by BA Tortuga
And he hadn’t been able to.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Stop being a baby, Roper. I came out here to help you! To do this with you. You act like… like I’ve stepped on your fucking toes. Did you want to lose the ranch? Is that what this is about? You tired of working for it? God knows you act like it’s the most important thing on earth for you, this fucking land.” Curtis rolled his eyes, and God help him, he hated that look. “You left me for it, so I figured you liked it.”
“You’re the one that walked away. You’re the one that left.” And he’d never once gone anywhere. He’d been… right here.
Right here like the worthless dirt farmer he was.
“I had to. I had a life.”
“You still do.” And he knew it. “You still got yourself a life, and it’s not here.”
Curtis stared at him like he’d thrown a punch. “What? Stetson, what the fuck….”
“Get on. Go find yourself a rodeo and ride it.” Go now, before I lose it, because I don’t know how to do this anymore. I don’t know how to breathe good no more.
“I’m not….” Curtis reached for him, and he shoved the man away.
“Go on! You came because she asked! This whole thing is a fucking lie!” He could hear himself screaming, hear the sound of his control shattering like one of Momma’s crystal plates hitting the floor. “Get out!”
Curtis stared at him a second, then nodded, just the once. “I can do that.”
The sound of the door slamming behind Curtis was the loudest thing he’d ever heard, and the silence left behind hurt as bad as the void left when he’d told Momma goodbye.
CURTIS DROVE down to the diner like his ass was on fire, took the turn into the parking lot on three wheels, and sat in the parking lot, hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, wishing he was still smoking.
He breathed for a second or two, and then he called his momma, needing to hear her voice, to just… hell, he didn’t know. To connect with what Stetson’d lost, maybe.
“Well, hey, baby!” God, she sounded happy to hear from him. “How goes?”
“It goes.” I’m back with Stetson, except he’s mad at me, and I don’t know how to make it right. Help me?
There was a pause, then, “What’s wrong?” She always knew. Always.
“Stetson’s momma died.”
“Oh shit. Thank God. I mean, it’s a shame, but a blessing. Poor Stetson. I bet he’s lost as all get-out.”
“I guess? He’s just…. I don’t know, Momma. He’s just such a….”
“Cowboy?”
He barked out a short laugh. “How did you guess?”
“You love him, so he must be. You ain’t never suffered fools worth a shit, boy.”
No. No, he didn’t figure he had. “I keep making him mad, Momma. I swear to God I’m not trying, but I am.”
“Well, of course you’re not trying. He’s not mad at you, son. He’s mad at the good Lord, at the world, at his momma for leaving him. You’re the one he can be mad at, because he believes in you. Losing a parent is hard, and he’s lost both.”
“I know, but….” Dammit. Dammit, he hated that she could do this, be such a… a mom.
“But what?” She chuckled softly. “Son, you want easy, don’t love a cowboy. You want easy, go hook up with some suburban schoolteacher with a concern list that involves what to get at Starbucks.”
That made him laugh, made his fist unclench. Right, because he could live with that. He wanted Stetson, for all he was an asshole.
Fucking prideful asshole.
Fucking stubborn butthead.
Fucking cowboy.
The thought had Curtis smiling, even though he didn’t want to.
That was it, wasn’t it? Everyone on the big circuit wanted to be a “real” cowboy. Everyone wanted to be so deep into a piece of land that you could see it writ in the lines on his face. Every single one of them wanted to be salt of the earth, wanted to be a working cowboy with scars from bleeding on land that was theirs.
Every one of them wanted to know what was wrong with them that they didn’t have it.
Fucking stubborn, prideful, willful, hidebound cowboy.
Curtis loved him more than life.
“You know I love you, right, Momma?”
“I’ve never doubted it a second, son. Go on home and hug him tight. His soul hurts, I bet.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He would grab a couple of pieces of cherry pie and some burgers and fries. That would taste good, even if they had to tie it up before they ate.
