by BA Tortuga
“I….”
“Shut up, Stetson. Come on.”
Time to put this exhausted man to bed and let him lay his head down. Maybe pray a little for Miz Betty.
Stetson followed him like a ghost, then led him to the Old Santa Fe Inn, the sound of the river burbling away. Nice. That would make sleeping easy. The place was a remodeled motor court too, so he could park in front of his room.
Now, the bed didn’t look anything like an old motor court. Curtis approved.
“I’m gonna let you get some sleep, cowboy. You rest and holler at me…. Oh, you got my phone.”
“Yep. Sit your ass down and take off your boots.” He had sweats in his bag that would fit Stetson’s skinny ass.
“Huh?”
He just pushed Stetson down. “Sit your ass down, man.”
Stetson popped back up like a jack-in-the-box, eyes rolling like a fractious horse. “I can’t stay here.”
“Bullshit you can’t. You want to tie it up, we can. I ain’t forgot how. I swear to God, though, after I wipe the fucking floor with you, I’m gon’ strip your heinie down and pour your butt in this bed and you’re gonna sleep. You want to have to explain to your momma why you’re all tore up?”
They stared into each other for a good long time, and Curtis thought for a second Stetson was either fixin’ to nut him or kiss him, and he was weirdly disappointed when Stetson dropped his eyes.
Stetson plopped down on the bed, and Curtis bent so he could grab one boot and tug at it until it popped off. Stetson’s sock had a big hole at the toe, which said more about the man’s state of mind than anything else. The guy was a freak about his clothes.
Holes in his socks, holes in his boots—someone’s head was in the clouds, and those sons of bitches were dark and fixin’ to storm.
Curtis didn’t say a thing, though. He just started on Stetson’s shirt, slapping Stetson’s hands away when he tried to help.
Stetson stared at him like a goat looking at a new fence, pretty eyes dull and red, all the fight sucked out of him.
This wasn’t fair. Not a bit of it.
He wanted Stetson to have called him because Stetson couldn’t bear not to hear his fucking voice, because the wanting between them was too big to ignore. That hadn’t happened, though, not in all the years apart, and if wishes were horses, well, he’d have a lot of horses.
Curtis backed off, then grabbed his bag. “Here’s some sweats, and I got you a toothbrush when I checked in.” He handed over both the pants and the baggie from the hotel. “Go wash up, okay?”
“I don’t….” Stetson stood up and headed away, hat still on his head.
“Oh, Roper.” He chuckled softly and eased the felt hat off. “There. Loosen your brains a little, huh?”
“Sure.” Stetson gave him a ghost of a smile before slipping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.
He changed into a pair of pajama pants and a T-shirt, then dug out his kit bag before sitting on the bed and grabbing the TV remote.
Stetson’s phone was blowing up—texts from folks, some he knew and lots he didn’t, asking after Miz Betty, then phone calls from all over the country. Telemarketers, he guessed. He didn’t reckon Stetson knew a lot of folks in Chicago and Portland.
He turned off the sound for now, knowing the buzz would be enough if the hospital called. That number was in Stetson’s contacts, as was “Night Nurse,” so those he would answer. Curtis was just fine with doing night duty.
Stetson meandered back in, looking like a wandering ghost. “I can sleep in the chair.” He stumbled over the rug on the floor, almost going down but landing half on the bed instead.
“I got you.” Curtis helped Stetson stretch out, propping his head up with a pillow. “No worries, okay? I’m not going to attack you in this state. I’m gonna hit the shower. I have your phone, so don’t you try to run off.”
Stetson nodded. “I ain’t going nowhere. Swear.”
“Good deal.” Curtis ducked into the bathroom and turned on the water, cranking it up as hot as he could stand. Cold showers had never done dick for him.
Besides that, he wasn’t even turned on. Shit, he wanted to wrap around Stetson and lie to the man, tell him everything was gonna be okay. He knew it wouldn’t be, not for a long time. Losing a parent, well, they were both too young for that, yet.
