by BA Tortuga
“We’re almost there. We just need some Cokes and we’re out.”
“Good deal.” It would get better, he knew. It had with Daddy. The hurts showed up less and less often, and then one day it was more bittersweet than awful.
He knew, but his heart didn’t really give two shits about what all he knew. His heart ached, and all he could do was look at Curtis, because at least that made him smile.
“Come on.” Curtis hefted two twelve-packs onto the bottom rack of the cart. “Let me take you home.”
“I—yeah. That would be good. Sorry, cowboy, I’m just….” He spread his hands, his shoulders rising.
“Hush, Roper. I got you.” Curtis wheeled up to the checkout. “You want to go wait in the truck?”
“You going to be pissed if I smoke?”
“Yep.”
“Then I’ll stay with you.”
“You got more smokes hid somewhere?” Curtis gave him that look, the one that meant stubborn.
“Probably.” Stetson could do stubborn.
“Butthead.”
“Stetson. Hey. How are you?” Margaret was a sweetheart, and she and Momma had always gossiped together during checkout. “So sorry about Betty.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Yeah, everyone was sorry she was dead. Everyone, but they hadn’t been there the last, terrible few weeks.
That wasn’t fair, was it? Those days were for family and nurses, so that everyone else could remember the dead fondly, not be fiercely glad it was over.
And what kind of fucked-up was he? To be glad the pain and starvation and loss was done. Shit.
“Hey.” Curtis took his arm and moved him out of the way. “Can you bag up some stuff, Roper?”
“Huh? Yeah, sure. Sorry.” He started bagging, head down. Man, they had bought the damn store.
“You’re that rodeo friend of Stetson’s,” Margaret was saying. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” Curtis smiled his for-the-fans smile. “It was a good season for me.”
“It was. You must be proud.” Margaret got skinnier every time he saw her.
“Yes, ma’am.” Curtis started bagging as well, and soon enough they were on their way, Margaret promising to drop by with soup.
Good thing they’d bought Saran wrap.
Curtis loaded the truck while he stood there, wishing he had a smoke.
“Baby, come on. You need to just sit a bit, I bet.” Curtis bundled him into the truck.
“I’m sorry. I just….” He had spent months sleeping in his horse trailer.
“I know. No. I mean, I can see how bad this hurts. No platitudes from me.” Curtis reached over to squeeze his leg.
“I thought it was never gonna end. It felt like I was never going to be able to breathe again.”
“Starting to breathe again is the hardest part.” Curtis chuckled. “I remember that from a certain breakup.”
“Yeah. I—I thought I’d never see Danny Gonzales’s face again without wanting to wipe the floor with him.”
Curtis whipped his head around so fast, Stetson thought it might fly off and roll to the floorboards. “What?”
He looked over at Curtis, one eyebrow raised. “You didn’t think I’d notice? I watched every single second of footage of you that was ever uploaded. I know when you’re knocking boots.”
A dark flush stained Curtis’s cheeks, so hard he could see it by the glow of the dash lights. “I did a lot of stupid shit. I never once cheated on you, though. I swear.”
“I believe you. I don’t blame you or nothin’. I’m just sayin’ I may have hated Gonzales a little bit.” It had been what it was. He was married to the land, to the routine, to the idea that his life was in this high desert dirt. Curtis had wanted to live. He hadn’t understood then, but he did now.
“Well, I would have hated me too.” Curtis glanced at him sideways again. “It wasn’t fair to him either.”
“No?” He hoped Curtis had dumped him like a bushel of rotten potatoes. “How long has it been since y’all broke it off?”
His money was on five and a half years.
“I reckon you know that, Roper. We never. I mean, it was never serious enough to—well, shit. I never had to get tested after him, if you get me.”
“I hear you. I don’t want you to think I was stalking you or nothin’. I just missed you.” He’d missed being part of an us.
“I missed you too.” Curtis made a raw little sound. “I’m glad you called me. Even if the reason sucked.”
“She loved you. Hell, she thought I was an idiot. You? She thought you were amazing. You made her happy, coming to see her.”
