Man From Montana

by Brenda Mott

  Kara fought the urge to hug him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t feel sorry for me. I did this to my son.”

  “But thank God your son is alive.”

  “Believe me, I do. Every day.”

  Kara wished she could find the words to make Derrick feel better. To help him see that Connor’s life was still one to be treasured and lived to the fullest, not something to think of as screwed up. She’d give anything to have Evan here with her, even in a wheelchair.

  Suddenly, she felt angry. “Maybe the car show would be a reminder to you that you caused your son pain.” She stood. “But maybe for Connor, it would simply be an afternoon doing something fun with his father. He can’t remember the accident anyway.”

  Derrick scowled. “I suppose not.”

  “Not just because he was two,” Kara said, “but because he told me so.”

  His face blanched. “Connor told you about the accident?”

  “No. He said he’d been in an accident he couldn’t remember—one that had put him in a wheelchair. Doesn’t he know what happened?”

  “Of course. As soon as he was old enough to understand, I told him.”

  “Connor also told me I had a sweet-looking truck. That’s why I think you should let him go to the car show.”

  “I said no.”

  “You’re being selfish!” Her sharp words set the neighbor’s dog barking.

  Derrick’s frown deepened. “You have no right to judge me. You don’t know what I’ve been through…what Connor has been through.”

  “Maybe not, but if I could have Evan back—” her voice trembled, and Kara fought hard to control it “—I would cherish every last moment with him.”

  She hurried around the corner of the porch, down the steps, then ran across the street.

  CONNOR SAT IN THE DOORWAY between the kitchen and the living room, myriad emotions running through him. His dad had closed the sliding glass door, thinking he wouldn’t be able to hear what he and Kara were arguing about. But the kitchen window was open.

  Connor had been in his room on the computer, when he’d heard Kara’s voice.

  He wished he hadn’t listened. He hated the way his dad treated him like a friggin’ invalid. Oh, sure, he was handicapped all right, stuck in this damned chair for the rest of his life. But that didn’t make him an invalid—weak.

  If only he could get his dad to see him as a regular kid, even if he himself did not. It was all he’d ever wanted. He hated the heavy guilt his father carried…for all these years. He may not remember the accident, but Connor knew every detail. He’d lived it through what his dad told him about the wreck, and from that, he had a pretty good picture of what his dad had been through.

  Connor shared his dad’s guilt, since he was the cause of it. If he’d never been born, his dad wouldn’t have to live with that. Some days, he wished he hadn’t been born. Some days he wished he’d just go to sleep and never wake up. He was sick of this freakin’ chair, sick of not being able to do things his classmates did, and most of all, he was sick of pretending he was okay with it.

  What would it feel like to be normal? His school counselor hated it when he used that word. She’d told him no one was normal and that just because he was confined to a wheelchair didn’t make him any less a person.

  Bullshit.

  He’d give anything to ride bulls the way John Brody did, or play soccer like Kevin. And knowing he’d never have a girlfriend really sucked big-time, especially now that his hormones had kicked in. He might be partially paralyzed, but he still had feelings. Connor envied the guys at school who had girlfriends. Some of the guys weren’t even virgins anymore.

  And here he’d never even kissed a girl. Not really. There’d been that one time when he was nine, and Amy Broderick had kissed him on a dare. But that was it. One humiliating kiss. His life sucked, and now his dad couldn’t even let him go to a damned car show.

  Shaking his head in disgust, Connor wheeled back to his room and closed the door. He signed back into the chat room as BullRider85.

  Hey ColoradoCowgirl. You still there?

  Yep. Where’d u go?

  2 the kitchen 2 get a beer, Connor typed.

  It must be rad to be 21 and have your own place. Are you really a cowboy?

  You’d better know it. I won a 1st place trophy buckle in the college finals last year. But I busted up my leg 2 bad 2 ride for a while.

  Aw…want me to kiss it and make it better?

  Now you’re talking.

  Connor grinned, his gaze locked on the computer screen.

