Authors: Linda Warren
He headed back to Houston, then took U.S. 290 to Brenham and Texas Highway 36 through Caldwell. His destination was very clear—Bramble, Texas. He wanted to see Tripp and talk to his friend.
Tripp and his family lived on the Lady Luck Ranch and Brodie drove there via a shortcut on the country back roads. He stopped as he saw a truck and trailer half parked in the road—the trailer was backed into a loading chute. Two riders, a man and a young boy, were trying to pen a bull.
He got out and watched as the man swung a rope over his head, trying to rope the bull. Every time the rope fell short of the bull’s sawed-off horns, the bull, worked up and angry, would charge the horses.
“Do you need some help?” Brodie called.
The man and boy rode over. “We’ve been trying to load this bull for over an hour, but he’s one mean sonofagun.”
“Why are you penning him by himself? He’d be much calmer with cattle.”
“Because he broke through my fence into Mr. Shafer’s pasture. Now Mr. Shafer, he ain’t too friendly or neighborly. He said if I didn’t get my bull off his property today, he’s going to shoot him. We tried herding him toward my ranch, but all he wants to do is fight. Mr. Shafer let us use this fenced-off pen and corral, but that’s not working, either.”
“Maybe I can help.”
“Can you ride?” the man asked, spitting chewing tobacco onto the ground.
“A little.”
“This is my grandson, Nathan. He’s trying to help, but that bull is a whole lot of mean.”
The boy looked to be about twelve—no match for the bull.
“Can I borrow your horse, Nathan?”
“Yes, sir.” Nathan quickly slid from the saddle.
Brodie jumped over the barbed-wire fence and grabbed the reins. He adjusted the stirrups and swung into the saddle.
“I’m Nate Johnson,” the man introduced himself.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Johnson.” He rode closer. “May I have your rope?”
“Sure. I’m guessing you can rope.” Nate unlooped the rope from the saddle horn and handed it to him.
“A little.” He adjusted the rope into a big loop, getting a feel of it and the horse beneath him. The brown mare responded well to his signals.
Sitting back in the saddle, he thought about a plan—the best way to pen the bull. He, Colter and Tripp had done this many times. But the three of them together knew exactly what to do and when. Brodie wasn’t sure Mr. Johnson was going to be much help.
As he looked at the wood structure of the corral, he saw that it had two gates—one on each side. One gate was opened.
“Nathan,” he said. “Open the other gate.”
“But the bull will just run through it.” Mr. Johnson made his opinion known.
“Trust me.”
“Sure,” Nate replied. “Nothin’ I’ve tried has worked.”
Nathan hurried to open the other gate.
“Nathan,” Brodie called. “When I shout to close it, I want you to close it as fast as you can and get out of the way.”
“Yes, sir. Wow! This is going to be like a rodeo.”
Brodie smiled inwardly. He hoped everything went like he had it planned in his head, although usually a bull had a way of changing plans.
The bull was a Brahma mix, which wasn’t good. They were known for their fiery temperament. In a corner of the pen, the bull pawed at the ground, snot running out of his nose, his eyes on the riders as if he was daring them to come after him.
“Okay, Mr. Johnson. See if you can get him out of that corner, so I can get the rope over his head.”
“You’re pretty sure you can rope him.”
“I’ll give it my best.”
“Uh-huh.” Nate rode toward the bull and Brodie stood in the stirrups, ready to throw the rope.
When the bull charged Nate, he spun his horse toward the middle of the pen and the bull followed. With one quick movement, Brodie swung the rope above his head and sailed it toward the bull. It fell in a circle over the bull’s horns. He jerked the rope tight and looped the end over the saddle horn, backing up the horse to further tighten the rope.
Not liking the rope, the bull threw up his head and jerked from side to side, trying to dislodge it. Brodie turned his horse and yanked on the rope. The animal charged the
horse and Brodie. He kneed the horse and they galloped at a run for the corral with the bull behind them.
Brodie flew through one gate, then the next. “Shut the gate,” he shouted, and jumped from the horse, helping Nathan with the gate. The bull rammed into it and the boards weakened from the contact. Brodie quickly wrapped the rope around a large center post. The bull bashed it repeatedly with his head and Brodie tightened the rope. After butting it a few times, the animal settled down.
“Wow,” Nathan said. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”
Nate closed the other gate. “Mighty fine work.”
Brodie crawled onto the fence. “I’d let him settle down a little bit before you load him.”
“Oh, I’m not loadin’ him.” Mr. Johnson dismounted. “You roped him, you get to do the job.”