Not that Curtis hadn’t basically lost his dad when he took up with Stetson. His mom still called him once a week.
He soaped up and got himself all clean, avoiding going into the hotel room for as long as he could. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around this. He didn’t know how.
It was supposed to be that Stetson was pining for him but was healthy and happy except for the broken heart part. That things were great, barring the fact that Stetson needed Curtis like his next fucking breath. This was supposed to be different, goddamn it. This was his fantasy, to have Stetson call, need him.
Not to have to call because Betty was dying and half out of her mind at way too fucking young.
He hit the wall, letting the vibrations rocket up his free arm, jostle his shoulder. This wasn’t what I prayed for, Lord. This wasn’t it. I swear, if you could make her better for him, I’d go and never pray to have him back. Not ever again.
Not that praying had ever gotten him anywhere where Stetson was concerned. Damned fool stubbornly resisted anyone’s will but his own.
Finally Curtis was feeling beet red and loose-limbed, and he dried off, got himself decent and his teeth sparkly, and headed in. Stetson was there, raven wing hair a mess, tears staining the man’s cheeks even in his sleep.
“Oh, Roper. You shoulda called sooner.” He didn’t give any breath to the words, just crawled up into the bed and pulled Stetson into his arms.
It told him what he needed to know, that Stetson came, cuddled in and let him hold on. The man had no one to lean on, no one to vent to.
Curtis could do that for Stetson. At least for a little while. It would never be enough, but he’d take what he could get. This wasn’t about him.
This was about… well, family, he guessed. Family would work.
Chapter Three
“OH, CURTIS. I can’t believe you have to see me like this. I should be cooking you boys something good to eat, not laying in the bed like a laze….”
“Now, Miz Betty, you know it’s enough to just have a chat with you.”
Stetson listened to Momma talk to Curtis like the cowboy was her best friend, and tried not to feel jealous. What good would it do, really?
Curtis didn’t have to make her take her meds. Curtis didn’t have to sign the orders to restrain her when she lost her mind. Curtis didn’t have to be the bad guy.
Of course, that didn’t stop the little voice in Stetson’s head that insisted that Momma’d always wished Curtis was her son, that she’d given birth to the famous all-around cowboy instead of the staid, boring one.
It had been like that from the get-go. Curtis was pretty, was vibrant and hot.
When is your cowboy coming home? Do you think he’d like tamales? Are you going to go with him? You rope well enough.
Christ. Like he didn’t have to stay home, do his job, feed and pay bills and exercise horses. Like he hadn’t known that once Curtis had gotten back in the swing of things, he would find what he needed.
Eh. What did it matter now?
She was happy. That was what was important.
Happy and laughing and making jokes and knowing who Curtis was. That was a damned improvement by anyone’s standards.
“Well, it’s getting on to suppertime, Miz Betty. I ought to get on out of here and let you have some food.”
Curtis was patting Momma’s hand, and his mom was nodding, but mainly he thought she was nodding off.
“I have to run to the ranch tonight, Momma, but I’ll be back in the morning to see you.” He uncurled his fingers from the fists they’d become and bent to kiss her forehead.
She smiled up at him. “Are y
ou bringing Curtis with you?”
“Now, Momma….” He couldn’t make those kinds of promises.
“I’ll come by one way or the other,” Curtis said. “I’ll stick around a couple days, at least.” How many magazine covers and news articles had seen that exact smile? Quite a few, if the stack in Stetson’s back room was any indication.
A couple of days. God, at three hundred a night, that was going to be the end of him. Were there cheaper places? Sure, but Curtis was used to better, not sleeping in an Army cot on the floor of the horse trailer. Christ, he didn’t know how—how was he supposed to survive this? The longer Momma was sick, the more his whole life was built on eggshells and clouds that couldn’t hold.
“Stetson, you should take Curtis out for a nice supper. It’s the least you could do, with Curtis coming home to visit, just on my account.”
“Sure, Momma.” A steak dinner. Right. Maybe if he sold his plasma.
