“You’re an angel.” Jake looked at her thankfully.
“On one condition,” replied the nurse with a twinkle in her eye.
Jake smiled. “What’s that?”
She glanced at the suitcases as she walked back behind the front desk, “Can you bring those around over here for me?”
“Sure thing.” Jake grabbed the luggage, walking around to set them down behind the counter where she pointed, then watched as she grabbed a piece of paper and pen. Five seconds later, he was in possession of her name and number. “Jenn, huh?” he grinned. “I really appreciate you doing this for me.”
“I’m not supposed to.” The nurse returned the smile. She motioned with her finger for Jake to hurry back in front of the counter and waited for a couple of doctors to pass before adding, “But if you call that number at seven o’clock sharp and take me out tonight, we’ll call it even.”
Jake grinned from ear to ear as he shook her hand over the counter and replied just as quietly, “Sweetheart, that’s a deal. But I’m not from around here. You’ll have to recommend a place.”
Jenn smiled at Jake. “Don’t you worry, cowboy. Just make sure you’re at the other end of a phone at seven o’clock sharp. I’ll take care of the rest.” She added coyly, “You look like the kind of guy who doesn’t need much in the way of directions, though.” She looked Jake over from head to toe before finishing, “…but I can recommend a few things.”
“Well, ma’am…” said Jake.
“Jenn,” interrupted the nurse.
“Well, Jenn,” said Jake, tipping his hat. He glanced down the hallway toward Willie’s room before he looked back at Jenn and added, “I need to leave. I got a rodeo to get to. But I sure want to thank you for doing this for me.”
“My pleasure,” said Jenn. Another nurse approached, and Jenn looked back at Jake to mouth the words, “Seven o’clock sharp.”
Jake nodded with a smile, then turned around and walked toward the exit doors, with no intention of ever seeing Willie Butler again.
* * *
Two Days Later
“Would you look at that, ladies and gentlemen!” came the booming voice of the announcer over the PA system. “With a final time of 8.2, looks like Jake O’Brien has pulled off the biggest upset I’ve ever seen!” He waited a moment to let the applause die down before adding, “After getting a cowboy speeding ticket and finishing almost dead last the first day, he’s come all the way back and has pulled off the seemingly impossible. Jake O’Brien is the Yuma Arizona County Fair and Rodeo Tie-Down Roping Champion! Let’s give him a hand!”
The crowd cheered as Jake climbed into his saddle, reeled in his rope, then held his hat in the air as he spun his horse a full 360 degrees. Next, he kicked Chief into a slow trot to take his time soaking in a victory lap around the perimeter of the arena. As he rode, he felt happy, but also relieved because it seemed as though his run of bad luck had finally changed and there was nothing but clear skies ahead.
With Willie out of commission, there was now no one on the horizon who had any chance at beating him. On his way around the arena, he occasionally leaned over to give high fives to adoring fans who stretched their arms through the iron railings, but there were two people in the crowd who went away disappointed because, even though they tried their best, neither could get Jake’s attention as he rode past.
Chapter 6
“Destiny Is That Which We Are Drawn Toward,
and Fate Is What We Run Into.”
Wyatt Earp
Childress, Texas
“You son of a bitch!” Jake hit the brakes hard, almost causing the trailer behind him to fishtail. “Can’t you see I’m pulling a rig here?”
A car suddenly pulled out in front of him, obviously not noticing him and forcing him to slow down. The driver took his sweet time getting up to speed, which heightened Jake’s already foul mood.
“For Christ’s sake, would you hit the gas already?” he added as the grill to his truck came precariously close to the rear bumper of the AMC Pacer. “That’s an ugly fucking car you got there, too,” he yelled. He took a deep breath and flashed his headlights on and off before finishing, “No wonder you’re a goddamned idiot. Anybody who would buy a piece of crap like that has got to be a shitty driver.”