“I’m glad. She was always good to me.” Curtis turned off at the ranch. “We need to get you a new TV.”
“Whut?” Curtis’s mind worked faster than his, always had.
“We can put it on top of your momma’s if you want, but there’s no reason not to have one in the front room now.”
“I guess not.” Curtis could take it with him and…. “Where do you live, cowboy?”
He knew all of Curtis’s sponsors, where his fan club was stationed, all the stats—how did he not know this?
“Huh? Oh. Uh.” Curtis shrugged. “I have a storage thingy in Grand Junction, where my folks are now. I have a few boxes at my cousin’s in San Angelo.”
“Real estate’s real pricey Colorado way, I hear.” But those hot springs… Lord, Lord.
“Yeah. I mean, Mom and Dad would let me stay up at their cabin, but that always comes with strings.” Curtis had an uneasy relationship with his folks. At best.
He watched the outline of Curtis’s face in the dashboard lights. “If there’s anything you’ve never needed, it was strings, cowboy. You deserve to be wild and free more than anybody I’ve ever met.”
“I’ve done my share of rambling, for sure.” A tiny smile curled Curtis’s mouth. “I’m actually tickled as a pig in shit about Christmas. I haven’t had a real one in a bit.”
“I haven’t either. It’ll be ours.”
“It will.” That had Curtis grinning again, then leaning to kiss him once the truck was parked at the kitchen door.
“Hey, cowboy.” He took one more kiss, because the truck was still warm and it was dark and he wanted to.
The contact settled him some, eased him deep inside.
Now he could unload the truck and maybe make up a little fire for them.
Just something for them.
Chapter Eighteen
CURTIS SET the alarm on his phone so he wouldn’t sleep in and make Stetson do all the damned work this morning.
He still managed to miss a good many of the chores, judging from the fact that Stetson was gone when he got up and still wasn’t back after he had a shower and tugged on every bit of clothing he owned.
Jesus, was the furnace broke or just….
Fifty. The thermostat was set to fucking fifty.
Curtis stood in the hallway, torn. Stetson had his pride, and obviously he was having trouble making ends meet. That was clear as glass. But damn. Curtis turned it up to sixty-two. Happy medium.
“Shit, it’s bitter out there.” He heard Stetson stomping and clearing his boots of snow, and then he heard Stetson chuckle softly. “You pups hang out and I’ll find everyone a couple more blankets.”
Curtis moved to the kitchen and the coffee maker, which, wow. Ancient. Gross. Okay, he needed to make a trip to Target down in Santa Fe. Was there a Target in Española? He couldn’t remember. “Morning, Roper.”
“Hey, cowboy, you sleep good? Everyone’s fed and snuggled up out there.”
“I did. You need me to help with the dogs?”
“Nah, I’m just going to make sure they’ve got enough to keep warm. Fixin’ to dump snow again this afternoon.”
“It’s amazing up here. Shit, I’d forgotten the winter.” He’d acclimatize again, but right now he needed to carb load and mainline water.
Stetson chuckled for him, then disappeared into Miss Betty’s p
art of the house and returned with a pile of old blankets. “You want to start coffee, and I’ll bring in some wood.”
“I’m on it. You want pancakes for breakfast?” He knew he’d gotten all the stuff last night.
“Oh, that would be a blessing. Please, thank you.”
“You got it.” Coffee. Pancakes. Chicken sausage. He snagged Stetson for his good morning kiss because he wanted one.
“Oh—” Stetson’s lips were icy, but the kiss wasn’t. Not at all.
No, the contact warmed up real quick, Stetson wrapping those long arms around his neck and holding on. He hummed, a happy noise that kinda surprised him.
He stepped right into the curve of Stetson’s body, holding them tight together. They both tilted their heads the other way, the kiss going deep in another direction.
Jesus. Good morning to him. He worked the buttons of Stetson’s shearling coat open, hunting that tight body that waited for him. Life was short. He was gonna start with dessert first.
“Curtis! It’s morning!”
“Mmm. Broad daylight, even.” He grinned at Stetson, feeling his face stretch with it. “God, I want to lay you out in the sunshine one day, watch you arch for me.”
