by BA Tortuga
Still, it was what it was, and he was going to take it.
Chapter Eight
“HEY, MIZ Betty. Looks like they got a big old feast set up in the dining room.” Curtis had come on inside while Stetson parked the truck. They were still in his rental, but Curtis tried not to drive in the snow, and God knew, it was coming down out there.
Betty had started slipping bad after that morning where she’d been so aware and present. She’d stopped talking much and had looked at her beloved iced tea like it was foreign to her. It was as if she’d had that moment of amazing clarity because she was about to lose what little she had left. He hoped today God would give them a little miracle, just a day where she could enjoy herself.
Betty stared at him, blinking at him all slow, like a sun-dazed lizard.
Damn. Curtis pulled up a chair. “Stetson is on his way. Are you looking forward to pumpkin pie?”
“Are you a nurse?” she asked. “My nurse is a girl.”
“No, ma’am. My name is Curtis, and I’m a friend of your son’s.” He kept his tone cheerful. Showing he was upset would push her into panic.
“Stetson. My son’s name is Stetson. He’s working horses today.” She did smile then, as if the thought of Stetson was a ray of light.
“Is he? Maybe he’ll come see you. It’s Thanksgiving.”
“Did my momma come and bring her pie? She always makes the pie, and I make the turkey and tamales.”
Stetson walked in. “Hey, Momma. Having a good day today?”
“Where’s your Grandma Flora, Stetson?” Betty was ramping up. Curtis knew his nearness might be setting her off, so he eased out of the chair and faded to the back of the room.
“Are you craving her pie, Momma?” Stetson came to her, smiled, but it wasn’t happy. It was so sad.
“She always makes the pie, baby.” Miz Betty smiled at Stetson, holding out a hand.
“She does.”
Her frown deepened. “Parker, I meant to tell you that I couldn’t make fudge this year.”
“Daddy won’t care, Momma.”
“I just didn’t have time.” Betty patted Stetson’s hand. “I got my hair done, though.”
“It looks great. Did you want to get in the chair and go see the dining area?”
“No. No, I don’t want to go anywhere right now. I want to watch the parade.”
“I think the parade is over, Momma.”
“I want to watch the motherfucking parade!” Her scream was loud and sudden and had him jerking out of his chair.
“Curtis, can you grab a nurse, please?”
“Yeah.” He pelted down the hall, looking for anyone who might be able to help. “Mrs. Major needs a nurse,” he told Anna at the duty desk.
He could hear her absolutely losing her shit, then the sound of flesh on flesh.
The nurses ran in, and Stetson stepped out of the room, a handprint on his face like it was painted there.
Fuck. Curtis walked over and put his hand on Stetson’s hip. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m… I’m going to smoke.”
Betty was screaming her dead husband’s name. God, this sucked so hard.
“No. Come sit in the truck with me a minute.” No smoking, damn it. That was bad for a body.
“Just for a minute.” Stetson was fixin’ to lose his shit.
Curtis tugged him outside and took him to the truck. Lord, the snow muffled the whole world, making it seem like they were the only two people around.
He could feel Stetson trembling beneath his hand.
Curtis steered Stetson into the back seat of the king cab, where they could sit together, then grabbed him for a hug.
“I don’t know how I can do this.” The whisper was soft, scared as hell.
“Oh, babe, I’m sorry. I got you.” He did. He’d come back after the Finals. He would stay as long as he could because Stetson needed him. Him.
“Because I’m such a prize. I couldn’t even stay awake to screw around last night.”
“Hey.” Curtis stroked Stetson’s cheek. “You need rest more than anything. I understand that, okay? Just breathe.”
When had Stetson gotten old? The lines carved into that dear face owed way more to worry than to smiling. This wasn’t even a middle-aged man. Stetson was still young, dammit.
He had this crazy urge to tie Stetson down and get in the driver’s seat and go. Anywhere. Glenwood Springs. Jackson Hole.
Hell, Durango. Even Denver. He didn’t care; he just wanted to escape. That wouldn’t help, and it wouldn’t be right, especially for Betty. Didn’t stop the urge.
