The Cowboy's Homecoming

by Brenda Minton

  And then Chance rushed up the steps and grabbed her. Taken by surprise, Jeremy was a stupid moment too late. He watched as Chance’s hand came up, connecting with Beth’s face. And then he took the steps two at a time and made it just in time to grab Chance Martin as he fell backward, groaning in pain.

  Jeremy held Chance by the arms. The other man was fighting mad and Beth stood there trembling but okay, rubbing the fist that had punched Chance. A bruise was already turning her cheek blue. That bruise went all over Jeremy. He pulled his hand back and spun Chance around. A hand grabbed his fist.

  “Bad idea.” Jackson shook his head and grinned. “There’s a deputy pulling up. Why don’t you let me take Chance to meet his destiny?”

  Jackson grabbed Chance and Jeremy watched them walk away. He took a deep shaky breath and turned to find Beth still standing on the steps of the church. Jason had a protective arm around her and Buck had turned and was headed in the direction of the patrol car.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m good.” Her chin came up a notch. He recognized someone trying to be strong. He’d made that same move too many times to count. It had started when he was a kid and some well-meaning grown-up would ask if he needed anything.

  He was always good.

  Even when he was a kid and scared to death.

  “Yeah, I know you are.” He didn’t reach for her hand. Instead he changed the subject. “Want to see what I’ve been doing while you were in church?”

  The cop was putting Chance in the back of the patrol car.

  She smiled a wavering smile. “You were in there, too.”

  “Yeah, I was there, too.”

  Jason moved, let his sister go. “Take a walk, sis. This will blow over and everyone will calm down.”

  She nodded and joined Jeremy. He didn’t reach for her hand, didn’t put his arm around her. Instead they headed for his RV and the parking lot, not touching but walking side-by-side.

  They didn’t make it far. The deputy caught up with them, tall and purposeful, his hand on his sidearm, probably out of habit. Domestic abuse ranked as one of the most dangerous calls a cop could make.

  Beth hugged herself and watched the officer approach. How many times had she lived through similar moments? She weaved a little. So much for being strong. He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her close.

  “Beth, do you want to press charges?” Officer Hall stopped in front of them. He was an older deputy. Jeremy remembered him from years ago. He’d been to their house more than once. A few times, along with caseworkers from family services.

  “I…” Beth glanced at the patrol car. How many times in the past had she said no? “Yes. I do want to press charges.”

  “It’s what you need to do, Beth.” Jason Bradshaw joined them. He smiled at his sister. “You aren’t alone anymore. He doesn’t have a right to hit you.”

  “I know.” Finally she nodded. “I want to press charges.”

  Jeremy stepped away and he watched Beth talking to the officer. He watched her fill out a form on the clipboard she’d been handed. Once she glanced his way. Did she want him to stand next to her, to be there with her as she did the one thing she’d always feared doing?

  He pulled his keys out of his pocket and walked to his truck. All around him the good folks of Dawson were having fun. They were having a picnic on the grounds of Back Street Church. The kids were already shooting hoops and someone had set up the volleyball net. It leaned precariously to the east and the girls playing were laughing and having a great time with the cheap ball and net.

  He suddenly flashed back twenty years, when he was a kid of ten, tossing a ball to one of the Cooper boys while Tim talked to the pastor. Jeremy shook free from the memory and climbed into his truck.

  Beth finished filling out the complaint against Chance. She glanced in the back of the patrol car. His head was down. He looked contrite. In a moment he would smile at her. He would mouth an apology and ask her to forgive him. She knew because this was a scene that had played out too often in their marriage.

  “Beth, don’t let him make you feel sorry.” Jason was at her side. She smiled up at him.

  “Not this time.” She looked away from the car, back to the church and to the people she’d known all of her life. “No, I’m not going to feel guilty for what he did.”

