Showdown

by Amy Elizabeth

  Instead he became their shoulder to cry on, listening to Kelly complain about her latest boyfriend or giving his mother a hug when he saw that she was lonely.

  “It’s okay, Mom,” he’d always assure her. “Dad’ll be home soon.”

  Rodney Bateman had one skill in life and one skill only–and that was rodeo. He’d been a PRCA cowboy since high school and had broken twenty-two different bones over the course of his career. He was on the road far more than he was home, but Tommy tried to focus on the positive. Many of his friends never saw their dads at all–they were off working on oil rigs in the Gulf for months at a time–so he counted himself lucky that his father made it home as often as he did.

  Rodney wasn’t a warm man by any stretch; he rarely smiled and he laughed even less. Most of Tommy’s memories of his dad revolved around horses. He taught Tommy to ride before he could walk, and he had him roping steers by the time he was seven. Then, when he was nine, Rodney tied a flank strap to his horse, and Tommy held on for an impressive eleven seconds before the horse finally bucked him off.

  Tommy had his old man’s gift for sure, and he was competing in junior rodeo events by the third grade. Like his father, he enjoyed the competition, but he enjoyed the animals more–a trait he’d inherited from his mother.

  Phyllis was an animal fanatic, the type of woman who would stop four lanes of traffic to save a turtle that was crossing the road. She worked at the animal shelter and was constantly bringing home the latest and saddest cases–a half-starved kitten or a blind dog that was scheduled for euthanasia. Once she even rescued a pot-bellied pig, deciding that it would be the perfect addition to their farm.

  “What the hell are we supposed to do with a pig?” his father shouted.

  Phyllis merely shrugged. “Even pigs need a home.”

  Tommy was a sophomore in high school when his sister moved to Houston for college, leaving only him and their mother at home. Even when he started an after-school job at a nearby diner, he still made it a point to spend time with Phyllis. The two of them grew close over the next year, maybe because Tommy was getting older or maybe because his mother was lonelier than ever.

  He knew that his parents fought when his father was home–he’d hear them arguing while he was doing his homework–but he never thought anything of it. He reasoned that all adults argued sometimes and that it was essentially none of his business.

  All of that changed one night at the start of his junior year. Rodney had been home for a couple of weeks; the summer circuit was over and he was about to hit the road again for the winter. Tommy emerged from his bedroom and walked into the kitchen just in time to see his father slap his mother across the face.

  He reacted purely on instinct, giving no thought to the possible repercussions. He raced forward and threw his arms around his father’s neck, ripping him away from Phyllis. But Rodney was a professional cowboy and Tommy was a scrawny teenager, so their scuffle didn’t last long. Two seconds later Rodney pinned Tommy to the wall, and Tommy could smell the bourbon pouring off his breath as he leaned close to lower his voice.

  “Boy, if you ever, ever disrespect me like that again, you will no longer be welcome in this house. You understand me?”

  Obediently Tommy nodded, but that didn’t stop the surge of rage that coursed through his veins when his father turned and stormed out the door. He glanced over at his mother, only to find tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “He means it, Tommy,” she whispered. “Don’t do that again.”

  The entire situation caught him off-guard. He didn’t know if what he’d witnessed was an isolated event or if it regularly happened behind closed doors. Either way, he couldn’t get the image–or the anger–out of his mind. He’d never been particularly close to his father, but he’d never had a reason to dislike him, either.

  Now Tommy saw him in a whole different light. He didn’t care what they’d been fighting about or how much Rodney was drinking. There was no acceptable excuse for treating a woman that way…especially his mother.

  And there was no way in hell that it was going to happen again.

  Typically Rodney came home for a few weeks during the winter season, but this year he stayed on the road, not even returning for Thanksgiving or Christmas. Tommy knew that it was because of what happened between them, and that was fine with him.

  Only a few days after Rodney’s departure, Tommy discovered the perfect outlet for his frustration. While he was cleaning out the storage shed, he found his father’s old set of free weights. He’d never worked out before, but now he started up with a vengeance. His workout regimen coincided perfectly with a growth spurt; by the time spring break rolled around, he was pushing six-two and he’d gained a solid thirty pounds of muscle.

  He hoped that there wouldn’t be another incident, because the last thing he wanted to do was confront his father. If he did have to, though, at least this time he’d be ready.

  Rodney finally returned home at the beginning of March, and only because he hadn’t qualified for the final go-round in El Paso. For days Tommy held his breath, straining an ear against his door for any indication that his parents were arguing. There was nothing but silence, and with each passing night he felt another wave of relief.

  Maybe it had been a fluke, after all. That still didn’t make it right, but maybe they’d worked through whatever the issue was and Rodney had vowed never to do it again.

  For the first of many times in his life, Tommy’s rose-colored glasses were about to be shattered. All had been quiet since his father’s return, but one night Tommy awoke to the sound of his mother’s high-pitched shriek.

  Once again, his reaction was automatic. He bolted into the living room to find Rodney’s hands enclosed around his mother’s throat. Tommy didn’t say a word; he simply grabbed his father, yanked him off of her, and pinned his arms behind his back. Rodney gave an angry shout and wrestled against his grasp, but now their roles were reversed.