Jake had spent the last eight hours alone, driving north after winning another event in Laredo, and knew he was more than ready to put his boots on the ground after the car in front of him gradually came up to speed and his temper cooled. Over the course of the last two or three hours, he’d come to regret his decision to drive during the day instead of traveling at night when traffic was light, but hoped his gamble would pay off when he arrived at his destination. The traffic had been heavy and aggravating the entire way, and the latest vehicle to cut him off was not the first.
“I guess nothing’s free,” he murmured with a sigh, knowing full well there would always be another unsafe driver in front of him.
But the downside of traveling the circuit couldn’t come close to equaling what Jake O’Brien had accomplished over the last twenty-nine months. To say he had a couple of good years would be an obvious understatement to anyone who was only vaguely familiar with the sport. He had won or come in second in more than thirty events, pocketed more than $90,000 last year alone, and was wearing his latest gold buckle that came with the season-ending 1979 NFR Tie-Down Roping Championship. He had already won more than $100,000 for the current year, the first professional rodeo cowboy to break that mark, and was so far ahead of everybody else in prize money that he was a virtual lock to win his second gold buckle this year. The new silver diesel 1980 Chevy extended cab dually he was driving was proof of his success.
He wasn’t so excited about the truck at first, though. When Chevrolet first donated the vehicle to him a few months ago, Jake initially thought it looked and drove like a school bus. After several months on the road, however, he didn’t want to drive anything else. The four doors provided ample room for him to paint in bold black letters down the side, “Jake ‘the Snake’ O’Brien 1979 World Tie-Down Champion” and the extra bench seat in the back supplied an extra amount of space for clothing and tack. Although the 6.2 liter diesel engine was much louder than a gasoline-burning engine, it had more than enough towing power to pull his extended fifth wheel horse trailer with living quarters halfway around the country and back.
“Enormous” was not quite the word to describe the amount of driving a professional rodeo cowboy puts into traveling the circuit for a year, so the two-hour detour Jake had chosen was only a drop in the bucket for a man who’d already racked up more than forty thousand miles on a vehicle in five short months. Over the course of the last two years, there had been several opportunities to stop in Childress, Texas, but there were two real reasons he hadn’t gotten the nerve to look up Dani, even though the piece of paper she’d written her phone number on had remained in his wallet since she left him after the night in Yuma.
The first reason was because he wanted to establish himself as the best tie-down roper in the world before he swaggered into a local bar looking to find the only girl who had ever stayed on his mind for more than a few days. The second reason was he heard Willie Butler did follow Stephanie Harrison back there after he healed up, and he eventually married her.
For more than two years, Jake never cared too much one way or the other about what had happened to his former traveling companion and never wanted to see him again either, if he could help it. As he drove north on Texas 287 and the town ahead came into view, Jake’s mind flooded with a hundred memories of the two of them traveling from one rodeo to the next. Granted, times were few and far between when Willie Butler’s name came up, but the only thing Jake ever thought of when it did was how much he had done to help Willie along the way, only to get stabbed in the back. He never gave any thought to the good times they had, having long since blocked those from his mind.
As he passed a sign on the side of the road that read, “Welco
me to Childress, Texas, Population 5,817,” he said out loud, “Well, Dani, you pretty little thing, I hope you’re not married, but I’m finally going to find you, one way or the other.”
He sighed heavily, then added, “And, Willie, you son of a bitch, if I have to run into you in the process, I want to tell you what my momma always told me. You’re gonna have to care about somebody if you’re gonna hate ’em and, if that’s true, I must care a little ’cause I still hate you.”
He slowed his rig as he passed the town’s first 35 mph sign and, after passing through two stop signs, made a left off 287 and parked his truck and trailer on a side street adjacent to the Wagon Wheel Restaurant. He made sure the doors were locked before he grabbed his straw Stetson off the passenger seat, walked to the back to make sure Chief had made the trip comfortably, then went around the other side of the trailer and stepped into the small door leading into the living quarters.