  This was where ColoradoCowgirl, who said she was eighteen, usually started making things really interesting.

  He read her next message and continued to type, ignoring his dad’s rule against chat rooms. E-mail only worked if you had someone to write to, and besides Kevin, Connor didn’t have many e-pals.

  But ColoradoCowgirl made up for that.

  He’d risk getting caught by his dad, just to spend one more hour with her.

  She made him feel good.

  And as BullRider85, he could be anything he wanted to be.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  June

  THE HEATED WORDS he’d had with Kara stuck in Derrick’s craw all week, like irritating grains of sand. Not only had he managed to alienate the one woman he’d taken an interest in, but Connor had been quiet and sullen all week, barely talking to him. Still, Derrick phoned home during his shifts bartending at the Spur, to check on his son.

  While his days off varied, Derrick generally worked the bar Monday through Friday, 6:30 p.m. to 2:00 a.m.—unless Wild Country was playing. But on the weeks when he had Connor, Tina rearranged the schedule so he could be home no later than seven. He liked to check in with Connor at least once in the evening, to make sure everything was okay. As often as possible, Derrick went home for lunch, but he still worried.

  What if Connor fell out of his chair? What if there was a fire and he couldn’t get out of the house fast enough? In an emergency, Connor had the phone number of a couple of neighbors who also kept an eye on him. Plus Shelly lived and worked just a few miles away.

  The idea of asking Kara to be an emergency contact had crossed Derrick’s mind, but she probably wasn’t speaking to him, either. He could deal with that from her, but not from his son. In just eight short days, it would be time for Connor to head back to Shelly’s.

  Derrick arrived home at seven-fifteen on Thursday and found Connor watching television, munching on a bag of cheese puffs. Beside him on the coffee table was a can of Mountain Dew.

  “Hey, bud. Did you eat some supper?”

  “I had a sandwich.” Connor barely glanced his way, his focus on the reality show he was watching.

  Derrick picked up the remote control, which was covered with sticky, cheese-dust fingerprints, and switched it off.

  “Hey, I was watching that!”

  Now he had the boy’s attention. “We need to talk,” Derrick said, laying the remote on the coffee table.

  “About what?” Connor sulked, slumping in his chair.

  “What’s gotten into you this week? Have I done something to make you mad?”

  Connor gave him a look that said he was dense. “Gee, I don’t know, Dad. Maybe if you think about it, you’ll figure it out.” He grabbed for the remote, but Derrick moved it out of reach.

  “Leave the TV off.” He stared at Connor. “What’s the matter?”

  Connor mumbled an expletive, but Derrick let it slide.

  “I’m tired of all this crap,” Connor said. “Tired of this damned chair, and tired of having you treat me like I’m ten.”

  Derrick felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. “What are you talking about, son? Would I take a ten-year-old to the spur? I thought you had a fun time the other night, with me and Kara and her friends.”

  “It was okay.”

  “And what about our Friday night burgers, and hanging out with the band? If that’s not an adult thing t
o do, I don’t know what is.”

  “That’s great, Dad. But you just don’t get it.”

  “Explain it to me, then.”

  “I heard what you said to Kara about the car show.” He set his jaw. “I want to go.”

  Derrick’s gut began to churn. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  “You think everything is bad for me, or beyond my capabilities, which of course, most things are.” He gestured angrily, his voice rising on a note of sarcasm. “Ol’ cripple boy can’t make the rodeo team or go to the prom. But he can manage a pity spin on the dance floor at the Spur with his dad’s girlfriend!”

  “She’s not my girlfriend, and she didn’t dance with you out of pity.” Derrick wasn’t sure whether to be angry or sad. He’d had no idea his son had grown this bitter.

  “You know, Dad,” Connor went on, “what makes it worse is that you won’t stop blaming yourself for what happened to me. I hate that.”

  Dumbstruck, Derrick blinked. “I—yeah, I blame myself. It was my fault. There’s no way around that, and it’s something I’ll never get over. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I was so damned stupid.”