STETSON STARTED with the motherfucking TV, the explosion when the old thing hit the ground outside hugely satisfying. Then he started on the furniture that she’d never let him move, never let him replace, even when they’d been flush.
No, Stetson, this was your daddy’s favorite.
No, Stetson, this is my home. Leave it.
No, Stetson.
“You never let me change anything, and you bitched at me for being tied to this land!” He screamed the words as he tore the top off the ancient recliner that smelled like old woman and piss and death. “You never let me out of here, and now I’m all broke! Now I cain’t find my way out, couldn’t if I wanted to.”
Now Curtis was gone, driven away like before, and he was here in this place that he’d given his whole life to, and for what?
Moving into her bedroom, he tore the rod from the closet, Momma’s clothes going flying. The first swing put a hole in the wall; the second shattered the ceiling fan, glass raining down on him. “I wanted to go with him! I wanted to go, but you needed me here! You needed me, and I stayed!”
He swung again, and the third blow was stopped short, Curtis standing there and staring at him. “Roper? What the fuck?”
“Leave me alone!” he screamed, yanking at the wood dowel. “Go away.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so. You been busy, huh?” Curtis didn’t pull the wood from him, but he didn’t let Stetson have it either.
“I—” Oh fuck. One of the blades of the ceiling fan sat there on the floor, held together by nothing but dust.
“Yeah, looks like you’re starting on redecorating without me. Good job.”
He let the dowel go and stumbled into the front room, staring at the destruction.
His momma’s house. Oh, God forgive him.
What had he done?
“Hey. You—you need some water.”
“I—” His voice broke, and he hiccupped, staggering forward. He liked to hit his knees if Curtis hadn’t caught him, easing him down to the floor.
“You stay there.”
Curtis disappeared, and Stetson did just that, stayed there, the shame and pain flooding him and leaving him stupid.
“Drink.” A water bottle was pressed to his lips, and he drank, afraid it was going to bring him to his senses. Curtis was here, back like the wind had blown him in off the range.
Stetson gulped down the water, which made him gag, so Curtis took it from him, going to his knees next to Stetson. “Oh God, I’m sorry I let you run me off, even for a minute. You were just so mad.”
He was shaking, his body feeling frozen solid. His fucking teeth were chattering.
“I know this isn’t really about the taxes,” Curtis went on. “I know it. I’m sorry, baby. I am. I just knew it needed doing, okay? I mean, we talked on this some, whether or not it seeped through your thick skull. We’re partners, right?” Curtis was asking for him to be coherent, and he couldn’t do more than grab hold and squeeze.
Then he nodded sharply, more than once. He knew. He did. God, he was going to explode. The fucking pressure inside him kept getting bigger, and all the damage he’d done…. God. Stetson had been so scared for so damned long. “I thought I was going to lose it. This has been in Momma’s family for a long damn time, and I thought I was fixin’ to lose it.”
“No. No, we’re gonna build it back up.” Curtis chuckled softly. “Looks like you done started renovating all on your own.”
H
e looked around at the damage, at the utter chaos he’d created, and then he looked into Curtis’s eyes, just horrified. “Oh God.”
He searched for disappointment, for anger, for shame. All he could see in his cowboy’s gaze was home.
“Curtis. She’s gone. She’s really gone.” He grabbed his lover, shook him, let himself trust that Curtis could take it, take the full weight of this agony. “You aren’t listening to me, goddamn it! She’s gone, and I was going to lose her house. I wanted her to die at the end! I wanted her to go away and leave me the fuck alone and let me sleep in the warm.”
“I got you.” Instead of pulling away from him, Curtis pulled him in, just hugged him and held him close, arms like steel bands.
“Didn’t you hear me?”
“Yes, sir, I heard you. I got you, Stetson.”
He tried to pull away, and Curtis held on, so stubborn, so fucking stubborn that finally he howled out his rage at the universe and let the tears come. He cried and railed for all of it—how scared he’d been, how she’d hurt, how much they’d lost in the last few years.
