Win Me Over

by Heather Slade

  When Bullet came back the next day, the ICU nurse tried to stop him from taking Grey to see Callie, but he pushed right past her. If what his mother-in-law told him was true and they needed to make a decision about taking Callie off life support, he wanted Grey to see his mother one more time, to say goodbye.

  He had to hold the boy tight to keep him from scrambling out of his arms to crawl on the bed. It nearly broke Bullet’s heart to see how much the boy wanted to go to her. He looked toward the door and saw the same nurse who’d tried to stop him, with tears rolling down her cheeks. Bullet couldn’t stop himself from crying either.

  This was the hardest decision he’d had to make in his life so far, but Callie was gone. The doctors said so. She’d never wake up again. She’d never hold their child again.

  He carefully lowered Grey onto the bed and showed him where he could put his arms around his mama. Grey rested his head on her tummy and started humming the same lullaby Bullet knew Callie sang to him.

  His heart was breaking for his little boy, and for himself. As hard as their life together had been, Bullet had honestly wanted to make things work with Callie. Maybe once they’d both grown up a little, it would’ve. Now there’d be no working things out, no little family living happily ever after. Bullet put his hands over his face and quietly sobbed, mourning his wife who’d decided her only choice was to give up on life.

  Bullet picked Grey up and went in search of his in-laws. He’d made his decision; they’d be taking Callie off the machines that were keeping her alive.

  “I can’t believe you’re taking him away from us,” said his mother-in-law.

  “It isn’t like that. I’m not taking him away. You knew I was trying to build a life for us in Colorado. The plan was always to move Callie and Grey there as soon as I got my footing.”

  Bullet lifted Grey from his mother-in-law’s arms, shook his father-in-law’s hand, and told them he’d be in touch.

  They’d buried Callie the day before, and there wasn’t any reason for him to stay here a day longer. He was anxious to get him and Grey back to where he knew they belonged. It was a thirteen-hour drive, and he’d heard the weather wasn’t so good. He’d get as far as he could today, sleep, and then make the rest of the drive in the morning.

  He didn’t know yet where they were going to live, or how he was going to take care of Grey and work at the same time, but Billy and Jace assured him they expected him to come back, and they’d figure it out.

  He wasn’t the only one with a baby, they’d told him. That was true. However, he was the only one without a baby mama. That had to make a difference.

  Since they’d hired him, a few months ago, to help with their new rough stock contracting business, he’d never felt as though he was just another hand. They asked his opinion about things. He’d even had a few ideas that had changed the direction of the new operation. The job was important to him because it allowed him to stay in the rodeo business. Someday soon, he planned to be on the bull riding side of Flying R rather than the rough stock side.

  “It’s you and me, partner,” he said as he buckled Grey into his buddy seat. “Wish you could ride up front with me and keep me company, but you’re still too young for that. You’re safer back here.”

  Bullet opened the bag of toys and books his mother-in-law had packed for them and tried to put them within Grey’s reach.

  “We got a long-ass drive ahead of us. You be sure to let me know when you need somethin’, okay, buddy?”

  Grey looked at him, and then picked up one of his toy trucks. “Voom, voom,” he said and plowed the truck into Bullet’s abdomen.

  “Ouch,” he squealed, which made Grey laugh. If this was how it would be all the time, Bullet could handle it. But he knew better. About an hour in, Grey would get fussy. It would probably take them twice as long to get to Colorado than he was planning. He figured he’d be stopping a lot more often than he wanted to.

  “This is our life now, buddy,” he kissed Grey’s cheek, and climbed in the front seat. “Here we go.”

  “Voom, voom,” answered Grey.

  “I stopped earlier than I planned to,” Bullet told his sister. “It’ll probably take me three days to get to Crested Butte, but I didn’t have a choice. Grey’s fussy, and I can’t keep him trapped in the back seat of the truck for hours on end.”

  “I’m headed to Crested Butte now,” Lyric told him. “Dad is on tour, but they’re trying to get there too.”

  “They don’t have to leave the tour. Grey and I will be okay.” Bullet felt his eyes fill up with tears. What the hell was wrong with him lately?

  “It’s more than just leaving the tour. They’re planning to buy a house in Colorado.”

  “When did they decide to do that?” Bullet shook his head. He never imagined his dad would agree to leave Los Angeles. His mom had been ready to leave years ago.

  “They’ve been thinkin’ about it for a while.”

  “Where’re they gonna live?”

  “I don’t think they’ve decided yet. Maybe Aspen. Mom wants a place there, but said it might be out of Dad’s ‘comfort zone,’ whatever that means.”

  Bullet knew what it didn’t mean. His parents could afford to live anywhere in the world they wanted to, so it wasn’t about money.

  He wanted to suggest they look near Colorado Springs, or Crested Butte, since that was where he and Grey would be most often, but that would be selfish. Just that they’d be in the same state made him feel better.

  “How was Gram?” Lyric asked.

  “Same as always. Says she misses us, but that she wants us to live our own lives.”