  His father was still tired from the season, whereas Tommy had been preparing for this moment for the past six months.

  Seconds later he forced his father onto his knees. “Don’t you ever, ever do that again. You understand me?”

  Rodney launched Tommy backwards with such force that he crashed right through the coffee table, shattering it into a million pieces. He heard Phyllis screaming at them to stop, but it was no use. Tommy scrambled to get on his feet, only to have his father lunge at him. Rodney’s fist caught him squarely in the jaw and Tommy hit the floor, ending their fight as quickly as it began.

  Tommy remained where he was for a moment, gasping for breath as he pressed his hand to his ringing ear. His father towered over him, more closely resembling a crazed beast than the man who’d raised him.

  “I’m giving you five minutes, boy. Five minutes to get your things and get the hell out of my house.”

  “Rodney, you can’t do that,” Phyllis said. “He’s still a child–”

  “I warned him this was gonna happen,” his father retorted, shooting Tommy a sinister glare. “Ain’t nobody gonna tell me how to act in my own house.”

  He turned and spun on his heel, disappearing through the back door. Tommy’s head was still swimming when his mother knelt beside him and helped him to a sitting position.

  “I’ll talk to him, Tommy,” she whispered. “We’ll get this sorted out.”

  It was a useless promise–his father wasn’t the kind of man who could be reasoned with–but he nodded anyway. The walls spun around him as he staggered into his bedroom and shoved a few items into his backpack.

  When he reemerged, he saw his mother in the foyer, casting nervous glances at the back door. Tommy paused to study her expression, suddenly understanding just how long this had been going on and just how much Rodney frightened her.

  “Mom,” he said softly. “Come with me.”

  Her gaze shifted to him. “You know I can’t.”

  One look in her eyes told him that there was no point in arg
uing; she couldn’t be reasoned with, either. He stepped closer and enveloped her in his embrace, trying to think of something to say but coming up blank.

  “He’ll come around, Tommy,” she added. “You’ll see.”

  Tommy didn’t respond, because they both knew it was a lie. Instead he pulled back and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Mom,” was all he said before he turned and exited the house that was no longer his home.

  It was two weeks before his seventeenth birthday.

  Chapter 5

  Tommy left home with the only things he had–a hand-me-down truck, his backpack, and the contents of his savings account, which amounted to $217.94. The sun came up as he neared San Antonio; it was midmorning when he reached the outskirts of Houston.

  He was halfway through the bustling urban sprawl before he stopped at a payphone and dropped a quarter through the slot. His sister answered on the second ring and listened in stunned silence as he explained the situation.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to help,” she assured him. “But I’m in a dorm at an all-girls college. There’s no way they’d let you stay here.”

  He’d expected as much, but that didn’t stop his stomach from sinking even lower. “Listen, I have some friends who live off-campus,” Kelly continued. “Let me make a few calls and see what I can–”

  “No,” he broke in. “It’s alright. I’ll figure something out.”

  “But Tommy–”

  He replaced the phone, cutting her off mid-sentence. He didn’t want to put her or her friends out; after all, he wasn’t their responsibility. He leaned against the phone booth and stared at the endless lanes of traffic, watching the cars zoom along the interstate. Everyone had somewhere to go, he realized.

  Everyone except me.

  A few minutes later he got back in his truck and merged onto the highway. He’d never set foot outside of Texas before, but soon he reached a cheerful blue sign that read Welcome to Louisiana! A similar sign welcomed him to Mississippi, then Alabama. The sun was setting in his rearview mirror when he crossed the state line into Florida, but still he didn’t stop.

  The only thing that stopped him was the Atlantic Ocean.

  Tommy awoke the next morning to the screech of a seagull and sunlight pouring through the windshield. Directly ahead of him, golden waves crested and broke against the shore of Jacksonville Beach, sending spirals of white foam into the air. He groaned as he stretched his stiff muscles, wondering how he’d managed to sleep in his truck in the first place. He’d hoped that yesterday was only a bad dream, but here it was–morning–and he was still in Florida.

  Which meant that it had really happened.

  His father had actually thrown him out of the house.

  Tommy allowed thirty seconds to feel sorry for himself before he turned the key and backed out of his parking space. He hadn’t eaten a thing in two days, so he grabbed a breakfast sandwich from a drive-thru before he snagged a newspaper and scanned the classified ads. He had just over a hundred dollars left in his savings account, and that wasn’t going to last him long without a job.

  For once, luck was on his side. Thanks to his physique, he looked older than he was, so no one questioned him when he said he was eighteen. The first job he landed was picking oranges in a grove south of the city; it paid next-to-nothing but it included room and board.

  As soon as he was settled, he called his mother to tell her where he was. “I’ll let you know when your father leaves for the season,” she promised. “Then you can come home.”

  Tommy frowned into the receiver. “And then what, Mom? What happens when he comes home again?”

  Phyllis remained silent, which was all the answer he needed. After all, Rodney’s behavior wasn’t going to change, and Tommy was no longer a little boy. Another run-in was inevitable, and they both knew it. Tommy didn’t want to be gone any more than his mother wanted him to be gone, but for now this was the way it needed to be.

