Cowboys 03 - My Cowboy Homecoming (21 page)

“I think so. She believes it was, at any rate. Can we be certain it isn’t true?”

“Christ.” Yancy’s hair looked like it had gone through a blender and his expensive tie was mangled. He lifted his face toward the ceiling and I thought he was going to howl. Frustration and rage were written in every line of his body.

“Why didn’t she tell me?” He dropped into the chair next to mine. “How could she be so goddamn stubborn? I should have turned him in years ago, and my career be damned. I should have killed him.”

“
I
should have ignored your advice and gone to the police after Las Cruces.”

“I—” Lucho frowned. “I pretty much just got here and I don’t have a time machine so we’re all out of luck.”

He dragged a second chair around and eased his foot up onto it.

At around nine p.m. they let me in to see my ma. She lay on the hospital bed, an IV in her arm, her pale, graceful hands white as the sheet covering her. The light was spectacularly bad, illuminating flaws I’d never seen—shadows and sharp angles that weren’t noticeable in more natural light. There were dark circles beneath her eyes that looked like bruises. Her eyes fluttered open when I touched her hand.

“Ma.”

She pulled her hand away.

“It’s going to be all right.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not, honey. Not this time.”

“You can’t tell me you wanted to—” I could barely form the words “—to die.”

“I tried to keep going after Heath, but it’s just no use. I was sure it was going to be different when you got home, but he’s going to destroy you too—”

“No one’s going to destroy me, Ma.”

“You need to
leave
. Get away from this life while you still can. Joining the army was the smartest thing you ever did. I should never have let you come back.”

“No, Ma.” I pulled a chair up beside her bed and sat down. “I think I was wrong to leave in the first place.”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Tears leaked from her eyes. “Nothing matters anymore.”

“So Dad wins another round?”

“It’s not about who wins.” Her heart rate monitor’s tempo increased. “If you get sucked back into these games he plays, I’ll lose you too.”

“You’re not going to lose me.”

“We can’t
stop
him.” She hissed. “He’s protected by a prison gang full of dangerous men. Criminals on the inside
and
the outside who will hurt us if he doesn’t pay them what he owes them.”

“Even if that were true, I wouldn’t just leave you here to face it alone.”

“Fine. You stay.” She balled her hands into fists. “And then some night the Sheriff’s deputies will come to my door and all my babies will be gone.”

“It’s not going to be like that. I promise.”

“You can’t promise. No one can. Life just takes and takes. And I have nothing left to give anymore.”

“Ma—”

“I’m so tired, son.” She sagged against the pillows and pulled the sheet to her chin. “You need to leave and let me go.”

“C’mon. Don’t be like that.” Helplessness filled me. “Don’t be—”

“Like what? Angry for a change? Defiant? Determined to control the one thing I have left?” The bitterness in her voice stunned me. “I can’t
do
this anymore. Not even for you.”

“Then let’s leave here.” I leaned forward. “We’ll go where he can’t reach us. I’ll take you to Savannah. Don’t you still have relatives in Georgia?”

“Atlanta, now.” Her gaze focused on something in the corner of the room. “But I can’t go anywhere. I can’t take the threat of your father’s retribution to them.”

“Then we won’t contact them until we know it’s safe. I’m sure we can find a place to live in a big city like Atlanta. With the money we’d get from sale of the house and if I can find construction work—”

“That’s your
daddy’s
house. We can’t sell that. He’ll kill us.”

“All right, even if we can’t sell the house, he can’t touch us if he doesn’t know where we are.”

“He’ll get out, he’ll find us.”

“He’s never going to win an appeal.” I needed to ask Yancy about that. Did he really think he had grounds for an appeal? “We’ll find a way to get you away and make you feel safe . . . but Ma? That’s not going to be our only problem. You’re probably going to have to stay here for a bit.”

“Because I did—” She twined her fingers nervously in the linens. “—what I did? With the pills? You should have just left me.”

“Ma. Sometimes emotions can sneak up on us. It can happen to anyone. Life can overwhelms us. I think maybe you might need to talk to someone about your anxiety or your depression or—”

“Then I guess you need to see someone about your troubles. You have nightmares. I hear you thrashing around half the night.”