  Their grandmother was the single consistent force in his life when he was growing up, and still to this day. She believed in her son-in-law’s career enough to encourage her daughter to travel the world with him, while she took care of their twin babies. Now that he was older, with kids of his own, he understood how much Gram had sacrificed for them. It was one of the reasons he’d wanted to name his son after his grandfather, her husband. To honor her, and in some small way, thank her for all she’d done for him and his sister.

  “She ask you about getting on bulls?”

  “You know she did.” Gram was the reason Bullet and Lyric got into rodeo in the first place. She’d been a world-class barrel racer back in the day. That was how she met Gramps, a bull rider himself.

  Their mom, Guinevere, was the only child Gram and Gramps had. She’d never been interested in rodeo, only rock music. When Guinevere and Nate got married, and he was starting out in the music business, Gram helped manage his band. She’d get Satin booked at fairs and festivals where she was also booking rodeo events. Soon other acts asked Gram to manage them. She was in her eighties now, and still managed a handful of bands.

  “She never let raisin’ a couple babies stop her.”

  His sister was right. Gram still did more in a single day than most people accomplished in a week. This coming summer, she was being inducted into the ProRodeo Hall of Fame for her decades-long support of the industry. The ceremony would take place at the organization’s headquarters in Colorado Springs. He and Lyric, along with their parents, would be there to celebrate with her.

  “Listen, I gotta go. Grey’s wakin’ up from his nap.”

  “Wait. Bullet? You still there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “Callie wasn’t my favorite person, you know that. But I’m still sorry she’s gone. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you. I’m sorry I wasn’t at the funeral.”

  “It’s okay. Gram was there.” After the service at the graveside, she asked him to take her home rather than to his in-laws’ house. When he dropped her off, she invited him inside.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she’d said to him. “People like Callie need professional help. They need medical help. If they choose not to accept the help they’re offered, there’s little the rest of us can do about it.”

  Gram had told him their grandfather had str
uggled with the illness too. “They didn’t call it being bi-polar in those days. They called it manic depression. Your grandfather would go for weeks being the happiest guy on earth. Suddenly he’d change, and sink into terrible depression.”

  Gram had never told Bullet this before. He wondered if Lyric knew. Gramps hadn’t tried to kill himself as far as Bullet knew, and Gram hadn’t said anything to make him think he had. What she did say, more than once, was there wasn’t anything Bullet could’ve done. “It was the illness,” she’d said. “Not you.”

  “I’m glad Gram was at the funeral with you.”

  “Thanks, Lyric.” Bullet hung up before he started crying again. He hoped he could get Grey to bed early tonight. He badly needed the sleep himself.

  When he finally did fall asleep, he was plagued by dreams of Callie trying to tell him something. Just as she was about to, he’d wake up. When he fell back to sleep, there she’d be again.

  When he woke the next morning, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his life was about to change. He hoped it was for the better.

  1961

  Bill kicked at the dry dirt under his feet as he walked down the driveway. He turned, when he reached the road, and looked back at the house. He’d probably never see it again. When he would return home, his mama and baby sister wouldn’t be living in it anymore. It no longer belonged to them.

  It’d been a long three years since his daddy first got sick. Bill was only eight when it started. Life was good back then. In the summer, folks would come to their ranch for a week or two at a time. In the fall, the dude ranch part of their business shut down, and hunters would come.

  That’s how his daddy got sick. They still couldn’t say what it was, but his mama remembered seeing a bite after he spent a day guiding hunters. He wasn’t the same after that.

  At first he got real weak. Bill had to pick up more of the chores when that happened. As his daddy’s health got worse, they had to cancel the rest of the hunting trips, and then in the spring, he didn’t have enough strength to get the dude ranch operational again.

  His mama started selling off cattle to pay the bills. Next went the bulls, and finally, the horses.

  When his daddy died, last week, his mama told him two things. The first was they had to sell the land and their house to pay off the medical bills. The second thing she told him was that, as the man of the house—even though they wouldn’t have an actual house for a while—it was his responsibility to find work and help support the family.

  His eyes filled with tears he quickly brushed away with the back of his hand. Flynn men didn’t cry. That’s what his daddy told him. And since he was a man now, he was done with crying.

  All that mattered at this point was finding work. There were three other dude ranches within a hundred mile radius; one of them had to be hiring. He might be young, and he might be little, but there wasn’t a harder working cowboy in the State of Colorado. He’d prove himself so.

  2

  “Hey, Daddy. I’m calling to let you know I landed safely and I’m checked into the hotel. You can call back if you want, or we can talk tomorrow.”

  Her father insisted Tristan call when she traveled, especially when it was on behalf of their family business. It didn’t matter that she was turning twenty-seven in less than a month. She was still his little girl, he’d tell her, and it was his duty to make sure she was safe.

  Duty was an oft-used word in her father’s vocabulary, as were honesty, integrity, faith, and family. They built their business on those words.

  Tristan’s father and grandfather started Lost Cowboy Company a few years ago, wanting to offer American-made apparel that was inspired by the ideals the nation was built on. Their ads, social media posts, the clothing they offered, even how it was made, represented a strong adherence to the principles her family lived by.

  Tomorrow morning she was meeting with the guys from Flying R Rough Stock. They’d spoken a few times since their first meeting at the National Finals Rodeo last December. They were close to finalizing a deal in which Lost Cowboy would team up with them to sponsor competitors on the rodeo circuit.