“Hell of a Thanksgiving, huh?”
“Shit happens.” He said it against Stetson’s neck.
“Yeah. Yeah, that it does.”
“I’m just sorry she’s having a tough day. What do we do now?”
“Wait to see if they have to sedate her. If they did, we’ll just go and have supper together.”
“Okay, sure. You want me to go check?”
“No. No, I’ll just text Mari. She’ll know. She’s a really good lady.”
“Cool.” When Stetson pulled out his phone and took a few steps away, so did Curtis, hunting for someplace not the Golden Corral to have Thanksgiving dinner.
He picked the restaurant at the La Fonda first, calling one of the biggie wows at the restaurant, praying Roberto was still working there. They’d ridden together for a season and a half, until the skinny son of a bitch broke his pelvis.
“La Plazuela, how may I help you?”
“Hey, there. Can I speak to Roberto please?”
“Just a moment, sir.” He got put on hold, which he thought was a good sign. Of course, it wasn’t like Roberto was a rare name out here.
“Hello?”
Score. Curtis knew that voice. “Hey, vato. How’s it hanging?”
“Who is this? I know that voice….”
“Curtis Traynor, man. How’s domestic life treating your happy ass?”
“Well, I’ll be goddamned. How you doing, ese? All good?”
“Well, I’ve been riding great, for sure.”
“You in town? I’ll buy you a beer.”
“I’m staying with friends up near Taos, but I can buy you a beer this weekend if you can do me a solid.” He held his breath, hoping Roberto didn’t tell him to go fly a kite. They’d been buds back on tour.
“If I can, sure. What you need?”
“Thanksgiving dinner? I know you might not be able to get us in at the restaurant, but we’d eat in the bar or something. My—” Curtis glanced at Stetson, who was still on the phone. “My guy’s momma is real sick, and I want to do something special for him.”
“I have a two top for you at six. No problem. Anything for you, Curtis.”
That gave them a few hours to sit at the bar and…. Oh, maybe they should just get a room. He loved the La Fonda.
“You’re a rock star. I owe you huge.” He’d see if Stetson could get his friends to feed back at the ranch, just one more time.
“I’ll see you at six. You thinking about staying here? I can forward you to Janelle.”
“That would rock, man. I appreciate you.” He really did. “We’ll get together over that beer.”
“Sounds good. Hold up.”
He held on while Roberto transferred him, and by the time he hung up, he had a room and a dinner and a champagne romance package.
It felt a little over-the-top, a little weird, but… dammit, he wanted to give Stetson something. Something really good for this holiday. He deserved it so much.
“She’s down for the count. She lost it, I guess. You think I should go sit with her? You think it’s bad if I don’t?”
“No. I think if she’s sleeping and stuff, you should let her rest. We need to get the desk ladies anything?”
Stetson shook his head. “They’ve got all the pumpkin pie they can eat.”
“Well, come on, then.” He crawled out of the truck and walked around to the driver’
s door. Stetson was the only one he’d drive in the snow for, as a rule.
“Where are we going?”
“La Fonda. I have a buddy who’s saving us a place at La Plazuela, and I got us a room. Do you think someone can hop over and do the feeding?”
“I paid Nestor to do it. I wasn’t sure how things were going to work out. If she wanted dinner, we would have stayed late.”
“Woo.” And hoo, even. That was the best news ever. “Good deal. You got a good shirt on. We’ll have a few drinks, have a meal. Have a nice long shower.”
“That sounds like heaven.” Stetson stepped into the passenger side, and the man looked at him like he was a real hero.
“It will be. I swear, babe.” He was going to give Stetson the best Thanksgiving he could. Things would only get worse with Betty now, and they both knew it.
“Okay. I believe you.” Stetson reached over, took his hand.
“Of course you do. I got your back. Always.” Curtis got them moving, heading in toward the Plaza.
“Why did we break up? Do you remember?” Stetson said it with a tiny edge of sarcasm, but the question was serious too.
