Cowboys 03 - My Cowboy Homecoming (23 page)

“Fuck you.” My brilliant parting shot. “You don’t need to say another word. I get the message.”

“Aw, Tripp. Jesus.” He lay there, watching me dress.

When I was ready to leave, I turned back. “I—”

“Take care.” The warmth of our coming together winked out, like the last ember of a dying fire, leaving me cold. I left him there in his bed, alone.

I was so goddamn angry I didn’t bother muffling the door when I let it shut behind me. Probably woke the whole place.

Lucho didn’t understand. He never would. He had the luxury of growing up in a family of decent people. He had the strength of their love behind him.

I was caught between a violent sociopath and a woman who was mentally unstable.

And they were still my goddamn parents.

I gunned the engine and left the ranch. I was angry. Prideful. The bitterness was ten times worse because I was desperate to be the man Lucho wanted me to be and clearly, I was not.

I picked up the phone and dialed.

“’Lo?” Lucho answered.

“It’s me.”

“Didn’t you just storm out of here, like . . . a minute ago?”

“Yeah. I did.” I said. “I stormed out. And I’m pissed. But I’m resourceful. I’m tough and I’m sneaky. Don’t count me out, goddamnit.”

I hung up. I had a lot of thinking to do. There had to be some way out of this mess that didn’t involve me giving up everything—everyone—I loved.

I just had to sit still and think, until I figured it out.

“You look like you didn’t sleep.” Ma said.

“I didn’t.” Two days had passed since I’d seen or heard anything from Lucho. Clearly, he’d been serious when he’d said the man he fell for couldn’t be a guy like me.

I’d barely slept and when I did, I’d had nightmares that had nothing to do with war.

I’d spent those sleepless nights digging through my family’s belongings, looking for any dirty secrets my dad still had hidden, and I’d greeted the dawn that morning with the bitter acceptance of fact: I’d missed the window where I could have made the right decision—like Lucho said—for the right reasons.

I’d missed a
lot
of windows, actually, and now there was nothing to do but live with my choices or change the rules.

Ma looked better. Not well, certainly. Whatever they’d given her for her anxiety made her a little loopy, but she looked nice. She even smelled pretty, thanks to the little case of toiletries they’d let me bring her—minus anything the nurses worried she could use to harm herself.

Between us we’d convinced her doctors that she wasn’t going to be a danger to herself anymore. She agreed to see a therapist on an outpatient basis. It was late in the afternoon when the doctors signed her out into my care.

“Are you ready to go home?” I asked.

“So ready. You have no idea.” She let me help her from the bed after one of the nurses came into the room with a wheelchair.

“Have everything?” I asked.

“I wish I could take all these pretty flowers.”

Yancy Slade had outdone himself filling her room with huge bouquets of sweet-smelling blooms.

Did she realize how Slade felt about her? Did she return his affection? If so, it was a pretty deep game she played, pretending loyalty to my father and keeping Yancy at arm’s length when even an ass like me could see he loved her and it was killing him—killing both of them, maybe—to pretend like that. If only I thought she could love Yancy, things would be so much easier . . .

“Maybe some of the patients who don’t have family nearby would like them?” the nurse asked, breaking into my thoughts.

“That’s a good idea, Ma. You could brighten some lives.”

“Yes,” Ma murmured. “That would be very nice.”

“I’ll see they’re distributed,” the nurse reassured her as we left her room.

Outside, Yancy waited, when I opened the passenger door, the running board slid out like a magical step for a princess’s dainty foot.

I helped my mother into the passenger seat, and then I got into the back. I had that odd, dejà-vu sensation of seeing this exact scene in a sitcom from the eighties. I didn’t feel as awkward with the two of them as I had before. We were becoming the family that circumstance made of us. Now that I no longer despised Slade, I could accept his help with, if not gratitude, at least with grace.

“How long before Wally World?” I joked as I buckled my seatbelt.

I’m not sure I was entirely sane, just then.

“Are you all right?” Yancy eyed me in the rearview mirror.

I shook my head. “Sure. I’m fine.”

“You’re going to miss working at the ranch,” my mother said. “I know how much you enjoyed that.”

I glanced out the window after Yancy left the parking lot. Watched as the mounds of junipers passed. Watched as each silly, phallic agave seemed to wave its absurd blossom-shaft at me. My phone chimed. I pulled it from my pocket, hoping for something from Lucho, but expecting the message was from realtors, or the hospital, or the pharmacist—any one of the people who wanted questions answered these days.

The text was from Corporal Chuck Kelly—the belated answer to that long-ago text I’d sent when I was feeling so lost without my friends.

