A Cowboy State of Mind

by Jennie Marts

  “I thought you said you already heard about him.”

  “I heard he had a heart attack and that he was in the hospital. That’s all.” Well, that and that Zane had spent the better part of the last day and a half at the hospital.

  “Then you know everything except I guess he’s gonna live. And the doctors confirmed the fact he does indeed have a heart, which is a point that’s been up for debate for years.”

  She was starting to wonder if the apple hadn’t fallen far from the hard-hearted tree. Stop it. Zane was nothing like Birch. “Well, then that sounds like good news at least.”

  “Does it?” Zane dropped his gaze and picked up the next fence post. He rammed it into the ground and pounded the top of it with a hammer. Bang! Bang! Bang!

  She jumped with each strike, the clang of the hammer on steel reverberating in her chest. And each smash felt like a shove to her body, thrusting her away from him.

  “Is that all?” he asked, his gaze trained on his task as he wrapped wire around the studs of the steel fence post.

  “I thought you’d want to know about Hope.”

  “I already heard she came out of surgery fine and she’s going to be okay.”

  “You heard wrong. She’s not eating, and they’re keeping her another night.”

  His hands stilled for just a moment, then began their work again. “Not my problem. She’s your dog now.”

  Who was this man? He wasn’t acting like the Zane she knew. “Don’t you want to know about Beauty? She had the foal, you know. No thanks to you.”

  “I know. I also know you didn’t even need me. You took care of things yourself. You and Dr. Helpful.”

  “How do you know I did it myself? Did you talk to Brody?”

  He picked up another post and shoved it into the ground. “I didn’t have to. I was there. I came out to check on the horses and saw you together. It looked to me like he had everything handled—including you.” Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Shove. Shove. Shove.

  “You were there? Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I didn’t want to ruin such a perfect moment.” His sarcasm wasn’t lost on her. She didn’t need a GPS to find it.

  “What are you talking about?”

  He crashed the hammer onto the head of the post. “Don’t bullshit me, Bryn. I saw the way he looked at you. And how you looked at him. That was all I needed to see. You didn’t need my help. And you sure as hell didn’t need me.”

  She reached out a hand to touch him, and her heart shattered as he flinched. It was just the slightest of movements, but it was there. And it wasn’t that he flinched at the idea that she was taking a swing at him. It was more like he flinched as if the touch of her fingers might burn him. “Zane,” she whispered, her throat raw with emotion.

  He pulled away, his eyes narrowing even more. She didn’t think his glare could get harder, but if they passed out medals for the most terrifying glower, he’d take the prize, hands down. Except he didn’t scare her. Not in that way, at least.

  She knew he’d never hit her. But he could still hurt her—he was hurting her. With every clang of that damn hammer, he was chipping off another piece of her heart.

  “Don’t,” he growled, leaning down to pick up the next few fence posts. “This is the way it’s supposed to be. Brody’s a good man. He’ll treat you right. You don’t need me.”

  A flash of anger tore through her pain, and she planted her hands on her hips and offered him her own glare. Enough was enough. She’d stood up to her brother; she could stick up to Zane. “I’m getting pretty damn sick and tired of everyone else thinking they know what’s best for me. Since when do you get to decide what I need? And how my life is supposed to be?”

  “You know what? You’re right. I don’t get to decide what you’re going to do with your life. But I do get to decide that I’m not going to be in it. I already called my old boss and told her I was taking my job at the horse ranch back. I leave tomorrow. So there’s no point in even talking about it anymore. You should just go.” He hefted the fence posts over his shoulder and walked away.

  She drew in a slow, unsteady breath and swallowed, her throat feeling like it had been sliced to raw ribbons. She fought the urge to completely lose it and scream at him. Instead, she swallowed and held it together, barely controlling her ire as she stated, “You know, I’m also getting pretty damned tired of you walking away from me.”