He missed her. God, he’d missed her for so long that he couldn’t even get rid of those fucking roses in the bathroom.
Curtis held on, not saying a word, not doing anything but holding on and letting him know he wasn’t alone.
Not anymore.
He whooped for air, trying to get breath into his lungs, trying to stop, but now that he’d started, he couldn’t staunch the flow.
Stetson thought maybe Curtis was singing to him.
When the storm faded, Curtis stroked his hair away from his forehead. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He caught his breath finally. Yeah. Okay, he could do this. Stetson sat very still, his hands clenched in the fabric of Curtis’s shirt. His head pounded, his temples throbbing. “I—Christ, I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
“That’s good, though. I remember how Mom was when Grandma Miller died. You have to let it out.” Curtis rose, then moved to get the box of Kleenex for him.
“I’m not pissed about the taxes. You’re my fucking hero. I’ll make sure to make it worth it.”
“You already do, baby. I—knowing I have a place? I haven’t had that since I left high school.” Curtis smiled for him then.
“Did we say what we were going to do for supper?”
“Well, we had talked meatballs, but I got that chicken and some potato salad and rolls. Why don’t we just do that?”
“Works for me. I… I miss her. God, I do. The her when she was still Momma, you know?”
“I can’t even guess, baby. I don’t see mine much, but I know she’s there if I need her. It’s got to be killing you. I love you.”
“Love you. God. I love you.”
“You’ll love me more if I feed you.”
“I bet I will.” He could actually crack a smile. Lord, he felt old. His joints creaked.
“Let’s eat, baby. Seriously. Food. A bath. The good stuff.”
“Yeah.” Tomorrow…. God, tomorrow he could call Tom and get his tools back.
Thinking about that might just make him break down again.
“Food, baby. Focus. Food. Bath. Rest. Tomorrow is another day.”
Stetson rolled his eyes. “Tomorrow might have to be a late day.”
“It can be.” Curtis’s grin changed to something slow and heated. “We can cuddle.”
“I like that. I like knowing you’re in my bed.”
“Our bed now,” Curtis reminded him, and yeah. Theirs. They even had new sheets.
“Yeah. Our bed. Our ranch. It works for me.”
“Good deal.” Curtis just nodded, like that was that.
He grabbed the chicken and the potato salad from the fridge. Maybe it was.
Maybe it was going to be okay.
Chapter Twenty-Six
WHEN HIS phone rang in his pocket, Curtis damn near jumped out of his skin. Shit. It had been a good bit since anyone but Stetson even texted him.
He tugged out his phone and clicked the green when he saw Ty Berry’s name pop up.
“Curtis? Hey, son. It’s Ty, from Cinch.”
“Hey, old man. How’s it going?” Ty was his sponsor liaison with the jeans company.
“Good. Good. Are you going to make an appearance at the Dallas event? We’d sure like to see you.”
“Dallas?” He wasn’t sure what that even was. “Uh.”
“Normally we’ve had a sit-down by now to work out your schedule, but I figured you were taking it easy after your win.”
“Yeah. I am. I’ve been working on my ranch. Thinking about investing in bucking horses.”
“Woo, son. You got you a ranch already? Look at you, becoming a real cowboy.”
“Hey, I grew up that way.” Sometimes the rodeo attitude got to him, even though he knew better. “I’ve settled on a place outside of Taos.”
“Pretty country there. I come up to ski sometimes with my kids.”
“Well, you should come up to see the ranch. It has amazing bones.” And Stetson. “Remind me about Dallas?”
“They’re doing that big Ride of the Champions deal. You’re going to be the big draw. Twenty different champs. You ride in rounds until there’s one left standing.”
“All roughstock? What’s the purse?”
“All bulls, all the way. Million bucks at the end.”
“Fuck.” A million dollars to the winner? His heart kicked into a hard rhythm. “Any payout for runner-up?”
“Fifty thousand for fourth up to a hundred for second.”