  She’d done that too many times in the past. She’d changed her mind, told the officer she wasn’t pressing charges. Her husband was sorry. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. Now, remembering, her heart shook. She had been the victim but each time the police came, and he had made her feel as if she deserved the abuse. She had deserved the bruises.

  In the end, the broken arm.

  But she hadn’t deserved it. She had been a victim who didn’t know how to walk away. She had believed him when he told her the abuse was her fault.

  “He has a problem.” She was proud of herself for being able to make that statement. She knew it had to be a huge first step in being strong and moving on with her life.

  Step two would be convincing herself that someday someone could love her without seeing all of her flaws. Eight years of being told no one else would want her had left scars far deeper than anything he could have put on her body.

  She smiled up at her brother. “I’m worth more than that.”

  Jason’s strong arms wrapped around her in a giant brother-hug. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

  “Thank you for all the times you tried to convince me to leave.”

  “I’m your brother, I wanted to do more.”

  “You gave me the way out.”

  “I guess I would have done anything to get you back home safe.”

  She nodded and wiped at her eyes. Their dad was still talking to the deputy. He walked away and joined them, his smile a little fierce. He hugged Beth tight, holding her against him in a choking hug that buried her face against his shoulder.

  “Dad. Can’t. Breathe.”

  His laugh was shaky and he let her go. “I’m glad we’re all together.”

  “Me, too.” Beth glanced toward the RV and the empty parking space. Jeremy’s truck was gone. He was gone.

  “He left a few minutes ago.” Jason sighed. “Let’s get back to this picnic. Our town could use a little bit of a break. So could we.”

  “Vera brought a dozen pies.” Buck Bradshaw had bought the pies. Beth would keep that secret for her dad. He often did little things for people in the community and rarely did anyone find out that he was the person responsible.

  When Camp Hope had hit a financial snag last year, her dad had been a factor in keeping the camp going. He said it was a good thing to give kids a place to go in the summer.

  It all felt a little empty when she thought about Jeremy leaving the picnic. When she thought about him leaving at all.

  “Do you think he feels guilty?”

  Jason stopped walking. “Chance?”

  “No, Jeremy. Do you think it bothers him to watch people enjoying the church when he’s planning to knock it down in a matter of days?”

  Jason shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it would bother him. Or maybe he’s changed his mind.”

  “I don’t think he has.” But last night she’d given him the note and he hadn’t been as happy as she would have thought.

  An old sedan pulled in the parking lot. Jason raised a hand in greeting. “I’m going to help Etta. She went home for some clothing Alyson’s mom sent to help out.”

  “That’s nice of her. How’s Alyson feeling?”

  “Very pregnant.” He grinned. “Want to help me grab this stuff from Etta’s car?”

  “Sure.” But her mind tripped her up. Because she’d always wanted a baby of her own. She had always wanted to be a wife, a mom. But it was easier to help Jason than to think about the future, or about Jeremy walking away. Jeremy shouldn’t be in her dreams of forever. But she had a hard time erasing those thoughts.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jeremy left Tim Coope
r’s on Monday and drove down the narrow paved road to the trailer he’d grown up in. He’d always known the truth about this place and his upbringing, but seeing it after being at the Cooper ranch made it seem all the smaller, made his childhood a little sketchier.

  He walked into the dingy single-wide that had been his home for the first eighteen years of his life and he let out a deep breath, whistling as he looked around. He should have come sooner. He’d just been putting off the inevitable.

  Ten feet wide, fifty feet long. Two bedrooms and a bathroom with a floor that sagged. He stood in the tiny living room and tried hard not to go back in time, to sleeping on that old, plaid sofa every night.

  He wasn’t here for a trip down memory lane, he was here to pack. He’d met with his mother’s doctor that morning and the nursing home director. She wouldn’t be returning home.

  He glanced around the room with the fake wood paneling and carpet from the 1970s. Maybe one of the families that had lost their home could use this place until theirs was repaired. He’d talk to Wyatt.

