by Cat Johnson
He saw the sign for the exit to Cooper’s place and, making a spur of the moment decision, he flipped on his directional and swung the truck into the turn. If anyone could tell him what he needed to do to get back on top, it would be Cooper.
It didn’t take long to reach the start of the Holbrook property. The first thing Skeeter noticed when he turned down the road was the section of fence that had fallen down. More than the broken fence told him things had changed quite a bit since he’d been here last. The grass was so high in the pasture it was clear there were no animals grazing on it.
Maybe Slade had been right. It sure looked as if Cooper had gotten rid of his stock. There was one way to find out. Skeeter steered the truck into the drive. It had been too long since he’d visited his old teacher. The man had been almost like a father to him for the five years he’d taken lessons from him, and Skeeter hadn’t seen him in nearly as long. It was embarrassing to realize how long it had been. His only excuse was that he’d been busy traveling and competing. Still, when Skeeter was home visiting his mother, he should have made time to stop by here too.
He was here now, and he wouldn’t let this much time pass again.
The gravel was mostly missing on the drive, leaving big holes that rocked Skeeter nearly out of the driver’s seat as the truck’s tires dipped into them. The house, when it came into view, wasn’t all that much better. It desperately needed a paint job and a piece of the front porch railing was broken.
With a feeling of dread lodged in his chest, Skeeter threw the truck into park and cut the engine. Maybe Cooper had bought another place and was living there. He could have decided to hold on to this old place rather than sell it. The value would be in the land, not in the buildings anyway.
Skeeter climbed the rickety stairs and onto the front porch. He felt each worn plank bend with his weight. Perhaps it spoke to his deep denial that the man he’d idolized since he could say the words bull rider wouldn’t live like this, that Skeeter fully expected the house to be vacant. Hoped for it, in fact.
As he raised his fist to knock, he heard sounds of water running inside. He paused, drew in a deep breath and forced himself to rap his knuckles hard against the wood. Maybe it was a squatter taking advantage of an empty house with an absentee owner. Good God almighty, please let that be the case.
The sound of the water cut out. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any.”
The voice sounded much gruffer than it had years ago, but Skeeter recognized it. “Cooper. It’s me. Skeeter.”
“Skeeter?” The door swung wide and the sight of the man he hadn’t seen in so long had hot tears burning behind Skeeter’s eyes.
“Yeah. I’m sorry I haven’t visited. I really am.”
“Nah. Don’t be silly. You’re busy. Riding. Traveling. Messing around with the ladies. I remember what it’s like. How you been?”
Better than Cooper, even with being demoted to the touring pros. “Good. Good. Home on break. Thought I’d visit Mom.”
“Ah, your ma. Sweetest, most hardworking woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Say howdy to her from me, will you?”
Skeeter forced a nod, as if this were any casual meeting of old friends. “Sure thing.”
This would be a perfectly normal conversation, a happy reunion even, if Cooper didn’t reek like he’d bathed in a bottle of booze, if the stains on his shirt—both sweat and dirt—weren’t so visible, and if Skeeter weren’t standing on the porch of a house that a good strong wind would blow down. Something had changed this man, and he didn’t know what.
“So, you sell your stock?” Skeeter asked the question already knowing the answer after having seen the condition of the property.
“Yeah, you know how it is. Too much work for no return. Ranching is a young man’s game. You thinking about getting into it? I might be convinced to sell you this place if you’re interested.”
Skeeter swallowed hard. “Um, I hadn’t really thought about it. You know, with traveling with the pro circuit and all, it doesn’t leave a lot of time to tend to my own place.”
“Yup, I remember.” Cooper got a faraway look in his eye that stirred a memory in Skeeter.
Cooper had been able to travel and maintain the ranch because his partner and friend, Glen, had stayed behind to tend to the stock. Hadn’t Slade said it had been something happening to Cooper’s partner that had pushed him over the edge? Skeeter couldn’t bring himself to ask, but as far as he could tell, Glen wasn’t around.
“Um, you wanna come home with me for dinner? Mom’s making her homemade spaghetti and meatballs, and I know she’d love to have you. You can ride with me and I’ll run you back later if you want.”
A small sad smile tipped up the corner of Cooper’s mouth. “I’m not fit company for your ma’s table, but thank ya anyway. You always were a good kid. I’m glad you made it big. I, uh, got rid of the old boob tube a few years ago so I don’t get to see you ride, but I hear about you when I drive into town. I know you’re doing real well. I’m glad.”
He didn’t have the heart to tell Cooper what had happened. Sometimes a lie was kinder. And in all honesty, until his last few events, Skeeter had been doing well. That was close enough to the truth for him right now. “I am, thanks, and I owe it all to you. You taught me everything I know. And I wanted to tell you that even though I was too young to realize it then, I know you let me work in exchange for free lessons because you knew my mom couldn’t afford them.”
Cooper waved Skeeter’s heartfelt confession off. “It was nothing. You were a big help around here.”
“No, it was definitely something. I owe my career to you. And if there is anything I can do for you—anything—just say the word.”
