Christmas At Love House: Bittersweet Interlude (Bull Rider #3)

by Mary J. McCoy-Dressel

  Chapter Three

  Caulder eased on the brakes to slow down before they ran into stopped traffic ahead. “Not sure we’ll make the flight if this keeps up. We left early enough.”

  Torre made a screwed up face. “I don’t want to spend Christmas in the airport unless they have a bunch of pretty ladies waiting.”

  “I’m sure you’ll see pretty girls, Torre. How about getting your mind on your schoolwork, or…bull riding? I hear you’ve been practicing a lot—bull ridin’, not schoolwork.”

  “W-who told you?” Torre’s body jerked to the right and his hand braced against the dashboard when they spun out.

  “That was a close one.” Caulder’s posture straightened, muscles tensed while his senses heightened to goings-on ahead. He eased back into the lane. “Roberto, er, Bobby told me about your practice rides.”

  Torre’s mouth fell open. He turned his head to look away. “I-I’ve been keeping it a secret.”

  “Bobby knows because the stock contractor on the ranch where you ride north of Napa, told him. He also told him you’ll be riding when you graduate. Oh?”

  “No way. Damn, he hasn’t busted my ass about finding out?”

  “Curse like that around my Aunt Judy and she’ll get the cursing jar out. I bet she has it packed for the trip by now.” Caulder removed his foot from the accelerator to let the truck slow down since there was always some idiot who passed him. “Hey, I can’t wait for you to meet the other part of my family. They’re all horse ranchers in Arizona. You’d like it out there.”

  Peering ahead over the crest of another hill, traffic didn’t look too good. A white-out in the distance kept vision at a close range. “We aren’t sure who’s coming with my Aunt Judy. My cousin, Jase for sure, maybe Dane. You’ll like Dane. He’s an Army Ranger.”

  As if just becoming aware of the situation out the window, Torre straightened his posture and tightened his seat belt but continued blabbering. “Maybe I’ll go in the Army. I will talk to him.”

  “There’d be no riding bulls in the Army, dude.”

  “But I hear they got girls.” Torre’s hair fell into his eyes as he guffawed, even slapping his knee.

  The kid sure had an eye for the women. “Women, not girls. Don’t forget that. Women—soldiers trained to knock you on your damn ass.”

  “Sì!”

  Caulder laughed to himself. “Imagine your buddies razzing you when they see you sprawled out on the floor. It’s not like being sprawled out on the ground after a buck-off. At least in the arena you’ll be praised for trying.”

  “You are trying to convince me to get into bull riding. Sì?”

  Bull riding was the last thing he wanted Torre to do. Most guys didn’t wait until they were nineteen to start a rodeo career. Most guys. For a minute he forgot who he was talking about…a determined Italian related to Velia. That determination must’ve run in their family. “I smell it oozing from your pours, Torre. You can’t fool me. That look in your eyes is the same I saw when I looked in the mirror at your age.”

  “Convince Bobby, so he doesn’t have me making wine. Sissy stuff.”

  Snow came down heavier now and traffic crawled. Roads became slicker. Caulder lessened his grip on the steering wheel. His knuckles were white. “Whoa, you’re wrong. It won’t hurt to do both. Besides, that’s your heritage. In reality, it isn’t that long after you start pro that retirement looms overhead. Look at me, I’m closer to retirement than I want to believe.” At the top of another hill, Caulder groaned. “This ride might get a little rough. It doesn’t look like traffic is moving down that way.” He did a gradual spin around right there on a clear patch of road warmed by the sun and salt-sand mixture.

  It was sluggish going up the hill, but he took his time and crested the top. He removed his phone from his pocket to call Velia, but there wasn’t any signal in that area. It looked like everyone had made an early dash for their holiday vacation. “I tell ya what. Since the back roads will be ugly, let’s stop and get some food while we have a chance. A big stack of pancakes sounds good to me. I better stick those tire chains in the backseat while we’re there.”

  ***

  Belly’s full and coffee to go, Caulder checked and set the GPS for the new route, waited until Torre hooked his seatbelt, and headed out the back way. During breakfast, he had checked their flight, learning it had been cancelled, but he got a later flight. “This is some day to travel, huh? Bet you wish you’d have stayed back at the ranch with the girls.”