“Hey, yourself you scot-free motherfucker. How’s it going in cowboy country? That’s you all over, man. With or without the uniform, you’re a white Stetson all the way and I’ll bet it looks good on you. Me and the boys are wondering if you’ll be starting your own spread? When that happens, let us know. There’s no one any of us would rather serve with, in war shit or in horseshit. Take care of yourself, you sad bastard, Kelly, Erb and Franklin. P.S. Franklin says, Where’s the cigars? You
promised!”

I felt a chill come over me. It was like they were right there next to me, my true family. The family I’d choose. We were none of us saints, but we had a code. We wouldn’t take the easy way out if it meant leaving our brothers in danger. We wouldn’t let a bully win. We wouldn’t choose cash over conscience. And we’d stand beside one another, willing to die side by side in a heartbeat.

Had I left my best self behind, along with the uniform?

No.

During the long, sleepless night I’d made a decision. I understood what I had to do, even if it was too little, too late . . .

When we got to the first of the gates leading to the J-Bar land, I tapped on the back of Yancy’s seat.

“Stop the car, please. Pull over to the side of the road anywhere.”

“What is it, honey?” My mother turned, blinking back at me like a drugged doll.

“You know I love you, Ma, right?” I asked. “You know I came home to take care of things? That I want to do right by you and see that you’re safe?”

“Of course I do.” She frowned at me, lost focus, and then glanced at Yancy. “What’s happening?”

“Get out of the car, Yancy. I need to talk to you.”

Yancy didn’t seem surprised. He and I got out on opposite sides, so he faced me over the roof of his SUV, eyebrows lowered. Cheeks pale. “What are you thinking, boy?”

“If I’m ever going look at my face in the mirror again, I have to stand up to my dad. I ran away once before and that only prolonged everyone’s misery. It didn’t stop Dad from corrupting Heath, or taking advantage of Ma. I’m not going to let him do the same thing to me.”

Ma got out and reached for my arm. “Honey, if he can’t find us—”

“It doesn’t matter if we leave, Ma.” I pulled away from her, giving my full attention to Slade, who’d come around the SUV to face me. “He’s got Slade. Or he’ll find someone else to buy his shit for him. He’ll blackmail someone, or threaten their family. He’ll make them feel like they don’t have a choice, just like he’s doing with us.”

“I don’t like this any better than you do,” said Slade, “but there are ways to go about these things and—”

“What’s your way? Do his dirty work for another fifteen years?”

“Goddamnit.” Slade threw a punch, and it surprised me just enough to get in under my guard. It landed squarely on my jaw, snapped my head back, and made my ears ring.

I spat on the ground and got ready in case he wanted to hit me again.

“Do you think I wanted to be your dad’s lawyer?” he shouted. “This isn’t just about you.”

“No, it’s about all of us, letting that sick, sad man control our lives.”

“If I don’t do what your father says, my life is over.” Yancy tried to take another swing, but I was ready for it. I danced out of reach and came back in to land one in his gut. My mother shrieked as he doubled over. I leaned in and spoke so only he could hear me.

“Your life was over thirty years ago, when you lied about vehicular homicide.”

He fell back against the Escalade, gasping for air. My mother clutched his arm. “If you go to the authorities, we’ll all face prison.”

“Not if I take full responsibility.”

“Think, man.” He looked at me with disgust. “You weren’t even here for most of it.”

“I’m going to the authorities and I’m going to tell them everything I know about my dad’s operation. I’m going to name Heath as the person who facilitated it, and I’m going to say I took over when I came back.”

“You’re willing to gamble with your life?” He glared at me. “Your freedom?”

“Sort of,” I admitted.

“You are an idiot.”

“I’m going to tell everything I know, but I’m leaving you and Ma out of it.”

“Oh, honey.” Ma threw arms around me. “No.”

“Don’t cry, Ma.” I gently pushed her away. “It’s going to be all right. I don’t think I’ll go to jail or anything.”

“Son.” Yancy shoved his hands in his pockets. “As your lawyer, I cannot let you do this.”

“You’re fired, Yancy.”

“And you think that’s all there is to it? You fire me, so I leave? It’s not like you ever paid me. I’m your lawyer whether you like it or not. I’m in this with both of you, no matter what.”

“Look, I know you’re not the bastard you pretend to be, but you’re not a stand-up guy either.”

I closed my eyes, remembering Lucho’s words.
The right thing, for the right reasons.
I took a package from my jacket pocket—the recording my dad was using to blackmail Slade.

“I found this.” I handed it over. “Everything you need to be free of my father is in here.”

“Tripp—” He took it, surprise and sorrow etched on his face.

“I’m standing up to Dad. I need to face him down and tell him ‘no,’ or I can’t ever call myself a decent man. But that’s my decision. I can’t make that same choice for anyone else.”