“This isn’t some contest. I’ve got issues. Yes. But Ma. What you did—”

“I know.” She sighed. “I’ll talk to someone about . . . things.”

“I’ll see someone if you will. We’ll make a pact. Get our heads on straight, together.”

“It’s a deal.”

I held out my hand and she placed hers in it. There was barely enough strength there for a handshake.

She whispered, “We’ll start over, together.”

My heart gave a lurch, then it fell, landing in a wet splat when it hit rock bottom.

What about Lucho?

If I were to take Ma away, I’d have to leave the J-Bar. I’d have to give up the job I was just beginning to love in the place I wanted to call home. I’d have to relocate to a city and say goodbye to all the corny cowboy dreams I hadn’t even realized I had before my job at the J-Bar: getting livestock for a place of my own, maybe eventually working at Lucho’s side to build something lasting . . .

“You okay, Junior?” Ma asked.

I kissed her forehead. “You need to get some rest if you can.”

She nodded. When I turned to leave, she caught my arm. “Your daddy wasn’t all bad.”

“I know.” Nobody was
all
bad, just like nobody was all good, because it seemed to me that all men have a monster inside them, waiting. Maybe the men who turn into monsters are just dumb enough or egotistical enough to believe they can feed the monster without getting eaten themselves.

***

I found Lucho outside in the parking lot, staring up at the stars. His fine jaw was tilted back and he had a lazy grin on his face. I saw he’d gotten pop and some more snacks from the vending machines. Neither of us had eaten anything but the donuts he’d gotten earlier. He offered me a sandwich cookie and I took it, gladly.

His answering smile was an image to capture in my heart forever. “How is she?”

I shook my head. My voice felt husky when I answered, whether from disuse or despair. “I don’t know. How’s your foot? Did driving make things worse? Maybe you should—”

“I’m fine. It’s healing.”

“You should probably take me to get my truck, then go home and get some sleep.”

“You don’t want me to stay?”

“I—” I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the breeze. “We need to talk.”

“Do we?” The question was wary. I didn’t blame him. This day couldn’t have gone less like I’d hoped it would. “If you mean we need to talk about my family—”

“I have to go home and sort through some things, but can I meet you at the J-Bar later? Midnight maybe? Is that too late?”

Again the lazy grin, only this time it seemed forced. “It ain’t like I have to get up early for work right now, but maybe you should hear what I have to say first. I—”

“Please,” I held up my hand to stop his words. “Can’t it wait? My Ma has to stay here while they decide what to do, and they told me there might have to be some sort of hearing—”

“Sure.” He nodded. “It can wait.”

When we got to his truck I helped him in. He put his arms around me and I sank gratefully into his body.

“You should get some rest, baby.” He spoke into my hair.

“I can’t.” I closed my eyes and buried my face against his shoulder. “I have to find Ma’s medical information and head back to the hospital. I have to talk to Yancy.”

“I don’t know what I’d do if my mother—”

“Yeah, you know. You’d do what you have to do.” I said bitterly. “You’d do whatever it takes to get her some help, because there’s no other choice.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I guess.”

I kissed him then, a simple kiss that went on and on. It was part frustration, part unhappiness. It was coming home and preparing to wrench myself away all at once. “Buckle up.”

When we were on the highway back to Ma’s place, he said, “I get that you’re upset, but—”

“Nothing good ever comes of talking before you think things through. Nothing good comes of rushing.”

“I can help you think, did you ever
think
of that?”

“I can’t talk about this yet.” I turned on the radio, and Taylor Swift’s voice filled the car.

Lucho turned the sound right back down. “Please, Tripp. Don’t shut me out.”

“I’m not—” I thumped the steering wheel with my hand. “I’m not shutting you out. I’m just—”

“Was I wrong about us?” he asked. “Was I wrong to think we’re getting something started here?”

My throat burned. “You weren’t wrong.”

“Partners talk,” he said gently. “They plan things together. They share each other’s burdens. It’s like working with Pio. I got sidelined, but you came along and together we made progress. Sometimes it takes two people to figure shit out. Nothing can be so big, or so bad that—”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” My gut clenched like a tight belt when I thought of my dad. His threats. His crimes. He’d driven my ma half-mad and he didn’t even care, as long as his shit got delivered on time. “My family is fucking cursed.”

