Comrade Cowgirl

by Yolanda Wallace

  Anastasia thought she had another two and a half years before she and Laramie would be forced to have this conversation. She thought she had time to prepare. She had thought wrong.

  “For how long?”

  “I don’t know. For as long as it takes, I guess.”

  Anastasia wrapped her arms around her knees to hold in the pain of Laramie’s impending departure.

  “You do not know when you will be back?”

  Laramie shook her head. “It’s my brother. He needs me.”

  “I need you, too. We all do.”

  Anastasia didn’t mean to sound petulant or selfish, but they were the only emotions her fractured soul could muster.

  Laramie moved closer to her and caressed her cheek.

  “I know, but—”

  “He is your family and we are not.”

  Anastasia pulled away, even though what she really wanted to do was hold on and never let go. If Laramie returned home and remembered how much she loved it there, there was a very good chance this was the last time they would ever see each other. There was a very good chance that this good-bye could be for good.

  “You’re my family, too,” Laramie said. “You all are.”

  “But we are not blood. Blood is thicker than water, yes?”

  Laramie frowned. “You’re acting like I’m leaving and never coming back.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Of course not. I’m just taking a leave of absence. I will be back. I promise you that.”

  “You once told me you never make promises you might not be able to keep. Do not start now.”

  * * *

  “Give me a few minutes to pack my bags,” Shorty said after Laramie told him the news. “I’m going with you.”

  “Don’t.” She stopped him before he could head to the bunkhouse. “I need you to stay and hold down the fort.”

  “Nah, this’ll be a good test to see if Elena and the boys can handle things without either of us around to run interference. I don’t want you going through this alone.”

  “And I don’t want anything to undo the progress we’ve made these past few months. We’ve worked too hard to let it get mucked up now. Stay here. I won’t be alone. I’ll be with my family.”

  “All right then,” he said reluctantly. “But if you need me, you just say the word and I’ll be on the fastest bird I can find.”

  “I will.”

  Shorty’s voice softened. “Give Trey my best, won’t you? Thad and your mama, too.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “How did Anastasia take the news that you’re leaving?”

  “About as well as you did.”

  “I’ll bet. She’s awful sweet on you. I’m sure she’s gonna miss you something fierce. Elena and I will do what we can to make sure she doesn’t get too down in the dumps while you’re gone. You just concentrate on helping Trey get better.”

  “Thanks, Shorty. I appreciate that.”

  She grabbed her luggage from her room and set it at her feet before she knocked on Anastasia’s door.

  Anastasia opened the door just wide enough for her face to show through the crack. Her eyes were red, her face puffy from crying.

  “Will you drive me to the train station?” Laramie asked. “I have to get to Moscow. Duke’s booked me a flight that leaves from Domodedovo this afternoon. If I leave tonight, it will cut down on a day of traveling.”

  “Fyodor and Ivan love new truck. I am sure one of them would be happy to drive you.”

  “Yes, I know they would, but I was hoping I could spend a few more minutes with you, not them.”

  “You are leaving. A few more minutes together will not change that. Have safe trip.”

  Laramie continued to stand in the hall long after Anastasia closed the door in her face because she couldn’t bring herself to walk away. She had told Anastasia over and over again that she would be back. Why wouldn’t Anastasia believe her?

  “Come,” Elena said gently. “Fyodor is waiting. Do not want to be late for train.”

  Laramie stumbled down the hall as if in a daze.

  “Why is she being this way?”

  “She is feeling abandoned. First by me. Now by you.”

  “What should I say? What should I do?”

  Elena cupped her face in her hands.

  “Keep promise. Come back.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chuck and Grant met Laramie at the airport in Cheyenne. They greeted her with handshakes and one-armed hugs.

  “It’s good to see you,” Chuck said, “though I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.”

  “Me, too.”

  “How’s the old man doing?” Grant asked.

  “Better than you might think.”

  She pulled out her phone and showed them a couple of pictures of Shorty dancing with Elena while Andrei played the balalaika.

  “Well, look at that,” Grant said with a laugh. “He always did like the tall ones.”

  “Compared to him,” Chuck said, “they’re all tall ones.”

  “Do you want us to take you to the ranch first or head straight to your brother’s place?” Grant asked after they grabbed her bags from the luggage carousel and headed to the truck.

  “I haven’t laid eyes on my parents in months. I want to see how they’re doing before I check on Trey.”

  “You got it.”

  Laramie smiled to herself as Chuck and Grant fought over who would get to drive during the ride back to the ranch. Their bickering over the keys reminded her of Fyodor and Ivan having a similar argument. The language was different, but the argument was the same.

  “What’s so funny?” Chuck asked as she tossed her suitcase and saddle in the back of the double cab truck.

  “It’s good to know some things never change.”

  She couldn’t say the same for her parents, however. Both seemed to have aged exponentially since the last time she had seen them. Trey’s injury and rocky recovery had obviously taken a serious toll on both of them.

  “Russia must be treating you good.” Her father pointed at her stomach. “Too much vodka?”