“You can’t do this.” Ma dug her nails into my arm. “Daddy will send men after you. He’ll have you killed, just like—”

“He won’t, Ma. I promise.” I pried her fingers off me. “He’s just an old man who’s paying bullies to protect him, and if he’s got nothing to give, they’ll move on to someone else.” That’s not all they would do, but I didn’t want to upset my mother any more than I had to.

“No.” My ma burst into tears. “Don’t do this, baby. You’ll go to prison.”

“C’mon, now, Birdie. Don’t get yourself into a state. We need to get you home.” Yancy smoothed his hand over my mother’s hair. “I’ve promised both your Calvins I’d look after you, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“B-but—”

“He can’t hurt you anymore, Ma.” I said. “He can’t hurt anyone but himself.”

“Tripp’s right.” Yancy cupped her face between his hands, thumbing away the tears that rolled down her cheeks. “We won’t let anything happen to you, sweetheart.”

She melted against him before he drew her to the door of the SUV and helped her in.

I leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Go home and rest, Ma. I need some time to think. I’ll be home in the morning, and we’ll talk more then.”

She started to cry. “We were supposed to go to Atlanta.”

“I’m not running away anymore, Ma. Never again.”

After he closed the door between Ma and me, Yancy asked, “When will you go to the police?”

“Tomorrow? I need to talk to Malloy. Warn them I could be enjoying the hospitality of the state pretty soon.” I frowned. “Talk about following in Daddy’s footsteps.
Christ.
Won’t he be proud?”

“You’re nothing like your dad. You know that, right?” said Yancy.

“Thanks.” Hadn’t I been telling myself that all along? It’d be a helluva joke if I had to go to jail to prove it.

Then he glanced at my mother, who was fumbling through her purse. “There are tissues in the glove box.” Yancy smiled faintly. “I keep them there for Birdie. She’s always crying, and she never carries tissues.”

Despite my throbbing jaw, I gave him my hand to shake. He took it and held it briefly between his own two. After he let go, he asked. “You sure you don’t want a ride the rest of the way?”

“I’m sure.”

I watched him go around the vehicle. Waited until they pulled away.

I was probably going to jail, but I felt free—entirely, completely free—for the first time since I’d come home.

The sun beat down on my body as I walked, but the old Resistol I wore kept my face from burning. The wind dried my skin before I could even sweat, and as I trudged along I thought of all the things I’d say to Lucho if he ever gave me a chance.

I think I did the right thing.

I want to be the man you deserve, and I should have jumped at the chance to prove that, back when you’d have believed I did the right thing because I’m a good man and not because I’d lose you forever.

I want to live with you in the daylight and hold you under the stars.

. . . I love you . . . I love you . . . I love you . . .

The fragrance of earth and sage came up with each step I took. The scent of juniper rode on the breeze.

A pair of red-tailed hawks circled the air, high overhead. My heart felt so light it soared with them, swooping along the air currents, proud, and free. Just for a moment, I imagined it could be Lucho and me stretching our wings out beneath the sun, reaching for all our highs and lows together, and making patterns across the sky that only we would know were there.

Retracing our flights, over and over as we grew old together . . .

I wished I had water as I sat on a boulder taking in the beauty of the land. Afternoon turned into evening, and darkness cooled the air around me. As I prepared myself to make the most out of the one good thing I still had going for me, I listened to the crickets’ song.

I’d miss the J-Bar and I’d miss my new friends. I’d miss Pio and Galleta. I’d miss the goddamn cows, even the ones that wanted to flatten me for tagging their babies. I’d miss the alpacas and the sheep, who bumped each other and scattered, startled, when I walked by, making Threep burst from the bunkhouse steps in a frenzy.

“Shh.” I told her. She quieted down when she realized it was me. “Shh, old friend. I’m just checking on Pio. C’mon.”

Threep trotted along beside me, happy-dog dancing all the way. When I reached the enclosure where they kept Pio, I gave him my usual greeting. “
Chk-chk-chk
. Piiiiio.”

He trotted over to me, looking for a good neck rub. I opened the gate and went inside with him to oblige. He danced around, showing off. He seemed as happy to see me as I was to see him.

Then I heard the distinct sound of a shotgun being loaded and froze.

“Stop right there.” Jimmy’s voice burst the quiet of the evening. Pio’s ears flattened and he nudged me aside, turning to the sound of the new threat.

“Whoa. It’s me, Tripp.” My heart was bursting with so many emotions I couldn’t separate them all, the battle-honed acceptance of danger, a fierce protective drive, and an oddly happy little zing of pleasure that turned out to be homecoming. I was where I belonged, and I’d chosen to stay, and now I just needed Jimmy to recognize me before he pulled the trigger. “Christ, Jimmy. It’s me, Tripp.”