Stetson moaned, the sound damn near pained.
“You need loving, Roper. You scream for it.” He nipped Stetson’s exposed skin, just above the starched shirt collar.
“For you. I need your loving. No one else’s.”
“Now, that’s the perfect thing to hear.” He smiled up at Stetson, tickled to death.
“Just the truth, huh?”
“God.” He kissed that hot mouth again, mainly to keep himself from saying all manner of sappy shit. They were still adjusting.
The sound of tires crunching on gravel sounded, and Stetson sighed. “It’s day five. It’s time, huh?”
“Well, and you were out and about yesterday.” Curtis dropped one more short kiss on Stetson’s mouth. “Lots of coffee. I’ll help any way I can.”
“You are. I’m not very good at this part.”
“Bullshit.” He remembered his Roper out there carving vigas and haggling with folks, about how you couldn’t go to town for a beer without someone wanting Stetson to do something with them.
Hell, he’d been there last night. These folks were ready for Stetson to come back.
Maybe Stetson didn’t think he was ready, but time waited for no man.
The dogs set up a ruckus, so Stetson buttoned back up and stepped outside.
Curtis got to making coffee. They would need it.
The door opened and two women came in, one carrying fry bread, the other a covered dish. “Stetson told us to come in. He’s on the porch with Matt.”
“Hi. I’m Curtis.” Who’s Matt?
“I’m Denita. This is my daughter, Aliya. Matt and Stetson went to high school together. He’s my brother.”
“Oh. Pleased to meet you, ma’am. Here, let me take that. Something smells amazing.”
“Just carne adovada.” She smiled, her face changing completely with the expression. “How can we help? Do you know?”
“Not yet. I know he took care of some stuff at the hospital, but I need to make some calls about a service. As far as around here, I think what Stetson really needs is stuff he’s just had to let go with the traveling back and forth. Firewood. Riding fence. Cleaning. That sort of thing.” Was that presumptuous of him?
“Aliya, call Anthony, eh? Tell him that Mr. Stetson needs wood. I’ll tell Gina at the feed store about the fence. We take care of our own. We’re glad he’s home.”
The door opened again, and before Curtis could breathe, there were fifteen women in the house and an equal amount of old men building a fire in the horno outside and pulling up chairs.
One of the older ladies—who looked weirdly like a carved apple person—grabbed his arm, handed him a cup of coffee, and sort of forcibly pushed him out of the house.
“I was gonna make pancakes….” The door shut in his face. “Or not.” He glanced around at the chorus of chuckles he heard from the men.
“Might as well come sit. I’m Darby.” A round man with long braids stood and held out a hand. “The fire is warm, and we have breakfast tacos.”
“I’m Curtis.”
“We know. We heard congratulations are in order. Glad you’re here.”
Suddenly he was sitting in a circle, listening to stories about Betty and Parker Major, about how they’d built the ranch.
“I remember Parker wanted nothing more than to ride, though. I swear to God, I worked with him building this place for six years, but the bulls called him.” Tom Harrison had damn near raised Stetson, and Curtis had always thought, quite privately, that Betty and Tom had been having an affair for years, even before Parker passed.
The man looked old today, lines carved deep in his face, and Curtis reminded himself that Stetson wasn’t the only one mourning Miz Betty.
“It will make a man crazy,” Curtis agreed. “The ride, I mean.”
One of the younger guys with a prosthetic leg and a crew cut grunted. “It’s adrenaline. I know about that.”
The men nodded and murmured, like a group of ravens.
“You in the service?” he asked.
“The 82nd. I was a warrant officer. Came home eight months ago.”
He reached over to shake the man’s hand. “Thank you for your service.”
“Miguel Torres.”
“Curtis Traynor.” They nodded like old men sitting around a checkerboard at the feed store. “Someone said tacos?”
“Egg and bacon or egg and sausage?”
“Bacon. Go big or go home, right?”
“Stetson? You ain’t no more than bones and skin. Eat. Eat, now.” That man had to belong to the lady who’d shoved him out the door. Lord have mercy.