  “Not a chance. I’d rather be with you and ride the bulls. You can see what I learned.” Torre used his coat sleeve to clear the side window of moisture.

  The snowfall had eased up a little, but the snow-covered roads were treacherous, causing him to drive way below the speed limit. Traffic was light on this route. Torre unhooked his seatbelt to lean over the backseat to grab a sugar cookie Velia had made for their trip.

  “Sonofabitch!” Caulder made a quick swerve to prevent hitting the Amish buggy moving as slow as a turtle. Without chains, the truck fishtailed, slid around once, and headed over an embankment shy of the guardrail. When the truck crashed into a tree at the bottom, he shook his head to clear it. His hand went to the back of his aching neck. A glance at Torre showed him unconscious, his head lolling against his arm as he lay slumped over the console.

  “Torre, are you okay?” He released his seatbelt and shook Torre’s shoulder but didn’t get a response. There was blood on the side of Torre’s head. Caulder pushed and shoved until he got his door open. The drifted snow was practically up to his knees in this spot, helping to slow the truck down a bit before ramming the tree. At least the tree prevented them from going into the river. Thank God.

  Hurrying around to the other side, he yanked and pulled until he got the passenger side door open. The damn frame is probably bent. At this point, he didn’t know if he nudged the buggy, which could’ve sent it off the opposite embankment, or destroyed it first. “Torre. Torre.” Caulder patted his cheek. His eyelashes fluttered but he remained in a daze. He moved him enough to raise the console and lay Torre across the length of the seat, taking a blanket from the back to toss over him. He stretched over to turn off the ignition and take the keys, surprised the motor was still running. A quick peek to the front of the truck brought a groan. The grill got smashed in good and the hood crinkled. Maybe the vehicle was salvageable, maybe not. “Sonofabitching weather!”

  It began snowing harder. Peering up the hillside then visually following the tracks back down, the truck had traveled rather far. Before long the tracks would be covered with snow up top and nobody would know they were down here. A headache started at the back of his head. Not this again. Wondering about the people in the buggy, he said a silent prayer. He pulled on a pair of gloves and a knit cap, checked Torre again, and began the trek up. It took a few tries. The little bit of progress he made, the farther back he’d slide when he lost his footing, but he was able to grab hold of bushes and roots, clear of snow from the warming sun.

  “Is everything okay down there?” A voice came from the top of the hill.

  Caulder grabbed a tree root. He stopped the climb, looked up to see if he was imagining it, but there was someone up there. “Nah, there’s an injury.”

  The man at the top threw a rope down and even though it didn’t make it as far as Caulder, he climbed a little more until he reached it, thankful for keeping his body strong. When he grasped the rope, whoever was at the top helped to pull him up at a fast rate.

  At the top, a man with a wide brimmed hat and dark, heavy coat reached out. Caulder took the man’s gloved hand for assistance and stood beside him on the shoulder of the road to catch his breath. “Thanks. Everything okay with you and anyone else in the buggy?”

  “Everyone is fine. You didn’t hit us.”

  “Oh, good. I got a young guy down there who needs some help.” He removed a glove and squeezed the back of his neck again, glancing toward the buggy a little ways down where the roa
d widened to an additional lane on an uphill grade. At that moment, a trucker pulled off the road, slowing and coming to a stop a ways ahead. The driver put on his flashers and secured the brakes and came to where they stood.

  “Thanks for stopping,” Caulder said to him. “Can you radio for EMS and also get a tow truck over here? I have an injured kid down there, well, he’s nearly twenty but a kid to me. He hit his head. I’m not sure of any other injuries he might have.”

  The trucker peered over the embankment. “That doesn’t look too good. Sure, give me a minute.”

  “I gotta go back down there to check on him. I appreciate the help.” Caulder took hold of the rope, and after the first man on the scene tied it around a tree for better leverage, Caulder eased back down the hill as far as the rope would go, then he let go and slid down most of the way. “Ouch. Dammit!” Bushes and loose branches went down with him—on top of him and under. Snow went down his back at the collar and at his waist when his shirt and jacket pulled up. He trudged toward the truck and Torre glanced up at him.

  “What happened?” he asked through groggy speech.