  He hurled the fence posts to the ground, but his voice stayed even, emotionless. “I’m getting pretty damned tired of you following me. I don’t know any other way to put this. I don’t want you anymore. The only thing I want is for you to leave.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. Then she couldn’t seem to breathe at all. It was as if all the air had been sucked from the atmosphere and there was nothing for her to inhale. Her chest ached from the pressure of her failing lungs.

  * * *

  Please God. Why won’t she leave?

  The muscles in Zane’s jaws throbbed from clenching his teeth so hard. She was killing him.

  His head was pounding. His body felt numb, except for his chest and his throat—those both hurt like they’d been lacerated then set on fire. But he had to stay strong. Even though it was taking everything in him to keep pushing her away. But there was no other way.

  “Zane. Please. I don’t understand.”

  Just tell her. Tell her you love her, his heart screamed, while his brain scoffed, No way. Let her go—she deserves better than a worthless cowhand like you.

  He couldn’t back down now. Like a wild horse, he broke her again and again. He was tearing himself up as he did it, but he didn’t matter. His feelings, his heart, didn’t matter. He had to save her. Even if he had to break her—and himself—to do it.

  He was so damned tired he just wanted to crumple to the ground and sleep. But he couldn’t. He had work to do. Concentrate on the work. He wrenched a fence post from the ground and slammed it into the earth. His muscles ached and blood dripped from a fresh cut on his hand—when the hell had he done that?—but he couldn’t stop. He had to stay focused—so insanely focused on the task at hand.

  If he didn’t keep his hands busy, he just might grab her and pull her to him and not ever let her go. And that wasn’t what was best for her.

  Even if she couldn’t see it, he could. His hand was bleeding, and his heart was ripping apart, but he had to finish this, had to push her away. One. Last. Time.

  It didn’t matter that it hurt him. He’d been hurt before. Hell, he’d been whipped and punched and burned with a lit cigarette. And he would take that kind of pain over this any day.

  Because he could take it. He would take any pain to save her. And pushing her away was the only way he knew how to do that—how to save her. Putting his needs and wants aside—and God knew, he wanted and needed her more than anything he’d ever wanted or needed in his life—but this time, he couldn’t put his selfishness above what was best for her. And what was best for her wasn’t him.

  He gritted his teeth as he picked up the hammer. He couldn’t look at her. Instead, he focused everything on the task at hand, on driving the next fence post into the ground. Bang! Bang! Bang! “You need to go, Bryn. We’re through. I told you—I don’t want you anymore.”

  He heard the soft hitch in her breath, could see the slump of her shoulders from the corner of his eye. Go. Please, go. Don’t make me hurt you again. He twisted the length of wire around the post, cranking the wire tighter and tighter as he heard her finally walk away.

  He tore the new post from the ground and hurled it into the pond, letting loose with a primal yell that was a cross between a swear and a shout. He shook his injured hand, spraying droplets of blood across the dust on the ground. Damn it. He was such a dick.

  Chapter 21

  Birch was asleep when Zane walked into his hospital room late th
at afternoon. He’d told Logan he was done for the day and stopped at a gas station on the way into town to fill up and grab a couple of candy bars to eat for supper.

  His dad stirred as he set the chocolate he’d bought for him on the tray next to the bed. Birch’s eyes fluttered open and softened just the slightest as he looked at his son, then he let out a sigh and his normal resting scowl face returned. “What are you doing here?”

  Zane slumped back in the hard plastic chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. “I honestly don’t know.” He sighed and gestured to the chocolate. “Figured you’d hate flowers, so I brought you a candy bar instead.”

  The tiniest of grins pulled at the corners of his mouth as Birch picked up the candy bar, then his features transformed into a glower. “What the hell kind of candy bar is this?”

  “It’s dark chocolate, Dad. Didn’t you hear the doctor last night? He said you need to eat better. And he said dark chocolate’s better for your heart than milk chocolate. That thing cost me twice as much as a Hershey’s.”