“Here, Roper.” Curtis picked two foil-wrapped tacos out of a basket someone shoved at him. “Breakfast.”
Stetson took them, then offered him a smile that he hadn’t seen since Thanksgiving.
This was good. This was what Stetson needed, to know he wasn’t alone. Curtis opened up a taco. “We got any green chile?”
A little tub was tossed at him, and he grabbed it. Someone added another log to the fire. Men left and new ones came, and they sat there, talking and telling stories as the day got colder and colder.
As the clouds rolled in, a huge trailer pulled up, full of firewood and hay, sweet feed and salt licks, and the propane truck showed up a few minutes later.
Curtis stood there, teeth in his mouth. He’d be goddamned.
Stetson got a little wild around the eyes. “What’s going on? Curtis? I didn’t order a feed delivery.”
“Don’t worry on it.” Tom patted Stetson’s arm with that three-fingered hand. “We take care of our own.”
There was a crack in Stetson’s armor, his face crinkling up, and everyone looked away. Everyone but Curtis. He got that part of Stetson too.
He touched Stetson’s arm and got a tiny smile.
“I don’t know what to say, guys.”
“How many times have you been out at dawn looking for a horse or fixing a door?” Tom snorted gracelessly. “Hell, you dug out a sewer line for my mama two years ago.”
“Well, she needed it.”
“Right. Now we can do for you.” Miguel thrust a Navajo taco at Stetson. “Shut up and eat lunch so we can go unload.”
“How about we all unload and then have a bite?”
Curtis knew there was no way Stetson was going to let a wounded warrior unload and him sit.
“Sounds good.” Tom climbed to his feet, joints popping like rifle shots.
“Come on, boys! That snow’s not going to wait on us!”
They fell on the pile, unloading and feeding and laughing at each other, their breaths turning to smoke in the cold. Curtis warmed to the whole situation, which was a damn sight like being on tour. Without all the dick measuring.
By the time it was all done, people st
arted heading home, beating the weather, and suddenly it was him and Stetson and Tom, standing there in the kitchen.
“I came to see her, before Thanksgiving, you know, but… she didn’t know me, Stetson. I’ve been her… her friend for thirty-plus years, and she didn’t know me. I didn’t know how to be with that.”
Stetson nodded, jaw tight, but meeting Tom’s eyes. “I know that, Tom. I’m grateful you were her friend. She wouldn’t have wanted you to see her like that.”
“No. No, she probably wouldn’t. She was a proud woman. I just… I feel like shit, not coming more.”
“You fed for me, more than once. You did what needed doing.”
“I wish it had been more.” Tom held out a hand to Curtis, shaking first his, then Stetson’s hand. “If you need me at all, you call.”
“Yessir. You go on. I know you have things to do. This storm’s supposed to be a stone-cold bitch.” Stetson walked Tom to the door, gave the man a back-pounding hug, and then showed him out.
Curtis looked around. The kitchen was spotless, more food than they could ever eat stacked on counters and in the fridge. Funny thing was, he still wanted pancakes.
Stetson locked the door, then moved to put another log on the fire.
Curtis watched him for a few moments, just checking in, seeing how Stetson moved, where his shoulders sat in relation to his ears.
“What a day, huh? Can we still have pancakes, man? Please?”
“I was just going to ask.” Curtis grinned, the pop of worry breaking like a bubble. “I’m still craving.”
“Me too.” Stetson stood up. “I’m going to take off my boots and all, find you some heavy socks.”
“Sounds good.” He headed for the kitchen to start assembling supper. Bowl, milk, eggs, pancake mix. He’d even heat up the syrup.
It didn’t seem long before Stetson’s hands were on his shoulders, a pair of heavy socks and sweats appearing. “I’ll get the griddle out while you change.”
“Thanks, baby.” He sat in the kitchen chair, pretty sure his boots were frozen to his feet. Still, when he took them off, his feet were there and his toes weren’t weird colors. Cool.
“We need to get you better socks.”
“We do. I can get them at the Walmart, but I might need a Target run.”