  “You chose the wrong time to remove your seatbelt. We landed at the bottom of this hill when I avoided hitting the buggy. The skid and wreck all took place so quickly, I didn’t realize what happened until we hit the tree. You hit your head.” Caulder did a more thorough examination this time—slowly turning his head side to side and peering into his eyes to check Torre’s focus. He’d need sutures in his head. “Help’s coming. The old Amish guy driving the buggy stopped, and a trucker is calling for help.” He tucked the blanket around Torre’s shoulders and reached in the backseat for a blanket to use as a pillow. “Don’t try to move. You might have more injuries.” Torre’s eyes closed again. “Wake up.”

  “I feel sick. Leave me alone. Capisco?”

  Caulder bent down to grab a bunch of snow, rolled it into a ball, and wrapped it in a lined flannel shirt he had in the backseat. He held it against Torre’s head. “Yeah, I get it but shut-up and listen. You’re talking to an expert when it comes to concussions.”

  “I have a c-concussion?”

  “Probably.”

  “This means I can’t ride at Foley’s?” he whined.

  “That’s a whole different story right now and the least of your worries. Hold this snow on your head to slow down the bleeding. We gotta get out of this hole first. We’re destined to miss this fucking trip.” That’s what Velia would say anyway. Well, she wouldn’t say fuckin’.

  “Don’t say we’ll miss the trip.”

  Caulder ignored his statement and went around to check the front of his truck again. Damage was worse than he thought. Good luck to whoever had to pull it uphill. Kicking the side of the truck with a cold foot didn’t help his mood, either. Caulder stood at the driver’s side door. Sirens blasted on the way to them.

  “Are they coming for me? I don’t need help.” Torre leaned on one elbow to peer out the front window. “Wow, a river.”

  It was time to pull rank on the kid’s behavior. “I’ll knock you upside the head myself if you don’t kill the attitude. One step at a time, kiddo.”

  “Dammit, stop calling me kiddo!” He attempted to get out, but Caulder held him down.

  “I love ya, but you’re being a brat. Be still.”

  “No, let me up. I’m not a kid to be told what to do.” Torre struggled with him, paying no mind to blood dripping down his face.

  “I wrangle bigger steers than you, so you might as well quit struggling.” He nodded toward the hill. “Stay here while I go over there to talk to them. I mean it, stay here, so you don’t stumble into the river and bring more problems on yourself.” Velia would downright shoot his ass if that happened.

  Torre brought the blanket up and tucked it beneath his chin. “Si, against my will.”

  How bad had he hit his head? He didn’t sound anything like the kid he knew. Slogging back through the snow to the clearing, he yelled when he saw the rescue crew atop, “Over here. I got a kid bleeding from the head.”

  They made their way down the hill with a basket to haul Torre back up. When they got to the bottom, Caulder plodded toward the truck with them. “All I did was try to avoid hitting the buggy. This is what happened. At least they weren’t hurt. It could’ve been worse.” He shuddered at the possibility of killing a whole family in an accident. He willed the thought and image away.

  At the truck, the EMTs tended to Torre’s head wound then examined his body. “No seatbelt?” asked the state cop who had followed the EMTs down.

  The last thing he needed was a ticket on top of everything else. Trying to sound nonchalant about it, so the subject would go away, he muttered a reply. “He removed it for a minute to grab something out of the backseat.”

  One of the techs noticed Caulder squeezing the back of his neck and asked him to take a seat on the rear bumper. “Let me examine you.” He laid his hands on Caulder’s shoulders and felt around the back of his neck. The tech ended the exam by making him focus on his finger moving back and forth in front of his eyes. “How does your neck feel?”

  Twisting his head slowly, he paid attention to the aches and pains shooting down his back. “Stiff, kind of achy. Shoulders, too, a little bit. My chest is a bit sore, probably from the seatbelt tightening up.”

  The tech put his stethoscope to Caulder’s chest. “You’ll be sore tomorrow. Might want to get your neck and back x-rayed. Any problems breathing?” He reached for a neck brace.

  “Nah, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just the jolt.” Buddy, I ride bulls for a living. This is nothing. Caulder held his hand up against the neck brace. He didn’t want a damn neck brace.

