore face.
“Where is Justin? And Alice? Are they okay?”
“You think just because you get knocked around a little everyone wants to talk to you?” His hands curl up as he talks to me. He puts them down and does his best impression of a smile.
“You’re out of jail?”
“Miles got sick of holding me as soon as I hired a lawyer. For now Miles can’t prove I helped Justin. Without that, he doesn’t have much of a case. He can still run me into a poor house trying to prove it if he likes.”
“Is Justin okay?” I ask.
“He’s got two cracked ribs for sure, but they’ll heal. Kaya and Miles took him to the clinic to make sure he didn’t puncture a lung. Miles agreed not to arrest him until he’s spent some quality time with a doctor and that social worker who keeps track of him in town.”
I breathe out. Okay. Justin’s alive, not in jail, and not with his dad. People are taking care of him.
“Alice is back at her tent.” He chuckles. “That girl grew a tough streak.”
“What about Banner?”
“She’s here.” He sighs. “At least for now. Let’s just say we’ve had some words. Loud ones. And then she had some words with her parents. And then they had some words with me. But damned if I don’t have the tattooed boyfriend in my cabin until further notice. I swear, what good does it do to help a kid get her mind right if she has to go back to crazy parents? No wonder that girl acts like a wildcat. I tell you what, Cassidy. This is the damndest way to make a living there is.”
“Banner didn’t take off?” I can’t believe it.
Coulter looks at me. “Did you know she was planning to run off when I asked you where she was at the auction?”
I shake my head. “I saw . . . something in the back stall. I thought she was with Justin.”
“Oh,” says Coulter, frowning down into his beard. “You thought she was rolling in the hay with Justin? And you didn’t turn them in? You’re a strange kid, Cassidy.”
This makes me feel tired for some reason. Just the whole thing. Tired everywhere. But I’m not done asking qustions. “Did someone buy Goliath?”
“Indeed. A big man out of Missoula bought him. Needs a sturdy horse that can pack him all over God’s country. Paid big money, too. Some of which belongs to you. He couldn’t get over your ride. But he said what got him into the buyer’s box was the way Goliath stopped the second you fell and came back to you. Said he’d take good care of him.”
“Did they take him already?”
“He’s gone. Sorry, sis.”
I’m happy for Goliath. I know it’s what’s best. But it’s hard. “What about Roanie?”
“Went to a greenie couple from Colorado. They’ll probably move her into their house and buy her a flat-screen TV. All but two of the yearlings sold, too. So thank you for that.”
I sit up and straighten my shirt. My head has too much thinking in it. And my dream is still bothering me so I just keep going. “Was my grandfather really a thief?”
Coulter leans back and nearly falls over laughing. He laughs so hard he starts to wheeze and cough. I think he’s going to die before he can tell me. “Are you really still worrying about that?”
“I just had a dream about him.”
Coulter stops laughing. “You too, huh? Bastard haunts me all the time.”
“I need to know,” I say. “The truth this time.”
Coulter rolls his sleeves up. The man is theatrical. “The truth is that the day I met your grandfather I was stealing a horse out of his barn. It wasn’t my first time stealing either. He offered to not turn me in if I stayed and worked for him.”
Coulter was the real horse thief? I can believe that. But I still don’t get it. “Why would Grandpa want you to work for him after you tried to steal from him?” I ask.
“Your grandfather had the hide of a shyster, but he was a good judge of horse flesh, and people flesh, too. I was so surprised and grateful to him for being good to me, and your grandma made me so fat with apple pie it turned me responsible. And now look at me, nursemaid to a bunch of city kids and a staff of people who are one check away from the poor house.”
“So that’s why you didn’t stop Justin? You knew he was doing it, didn’t you?”
Coulter pulls a chair over and sits down next to me. “Unlike most folks around here I don’t buy that a few wild horses are the main threat to the land. The horses are just living and dying like they always have. But I don’t have a solution either. So I train them, get them homes, and hope it works out.”
Adults are a mystery to me. They seem every bit as confused as kids but with more power to make mistakes. “So you let Justin break the law because you couldn’t?”
“Oh, I broke the law. I housed a criminal who I think of as my own son.” He pauses. “Best not to broadcast that information.”
It dawns on me that he really is Justin’s dad. A dad is someone who takes care of you, who teaches you stuff, and who loves you enough to give up their own desires for your happiness. I start to miss my own dad.
Mrs. Sanchez comes in. Her mouth is pulled tight in a small hard circle and her heavy eyes avoid me. “Timothy, there is a phone call for you. And I think it is time that this one goes back to sleep.”
“Yes, ma’am,” says Coulter. “I was just leaving.”
“I’m sorry,” I say to Mrs. Sanchez. “I’ve made a mess of things again.”
She gazes at me severely. “You saved that boy’s life. You be proud of that, my little chef.”
And now I miss my mom, too.
* * *
When I wake up the next time I feel a lot better and a lot worse. My head doesn’t hurt so much, but I’m alone in room and it’s way too creepy quiet. I can’t hear anything but the ancient grandfather clock clicking off time in the hallway. I don’t even hear horses whinnying outside. I used to crave silence in my bedroom at home, but I seem to have lost my taste for solitary confinement. Even Banner is better than the lonely ticking in the hallway.
I get my clothes on, which have been washed and folded. Mrs. Sanchez is a saint. I’m so freakishly stiff it takes me like five minutes to slide things on. It feels like Riker sideswiped my entire body, not just my face. Or maybe it was the tumble off Goliath. Or maybe it’s just the last two months in general.
I look in the old-fashioned oval mirror hanging behind the dresser. The antique glass makes me look like even more of a stranger to myself. Half my face is splotchy and swollen, with a cut where I hit the counter. I look kind of tough actually. I step back from the mirror and then step closer again. It’s strange to see myself after so many weeks. My eyes are puffy with dark circles. But my body looks amazing. I make sure no one is silently watching me through the door, and then I flex my arm in the mirror like a body builder. I have a muscle in my arm. It’s not big, but it exists. And I swear I’m taller. Like at least a full centimeter.
Thief of Happy Endings Page 27