“I was on the road all the time. You stayed home. Hard to be a we when you’re never together.” Was that oversimplifying? Probably. “Simple fact is I was young and stupid.”
“You weren’t the only one. Momma hates me a little bit for not going with you.”
“I don’t think so, babe.” Betty hated the whole world when she was aware of it, he’d bet. “I think she hates that she’s leaving you so soon and wishes we’d settled together so you had someone full-time.” It was easy to have perspective from the distance he had.
“Yeah, well, what’s done is done, right?”
“It is.” And he didn’t want to talk on it too much since very little had changed, really. Lord, the area around the Plaza was already starting to light up with Christmas decorations. Not luminarias. That would come later, but it was pretty.
Stetson turned his hat in his hands, spinning it slowly.
“No more thinking, babe. Not today. We’ll get to that, but not now.”
“No? We’re just going to eat turkey and pie?”
“Yep. Bob in the hot tub.”
“Like I was Tracy Lawrence’s frozen turkeys.”
“Oh God, I love that story.”
Stetson’s grin made the world seem almost sunny. That was a damned fine thing. Curtis would take it.
They pulled up to the La Fonda and parked in the garage, leaving the snow behind them. The lobby to the historic hotel was buzzing, people chatting and wandering, music playing.
“You want to get a stool at the bar, Roper?”
“We can do that or I can grab one of them sofas.”
“Oh, I like that. I’ll get us a beer if I can. If not I’ll grab a Coke.”
“Sounds good. I could use a beer.”
“I bet.” Curtis wandered up to the bar, which was hopping, but not so busy he couldn’t get service. “If I grab a beer, can we have them on the couches over there?” he asked.
“Sure, honey.” The bartender grinned at him, her eyes lit up. “Give me five, huh?”
“I’m on it.” He watched Stetson settle on a big couch, pulling into himself, still and silent. Seeing that made Curtis’s heart hurt. He wanted to see the goofy, sexual guy he’d known.
Maybe he could coax that man out to play for a day or so. That would be something, right? Was that selfish? Was it better to just let Stetson fade and get all dry?
No, even if this was the most self-serving thing Curtis ever did, he wanted to make Stetson happy for a bit. Just for a few hours.
A day or two. Hell, he wanted to share orgasms, like ten or twenty. Food. Sex. All the good things in life.
They’d already gotten to ride horses.
“Here you go, hon.” The bartender handed over two longnecks. Not Coors, thank God. Bud. He’d take it. “Fourteen.”
He handed her a twenty. “Keep the change.”
She’d remember him and give him what he wanted while they were at the hotel.
“Thanks!”
He grabbed both beers and headed over to sit with Stetson. “Here, babe.”
“Thank you, sir.” They clinked bottles, both of them sipping, just sort of watching the people around them.
Everyone had their own thing going, from the high mountain cowboy types waiting for the band to set up in the bar to the tourists bundled up against the outside air, just passing through and taking pictures of the famous Inn at the End of the Trail.
“I love how the whole Santa Fe cliché lives here.” Stetson chuckled, waving his beer at a couple wearing Pendleton blanket coats and high boots.
“I know. The jewelry alone would fund my tour for a year.”
“At least. Maybe two. I’m not sure that couple over there dripping in Old Pawn wouldn’t do it, all by themselves.”
“We could mug them.” Curtis winked when Stetson almost snorted beer.
“Yeah, I can just see it.” Stetson rolled his eyes like thrown dice and started drawling. “Pardon me, ma’am. Stick ’em up, y’all.”
“Yep. That would be me. The gentleman robber.”
“The classy Texan. I like it.” Stetson grinned at him, the smile honest, happy. “I can see you as a bandit on the Santa Fe Trail, following the drovers and sneaking in.”
“Yeah? You like the idea of me in all black?” Curtis loved to listen to Stetson spin yarns.
“An oilcloth coat and a hat pulled all down, your six-shooter on your hip.”