“Silly boys, sneaking out to the barn all the time. You know, you could build a casita. Or you could go on the road with him. I always wanted to go on the road, but I got stuck at home. Where’s your daddy, Stetson? Is he going to bring me daisies?”
“Sure, Momma.” There was no use in arguing. He was too tired. “I’ll make sure and let him know.”
Curtis looked at him, all wide-eyed, and he stared right back. What the hell was he supposed to do? Let her lose her husband over and over? No fucking way.
Took them another half an hour to get out of the hospital, but Stetson didn’t wait much after that, lighting up as soon as they walked outside and drawing Curtis aside. “Look, I appreciate you wanting to stay, but I get it that you have to get back to work.”
“I can stay a bit.”
No. No, you really can’t, asshole. I’m fucking broke-dick, and I don’t know what to do next. I’m scared and tired, and you’re still beautiful, and I’m… lost. “I appreciate it, but—”
“No buts, Roper. Miz Betty asked me to stay. She seems way better today.”
“It’s not real.” He knew that. This whole thing wasn’t real. He was in a fucking nightmare that just kept battering at him, and there wasn’t any waking up in the morning happening for him.
“I know. I was just trying to make it better.” Oh, Curtis wasn’t allowed to do that, to be all long faced and hangdog. Not right now. Not when the only happiness he’d heard from his own momma in weeks had come from the man who had told him he’d never be buried to his balls in the dust like Stetson was. “You don’t have to be all pissy because she likes me, you know. You’ve always been a little bitch about that.”
He didn’t stop to think, not for a single second. His fist shot out, connecting with the son of a bitch’s jaw, and Curtis’s head popped back, then rocked forward.
“Okay, then.” Curtis landed a blow to his gut that almost doubled him over, then got him with a jab right in the nose.
Fuck, that stung like a bitch, and he landed a wild haymaker, damn near going ass over teakettle as Curtis answered with a couple of half-hearted rabbit punches to his kidneys in thanks. Stetson twisted and got his hands around Curtis’s hips and shoved, needing to put some space between them. They broke apart, both of them panting a bit, although he knew Curtis’s was more altitude than exertion.
“Your turn, Roper.”
“What?” He snuffled and snorted.
“We’re beating on each other, right? More in that working-out than a fixin’-to-kill-each-other way, sure, but still, we’re having a fight in public. Don’t embarrass me.” Curtis was a pure-D asshole, but the quirk of his lips made Stetson roll his eyes.
“Come on, fucker.”
“What? That’s all I get?”
“Yeah, you bastard. That’s all you get.” That’s all he had. Still, he could breathe, couldn’t he? Deep breaths that didn’t hurt so bad.
“You feel better, Roper?”
He didn’t bother to answer. Instead he simply shrugged, intending to tell Curtis to fuck right off. What came out was “I can’t afford the hotel more than maybe one more night.”
His cheeks burned at the words, and his pride took another blow, this one sharper than any fist. Curtis needed to know, though. Might as well start out like he could hold out.
Curtis pursed his lips. “I could stay at the ranch, if that won’t be a huge problem.”
“Yeah? If you don’t mind.” He had the trailer here to sleep in, and Curtis wouldn’t have to hold the hours he did, or baby his truck along. “I’m real sorry. I know it’s an inconvenience.”
“It’s fine, baby.” Curtis didn’t even acknowledge using the nickname. Asshole. “Shit, you know that drive is dick all to me.”
“Yeah. Yeah, you got all that highway mileage.” He managed to dig up a grin, and it came easier than he’d expected. “Come on. I’ll pick up a pizza on the way. You remember how to get there still?”
“I do.” Curtis nodded, reaching out to touch his arm. “You okay to drive? You were out like a light last night.”
“Yeah. I was…. It was a long day.” And to be honest, he didn’t remember even getting to the hotel. He’d been on autopilot. “I got to run and get my dirty clothes out of the trailer so I can do a load of laundry tonight.”
“Sure. If I get there before you, no one will shoot me, right?”
