Pamela Tracy - Once Upon a Cowboy

Especially when the matter of the heart had an arrow aimed at it, but not from Cupid’s bow. Patsy Armstrong, aka Mom, was the sharpshooter in question.

The McCreedy men, all six of them if you counted stepfather Billy Staples, were having hot dogs for dinner. The kitchen hadn’t changed all that much, except that Joel didn’t know where he belonged. The table, from his childhood, was a six-seater, and Joel was pretty sure that the only vacant chair had at one time belonged to Mandy.

His sister-in-law had suffered with a long illness, was six months gone, and Joel hadn’t made it to the funeral. He hesitated, and Billy came to the rescue. He got up, moved around the table and took the empty seat. Joel took Billy’s place feeling like he kept winding up with the losing hand in a game with rules he didn’t understand. Jared’s and Matt’s faces bore identical scowls when Joel sat down.

“So, what happened in school today?” Billy asked, unable to hide a look of resignation.

Matt didn’t answer; he seemed to be contemplating.

“Were dere birfdays?” Caleb wanted to know.

Matt shook his head, but Ryan said, “There were no birthdays, but Trey took the bracelet that Mary got for her birthday and Mary had to chase him all around the playground.”

Joel thought he saw a slight smile hit Jared’s face, even though Jared didn’t seem willing to add to the conversation.

“How about you?” Billy encouraged. “Did you see Trey chasing Mary?”

“No,” Matt admitted, “but I saw him get in trouble. Miss Armstrong made him sit out the rest of recess.”

Ryan and Caleb finished their food within minutes. Ryan took out a homework paper. Caleb went into the living room to admire the two giant bags of birthday decorations that he promised not to touch. After a moment, Ryan shouted, “Done!” and headed for the living room to tease his little brother about the birthday present bandit.

Billy looked at Matt, who’d taken two tiny bites of his hot dog and totally ignored the fries. “You don’t need to clean your plate tonight.”

Joel couldn’t tell who was more surprised: Matt or Jared.

Maybe Matt. He looked at his grandpa without moving.

“Go ahead,” Jared urged, adding to the conversation for the first time.

Still, Matt dragged his feet. Finally, Jared held up a finger. “One.” Then up went another finger. “Two.” Matt’s plate made it to the sink on four; he made it out the kitchen door on five.

Without the boys, the room took on an uncomfortable quiet.

Billy didn’t waste a minute. In a serious tone, he began, “Joel and I were talking after I picked up the boys. We didn’t get a chance to finish.”

Jared didn’t even question about what, just gave Joel a suspicious and unwelcoming look.

“First,” Billy said, “why don’t you tell us what brought you home.”

The expression on Billy’s face didn’t change. He’d been a principal for more than forty years and told anybody willing to listen that “he’d seen it all.” He’d been a successful principal because while he’d seen it all, he was still willing to listen.

Jared didn’t say anything. His lips were puckered in a straight line that Joel recognized. He didn’t really care what Joel had to say, just wanted Joel out of here and for things to go back to normal. Listening to his little brother was so low on his list of priorities that it wasn’t a priority at all.

“I should have stayed in New Mexico.” Joel didn’t mean it, though. Something about being in his childhood kitchen, seeing the school papers held by magnets on the fridge, and sitting at the table where he’d helped his mom make cookies and in turn his mom had helped him with homework, something about it all made him catch his breath and consider what he’d given up.

“You keep up with my career?” Joel asked.

Jared shook his head, but Billy said, “You’ve been a midlister for quite a while.”

A midlister, not a rodeo term but definitely a retired teacher term, felt like a grade of C. “I’m only eight years in,” Joel said. “I still have at least ten years of competition ahead of me.”

Jared gave a half snort.

“The highest standing you’ve managed to reach is fifty,” Billy said.

“And that kind of standing has earned me enough money to stay in the show even after the seed money was spent.”

Jared tensed. The seed money might have been Joel’s half of the farm, but in Jared’s mind, the farm needed it more than Joel.

Billy held up his hand, halting the dialogue. “This is not the conversation I meant to have. What exactly brought you home? I read that you were injured, but I don’t recall which rodeo or what happened.”

“I was in Lovington, New Mexico, just over a month ago. I did fine, came in third and took home a purse of just under two thousand dollars. I was supposed to meet up with some friends in Missouri after that, but the morning I was to leave, the Monday after the rodeo, I had a hard time getting out of bed. I was as stiff as I’d ever been.”

“You came in third, so you kept your seat,” Billy remembered.

“That I did. The only thing I can figure is I must have landed wrong, hurt myself and not even realized it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I went to bed fine, woke up stiff that morning and by evening, a buddy literally carried me to the truck and drove me to the emergency room. I’ve never hurt so much. I couldn’t move to the left or right without nauseating pain. Doctor there said acute lumbar strain and vertebrae damage. For a solid week, I was in bed, in a lonely motel room. After that, I started physical therapy, and everything seemed to be going great. I could bend, jump and even lift. Then, after about two weeks of that, I was walking toward the motel room and I can’t even describe what it felt like, except that my back did a little break-dance of its own without my permission. Just like that, I was back in bed and on pain pills. After a week, I realized I couldn’t do it on my own.”