“There is. Give your ma a big hug and kiss for me and you enjoy that spaghetti.” He tipped his head toward the house. “I gotta get back to what I was doing.”
Skeeter hesitated, wanting to do something to help, even while knowing Cooper wouldn’t accept it if he tried. “All right. Maybe I’ll stop by again and say hey.”
“Sure, you do that if I’m around. Have a good night, boy.” Cooper took a step inside and closed the door, and Skeeter felt lower than he thought possible.
Feeling bad about a nine buck-off streak seemed ridiculous compared to the unexplained devastation in this man’s life. As Skeeter made his way to the truck, he’d never felt more helpless in his twenty-one years than he did right now.
The weight of the feeling stuck with him the entire drive home, right up through his mother’s embrace as she met him at the door.
“I thought you were going to call when you hit town. I haven’t even started the water boiling yet.”
“I’m sorry. I totally forgot.”
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“I stopped by Cooper’s place.”
“And?” Her eyes lit up at the mention of his old teacher.
Why had Skeeter never noticed before? His mom had an obvious crush on Cooper. At least, on the man Cooper Holbrook used to be. Apparently, it had lasted all these years, but if she ever saw him now…
“He’s not good, Mom. Have you heard talk about something happening with his partner?”
She frowned. “Um, I don’t think so. I mean they always kept to themselves. They didn’t belong to the church. Didn’t have any kids in the school. I didn’t cross paths with either Cooper or his partner except when you were riding there. Why?”
“I don’t know. I don’t wanna spread gossip.”
“Then don’t. Tell me what happened at his place that has you so upset.”
His mother always could read his emotions like an open book. Skeeter let out a breath. “He sold the stock. The place is falling apart like he hasn’t tended to a thing in years. He seemed like he was drinking. And he doesn’t even have a television.”
His mother let out a laugh, before covering her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry, baby. It’s just having no television isn’t cause for alarm. But the rest…it d
oesn’t sound good. Maybe it’s money? He can’t afford to keep the place up? Money troubles can drive a man to drink.”
“Maybe. He did offer to sell me the place.”
Her eyes widened. “Really? What’d you say?”
“Mom, what the devil would I do with a rundown ranch while I’m riding?”
“Fix it up so you have something to fall back on when you stop riding.” She raised one eyebrow.
He couldn’t argue because she had a point, but so did he. “I don’t think I should be taking on a mortgage on a place. Not right now. Not with how I’m riding.”
“You’re gonna be fine. Come on in the kitchen and talk to me while I finish up supper. How’s your friends? Did Garret get that pretty young wife of his pregnant yet?”
“Jeesh, mom. What kind of a question is that?”
“A motherly question. Grab the sweet tea off the counter and pour us both a glass. Then take a seat and tell me all about what’s been happening.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Sitting in his mother’s kitchen might be the cure for all that ailed him. He wished Cooper had come with him. If only he’d agreed, he could have hosed himself off, put on some fresh clothes and sat down with a glass of tea. He’d feel like a new man, just like Skeeter was beginning to.
It was good being home. Tomorrow, he’d check the touring pro schedule and plan out his events nearby. Then he’d call and check in with Aaron and Garret. He was even going to text Riley. He’d already let one person in his life slip away by not keeping in touch. Skeeter wasn’t going to make that mistake again with anyone else.
Chapter Six
The house had never been so quiet, and in Riley’s nineteen years she’d never felt so alone.
After the nine-one-one operator had talked her through CPR as she’d desperately, frantically performed the actions… After the quick response of the emergency medical team when they’d arrived and tried to revive him… After they’d declared her father dead and taken him away, the silence seemed to surround her, pressing against her like a physical thing until it was stifling.
How could she stay in this house now? All alone. Just her and memories and silence.
One of the bulls bellowed out in the pasture and the truth hit her. How could she not stay here? This land, these animals, this business had been her father’s life. This was her life too. Without it, what would she have?
The details of all she’d have to do swam in her head. The ambulance had transported her father—or rather his body—to the funeral home in town. She refused to believe his soul was still in there. She couldn’t think of him all alone at the funeral home. It would break her.
No. That lifeless shell wasn’t him. He was tough and strong and full of life.
Wiping a tear away, she drew in a bracing breath. Nope. Her father was somewhere else. Somewhere better. Looking down on her and expecting her to carry on just as he’d done after her mother had died.
That thought put a name to Riley’s new reality—orphan. She had no one.
The sun was up in the sky and still she hadn’t slept. She doubted she would ever sleep well again. But the stock needed tending. Today was going to be a hot one. She felt the oppressive heat building already. They hadn’t taken the time to scrub and refill the water tubs last night.
Last night. When her father was still here with her. Before her world had tilted upside down.
A fresh wave of tears threatened to overcome Riley when a knock on the door startled her. It was too early for company. And Bill, their hired hand, only came on days they were away at competitions. God, she’d have to call Bill and tell him what had happened. She’d need the help. She needed him to come over more often, but could he? He had his own place to tend. And what would having hired help full time do to the finances? She had no idea. Her father had always kept the books.