  “You might think differently tomorrow,” the tech said as he went on to assist the other tech in getting the backboard beneath Torre to get him out of the truck. For once the kid remained quiet.

  “Where are you taking him?” Caulder pulled down the console and got a pad of paper and pen to write down the name of the hospital. He went to Torre before they took him up the hill. “I’ll be there as soon as I get the truck squared away. You good with that?”

  “Fine. Velia, she be mad?” Torre closed his eyes and lifted his hand to his forehead. He sighed. “Wow! That hurts.”

  “Velia will be worried. Nothing to be mad about. I’ll call her as soon as I get a signal, but you’ll be okay. Remember, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “I’ll drive you over to the hospital after the tow truck gets here unless I have to leave. This weather is keeping us busy today,” said the cop.

  “Thanks. I didn’t want to be one of them and that’s why I got off of 80. Do you know how long? I might have to go with the kid now.”

  “Is this your son?” asked the officer as he trudged up beside Caulder.

  How freaking old do I look? “No, he’s my wife’s cousin visiting for Christmas.” Crap… Guess I am old enough to be his dad. He’d had to have started young.

  Once at the top, the techs put Torre into the back and the tech asked Caulder again how he was doing.

  “I’m okay. I won’t be far behind you, I hope.” He still wasn’t certain about letting Torre go off alone, but he had to make sure his vehicle got taken care of, and find out which storage yard they’d use. Otherwise, he might never find his truck, or their suitcases. “All right, Torre, if you’re sure, I’ll stay behind.” Turning to the driver, Caulder nodded. “Okay, guys, just go. Don’t be surprised if he rattles something off in Italian. You won’t want to know what it means.”

  “No problem.” The EMTs got in and drove off.

  When they pulled away, Caulder had a big lump of guilt stuck in his chest, still not sure he made the right decision. He peeked at his watch then his phone to see if he had a signal yet. No such luck. The only choice now was to wait, so he sat in the car with the cop to wait for the tow truck. If only the topic of the seat belt didn’t come up with a big fat citation, things might smooth out. This situation was one big headache, l
iterally. But the ache inside his head hurt more with each passing minute.

  ***

  Hours later, Caulder arrived at the hospital after seeing his truck settled and getting a rental car. He called Velia from the emergency room with Torre. Trying to sound unconcerned so she didn’t freak out, he slowly went into the story. “Hi, babe. I didn’t have a signal until now.”

  “Oh, I was worried, bambino. Are you at the airport?”

  Caulder sighed to himself. “I’m afraid the airport is off for today. I wrecked my damn truck. We’re okay—”

  Gasping, she rattled out, “W-what? What did you say?”

  The fear in her voice rang in his ears. First a sigh. Then a deep breath so he’d sound half calm. Now, to keep her from panicking. “You heard me right. Well…I’m calling from the hospital. Torre hit his head and has a concussion and sutures, but he’ll be okay. They’re keeping him for observation.”

  Her sigh resonated through the phone, making his heart clench. “Are you sure he’s okay?”

  Caulder could see her now. Hand on her hip and her elbow jutting out. “Velia, don’t panic. I’m standing here looking at him. He’ll be fine. Can’t say that about my truck, though. It might be totaled. At least the tree prevented us from going into the river.”

  “My Lord, Caulder!”

  The sound of a deep breath told him she tried to get herself under control. He waited to let her comprehend the news.

  “Should I call your dad? Where are you?”

  “We’re fifty miles out. Nope, no need to call my dad. I got a rental. I’ll call Dad to let him know what happened. How’s everything there?” His neck ached like hell and began to go down his spine. Great, just what he needed… Another damn spinal headache!

  “We’re good, amore mio.” Velia cleared her throat. “I’m so sorry. Can I talk to Torre?”

  Caulder held the phone out to him because she’d never be at peace until she heard his voice. “Velia wants to talk to you, kiddo. Be nice.” Caulder took a seat while Torre spoke on the phone. They planned on keeping Torre for twenty-four hours. That meant Caulder slept in the lobby or got a room. An insurance agent was coming to assess the damages when the roads were clear later today. When the weather broke, he would hire a flatbed to pick up his truck to deliver to the local dealership at home for repair. Talk about awful timing. He looked up when Torre handed him back the phone.