“Nope. The gate’s unlocked. The house key’s right where it always was. You want sausage and pepperoni on your pizza or are you being healthy right now?” Roughstock boys had to watch their weight, and Curtis was in fighting trim despite the green chile cheeseburger last night.
Curtis chuckled. “I’ll go with peppers and green olives.” After pulling out his wallet, Curtis handed over a twenty, his expression brooking no arguments.
He hated that he knew that it would help too. He was going to owe Curtis for the rest of his life.
Maybe longer.
That was okay. He sorta owed everyone on earth, from his neighbors to random people at the hospital.
The ones he had to worry about right now were the creditors. He was balls deep in owing and without a fucking thing to show for it. God, what a mess. “Veggies. Gotcha” was all he said, trying for a grin and probably failing. “See you at home.”
“I’ll be there.”
Stetson walked away, heading to the little horse trailer parked in the back of the hospital parking lot, trying to remember how to breathe. He gathered up his trash and his dirty clothes, leaving just his book and the cot and his blankets for tomorrow night.
Okay. He’d get on the road, order a couple of pizzas once he got about halfway there, and then head home to check the horses and pay a couple three bills.
Thank God he had a bed in his office at the house under a shitload of boxes. He cleaned that out, he could sleep there, and he wouldn’t have to share with Curtis. He’d passed out last night, but if he had to know Curtis was right there, well, Stetson wouldn’t be able to bear it. Part of him hated Momma for this, for making him have to deal with this.
A worse part of him was thankful for a second to pretend.
This whole thing was just…. Shit marthy, he needed to do something that wasn’t wrong for a while. The animals did that for him, calmed him down, made him serve someone else’s needs for a bit.
He checked the oil in his truck before starting her up and heading north.
Home.
God, it was time to go home for a night.
Chapter Four
THE GATE appeared just the same when Curtis opened it so he could bump onto the ranch road. The J Bar M sign still sat on top, not a bit of rust on it.
The road could use a good grading, but Curtis knew there’d been some flooding last year. He’d heard about it in Santa Fe.
When he pulled up on the house, he just sat there, teeth in his mouth, trying to remember how to breathe. It needed some work, sure, but it was the same house that Stetson had brought him to ten years ago when he was recovering from a broken pelvis. The same simple, normal ranch hou
se.
He almost doubled over with the pain that punched him in the gut then. Fuck, this felt like home.
Of course, he’d wanted to leave. He’d needed to. He’d had a life that wasn’t this hardscrabble existence in this beautiful place. How the fuck could a land so pretty be worth so little for feeding critters? Everything here bit, scratched, or snowed on a man.
“Okay, come on.” Curtis got out of the truck, looking around for Aimee the border collie.
A trio of dogs—all three collies, but none he knew—came tearing around the house, barking and wagging in time. Curtis knelt, figuring it was best not to try to go in until he made friends. Aimee had to be gone by now. Lord, he’d never even thought about it, but she’d been almost nine the last time he turned his back to this place.
They all had collars, and they came to him easily, pushing into his hands like they were old friends. Not guard dogs, then. Working dogs, sure, but not trained to keep people away.
“You guys need a brushing.” He scrubbed ruffs. “Are you allowed in the house?” Curtis dusted off his jeans.
They all followed him, right up into the covered porch, and there were three dog beds next to a pair of rockers.
“Ah, well, sorry, guys. You stay out here.” Curtis dug the key out of the pot of dead geraniums next to the front door. Miz Betty had always cared for the plants. Curtis would have to see about getting Stetson something hearty and all-weather for his key hideout.
He opened up the front door, the scent of Stetson like a fucking ghost in this place. A pair of even more worn boots than the ones Stetson wore sat by the door, and a neat line of hats marched across the wall, the gimme caps on hooks, the cowboy hats upside down in U-shaped hangers. Curtis placed his hat in one of the empties and dragged his bag over to lie by the couch.
The place hadn’t changed, and that wasn’t really an exaggeration. The furniture hadn’t moved, had just gotten that much older. The TV was still the big old console thing that had always been sitting there. Could those even get a signal now?