Like balls in a pinball machine, all those questions and more bounced around in Riley’s brain as she wiped her eyes one more time and stood. She reached for the door and realized she was alone in the house, surrounded by nothing but acreage and animals. Whoever was at the door knocked again. It occurred to her they could do whatever they wanted to her and there was nothing she’d be able to do to stop them.
But nothing bad like that ever happened in this town. Fear and loneliness made a person paranoid. As she peered through the curtain on the door’s window and saw the preacher and his wife, she realized she’d been having crazy thoughts. Even so, later she’d get the shotgun from the closet and check if it was loaded.
God, this whole situation was surreal.
She pulled open the door and was enveloped in Mrs. Porter’s arms before she could even say hello. “Riley. I’m so sorry.”
The preacher stood slightly behind his wife, holding a cake covered in plastic wrap. “You have to know he’s in a better place.”
Riley pulled back from the hug and nodded. “I know.”
He held the cake plate out toward her, and Riley reached for it, watching her hands shake as she did. “Thank you.”
Cake. Like that would make her feel better after losing the last person in the world who was totally hers.
“People will be stopping by. To pay respects, to try and help you out. You’re going to need something to feed them when they do, and I don’t expect you have the time or the energy to go to the store or bake something.” Mrs. Porter rubbed Riley’s arm. The older woman continued, “I’ll be stopping back later with some dinners for you. You can pop them in the freezer and take them out as you need them.”
Dazed, Riley nodded. Of course, Mrs. Porter was right. She’d need to eat eventually. She’d need to feed the people who’d come by. “All right. Thank you.”
So much to think about. How would she ever handle it all? She realized she was standing in the doorway with a cake in her hands. “Sorry. Come on in.”
The preacher and his wife followed her inside, past the sofa where her father’s life had ended, and all the way to the kitchen.
“Do you know if Butch had plans in place?”
She put the cake down on the counter as she turned to the preacher. “Plans?”
He nodded. “For a funeral. Did he want to be buried or cremated?”
Her brow furrowed. How could he ask those questions so callously?
“Riley, these decisions have to be made today. They can’t wait.”
“I don’t know. We never talked about it.” Pushing aside her indignation, Riley knew he was right. She didn’t have time to grieve now. There were plans to be made. “I think he’d want to be buried next to my mother. How do I do that? Who do I talk to?”
She had no idea where to even start. Panic stole her breath as she reached for the edge of the table and sat.
The preacher squatted down so he was eye level with her. “I’ll take care of it, Riley. The funeral home will tell us when they will be ready for the wake. I’ll deal with the cemetery and schedule the burial. The church service, of course, will be no problem. We’ll fit it in.”
Tears swam in her eyes. “Thank you.”
He squeezed Riley’s hand. “It’s the least I can do.”
Mrs. Porter stepped closer. “And I’ll make the phone calls and let the newspaper know the date and times. Do you want to write the obituary or would you like me to do it?”
“I don’t know.” Riley looked up but couldn’t see Mrs. Porter through the blur of tears.
“How about I take a shot at it and you can make any changes you want before I send it in?”
“Okay. Thank you.” Their kindness, as much as the overwhelming amount of things to be done, was going to break her. She needed a few minutes alone. Riley stood. “I was just about to go check on the stock...”
“Of course.” The preacher stood. “You do what you need to do. We’ll head home and start organizing what we can.”
“Thank you.” She had a feeling she’d be thanking them, and many other people, a whole lot more before this nightmare was over. If
it ever would be over.
Skeeter glanced at the computer screen and back to the piece of paper on the table next to him. He could easily do the Tupelo, Mississippi event. It was only three days away, but it wasn’t as if he had plans or anything else to do. That was July twenty-seventh and then the Arkansas event was a week later on August third.
He scowled at the screen. Most of the other events—California, Montana, Utah, Idaho—would be a heck of a drive to get to. Driving a long distance like that alone had never been his favorite thing. Though he hated to miss any opportunity to boost his points total.
Kansas on August seventh would work. Baton Rouge was doable, but that was much later in August. Looking back at the paper, he counted the events he’d marked down.
Four over the next month. It wasn’t enough, but it was the best he could do. “Crud.”
“What’s wrong, baby?”
He leaned back from the table. “It’s going to take forever for me to get back on the tour.”
“Anything worthwhile takes time.”
“I know.” He really didn’t agree, but what could he say?
It had come so easily for him in the beginning, his rapid rise through the ranks. It made his rapid descent feel doubly bad.
But if he’d learned anything from his mother while growing up in this house, it was that you had to look for a silver lining. Skeeter saw two immediately. Most of the other guys on the tour would take this mid-season break to relax. They’d go on vacation or hang out at home with family. Some had injuries that needed to heal so they’d rest during the break. They wouldn’t crisscross the country to hit every touring pro event possible like Skeeter was going to. That would give him the advantage, a chance to creep up on them in points and in the ranks.
Even though it looked as if he’d be off the circuit for longer than he wanted to be, maybe being home would give him time to figure out how to help Cooper. Skeeter still wasn’t sure what he could do, besides showing up on Cooper’s doorstep uninvited and eventually wearing out his welcome. He’d have to figure something out. All in good time.