  “Why? Because I’m not good enough the way I am?”

  “God, no!” Connor’s words cut like a razor. “That couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  “No? Then why do you treat me the way you do? I can’t go to a stupid car show because it might remind me of how screwed up I am? Isn’t that what you said to Kara?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant at all. Son—”

  “Don’t bother,” Connor said, thrusting his wheelchair away from the coffee table. “I don’t want to go to the damned thing now anyway!” He spun the chair around and wheeled angrily toward his room.

  “Connor, come back here.” Derrick stubbed his toe on the coffee table, but barely felt it through his cowboy boot. He did, however, jostle the table enough to spill the can of pop. It flowed in a yellow puddle toward the remote control, and Derrick made a wild grab for it. He tossed the remote on the couch, and righted the can, leaving the mess to clean up later.

  “Connor!” He hurried down the hall, but Connor slammed the door shut and locked it before Derrick could reach him. “Son, open the door. We need to talk.”

  “Leave me alone.”

  Derrick sighed, leaning his forehead against the doorjamb. He clenched his fist and pressed it to the headache that was beginning to throb at his temples. He’d thought things were going more smoothly. Now he’d messed up whatever progress he’d made with his son by being overprotective. By looking out for his own wants and needs instead of paying closer attention to exactly what Connor wanted.

  Kara had been right. He was the one who didn’t want to face the car show and the memories it would bring.

  “Connor, I was wrong. Come on, open the door.”

  Silence.

  “You can go to the car show. I—I’ll even go with you.” It would be tough, but if that’s what it took to make things right with his son…

  “I said I don’t want to go.”

  “Fine. Then let’s do something else. This is our last weekend for a while.”

  Connor responded by cranking up his stereo, and the music of Big and Rich boomed off the walls. Derrick started to shout at him to turn it down. But what good would it do? Instead, he slammed his fist against the wall, then turned and walked away.

  SATURDAY’S WEATHER FORECAST called for the temperature to reach the high eighties, so Kara met Danita, Beth and Hannah at the stables bright and early. They had their horses saddled and were on the trail by six-thirty. Kara breathed in the pine-scented air, letting the bird calls soothe away her tension, as Indio walked briskly along with Lady at her heels.

  “So, Kara, do you want to go to the Silver Spur with us tonight?” Hannah asked. “I’ll bet Derrick’s playing.”

  “I don’t think so,” Kara said. “He told me he only plays most Fridays and every other Saturday.”

  “Do you mean ‘I don’t think so’ as in you don’t want to go,” Beth said, “or as in you don’t think Derrick is playing?”

  Kara laughed. “Both, actually.” She couldn’t forget the way Liz had looked at her when they’d run into Derrick last Sunday. Plus, she hadn’t talked to him since their argument. She felt bad about it, once she’d gotten over her initial anger. Derrick was right. If he didn’t want to take his son there, it was his business.

  “Now, that’s a cop-out,” Danita said, interrupting her thoughts. “You had fun last weekend, and you know it. What does it matter if Derrick’s playing or not? If he isn’t, invite him along! This is a family night Saturday, I think.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Kara said, “and I don’t want to invite him.”

  Danita glared at her. “I thought we’d been over this before.”

  “You’re one to talk,” Kara shot back. “I still haven’t seen you dating the fire chief.”

  “Hey, I danced with plenty of men the other night,” Danita said. “I don’t need the fire chief.”

  “I don’t know,” Hannah teased. “From what I remember, Shawn Rutherford is pretty darned good-looking.”

  “Yeah, well so is Derrick Mertz,” Danita said. “Come on, Kara. Ask him out.”

  “No!”

  “Why?” all three of her friends asked as one.

  Kara nudged Indio over, pretending to crowd Danita off the trail. Danita good-naturedly pushed at Kara’s stirrup with her booted toe. “Get back, girl, or I’ll have to hurt you.”

  “Hey, you’re just cranky because you haven’t had enough coffee yet.” Kara smiled, wishing her friends would forget about Derrick and talk about something or someone else.