“I know it feels that way.” He laid his hand on my leg. “But—”

“My father is a crazy.
I’m
cursed. Everything I touch will be tainted by poison. Everything I care about.”
Everyone I love.

“Okay. I got it.”

“You’ve got it?” I asked incredulously. “
You’ve got it
? Tell me. What is your solution, then?”

“I don’t mean I have a solution, I mean—”

“You’ve
got it
.” I shook my head, disgusted. “I’m just glad one of us has
got this
.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up. You don’t get to be angry with me. I’m out of bounds.”

“Why do you get to be out of bounds?”

“Because I’m on
your fucking side
, you moron.”

“You’re on my side?” I glanced at him. “How am I supposed to know that?”

He punched my arm. “If I didn’t make it clear in Tucson—”

“Yeah. Okay.” Memories heated my face as I looked over. “What have you got?”

“I
understand
that you want to talk later.” He shrugged. “Fine with me. All I ask from you is that you listen as much as you talk, all right?”

I nodded. Said a faint, “Well, okay then.”

“Okay then.” Lucho shot right back. “
Pendejo
.”

“Bastard.” I ruffled his hair.

Lucho wrapped his warm hand around my neck and kneaded my tense muscles.

I melted into his touch. “Thank you.”

“I’m on your side, Tripp.”

“Thank you.” It felt oddly formal saying it. “You’ve been awesome.”

“Damn right I’m awesome.” He glanced out the passenger window. “You’re welcome.”

When I returned to the hospital with Ma’s paperwork, I found Slade in the waiting room, looking nothing like an expensive criminal lawyer. He’d removed his jacket and stripped off his tie. His trousers looked like he’d slept in them.

“What did they say? Is she going to be all right?”

“I don’t know.” I told him honestly. “She’s fragile.”

“If there’s a hearing, I’ll represent her. Our best bet is to have some kind of treatment plan in place before that, so we can show she no longer poses a substantial threat to herself.”

“What the hell does my dad have on you?”

“What?” He was clearly startled by the question.

“Is it about my mother? Is there something between you and my mother and he holds it over your head?” An awful thought occurred to me. “Christ. I’m not your son, am I?”

“No!” He paled. “What are you even thinking? Your mother would no more . . . She’s . . .
Goddamnit.
She’s a lady. Why would you even say that?”

“So it’s not some old love affair?”

“No, of course it’s not.” He sighed.

“Tell me the truth, Slade. What’s going on?”

“You’re right. There is something.” His whole body sagged. “A long time ago I did something . . . awful. A car accident. We were all too drunk to drive but we drew straws . . . and I lost.”

I waited, but when he didn’t speak right away, I prompted him. “And . . . ?”

“I lost control and we spun out. Went over an embankment. I was the sole survivor. Nobody knows I was the driver. The police found my roommate Dale behind the wheel. He was—”

“Already dead?” I guessed.

He nodded.

“How does my dad know about this?”

“Your father was on the road that night. He saw the accident and stopped to see if he could help.” Yancy closed his eyes as if remembering every painful detail. “It was your dad’s idea for me to exchange places with Dale. He helped me move his body. Dale was dead anyway, and your father said I’d probably learned my lesson. I was hurt. I let him help me. He lied for me, told the deputies he’d seen the accident. That he’d found us that way.”

“How long ago was this?”

“It happened in ’83.”

“It’s just your word against his?” Nobody had cell phones back then. Where was the proof?

“No it’s not.” He shook his head sadly. “When your father got into trouble that first time in Las Cruces, he called me and reminded me what he’d done for me. He recorded our conversation, and he’s been calling the shots ever since.”

“That motherfucker. So what-all does he get from you?”

“He gets the best legal defense money can buy. I’ve taken care of your mother. I tried to help your brother, and let me tell you, there was a thankless task if ever I had one.” He put his head in his hands. “I’m so goddamn sorry about Heath.”

“Heath wanted to be like Dad. He didn’t take well to being told no.”

“No. He didn’t.”

“What about the contraband? Do you provide it?”

“Whatever your father asks for,” he said bitterly, “he usually finds a way to get.”