  “Then I’ll use twice the effort tossing it into the trash. You always were a sucker.” Birch wrinkled his nose as he studied the package. “This says it’s got seventy percent caca in it. See, it tells you right on the label it tastes like shit. Or at least seventy percent like shit.”

  “It’s not ‘caca,’ it’s ‘cacao.’ It’s like a fancy word for cocoa beans.”

  “Then why don’t they just say that? Why does everybody have to make things so complicated?”

  Zane sighed. “I don’t know, Dad.”

  “The only thing I want to eat beans in is chili and burritos,” Birch muttered as he tore open the package and broke off a corner of the chocolate bar. He sniffed it, then gingerly put it into his mouth. He grimaced as he chewed. “I was right the first time. Tastes like caca.”

  “Then don’t eat it,” Zane told him. “I don’t really give a caca.”

  Birch took another bite. “What are you all pissy about?”

  “I’m not pissy. I’ve just got a lot on my mind. I called my old boss and told her I was planning to come back to Montana.”

  “Montana? Why?”

  “For a job.”

  “You got a job here. And what about that Callahan girl I heard you been seeing? You just gonna leave her behind?”

  “How did you hear I’ve been seeing someone?”

  “I do have friends, you know.”

  Yeah, it was obvious. They might be friends when they were drinking in the bar, but where were they now? Had even one of them come to see Birch in the hospital?

  Zane shrugged. “Well, your friends are wrong. I’m not seeing that Callahan girl. Not anymore.”

  Birch huffed. “I knew you’d screw that up.”

  “I’m sure you did, Dad,” he muttered.

  “I’m just saying it doesn’t surprise me. A guy like you gets a chance with a nice girl like that, you’re bound to screw it up. That’s what you do, Son. You screw shit up.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He did know. His dad had been telling him that his whole life. He’d screwed up both their lives just by being born. And even when he’d tried to get it together and have a life with Sarah, he’d screwed that up too. Which just solidified his choice to walk away from Bryn. He didn’t want to screw her life up as well .

  He clapped his hands on his knees and pushed up from the chair. “Well, this has been nice visiting with you, Dad. But I’ve gotta go.” He didn’t really have any place to be. He just had to get out of there. Away from his dad.

  “You can’t really go back to Montana, boy. Who’s gonna take care of me?”

  Zane pressed his lips together as he shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe all those friends you were just telling me you had.”

  “You’re kind of an asshole.”

  “Like father, like son,” he grumbled, then stopped at the door. “Let me know when they discharge you. I’ll come back to bring you home.”

  “Thanks for the caca bar.”

  “No problem.” Zane waved his hand, then headed down the hall of the hospital. His body felt beaten down, wrecked, and it seemed that the very air was full of molasses and pulled at his legs with each step he took.

  He passed the chapel on his way out and something made him stop and turn and go inside. The room was quiet and cool, the walls a pattern of blues and greens as the late-afternoon sun shone through the big stained-glass window. Candles flickered on the altar, and the space felt intimate with only a few rows of pews.

  Zane was almost surprised he hadn’t burst into flames as he dragged his damaged soul across the threshold. He staggered forward and dropped into the last pew. Leaning forward, he rested his head on the back of the pew in front of him, the wood smooth and cool against his forehead.

  It had been a long time since he’d been inside any kind of church. He’d always communed with God from the back of a horse on the open range or in the mountains as he stared across the vast scope of His creation. But he’d hit bottom, was at the end of his rope, and maybe the answer wasn’t to let God come to him, but to show up at the door of His house.

  He closed his eyes and prayed—prayed like he’d never prayed before. He prayed for wisdom, for guidance, for God to tell him what to do.

  He heard a shuffling sound like someone had entered the chapel and walked up the aisle next to him. He raised his head, his eyes blurry with the grit of sleepless nights, and in the dim light of the room, he saw an angel.