Brodie tipped back his hat and smiled. The cowboy way—that’s how Nate did things. And Brodie knew the rules well—once you start something, you finish it.
“You got it.”
He loosened the rope enough to slip it off the horns. The bull threw up his head and began to run around the corral, looking for an escape. He charged into one corner, then another before he ran into the open chute. Brodie slammed the gate shut before the big animal realized he was in a trap.
Crawling atop the chute, he shouted and shouted until the bull loped into the trailer. Brodie was right behind him, locking the gate of the trailer. There was no more escape. The bull was ready to haul.
Brodie leaped to the ground. Nate stood waiting for him.
“I think you’ve done this a time or two before,” Nate said, squinting at him. “Don’t believe I caught your name.”
He held out his hand. “Brodie Hayes,” he replied without even thinking about it.
Nate pumped his hand vigorously. “Well, I’ll be a sonofagun. I knew you weren’t no ordinary cowboy. You’re a three-time world champion. You could’ve of just ridden that bull into the pen.”
“Oh, boy. Wow!” Nathan crawled between the barbed wires. “Wait a minute.” He ran to the truck and came back with a magic marker. “Sign my T-shirt, please.” He turned his back to Brodie.
He scribbled
Brodie Hayes
in bold letters across Nathan’s back. It all fell into place at that moment. That’s who he was, a cowboy and a bull rider. He’d spent years learning the skill and his name mattered because it identified who he was and labeled all the hard work and sacrifice. And it labeled him. That’s what had been so difficult, trying to let go of the man he was inside.
Now he knew he didn’t have to do that. Whether he was Brodie Hayes or Travis Braxton he was still a cowboy, a bull rider. Once a cowboy, always a cowboy. He felt comfortable in Brodie Hayes’s skin and he wasn’t going to change that. Nothing could.
He walked away with a spring in his stride. As he got into his truck, he waved at the Johnsons and drove away.
How do you put a broken cowboy back together?
He now knew the answer to that question—with the love of a good woman.
Alex.
Alex soon discovered that life went on even when you had a broken heart. As each day passed and Brodie didn’t call, her hopes grew dimmer and dimmer. So she threw herself into the Davis case, often working late. Going home to an empty apartment wasn’t all that appealing.
She’d gotten used to Brodie filling it up. She’d gotten used to a lot of things about Brodie, especially his arms around her in the middle of the night. And she couldn’t believe how much she missed him—how much a part of her he’d become.
But she was trying to go on. She’d met a neighbor, Denise, and it was nice to have a girlfriend to talk to again. She’d missed that after Patsy had moved away. Talking on the phone wasn’t the same thing. Yet no matter how many friends she had to talk to, none of them could fill the void of Brodie.
As she hurried into the office, she heard loud voices coming from Buck’s room. Was Naddy here again? She was getting tired of playing referee, although lately they’d been getting along better than usual.
Naddy had gotten her money and she wasn’t trying to blow it all at once. She’d given some to Alex to put away for when she needed it. Naddy and Ethel had an Atlantic City trip planned for the end of the month. The hot tub had been installed and it kept Naddy and Ethel occupied—for now.
As she neared Buck’s office, she could hear the voices clearly. It wasn’t Naddy’s.
“Just get the hell out of Dallas.” That was Buck’s grumpy voice.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do that. I know I promised, but I have to see her.” She didn’t recognize the woman’s voice.
“What the hell for? It’s not going to make a bit of difference.”
“For me it will.”
“Stop thinking about yourself and think about what this will do to her.”
Alex didn’t have a clue what they were talking about so she started to just go to her office. But something propelled her forward.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Buck came around his desk. “Just go to your office. This doesn’t concern you.”
“Okay. But you don’t have to be so grouchy.”
“Are you Alex?” the woman asked.
She glanced from her father’s set face to the woman’s. She was pale, her skin almost chalklike, and her eyes were sunk in her head. She was painfully thin. Alex knew the woman was ill.
“Yes, I’m Alex. Do I know you?”
“No, you don’t,” Buck answered. “She was just leaving.”
“I’m not leaving, Buck.”
Buck took the woman’s arm in a firm grip. “Yes, you are.”
The woman jerked away and stumbled backward to a chair.
Alex ran to her aid. “Are you okay?”
“I just need a moment.” She took several deep breaths.
“Go to your office, Alex. I’ll handle this.”
Alex glared at Buck. “Stop being so mean.” She opened Buck’s small refrigerator, got a bottle of water and handed it to the woman. “This might help.”