  As much as he didn’t want to take a trip back, the trailer did it for him. He walked down the narrow hall, past the room where Elise had slept. It wasn’t any bigger than his walk-in closet. It had room for a twin bed and a dresser, but not much else.

  It should have been easy to put this behind him. He should cowboy up and let it all go. But it wasn’t that easy. He could tough it out on the back of a bull, ride through his injuries, but this place held a lifetime of bad memories.

  Too much of the past included how this place treated his sister. A guy could pull on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and let it all be good. A girl, not so easy.

  Elise had cried as they stood at the edge of the yard waiting for the bus. She’d cried because she was cold. She’d cried because her jeans were too short. And too many times she’d cried because she was hungry. It hit him deep, because as a kid he hadn’t been able to do anything about it.

  His mother had been drunkenly oblivious to his little sister’s pain.

  He slammed his palm against the wall. The first time didn’t do it. The second time helped. The sting bit through the skin of his palm, but it didn’t lessen his anger with this past. He walked back down the hall and out the front door.

  The porch sagged and a couple of the boards were splintered. The handrail had long since fallen off. Jeremy jerked off his hat and swiped his arm across his face. Man, it was hot for so early in the summer. He walked down the steps to his truck. He had boxes from the convenience store in the back. Not that there was much in this place to pack up.

  A truck turned the corner and eased up the road, stopping at his driveway. He shook his head and leaned against the bed of his truck. Beth didn’t know how to leave well enough alone.

  He grabbed the boxes out of the back of the truck and leaned them against the back tire. Beth pulled in the drive and stopped. She didn’t hurry to get out of the truck she’d been driving. One of her dad’s old farm trucks. She smiled through the tinted window.

  Was she waiting for an invitation?

  Yeah, probably. He nodded and she jumped out of the truck. What he didn’t get was why in the world did this all get a little easier when she showed up?

  “What’s up?” She slowed her pace as she got closer, as if she suddenly doubted the decision to stop. Second thoughts. Yeah, that made two of them.

  “I need to pack. I guess maybe someone could use a temporary place to stay.”

  “That would be nice.” She glanced at the trailer and back at him. “What about your mom?”

  “She won’t be coming home.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s the way life is.” He picked up the half dozen boxes and walked toward the trailer. Beth followed, her pace a little quicker to keep up with his.

  He slowed.

  “I’ll help you.” She followed him up the steps.

  Jeremy stopped at the screen door, held it open and turned to look at the woman behind him. The memory of Chance going after her flashed through his mind. That fresh anger pushed the past to the far recesses of his mind. He couldn’t change the past.

  No reason to dwell there, either. At this point he sure didn’t know what the future held.

  Beth took a step back and nearly fell backward when her foot hit one of the broken steps. His hand shot out and he pulled her back up.

  “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I’m not sure what I was thinking.”

  “Beth, stay.”

  He touched her cheek, the place where Chance’s hand had connected with soft skin. The blue and green of the bruise had spread out across her cheekbone. She flinched when his fingers touched the area.

  Something shook loose inside him. He pulled her close and held her tight. When she relaxed against him, he kissed the top of her head, getting lost in her, in the sweetness of her hands on his arms, the soft scent of her, the way her head fit against his chest.

  “I would never hurt you.” Jeremy whispered the promise and he knew it shouldn’t matter so much. How did he keep a promise like that when nearly everything he had planned would hurt her in some way?

  She pulled back and looked up at him. “Let’s get stuff packed.”

  With a nod he opened the screen door again. He grabbed the boxes and held the door open for Beth to take that first step into the home where he’d grown up. He hadn’t brought anyone here as a kid, not as a teen, not ever. Most kids wouldn’t have wanted to come here. Most parents wouldn’t have allowed it.

  He watched her expression, saw the flicker of emotion in her eyes. He glanced around, seeing what she saw. The living room and kitchen, dirty dishes still in the sink and empty bottles of booze on the counter. The trash overflowed and flies swarmed.