“Lord, if I could hit the side of a barn with a baseball bat, that might be a good image.” Curtis was a terrible shot. His daddy had despaired, and told him when he came out that it just figured.
There was that laugh again, and Curtis felt his heart clench. Yeah. Fuck yeah. He wanted that—not even Stetson’s hard little body, which okay, he could slurp up with a spoon—but the happy laugh.
Curtis almost suggested seeing if they could check in right now, but he knew Stetson needed to ease into the evening, needed to unwind. His self-serving intentions only went so far. He guessed he might just love the son of a bitch still.
Curtis sat there for a moment, not surprised at all, just a little… off-kilter. He’d always known he still loved Stetson. Now Curtis knew he was still in love with him.
Stetson’s laughter faded into soft chuckles, then disappeared. “You cool, cowboy?”
“I’m great, babe.” Curtis shrugged off his weirdo moment. “You know I like your stories.”
“I remember that. I can’t help it. I love my Westerns.”
“We should have a John Wayne marathon.” Stetson had a thing for the really old movies. Red River and Stagecoach, that sort of thing.
“I’d like that. You know how I feel about the old stuff. Although the remake of 3:10 to Yuma didn’t suck.”
“How could Russell Crowe and Christian Bale suck?” Rowr. Sad ending, lots of pretty. He could handle that.
“You have a point. Although I’m really more of a Kurt Russell guy.”
“Yeah, you always did like that Tombstone movie, huh?” Curtis had adored Val Kilmer as Doc Holliday.
“Lord yes. I wish it was still like that, sometimes. No bill collectors, no taxes. Just horses and fast-draw pistols and land.” There was a hunger in Stetson’s face that stunned him, made him lean back some.
Maybe he could understand the need for a simpler life, but Stetson was looking for an escape.
“I hear you,” Curtis said easily, not wanting to get into anything deep.
Stetson chuckled. “Now you? You got the cameras and the lights, the fame, the selfies. I bet you got yourself a publicist.”
“I have the sponsors. They all have publicists that work for them. I keep it simple.” Some of the guys he knew who’d broken out into bull riding had coaches and publicists and shit. Whole teams of people to kiss their asses. That wasn’t Western one bit.
“Good.” The
single word was all Stetson seemed to have to say on the subject too. Just good.
He clinked his beer bottle against Stetson’s, winking when his man glanced at him. God, his man. He was gonna get his heart broke again.
Stetson smiled, the look slow and wicked, promising things that needed to happen for both their sakes.
He chucked his worry right out the mental window.
“So, the special is turkey, I think. All the trimmings, including green chile biscuits.” Curtis was tossing the diet today too. It was Thanksgiving. Calories didn’t count on holidays.
“Oh, man. That sounds like heaven on a plate.”
“I thought so. There are two kinds of pie.” They shared a knowing glance. They would have one at supper and get the other to feed each other in their room.
If he was lucky, they’d only get one fork.
They sat and chatted, and Curtis would swear he saw Stetson relax with every passing second. Two beers in and Stetson began to laugh freely, the sound real, not sad and desperate.
They were on their third when Roberto saw them and headed over. “We had a cancellation. You lucked out, hombre. You get in early.”
“You rock.” Not that he wouldn’t have taken food out in the bar over staying at the nursing home. Anything was better for Stetson today, but this was extremely awesome. “I owe you one, buddy.”
“You do.” One hand was held out to Stetson. “Roberto. Pleased.”
“Stetson. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome, man. Happy Thanksgiving.” Roberto gave them a sunny grin, and the hostess took over, leading them to a table for two tucked away along the back wall, away from the glass windows. That made it quiet, a little darker, more intimate.
Stetson took his hat off, put it on one of the hooks on the wall, and he did the same.
“Hi, boys. Roberto says you need a Thanksgiving dinner, so I’m guessing you want the special?” The waiter looked like a doll baby.
“I’d like that, please. Curtis?”
“Me too. The whole shebang.” Thanksgiving was his cheat meal every year.
Stetson looked around the restaurant, gaze a little stunned, he thought, like Stetson was confused about something.