  Billy Patterson, a former Saddle Bronc National Champion, was one of the primary partners in the rough stock contracting business. His involvement gave Flying R a foot in the door to every rodeo circuit in existence. It would take Tristan months to lay the groundwork she would be handed by teaming up with them.

  Jace Rice had also been at most of their initial meetings. She liked Jace as much as she liked Billy. They were the kind of men that embodied the principles of the Lost Cowboy brand.

  Their other partners, Ben Rice and his brothers, Matt and Will, were Jace’s cousins. Ben attended their initial meetings, but she didn’t know him as well as she knew Billy and Jace. Ben was the lead singer of the band CB Rice, but had his own stake in the rodeo industry through his wife, who’d placed fourth at NFR a few years previously.

  The meeting tomorrow was at their headquarters, the Flying R Ranch in Crested Butte, Colorado. Tonight she was staying in Gunnison, near the airport. When she said she’d rent a car, Ben’s wife, Liv, insisted either she or one of the guys would come get her and bring her to the ranch.

  “You should stay with us,” Liv told her. “We have more room than we know what to do with. It would be silly for you to stay anywhere else.”

  Tristan spent enough time traveling and staying in hotels that she accepted the invitation without hesitation. If they were able to nail down the details of the partnership on this trip, she’d be spending a lot more time with the Flying R team. She might as well get to know the people she’d be working with.

  “It’s nice of you to come and get me,” Tristan said to Liv the next day when she picked her up.

  “It was my pleasure. I had to come into town anyway.”

  Tristan smiled at the little girl in Liv’s arms. “Who’s this?”

  “I’d like you to meet Caden. Caden, can you be a lady and shake hands?”

  Tristan held out her hand, and Caden shook it. “How old is she?” she asked Liv.

  “Almost two handfuls.” Liv winked. “She’ll turn two in May.

  Tristan remembered hearing Liv retired from barrel racing when she had a baby. There was also something about another daughter, who was married to Billy Patterson. That didn’t seem possible. Liv didn’t appear old enough to have an adult daughter. Tristan must’ve gotten the story mixed up.

  “I have a couple of stops to make. I hope you don’t mind that I picked you up first. I thought you might like to see some of the town.”

  “I’m glad you did, and yes, I’d like to. I might be spending a lot of time here.” Tristan looked up and down Main Street, but there wasn’t much to see.

  “You may fly in and out of Gunnison, but you’ll spend more time in Crested Butte than you will here.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it,” Tristan laughed.

  “The market offers more, so when I have a lot of shopping to do, I come to Gunnison. Otherwise, CB has everything we need.”

  “CB Rice, Mama,” Caden shouted from the back seat.

  “Okay, sweet girl, we can listen to your daddy sing on our drive back.” Liv pushed a button on the console and music started playing.

  “She doesn’t like to listen to much other than her father’s band,” Liv explained. “I guess it’s better than her asking me to play Disney music over and over again.”

  “This is good,” said Tristan after a few minutes. “I haven’t heard their music before.”

  Liv smiled and turned the volume up.

  They stopped at the market, and when they were almost to Crested Butte, Liv asked if she was hungry.

  “I am, but I should probably check with Billy and Jace about when we’re meeting,” Tristan answered.

  “All set?” Liv asked when Tristan hung up.

  “Yes, we’re not meeting until three, so I have plenty of time.” As anxious as she was to do what she came here to do, and finalize their p
artnership, Tristan found herself relieved that she’d have more time to spend with Liv and Caden.

  They went to lunch at a place called the Sunflower, which the sign said, was a “communal kitchen,” and where everyone who came in seemed to know Liv.

  Tristan couldn’t remember the names of half of the people she was introduced to. Liv told each person Tristan met that her company, Lost Cowboy, was partnering with Flying R Rough Stock, as though it was a done deal.

  “Everyone is so friendly.”

  “Speaking of friendly, there was more than one cowboy chattin’ you up. What’s your story? Is there a special young man at home waiting for you?”

  No, there wasn’t. Not even close. She’d been too busy helping run the business, and when she wasn’t working, there wasn’t anyone at home who interested her. Most of the people her age had grown up there, like she had. They’d all known each other for years. Dating any of them would’ve felt as though she were dating a cousin, or a brother.

  There’d been one special young man. At the time, Tristan believed he was “the one.” She’d met him halfway through college, while she was still barrel racing. He was a hot, young, promising bull rider who took her heart and her virginity.

  He’d promised they’d see each other when she went off to design school in New York City, and they did every few weeks. It was a three-year long-distance relationship that ended when Tristan discovered she wasn’t the only woman in his life. There were barrel racers and buckle bunnies criss-crossing the country that “won the heart” of the cowboy she’d believed was hers.

  She was still propositioned when she was on the road, but having a one-night stand with a cowboy she’d never see again would hardly be in line with the principles of the brand she represented. If word got back to her father, her travel days would be over before their business really took off. Not to mention she’d learned her lesson about getting involved with cowboys a long time ago. It wasn’t something she’d ever do again.