“But something unexpected happened, right? You fell for my ma.”

“God, yes.” He smiled sadly. “And I did not count on that. Birdie is the most stubborn goddamn woman on the planet. You have no idea.”

“Uh, yeah. I think I do.” I nodded, sifting through everything I’d discovered. “Can you win an appeal?”

“No. It’s busy work on my part. He insists and I comply but there are no grounds. That doesn’t mean he won’t be granted parole someday.”

“When will we have to worry about that?”

“Two thousand twenty-two.”

“Is Ma right? Will they come after us if we stop giving him what he wants?”

“I doubt they’d take action over a small fish like Calvin. Your mother is—” he glanced down at his neatly manicured hands “—I’d like to say she’s safe, but as long as your father is in contact with her, he’ll twist her up in knots. She’s easily led. Easily frightened. I’ll do what I have to do to keep her safe, even continue meeting his demands, if that’s what it takes.”

“Doesn’t sound fair to me, you doing that for us, and—”

“I want to make Birdie happy.” He shrugged. “That’s all I want. I guess I’ll do what I have to do to ensure that.”

Slade was so unlike his normal hyper-perfect self just then. He was so torn up, so willing to sacrifice anything for my Ma, that I took pity on him. “If my dad recorded your conversation, he’s probably got the tape hidden at the house somewhere. That, or it’s in the evidence the feds collected.”

“It can’t be there, I’m pretty sure I’d have heard something by now. I’ve irritated enough of the prosecutors in this state there’s a Nerf target in the attorney general’s office with my face on it. Or so I’ve been told.”

“I’ll need to pack up our things. What if I take a look? If I can find whatever Dad’s got on you, it’s yours, no questions asked.”

“So . . .” He sighed heavily. “You are planning to leave.”

“I need to take Ma somewhere she’ll feel safe. She has family in Atlanta. I thought we could go there for a while. See if it helps.”

“I see.” Grief passed over his features like a dark cloud, but a second later, the lawyer was firmly in place, burying the man beneath the professional mask. “That’s probably for the best. You going to sell up?”

“Since the house belongs to Dad, we’ll just have to go.”

“Well. About that.” His lips curved up into a small, triumphant smile. “I convinced your father it was in his best interest to put everything in Birdie’s name when she had to sell the livestock.”

I sat forward. “Was that legal?”

“Sure.” He laughed lightly. “Was it ethical? Hell, no. I’ll be happy to add it to the list of my crimes.”

His fierce white smile was back, but I saw him in a different light. A benevolent predator.

A pet shark.

“All right,” I smiled back at him. “We’ll need to sell up. I’ll have to figure out how much I have left in savings and credit—”

“I can help with the expenses.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Yes it
is
.” His expression told me he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Your mother’s looking at a lengthy hospital stay if the judge won’t accept that she’ll be safe in outpatient care. You’ll need enough money for housing in Atlanta, plus more to tide you over until you find work. And unless Birdie’s mistaken, and I doubt she’s mistaken about this, you’re going to need some ongoing therapy as well. She says you don’t sleep. You have nightmares. You have episodes.”

“Why would you help us like this? After all my dad has taken from you?”

“Your mother is innocent. So are a lot of the people I defend. Unlike your dad, a lot of them are railroaded through a system rigged against them. I like to think that somehow, I’m paying for my crimes.”

“I wonder if you’d have been better off telling the truth in the first place.”

“I wish I knew the answer to that,” he said.

“I have to go.” I got up. “Are you going to be here for a while? I need to drop this information off and then go to the J-Bar for a bit.”

“I’ll stay until you get back. If there’s anything urgent, I’ll call you.”

I got some help filling out the required paperwork and left. On the way to my truck I allowed myself a moment of indecision.

Maybe I didn’t
have
to leave.

Maybe my mother could go without me.

I knew the answer to that: She wouldn’t. I knew that as well as I knew her. Pretending wasn’t working for her anymore. Unhappiness bled from the cracks of the walls she’d built around herself. She needed me to shore her up until she could stand on her own, if that was even possible anymore. She needed treatment, and she needed someone to step up and see she got it. There was no one left but me to make sure she was okay.

I’d come home to take care of her, and I would do it, no matter what it cost me.