“Goddamn. When do I have to be in Texas?”
“Valentine’s Day weekend.”
Oh, man. He would just have to take Stetson with him. They could celebrate together.
“All right. I’m in. I’ll call Barb and have her make arrangements.”
“There you go. She probably already has you signed up.”
“Yeah, well, if she does, she should have told me. I need to work out some.” He chuckled, but he was already dreading the grueling regimen he’d have to fit into the next three weeks or so. “Is there a meet and greet?”
“Yeah. VIP package deal too. You know the drill. We’ll bring the stand-up cardboard bigger-than-lifelike Curtises.”
“Fuck you, man. I ain’t that little.”
“Uh-huh. Still….”
“Okay. Well, like I said, let me get Barb on it, and she can call you.”
“Good deal. Send pictures of the ranch.”
“I will.” He knew Ty would want to know if the place was worthy of a photo shoot.
He wondered what Stetson would say to a casita. Something they could put company in. Of course, there was a full side of the house they weren’t using.
Still, a casita would let them put business guests out somewhere with a little kitchen and their own bath and only have to deal with them when they called ahead….
He realized all of the sudden that he didn’t remember telling Ty goodbye. Huh. His mind was on what all they could do with a nice big purse.
He pondered tracking down Stetson, but he didn’t want to interrupt workshop time. Those tools had just come home today. He didn’t imagine he’d see his Roper until supper.
So he could make some calls and get the plan set. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission. Stetson would balk at him doing four or more rounds of bulls, and he knew it.
It was too soon, but the money was too good to pass up. With that kind of purse?
Shit.
He could take off the rest of his damn life. Well, except for Santa Fe. That was like a state pride thing, if he was gonna be a New Mexican now.
He could buy horses and settle down, actually be the working cowboy he wanted to be.
Curtis stopped right there in the kitchen, his scalp prickling. Holy shit. He really was ready to retire.
Jesus. He stared out the kitchen window, at the barns—his barns.
His and Stetson’s. The whole world had tilted on its axis in just a
few short months. The perfect storm had thrown them back together, and now was the time.
His heart had damn near stopped when Stetson broke down. He’d never seen that from his lover, but it was like, all of the sudden, Stetson could breathe.
Curtis clicked some buttons on his phone to call his sports agent, Barb. He needed to be in on that ride of champions. Even fifty thousand would be a lot of improvements on the ranch.
Hell, showing up would make a nice nod to his sponsors and possibly a commercial or something. He could glad-hand and sign autographs and wear his gold buckle. Then he could come home. To Stetson.
Maybe he’d even be able to bring Stetson with him. He was sure gonna try. Stubborn cowboy.
Okay. Time to make a plan. It felt good. Real good. He knew where he was going for the long haul.
Now he had to figure out how to tell Stetson so he didn’t feel like Curtis was running out on him. Maybe he would make an engraved invitation.
Curtis laughed out loud.
That just might work.
HIS WORKSHOP looked… like his again.
Stetson sat on the stool and breathed, surprised that he couldn’t see his breath. That little heater did its job. His tools hung on the pegboards or lay neatly in the workbench drawers. He had some twisted cedar and a big hunk of ironwood Miz Ivy had traded him for a bonus llama that had appeared on his land last year.
She was out there with a leaf blower once a week, grooming the llama so she could shear him late in the spring and make yarn.
God, was it true? Was life coming back together?
He stared at his hands, trying to decide if he should feel guilty. Momma had passed on, and suddenly his world was spinning again. Did that make him an asshole?
He didn’t think so. He’d stopped everything to be there for her. He’d given her his best.
Okay. Okay, so he had his shop. His tools. The lights were set up. Maybe….
Stetson picked up a piece of twisted cedar.
By the time he looked away from the wood, it was dark outside and he had a rose in his hand, heavy and eternal. The grain of the wood worked its way around the outer petals and spiraled into the middle, and he thought it looked pretty damned good for a first try.