  To Tommy’s surprise, life on his own wasn’t as hard as he would have expected. He’d learned plenty of practical skills from his mother, including how to budget what little money he earned. He spent the summer in Florida, bouncing between several different fruit groves, before he wandered up into Georgia.

  He took whatever work he could find, even if it was just helping out on somebody’s farm for a weekend. His age was never an issue; people assumed that he was out of high school and he didn’t bother correcting them. He called his mother every week to let her know that he was doing alright, and on the rare occasions when his father answered instead, Tommy simply hung up.

  Soon it was March again, and he was counting down the days until his eighteenth birthday. The one place he couldn’t fake his age was with the PRCA–a rider needed to prove he was eighteen before he could compete on the circuit. He applied for his membership on his birthday at a rodeo in Little Rock, Arkansas, a request that was immediately granted because everyone knew who his father was.

  Rodney was nowhere to be seen, though; he always toured the western circuits. Tommy figured that if he stayed east he wouldn’t have to worry about a confrontation.

  He hadn’t sat on a horse since he’d left home, but that first rodeo in Little Rock he entered the saddle bronc and bareback competitions and finished second place in both. The prize money wasn’t much, but it was enough to get him to the next event in Texarkana. He failed to place there–he was bucked off in three seconds by the nastiest horse he’d ever laid eyes on–but he wasn’t deterred.

  The following weekend he cast all fears aside and entered the bull riding competition, and he was one of only two competitors to score an eight-second ride. Over the next month, he won four of the five bull riding events that he entered.

  For the first time since he’d left home, he started to feel a sense of direction in his life.

  All of that changed again one day outside Oklahoma City. He’d won both of his events the day before, so he treated himself to a good night’s sleep in a local motel. When he awoke the following morning, though, he stepped outside and found only an empty parking space.

  His truck had been stolen sometime in the night, and the motel had no security cameras so there was no way of tracking it down. It was an old truck and it wasn’t worth anything…but it was literally all he had.

  Tommy stood on the sidewalk for the longest time, trying to figure out his next move. He’d planned on heading up to Wichita, but it was a hundred and fifty miles away and he had no means of getting there. Not knowing what else to do, he tossed his backpack over his shoulder and started walking.

  Soon he heard the sound of an approaching engine, and he turned his head to see a shiny Dodge Ram hauling a gooseneck horse trailer. Automatically he stuck out his thumb, hoping against hope that the stranger would be in a generous mood. His stomach fluttered when the truck slowed and rolled to a stop beside him. Then the passenger’s side window lowered, and a man wearing a Stetson hat leaned across the cab.

  “Where ya headed, son?”

  “Wichita.”

  He gestured for him to climb inside, and Tommy did…probably a little too eagerly. “Thank you, sir,” he said as he fastened his seatbelt. “I really appreciate it.”

  The driver was dressed like a cowboy, but he looked too old–and too wealthy–to be competing in the rodeo. Thick salt-and-pepper hair peeked out beneath his hat, accentuating the gray of his eyes and the lines on his weathered face. He gave a kind smile but didn’t respond until they were moving again.

  “So where are you from?”

  “San Antonio.”

  “Was just there a few months ago myself.” The man cast a brief eye across him. “You out on the rodeo tour?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How’s your season been?”

  Tommy gave a mirthless laugh. “Not so great.”

  The man chuckled, too. “Don’t let it get you down. I’ve got a son about your age who’s doing the same thing you are. And he’s still trying to figure it out, too
.”

  “Figure what out?”

  “Life.”

  Tommy grinned. He’d only known the man for thirty seconds, yet he felt more comfortable in his presence than he ever did with his own father. They rode in easy silence for another half hour before the man switched on his turn signal and pulled into a roadside diner.

  “You had lunch yet?” he asked.

  Tommy shifted in his seat. He had exactly twenty-six dollars in his wallet, and he needed to stretch every penny of that money between now and next weekend.

  Before he could respond, the man beat him to it. “Come on, son. It’s my treat.”

  Tommy cringed. “I can’t let you do that, sir.”

  “Sure you can.” He flashed a warm smile as he opened his door. “And you can call me Walt.”

  Chapter 6

  “If you like milkshakes, this place has the best,” Walter said as the two of them settled at the counter. “I stop every time I come through here.”

  As if to prove the point, the gray-haired waitress greeted Walter with a beaming smile. “Well, look who it is,” she drawled, leaning her thick elbows against the counter. “How was the rest of your tour?”

  “Just fine, thanks. I’ll have my usual, Madeline. And you can bring this young man whatever he likes.”

  Madeline arched a brow in Tommy’s direction. “And you would be…?”

  Anxiously he cleared his throat. “Tommy.”

  “What can I bring for you, Tommy?”

  He dropped his gaze to the laminated menu. “Ummm…I’ll have the number three, please.”

  “One usual and one number three,” Madeline said, jotting their order on her notepad. “I’ll have that right out for you gentlemen.”

  As she strolled over to the kitchen, Walter turned to Tommy. “So what are your events?”