“And that’s when you decided to come home,” Billy figured.

Joel looked at Billy and then at his brother. On Billy’s face was an expression of concern. Jared’s face, however, remained suspicious.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“You were right to come home,” Billy said.

Looking at Jared, Joel continued, “This is truly the strangest injury I’ve ever had. One day I feel like I could possibly jump on the back of a bull and do the eight-second ride, the next day I’m wondering if I can make it to the bathroom.”

“So basically,” Jared stated, looking at Billy and not at Joel, “he’s coming home because he needs help but he can’t be of any help.”

“I—” Joel started.

“—always have a home here,” Billy said firmly. “I won’t lie. I’m having a hard time forgiving how you literally ran away, how few times you called and how you never came home when we needed you.”

“I didn’t find out about Mandy until it was too late,” Joel started. “I would—”

“No excuses. We’re done.” Billy looked at Jared. “The Bible’s very clear. It’s about time you dust yours off. Joel is family, and Jesus clearly states in the fifth chapter of First Timothy that ‘if anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for his immediate family, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.’ ”

Jared did not look repentant. “The Bible also says, ‘Thou shalt not steal.’ ”

Joel felt his teeth clench. What was most amazing was that in eight years, the family had so tiptoed around this ridiculous accusation that it was the first time he’d heard of it. “I didn’t steal.”

“Joel was about to tell me his side of what happened to the RC money,” Billy spoke up, “but then Matthew got sick to his stomach and Beth Armstrong interrupted us.”

“I can’t believe you think I would steal money.”

“It’s no secret that you thought your half of the farm was worth more,” Jared said.

“True, but I also thought—okay, dreamed—that I’d be looking at career winnings of over a million dollars. You heard me say that for years. I got my Professional Rodeo Cowboys’ Association card right before I left. I believed so strongly in my dream. Plus, you knew I felt guilty taking what I did. That’s why I left the way I did.”

“Every little bit helps,” Jared quoted their father.

“I didn’t take the RC money,” Joel said again, not that Jared was listening. Billy, though, finally looked a little more thoughtful than stoic.

“Twelve thousand, three hundred and seventy-four dollars,” Jared stated.

“You have the amount memorized?” Joel asked, incredulous, looking at his big brother.

“Of course I do.” Jared stood. Carefully, methodically, he put his dinner plate and glass in the kitchen sink. Then, as he walked out the door, he added, “I reimbursed the club so they wouldn’t press charges.”

Outside, the whir of a combine penetrated the murkiness that made up Joel’s slumber. He kept his eyes tightly closed, hoping the headache would disappear and sleep would return. It didn’t.

The bed was harder than it needed to be, but maybe that was just an effect of the pain in every bone in Joel’s body. Especially his head. Great, until the night before last the only thing that hadn’t hurt was his head. Opening one eye, Joel winced and took in his surroundings and noted the time. Wide awake at seven on a Saturday morning. Who needed an alarm clock? Pain worked better and didn’t offer a snooze option.

He slowly opened the other eye.

The guest room hadn’t really changed in the last fifteen years, not since his mother had decorated it in a fit of Martha Stewart enthusiasm and a good crop year. Both his parents were gone now—his dad while Joel was still in elementary school to a tractor mishap, his mom to cancer the year he turned eighteen. When she died, Joel lost his footing. The only thing he’d wanted was to leave because he no longer felt like he belonged.

But maybe he’d left because it hurt to belong.

Their memory dimmed as Joel eased up to a sitting position. He managed to get one leg to the ground, and while he rested he stared at the only thing new in the room, a sewing machine. It must have belonged to Jared’s late wife, Mandy. Come to think of it, right before Jared’s wedding, there’d been a bunch of Mandy’s friends gathered in the living room doing something to the curtains with those plastic things that came with cola six-packs. Two years later, right before Joel left, Mandy and her best friends had been sitting in the same living room, the one that now had prettier curtains, making baby blankets.

Had Beth been there? He tried to remember and finally, after thinking of all the times he’d hung around with Beth’s sisters, a memory surfaced. She’d been there, but not to sew. She offered advice a time or two, but just as often as not, when Joel came through the room, she’d been reading. He remembered now.

No wonder he hadn’t realized what a beauty she was. She’d been so young and always had her head down with her nose stuck in a book.

He put both hands, palms down, on the bed and pushed. He stood, winded and then sat down again as the knob on the bedroom door started to turn. He’d left the hospital yesterday feeling good on whatever they’d pumped him full of. Today wasn’t going to be such a feel-good day.

He heard a few snickers and maybe some pushing, and finally the door inched open. More snickering and then, as though he’d been pushed, Caleb hurtled in and stumbled to a halt. Two fingers were in his mouth, shoved deep enough to hurt.