Five minutes later, he wore a fresh, clean shirt, his teeth were brushed, his face was washed, and he smelled of Polo cologne. He straightened his hat, stepped out of the trailer, and made his way across the small parking lot toward the front door of the restaurant. He held the door open for an elderly couple as they exited, then stepped inside to a small, but fairly busy family-owned diner. He walked up to the hostess stand and looked around as he waited for the hostess to come back after seating two cowboys in front of him.
“I’ll be damned,” he murmured.
The girl working the hostess stand was Stephanie, the same girl Willie was supposedly married to. He knew she recognized him the instant she turned to walk back toward him, but anyone in the building would have been able to tell she wasn’t too pleased to see him.
“Well, well, well,” she said as she came up to meet him. “Look what the cat drug in.”
“I’m sorry. It’s been a while.” Jake took his hat in his hands. “I don’t remember your name.”
“Wasn’t that long ago. Maybe you have CRS,” she answered nonchalantly.
Jake shook his head as if he didn’t understand and stammered, “I’m sorry. What is CRS? I don’t know what that is.”
She grabbed a menu from under the wooden stand before straightening her shoulders to look him in the eyes. “It stands for ‘Can’t Remember Shit’…and from where I see it, looks from here like you got a bad case of it.” She shook her head, then leaned in closer and added, “Which means you either have CRS, or a severe case of GAD.”
“I got nothing…you got me on that one, too.” Jake nervously rubbed his chin, looking perplexed.
“Giant Asshole Disease.” Stephanie smiled, making the point that she had no intention of being cordial. Her glance, and her mood, brightened briefly as she shifted her attention to a middle-aged couple making their exit.
“See you next time, Charlie. You take care of Lori there for me, too. You know she’s the best thing that’ll ever happen to you.”
“Don’t you worry, Stephanie, I know…and I will,” Charlie said. “You tell your momma she makes the best fried chicken in the county.”
“Oh, don’t make me do that.” Stephanie laughed. “She’s already hard enough to get along with.”
Jake fidgeted for a few seconds with his hat in his hands, moving out of the way of the couple. He waited until they were out of earshot before he said, “I got to tell you, this is a little awkward, but maybe we can start over.” He nodded his head just a bit as he added, “I remember now…you’re Stephanie. I was hoping it would be nice to see you again.”
Stephanie used her hands to play a brief drum solo on the hostess stand before saying, “All right…let’s see. Twenty words or less. Willie’s fine…we’re married…no kids yet. We live just north of town. Willie’s raising cows. Can’t rodeo because of his shoulder…and what else? Oh, yeah, we both think you’re an asshole for not ever coming by or calling once.”
She gave Jake a fake, cute smile and a slight curtsy before she held up a menu and asked, “Now, do you want a table or what?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jake could tell any effort to charm Stephanie would go nowhere as he added meekly, “Yeah, I suppose I do.”
She turned to walk toward the back of the restaurant, led him to an empty table, and tossed the menu down in front of the chair Jake was reaching for.
He tried to lighten the mood. “I’ve been on the road for eight hours and a good down-home meal sounds like just the thing that’ll set me right with the world. Do you have a house specialty?”
“You figure it out.” Stephanie turned her back and marched back to the hostess stand.
“Damn,” muttered Jake as he sat down. He buried his head in the menu and added, “Maybe stopping by here wasn’t such a good idea.”
It wasn’t long before his attention was interrupted, and his mood changed for the better.
“Excuse me,” said a cowboy who had just walked up to the table.
Jake raised his head as the young man continued, “You’re Jake O’Brien, ain’t you?”
After the reception he received at the front door, Jake wasn’t sure where this conversation was going. He looked the young cowboy over.
The kid wore a white straw hat over his short blond hair, and long sideburns covered the sides of his face, complementing a neatly trimmed mustache. But what grabbed Jake’s attention was that most of the young man’s right index finger, half his middle, and about a third of his ring finger were missing.
Jake answered tentatively, “Yeah, that’s me.”