“Thanks.” The woman took several sips, staring at Alex. “You’re so pretty. Just like I knew you’d be.”
“Oh. You’ve seen me before?”
“No.”
Alex was taken aback, not sure what to make of her answer. She thought it best to let Buck handle whatever was going on. Besides, the veins on his neck were popped out and he looked ready to explode. Naddy was usually the perpetrator of that effect.
“Just go,” Buck said again and she turned to leave.
“I’m Gwen Canton,” the woman said in a rush, breathing heavily. “I’m your…your mother.”
Alex swung back.
“What!”
“I’m your mother.” Gwen said the words very clearly this time.
Alex waited for Buck to deny what the woman was saying, but he just stood there white as a sheet.
“You must be delusional,” she said, trying to hold on
to a thread of sanity. “My mother’s name was Joan.” She looked at her father. “Buck?”
He walked to his chair and sank into it. Tiny frissons of fear shot through her heart. This couldn’t be happening to her, not after what she’d been through with Brodie.
She wanted to rant and scream at Buck, but anger never accomplished anything. She’d learned that from Brodie. Now she just wanted answers.
“Tell me how you can be my mother.”
Gwen stared at Buck, but he remained stone-faced.
Gwen clasped the bottle in her hands. “I worked at the police station when Buck was a cop. Joan had had three miscarriages and cried a lot because she desperately wanted a baby. The doctor told her it probably wasn’t going to happen. Buck was upset and when he worked the nightshift he’d talk to me. One thing led to another and we had an affair.”
Buck got up and walked to the window.
“When I found out I was pregnant, I didn’t know what to do. My family is very strict Baptist and I was involved with a married man. I was young, unmarried and I didn’t want the baby. I decided to give it up for adoption. But Buck wouldn’t hear of it. He told Joan and though she was angry with him for his infidelity, she wanted his baby. I agreed to give the baby to them.”
Gwen took a swallow of water. “I quit my job and moved to Austin. Buck paid for my apartment and all my medical bills. Joan told everyone she was pregnant again and wore maternity clothes. When I started having contractions, I called them and they came to Austin. As soon as I delivered you, the nurse carried you to Joan.
I never got to hold you. I was only told you were a girl.” She took a long breath. “Buck gave me ten thousand dollars to start over again and I promised to never come back or interfere in your life.”
“But you are here,” Alex said, surprised at how calm she was.
“Yes.” Gwen studied the bottle. “I went to nursing school, got a good job and fell in love. My husband had two children and I raised them. Sadly I was never able to have any of my own again.” She clasped the bottle tighter. “I’m an emergency room nurse and one evening a drug addict broke into our medicine cabinet. He knocked out one nurse and I found him jamming a needle into his arm. We struggled and he thrust the needle into me before the security guards could contain him. He was HIV positive.”
Alex swallowed. “So you have AIDS?”
Gwen looked directly at her. “Yes. I don’t have much time left. I didn’t come here lightly, but when you’re facing death you think about so many things especially all the sins that you’ve committed over the years. I guess I’m looking for redemption, forgiveness for what I did to you.”
“For heaven sakes,” Buck growled, but they didn’t pay him any attention.
Gwen set the bottle on the floor and reached for her purse. She pulled out a slip of paper. “I’ve written the name of the motel and room number where my husband and I are staying. We’ll be here for a couple of days.” Gwen stood and laid the paper on Buck’s desk. “Think about what I said. I hope we can talk again.” She left quietly.
Alex picked up the paper and stared at Buck. “You could have told me.”
“Joan didn’t want you to know and I…”
Suddenly Alex couldn’t take anymore. She bolted for the door.
“Alex!” Buck shouted.
But she wasn’t listening. She jumped into her Jeep and headed…she didn’t know where she was going. Just away. Her pulse raced and tears stung her eyes so she pulled into a parking lot.
Brodie had said that she didn’t understand how he was feeling. At the time she thought she did. But she wasn’t even close. This kind of betrayal was debilitating and it could cripple her—if she let it.
She watched a stream of cars stopped at a red light. The light turned green and the cars moved on. This was a red light moment in her life, as Brodie’s discovery had been for him.
She’d learned from him and what he’d been through. His love empowered her, made her stronger, and this red light wasn’t going to change a thing. She wasn’t sinking into self-pity, whining why, why, why. She had never known Joan so allowing herself a green light was easy. Buck was still her father. Naddy was still her crazy grandmother. Her life was still the same, except now she knew the truth.