  “Too much food, more like. Elena, the ranch cook, doesn’t believe in portion control. If you think my belly’s big, you should see Shorty’s. By this time next year, he won’t need padding to dress up like Santa Claus.”

  “A couple of extra pounds never hurt anyone.” Her mother patted her father’s rounded stomach. “Right, Thad?”

  “You know what winter’s like around here. I need the extra insulation.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Laramie was happy they were able to share a laugh, even if just for a little while. The way her father had sounded when he called to ask her to return home, lighthearted moments like this one had been few and far between.

  “It is so good to have you home,” her mother said, giving her a crushing hug. “Your room is the same as you left it.”

  Everything else was, too. Laramie sighed as she took in all the familiar sights, smells, and sounds. She was back in Wyoming. She was back in Broken Branch. She was home.

  * * *

  Laramie’s request to drive her to the train station had touched Anastasia deeply, but it hadn’t convinced her to change her mind. Saying good-bye to Laramie one-on-one was hard enough. There was no way she would have been able to stand on a crowded train platform and hold in her roiling emotions as she watched Laramie’s train slowly pull away.

  She had looked out her bedroom window as Fyodor drove Laramie to the station in her stead. Drove her out of her life. Laramie had told her that she would come back one day, but Anastasia hadn’t been able to allow her tortured heart to believe the words.

  If Laramie didn’t take her saddle with her, she had told herself, that would offer the sign she needed that Laramie truly meant to return to Godoroye one day. That she meant to return to her.

  Her eyes, already sore from crying, had filled with fresh tears when she saw the saddle resting next to Lar
amie’s suitcase in the bed of the truck.

  That was three days ago. Anastasia had finally managed to stop crying, but she didn’t feel any better. Laramie had texted her constantly while she made her way from Godoroye to Moscow, then from Moscow to Chicago, but Anastasia hadn’t heard from her since Laramie’s connecting flight from Chicago was supposed to land in Cheyenne. Had something happened to her, or was she too busy reconnecting with everyone she loved to reach out to those she had left behind?

  Mischa tried to make her feel better by keeping up a constant stream of conversation, but seeing him so blissfully happy about his burgeoning relationship with Pavel made her resent his efforts. She didn’t want to end up resenting him, too, so she decided to keep her distance.

  When she wasn’t working, she began to spend more and more time alone, seeking solace in the book of poetry Vladimir had given her. She returned to her favorite poem time and time again, reliving the moments she and Laramie had shared. Moments they might never share again.

  She returned the book to Vladimir when continuing to read it proved to be unbearable.

  “Was it worth it?” he asked.

  “What?”

  He fixed her with a smile that was both warm and sincere. “Loving her.”

  “Yes, it was,” she said, trying not to cry. She might not know who her “real” father was, but in Vladimir and Shorty, she had two father figures she could count on whenever she needed them. “One day, I hope to feel that way again.”

  “You will.”

  Would it be with someone else, or would it be with Laramie?

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  The first time Laramie visited her brother, Trey didn’t want to talk. No, that wasn’t exactly true. He wanted to talk about everything except what truly mattered.

  As she tossed the empty cartons of pepperoni pizza he had been living off of for the past month or so, she heard all about his adventures on the rodeo circuit, the women he had met along the way, and the pretty nurses who had tended to him while he was laid up in the hospital.

  She had heard most of the stories so many times she could probably recite them just as well as Trey could. She let him tell them, though, so they could avoid the awkward silence that was sure to follow when it was her turn to speak.

  “I know why you’re here,” he said when he finally ran out of things to say. “Mama and Dad think I need help, and you’re the one they’re counting on to make me see the light. Does that about sum it up?”

  Laramie polished a decorative belt buckle that had begun to show a bit of tarnish. “If you have all the answers, what do you need me for?”

  “I don’t. I’ve got everything I need right here.”

  He held up a can of beer in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other. A set of crutches lay on the floor next to his lounge chair. Though his broken bones had healed, they weren’t quite strong enough to bear his weight without additional support. He preferred to remain locked in his apartment rather than allow his friends and neighbors to see him at less than one hundred percent, which explained the string of food delivery people beating a path to his door.

  “It figures they’d call you,” Trey said after he took another sip of his beer. “You’ve always been the one they could count on, not me.”

  “Why are you selling yourself short? You can still turn this around.”

  “Have you taken a good look at me since you’ve been home?” His once-bulging biceps had lost some of their definition and the sweatpants he was wearing sagged against the emaciated muscles in his legs. “How do you expect me to turn this around?”

  “You can stop using the crutches on the side table and start using the ones on the floor.”

  He popped a pill and downed it with a sip of beer. “These taste better than the ones on the floor.”

  “When was the last time you left this apartment? When was the last time you moved out of that chair?”

  Trey rolled his eyes. “If you’re trying to go the tough love route, forget it. Dad already tried that tactic. Mama, too. What makes you think you can accomplish something they can’t?”