  Sarah was standing in the aisle, the glimmer of the candles flickering behind her. She looked older, her hair was darker and way shorter, and she was wearing purple scrubs with dancing puppies on them.

  “Hi, Zane,” Sarah said.

  He let out a shuddering breath. It wasn’t Sarah. It was her sister, Stephanie. He hadn’t seen her in years. But he knew it was her. “Hey, Steph.”

  “How you doin’, buddy?”

  He shrugged.

  “You look like hell.”

  “I feel like hell.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Actually, I feel like I’ve been to hell and the devil sent me back.”

  She offered him a small attempt at a laugh and slid into the pew next to him. Up close, he saw her auburn hair was streaked with shades of purple and dark pink. She’d put on a little weight since he’d seen her last, but it looked good on her. She wore a gold band on her finger and a necklace with a couple of stick figures and little birthstones signifying she had a family. Good for her. He’d bet she was a great mom. She’d been the no-nonsense, snarky sister who called it like she saw it. But she was also funny and kind and always up for an adventure, like the time she’d talked them into a late-night ice cream run or the night she’d practiced shooting pucks in their driveway with him for two hours while he waited for Sarah to get home.

  “How’s your dad doing?”

  He huffed. “Speaking of the devil.”

  She nudged his arm. “I’m a nurse now. I’ve been here for close to a year. I heard he’d been brought in, and I stopped to check on him during my rounds. He seems as ornery as ever.”

  “That’s one way to put it.” She would make a great nurse. He could imagine her bossing her patients around while still making them laugh. He pointed to the spot she’d been standing. “I thought you were her when I looked up, with the lights behind you and the way you’ve got your hair. I figured I must be going crazy because I thought you were an angel.”

  She chuckled. “I’ve never been accused of that.” She gently rested her hand on his. “But I don’t think you’re crazy either. I think I see her sometimes too.” They both knew who they were talking about. “Sometimes I’m driving down the road, and I think I see her at the DQ, standing out front, eating a chocolate-dipped cone like she used to. Or sometimes my phone rings and for just a second, I think it might be her. I’ve even seen her in places she
’s never been. I was at a conference in Atlanta last year and thought I saw her in the airport. Almost missed my plane because I followed this woman all the way down to her gate just to see her face.”

  He nodded. “I thought I saw her once in a market in Afghanistan.”

  “I’m glad you still see her sometimes and think about her.”

  “I do. A lot.”

  “I wasn’t sure what you thought. You sort of dropped off the face of the planet after it happened. I was really surprised you weren’t at the funeral.”

  He lowered his head in shame. “I know. I’m sorry for that.” His throat burned, and he couldn’t look at her. “I’m sorry for everything. I couldn’t go. Not knowing it was my fault.”

  “Oh, honey,” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder.

  He shrugged her off his shoulder. “Don’t call me that. Don’t even be nice to me. I don’t deserve it.”

  “Why not? You lost her too.”

  “But it was my fault she died.”

  She jerked her head back. “Your fault? I don’t understand. How could you possibly think Sarah’s death was your fault? Did you make her take those pills?”

  “No. But she wouldn’t have done it if it weren’t for me. I wanted her to stay. For once in my life, I acted selfish and asked for what I wanted. I begged her to give up her scholarship, and she did that for me. Then when she got so depressed, I’m the one who encouraged her to go see that therapist. And he’s the one who gave her those pills. She wouldn’t have gone there, wouldn’t have had access to those drugs if it weren’t for me. My putting my needs over hers drove her to do it. That’s why it’s my fault. She wouldn’t have killed herself if it weren’t for me.”

  “Oh, Zane.” Her eyes softened, and she tenderly touched his arm. “Have you been carrying this around with you this whole time?”

  He shrugged but couldn’t speak through the pain in his throat.

  “This wasn’t your fault. None of it. My sister had a lot of problems. And she didn’t go see a therapist because of you. She’d been seeing that same doctor for years.”