It came home to her just how difficult this had been for Brodie—to deal with being another person. She didn’t truly understand until now….
She realized she still had Gwen’s paper clutched in her hand. Unfolding it, she knew she had to tell Gwen
that there was nothing to forgive. She hadn’t had a
Leave It To Beaver
life, but who did? She had Buck, who was always there for her even though she had a hard time understanding him. And she had Naddy, who made her laugh and taught her to accept people the way they were. Life wasn’t all that bad.
Glancing at the name of the motel, she started the Jeep. As she pulled out into traffic, her cell rang. It was Mrs. Bigly, Buck’s next-door neighbor.
“I’ll be right there, Mrs. Bigly,” she said.
What Mrs. Bigly had told her couldn’t be true, but she had to find out. She whizzed through traffic and soon zipped into Buck’s driveway. She noticed the grass was almost brown. Damn. Quickly, she turned on the sprinklers and ran into the house.
She marched through the den to stare out the French doors leading to the patio. Mrs. Bigly was right. Naddy and Ethel were in the hot tub naked as jaybirds. Good grief, the world didn’t need to see this.
She swung open the door. “Naddy, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Honeychild, get in the tub with us.” Naddy was unperturbed by her appearance.
“Not for a million bucks. Get out this instant. The neighbors are complaining.”
“That old Bigly lady, right?” Naddy took a swig from the beer can she had perched on the edge of the tub.
“She’s younger than you.”
“She’s a busybody.”
“Get out of the tub.” Her voice rose.
“Bigly can’t see a thing.”
“Her patio is right next door.”
“I can’t see her, so how can she see us?”
“Have you got cataracts?”
“No. I have a Buick. You know that.”
Alex heaved a put-out sigh. “I said cataracts, not Cadillac.”
“Oh. Now I might have those.”
“Get out of the tub.”
“Okay. Keep your britches on.” Naddy made to get up.
“No,” Alex shrieked, seeing more than she needed to. “I’ll get your robe and I’ll get one for Ethel, too. Don’t move until I get back.”
“Make up your mind.”
Alex hurried inside to Naddy’s room and rummaged through the pile of clothes for a robe. She couldn’t find one. The humor of the situation got to her and she sank to her knees laughing.
Suddenly the events of the day hit her like a brick wall and the laughter turned to tears. Loud sobs racked her body. She had a mother and she was dying. She was losing a mother—again.
Brodie, I need you. Come home.
“Honeychild, what is it?” Naddy asked from the doorway, dressed in her robe. Ethel stood behind her.
“I was looking for your robe,” she replied inanely, pushing up to sit on the bed.
“I had it outside. If I’d known it was going to upset you this much, I would never have done it.” Naddy sat beside her. “Ethel and me just wanted to see what it was like. Hell, we don’t get too many thrills these days.”
“I’m not crying about that.” She brushed away tears. “But don’t ever do that again.”
“Okay. Okay.” Naddy rubbed her arm. “What’s the waterworks about?”
“Joan wasn’t my mother.”
“Sure she was.”
“I’ll fix some coffee,” Ethel said and went into the kitchen.
“What are you talking about, Alex?”
“Joan wasn’t my mother,” she repeated.
“Now I might be getting senile, but I know Joan was pregnant with you. She’d had three miscarriages and she was so happy to be able to get pregnant again. She and Buck went to Austin for a weekend and she started having contractions. You were born there and they brought you home in a couple of days.”
Alex told Naddy the story she’d heard from Gwen.
“Buck had an affair!”
“Yes.”
“That sly dog.” Naddy rubbed her arm again. “Are you okay, child?”
“I’m trying…” She looked up to see her father standing in the doorway.
Naddy got up and shook her finger in Buck’s face. “You lying dog. You tell her the truth and don’t leave out anything. I ought to box your ears.”
“Give it a rest, Naddy,” Buck said. “This is the pot calling the kettle black.”
“I know I’m not a saint.”
“Well, neither am I.”
“You got that one right, Bucky.”
Buck shook his head. “Go somewhere else. I need to talk to Alex.”
Naddy stomped out and Buck looked around. “This is a pigsty. Let’s go to the kitchen.”
Alex followed and noticed that Naddy and Ethel were back in the tub with their swimsuits on.
Buck poured a cup of coffee and sat down. “What do you want to know?”
Getting Buck to talk about personal things was a major accomplishment, so she pulled out a chair, ready to get her pound of flesh.
“Did you love Gwen?”