  “I don’t.”

  Trey’s head whipped around so fast Laramie was surprised he didn’t pull a muscle.

  “You mean you’re giving up on me, too?”

  “You’ve already given up on yourself. Why shouldn’t I follow suit?”

  “Because—”

  Trey faltered. Like Laramie and their father, he had a hard time expressing his feelings, but she needed him to find a way to do so now. They both did.

  “Because you’re the only one who’s always believed in me. Even when I thought I couldn’t do something, you’re the one who always convinced me I could. When it sometimes felt like I was chasing a pipe dream, you’re the one who made me believe the win I was looking for was just one rodeo away. Even if you didn’t believe it half the time, you made me think you did, and that was all that mattered. If you give up on me, too, then I know I’m truly done for.”

  “Would I be here sitting in front of you right now if I didn’t believe in you? If I didn’t think you could pull yourself out of the hole you’re in and become, perhaps not the man you once were but the one you’re meant to be?”

  “You think I don’t want that?” Trey looked away so she couldn’t see the tears welling in his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was choked with emotion. “I think about it all the time and it kills me that I’m not strong enough to make it happen. That I’m not big enough to resist the lure of something so small.”

  He picked up the bottle of pills and hurled them against the wall. The supposedly childproof cap popped off from the force of the impact. The pills inside scattered all over the hardwood floor.

  “Flush them,” Trey said bitterly. “If you don’t, I’ll be crawling over there on my hands and knees after you leave, sucking them up like I’m some kind of goddamned vacuum cleaner.”

  Laramie swept the pills into a dustpan and dropped them in the toilet. She pulled the lever twice to make sure no trace of them remained.

  “What’s next?” he asked.

  “Now you get clean.”

  He rubbed his scraggly beard. “I take it you don’t mean a shave and a shower.”

  “There are several rehab centers in Cheyenne. If I can get you into one of them, will you go? They have both short- and long-term treatment options. You can stay for one month or up to four. It’s up to you.”

  “How am I supposed to pay for it? My insurance is maxed out as it is.”

  “You let me worry about that.”

  “How much is that Russian guy paying you, anyway?”

  “You let me worry about that, too. Let me call a few places and see if they have any openings.”

  She got up to retrieve her phone from its perch on the kitchen counter. He grabbed her hand before she could make it more than two steps.

  “I can’t do this without you, Laramie.”

  “You won’t have to. I’ll be with you every step of the way. When you’re done, maybe I’ll make a rancher out of you yet.”

  Trey grinned. “Did Dad pay you to say that?”

  “He didn’t have to. Some things are priceless. Having a chance to help you continue what Dad started is one of them.”

  * * *

  Laramie had been gone for close to two months when Shorty received a phone call from her. When the call ended, he whooped loudly and tossed his hat high in the air.

  “Either you have received good news or you have lost mind,” Elena said after Shorty kissed her cheek. Based on the sounds Anastasia heard emanating from Elena’s room at night, Shorty’s lips had been visiting more intimate places as well. “Which is correct?”

  “Trey finally got out of drug rehab,” Shorty said, spinning her around. “After Thad shows him how to be a real cowboy again, he’s gonna start working on the ranch.”

  “I am glad to hear he is doing better,” Anastasia said. “Why did Laramie not call me?”

 
“She said you didn’t respond to any of her texts. I reckon she thought you didn’t want to hear from her.”

  “Did you tell her that is not the case?”

  “It ain’t my place to go sticking my nose in other people’s business.” He slipped his arm around Elena’s waist. “Besides, I’m too busy working on my own relationship to worry about someone else’s. If you want Laramie to know how you feel about her, put your big girl panties on and tell her yourself.”

  Anastasia felt like kicking herself for not exhibiting some of the maturity Mischa had prematurely given her credit for. She hoped it wasn’t too late for her to redeem herself for her mistake.

  She headed up to the office, where Mischa was logging new invoices into the computer. She grabbed a few permanent markers off the desk.

  “Thanks for these,” she said as she turned to leave.

  “What are you up to?”

  “You’re not the only person who has work to do around here.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  The second time Laramie landed in Domodedovo Moscow Airport wasn’t nearly as disconcerting as her first. As she made her way from the terminal to the luggage carousel, the signs leading the way seemed familiar instead of foreign. When she had called Duke to let him know what time her flight was scheduled to arrive, he had said someone would be waiting to take her to her hotel. He had booked one for her to stay in overnight before she flew to Bryansk the next day. She had tried to tell him she didn’t mind taking the train to Bryansk tonight, but he had insisted he wanted her to be refreshed when she finally returned to work, and a long trip on a crowded train after two days of even longer flights wasn’t the best way to go about it. Too tired to complain, she had let him have his way.

  She plucked her suitcase and saddle off the luggage carousel and headed to the ground transportation area so she could meet up with her driver. As she waded through a sea of representatives from various tour groups holding up signs with their companies’ names printed on them in a variety of languages, she spotted a hand-written sign with her name inscribed on it in English only.