The young man motioned to one of the three empty chairs and said, “My name’s Trey…Trey Harrison. That’s my sister who met you at the door. Sorry about the warm and fuzzy reception. She’s usually a lot more friendly. It’d be my pleasure to buy you a beer, though, if you’d allow me to sit with you for a minute.”
Jake took a second to think it over, then motioned to the chair as he set the menu down and answered with a smile, “Sure thing. That’s the best offer I’ve had all day. Have a seat.”
“Budweiser all right?”
“Sounds great,” replied Jake.
Trey turned to a waitress who was approaching the table and said, “Joanie, I need the two coldest Budweisers in the house at this table…on my tab…as quick as you can muster ’em. Can you do that for me, honey?”
“On my way.” The waitress flashed a smile and turned away toward the bar.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Trey reached out to shake Jake’s hand.
Jake thought it uncomfortable to shake hands with a man who was missing the better part of three fingers, but acted as if he never gave it a thought. “Pleasure’s all mine. I see you’re a roper.”
Trey glanced at his right hand and held it up for Jake to see. “Yeah, I used to rodeo, but all that changed last summer down the road a ways in Vernon.”
“I just came through there.” Jake rested his elbows on the table, cracking his knuckles.
“Yeah…there’s not a doc in that town who could’ve helped me,” said Trey with a sigh. “Had to go to Wichita Falls. The one down there said he’d have been able to sew the damn things back on if we hadn’t left my fingers in my glove. Should’ve known to put ’em on ice. Took over an hour to get to the emergency room.” Trey looked at his hand as if reliving the experience. He looked back at Jake and added, “Bad decision…and bad luck, I guess, but it is what it is.”
“I’ve always been afraid of that,” said Jake, cringing. “I’ve met a few guys that happened to. It must’ve hurt like a son of a bitch.”
“It did.” Trey gave a mirthless laugh.
Jake grimaced, then shook his hand as if trying to get water off his fingers. “There’s been a couple times when I was about halfway out of the saddle and I realized my hand had gotten caught in a loop in the rope. Both times I barely got my fingers out of the way before that calf ran out of room and bam…” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that, I’d have been on my way to the hospital, too.”
Jake felt uneasy in the pause th
at followed and was relieved when the waitress showed up at that moment with their beer. She set the bottles on the table and asked, “You ready to order?”
Jake pushed the menu toward her and answered, “Sure thing but, sweetheart, it’s been a long day and I don’t feel like making another decision if I can help it.” He tapped the menu with his finger and added, “Why don’t you order me whatever it is in here you like the most.”
“That’ll be the meatloaf,” she answered with a smile. “Mashed potatoes and gravy come with it…that all right?”
“Sounds like a slice of heaven.” Jake grinned up at her. He watched her walk away before he looked back at Trey and asked, “So your daddy’s Caleb Harrison.”
“Yep,” said Trey before he took another sip of his beer. “You know him?”
“Hell, yeah,” answered Jake. “Well, I never met him, but I know a lot about him. First guy to get off the right side of the horse.”
“That’s right,” said Trey with a smile. “Taught me a lot. I used to be pretty good at it, too.” He raised his right hand again. “Until this happened.”
There was another long pause before Trey changed the subject. “Hey, I got to ask you, how come you never looked up Willie Butler after he got in that fight?”
Jake took a deep breath. The question made him a little uncomfortable.
Trey quickly added, “I mean, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want. It’s just that every time your name pops up in the paper, or he comes up around the house, Willie and my sister over there like to spout off about how you ran off and left him. That ain’t true, is it?”
Jake glanced down at the table and shook his head before he looked back at Trey and answered, “It ain’t true. A couple of years ago, me and Willie were at this bar…” Jake paused, knowing if he explained the story at length, he would expose too many details about Trey’s other sister he didn’t want to go into. He took a deep breath and added, “He got into a fight after I left. I went to see him the next day. Even got his horse and tack back to Oklahoma for him, but that was it. I had to go on about my business. Bad break for him, though.”
Roped & Tied Page 12