  “Where do we start?”

  He smiled. Was that all she had to say? He handed her a box. “I guess we pack up all this junk my mom called her ‘collectibles.’”

  “Do you have tape?” Beth grabbed one of the flattened boxes and pulled it into shape.

  “In the truck.” He walked to the door. “Thanks for helping.”

  “Jobs like this are easier with a friend.”

  He nodded and walked out the door. Man, he’d never needed fresh air so badly in his life. He needed space. He stood in the yard and scanned the field, the neighboring farms. He’d lived here his whole life but he’d never seen it like this, as a place he didn’t want to run from.

  And inside the trailer, Beth was packing up junk from his past. He needed to get his head on straight and remember his plan. It was getting a little easier with the ruling from the historical society in his favor. In a few days the planning and zoning committee would make a decision on the petition, to zone or not zone the property for commercial use.

  Too bad he no longer knew what his plan was. Yeah, the church, the business; but Beth had changed everything, right down to his old resentments that had driven him to bring that dozer to Dawson. Revenge wasn’t quite as sweet as he’d once thought it would be, back when it was all about him.

  He kind of missed the old Jeremy, the one who knew how to let go and not take relationships too seriously.

  Beth was the type of woman a guy married, had babies with, grew old with. She’d already been hurt. She deserved a lot better than a guy with his kind of baggage. That was one thing her dad had been right about. When he’d caught him by the ear that summer at the rodeo ground, he’d told Jeremy that Beth was worth way more than some kid who didn’t have squat to his name.

  Jeremy wasn’t that kid anymore. He jerked off his hat and ran a hand through his hair.

  The tape gun was in his truck. When he walked into the living room of the trailer a few minutes later, Beth had taken pictures off the walls. He glanced at the school pictures in cheap frames and shook his head. He’d always been surprised that his mom bought the school pictures each year and framed them.

  “This is you when you were ten.” Beth held up one of the photographs and smiled
. “I remember that black eye.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  He’d been fighting with Jackson Cooper at church. Tim had pulled them apart and given them both a sound talking-to. He still remembered being a scrawny kid looking up at Tim Cooper with that eye swelling shut and Tim seeming like the biggest man in the world. That’s what he thought back then.

  He’d wanted a dad real bad.

  “Your mom has all of your school pictures.”

  Jeremy nodded and reached for one of the boxes and the tape gun. “Yeah, she did that. She always tried to dress us up that one day. And that year she tried to convince me to put makeup on my eye. I didn’t.”

  “Of course you didn’t.”

  He took the picture from her hands and set it down. He didn’t want to think about that day and his mother telling him not to fight with Jackson. Because she’d known that Jackson was his brother. He grabbed newspaper and wrapped the picture.

  “Was your mom always…” Beth bit down on her bottom lip and one shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I’m sorry.”

  “Beth, I’m thirty years old, not fifteen. Yeah, there are memories here, but I’m not a little boy who needs Band-Aids and lollipops. My mom is an alcoholic. And yeah, most of our lives she was drunk.”

  “But our mothers were friends in school.”

  “Yeah, they were. I think my mom was okay as a kid. She was raised by an aunt. But for some reason her aunt left when my mom turned about fifteen.”

  And then her high school boyfriend had been killed in a car accident.

  Life hadn’t been easy for Janie Hightree. She’d done her best to pass that legacy on to her kids, to keep the cycle going. He and Elise had pulled it together somehow, some way. He hadn’t thought about it before, how they’d survived and actually done something with their lives.

  Beth stopped asking questions. Jeremy grabbed a box and walked into the kitchen. He looked around and shook his head. She understood why. The room was a disaster. Dishes in the sink, empty bottles and cans, the trash overflowed and flies swarmed. The place had a stench worse than any barn she’d ever been in. It smelled more like the county landfill.