  “No,” Danita said. “I’m cranky because Phillip had the nerve to call last night and see if I could look for a tie tack he thinks he might’ve dropped behind the dresser. He probably has a hot date with his slut. As if I’d help him look good for it.”

  “I don’t think he’d wear a suit on a date,” Hannah said. “Would he?” Then she cringed at the look on Danita’s face. “Sorry.”

  “It doesn’t matter what he’d wear when,” Beth added, looking over her shoulder at them as Sundance pushed past Ricochet. “He’s a scum-sucking pig, and I hope he gets food poisoning the next time he takes his bimbo out.”

  “Come on, Beth, you can do better than that,” Hannah said. “He deserves a far worse fate. Like rat poison. Wouldn’t you love to feed him some, Danita? And that woman, too?”

  “He’s not worth the jail time,” Danita scoffed. “Besides, he’s probably boinked every woman in his clinic. I’d have to poison a lot of food.”

  “Nah,” Hannah said. “Melanie Spencer wouldn’t sleep with him. I know her better than that.”

  “You know Melanie?” Danita asked.

  “I take care of her horses. She runs a therapeutic riding center, you know.”

  “She does?” Kara’s ears perked.

  “She works at the massage clinic three days a week,” Hannah said, “and the rest of the time she works with handicapped kids at her ranch, giving therapeutic riding lessons.”

  “That’s right,” Danita said. “Hey, Kara, are you thinking about Connor?”

  “Yeah, actually I am,” Kara said.

  It might be a way to set things right with Derrick. He seemed to like horses, from the conversation they’d had the day he carried her tack to her truck. And Connor had told her he liked horses, too.

  The idea was perfect.

  “Can you give me Melanie’s phone number, Danita? Hannah?”

  “Sure.” Danita shrugged. “Or you can look her up in the book. Her riding center is called God’s Little Acre.”

  “I’ve driven past it,” Kara said. “But I didn’t realize the ranch was a therapeutic riding center.”

  “Melanie’s real sweet, too,” Danita went on. “I ran into her at the grocery store the other day. She was very sympathetic about what Phillip did to me. At least she took my side over
his, even though they work together.”

  Hannah chuckled. “Just because she works out of the same clinic doesn’t mean she isn’t smart.”

  “I’ll tell you who isn’t smart,” Danita said, “and that’s the bimbo girlfriend. Just wait until she finds out what Phillip’s really like. He’s addicted to watching sports and those nasty-looking Vienna sausage things….”

  Kara let her attention wander. She’d call Melanie today after she got back from her ride, and ask about visiting the riding center. Then she’d talk to Derrick and see if he and Connor were interested in going. Maybe she should talk to Derrick alone, not in front of Connor, in case he got upset with her again. She didn’t want to make any assumptions this time, even though she was pretty sure he’d be happy about the therapeutic riding. She still wished he’d reconsider the car show.

  Reminding herself again that it was Derrick’s business what he did or didn’t let his son do, Kara urged Indio into a lope as her friends picked up the pace.

  Up ahead, Lady had veered off the trail to wade in the creek alongside of it.

  “Hey, does anybody want to race?” Kara challenged. “There’s a straightaway coming up around the next bend. Last one to the blue spruce that was struck by lightning buys drinks at the Silver Spur.”

  “Then you’re coming with us tonight?” Beth asked.

  Why not? She couldn’t very well hide from Derrick if she was going to help Connor.

  “I suppose.”

  “All right!” Hannah said, giving Ricochet free rein. “You’re on!”

  “Ya-hoo!” Beth shouted, leaning low over Sundance’s neck as the mare sprang into a run.

  Kara let Indio take off in a burst of speed, the wind rushing against her. Exhilarated, she welcomed it. “Come on, Indio!” she shouted. “Yee-haw!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  DERRICK MANAGED TO TALK Connor into going out for a burger Saturday afternoon, since he’d ended up having to work late on Friday. Yet when they got home, Connor headed back to his room, and the computer.