Chapter Two

 

 

SANTA FE always gave Curtis a happy. The city had a vibe going, all colorful and almost foreign, like it didn’t belong to the States at all. He loved the rodeo there too. It was tiny, with an arena maybe a quarter of the size of the big shows, but the purse paid out almost a million dollars all told, and every damn cowboy on earth wanted to win it. Truly amazing.

Coming to see Miz Betty because she was so sick? Not so wonderful.

Knowing that Stetson Major only deigned to call him after so long because he needed Curtis to make believe, pretend the reality wasn’t they hadn’t laid eyes on each other in damn near a decade? Man, that fucking sucked.

The drive up from Albuquerque had a stark beauty to it with snow on the ground, and that was early, he thought. Snow usually hit at Thanksgiving.

It was dark by the time he found the hospital and a parking spot. He sucked in the air, the cold hitting his lungs and making him cough for a second. Lord, he’d thought Denver was dry. This was threatening to kill his nose hairs altogether.

He hunched his shoulders, preparing for the antiseptic smell and general sadness of the place. He’d do anything for Miz Betty, though. He really would. That was why he’d come a’runnin’ when Stetson called.

Just outside the doors, there was a cowboy hat attached to long legs and a pair of work boots with a hole in the bottom big enough to ride through. The face wasn’t visible, but it didn’t matter. He would know Stetson Major from across a football field without a JumboTron. That laconic bastard had the finest belly in the known universe, and Curtis worked with men who did a thousand crunches a day.

Someone was having smoke breaks when they’d quit maybe nine years back.

Curtis walked over and tapped one boot toe.

The hat brim lifted, and there he was, face-to-face with the one that got away, those dark brown eyes looking… well, about as exhausted and unhappy as he’d ever seen them. “You came. She’ll be pleased,” Stetson murmured.

“I sure as shit hope so.” Curtis studied the lines on Stetson’s face like they were a map that would lead him to understand how they’d fucked up so damn bad. “You look like hell.”

“I try.” Stetson looked at the cigarette that was burned down to the filter, then fieldstripped it and threw it away. “You ready to see her? She got her hair done for you.”

“I am. If she’s still awake. I’m here for whatever you need me to do.”

“Thank you. She thinks we’re still an item. If she asks for Daddy, just ignore it. Arguing ain’t a thing with this.”

Stetson led him into the hospital, which was nicer than he’d expected, really, and took him into the warren of hallways.

“I’m sorry, man. She’s always been such a pistol.” He didn’t want to see her sick, frail.

Stetson looked at him, gave him a nod and an expression that was all about regrets.

Curtis wanted to reach for Stetson’s hand, but he didn’t have the right to do that now. Hadn’t had that for a long damn time. This wasn’t about them, and there was no fucking them, was there?

There hadn’t been.

What there was didn’t have even embers left. They weren’t even friends. Stetson had wanted a househusband to move cattle through the high desert scrub, and Curtis had wanted a traveling partner. Neither one of them had gotten what they wanted.

Fuck, neither of them had wanted a single thing they might have had with anyone, in reality. Neither of them had been ready to compromise.

He took a deep breath when they paused outside a room with the label written in black Sharpie. Major. This was real, then.

“It’s all right.” Stetson opened the door and stuck his head in. “Momma? Momma, Curtis came to visit you.”

“Curtis? Get your ass in here!”

She sounded so normal, but shock slapped him in the face when Curtis saw her. She couldn’t have weighed more than a bird, and her face held deep lines carved into it.

“Curtis! Why haven’t you come to see me? I know Stetson’s been missing you like a lost tooth. Silly rodeo man, always on the road. You remind me of my husband, forever running after something. Did you meet him yet?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He hoped that would work as an answer for anything. Curtis walked over to the bed so he could kiss her cheek. “I sure did miss you too.”

“Bless you, sweet boy. It’s so good to see you.”

He smiled for her, even if it strained his cheeks. You didn’t go to hell for this type of lying, right? “That sure is a pretty nightgown.”

“Thank you. I hate that you have to see me in bed. I’m going home soon. Stetson promises I’ll only be here a bit longer. I have to get my strength up, you know?”

“That’s it. They’ll have you lifting weights and running laps soon.” God, her cheeks had hollowed out, her little touches of blush and lipstick bright as hell against her pale skin. Where was the sunbaked lady he’d known so well, hale and hearty and giving a whole ranch full of men and critters hell?

He kept looking at Stetson, but the man might as well have been a pillar of salt, he stood so still and silent. That face seemed carved out of a block of granite. Expressionless. Jesus.

He sat next to Betty and took her hand. “Should I tell you all about my season?”

“Please. I want to hear everything. Everything about your life. I knew that Stetson would end up with a rodeo man. It was inevitable. He was born to it. The only thing he got from me.”

Curtis glanced at Stetson again. Once upon a time they would have laughed at her saying something like that. Now it didn’t seem funny at all. “You know it. We’re irresistible, us circuit guys.”

“Yes. Yes, free and easy and the best friends you’ll ever have.” She was beginning to blink slowly, maybe getting sleepy. “Tell me about it, Curtis.”

He started telling stories, hoping she wouldn’t remember what season he’d been on when she last saw him. He thought maybe she simply wanted to hear his voice.

In ten minutes she was sound asleep, and Stetson came over to lower the head of the bed before dimming the lights, then kissing her cheek. “Night, Momma.”

Curtis gently let go of Betty’s hand. He waited for Stetson, not sure what to say, what to do. He couldn’t think of a worse thing to happen to someone like Miz Betty, and she was the cornerstone of Stetson’s life.

Stetson went to the door and waited for him, then closed it. “Thank you for coming out. She’s been asking for you for eons.”

“Not a problem. I can stay for a few days. I just need to know her schedule, maybe know what to look for if I’m upsetting her.” He ached to touch Stetson, to comfort the man he’d spent so much time with, had once known so well. It wasn’t his place, though. This wasn’t real, except for the fact that a good woman was dying too young.

“Yeah? She’s in and out a lot, but she’d welcome you being there.” Stetson nodded to a nurse, who offered him a smile.

“See you tomorrow, Stetson.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Stetson tilted his hat to a petite Hispanic nurse. “Have a good night.”

They walked outside together, and Stetson pulled out a pack of smokes.

“Thought you quit,” Curtis murmured.

“I did.” Stetson lit up, drawing deep. The man had a mustache now, a scruff that was more a day or two without shaving than a beard. “Let me get you a hotel room, and then I’ll feed you.”

“Sounds good. I looked into a couple three places, but I got my flight so fast I didn’t have time to reserve a thing.”

“There’s a nice one with kitchenettes and stuff right close.” Stetson got on his phone and bing, bam, boom, Curtis had a room. “You got it for as long as you need it. I texted you the confirmation.”

“Thanks.” He chuckled. “Food and sleep are important.”

“Come on. There’s a diner right down the way. You want to follow me?”

“Sure thing.” He wanted to shake Stetson, tell him to smile, but Curtis just waved him on, heading for the rental. That wasn’t his place, and it wasn’t a bit fair to want something for his sake and not Stetson’s.

Stetson climbed into a dark pickup, and Curtis shook his head. Stetson moved like an old man. He wasn’t. He was fixin’ to be twenty-nine, but Curtis guessed that didn’t matter. Shit like this with Betty, it aged a man.

Curtis got the truck started, waiting for Stetson to lead before sliding out into the light traffic. Small for a capital city, was Santa Fe.

The diner was tiny—just a hole-in-the-wall that he’d never go to on his own—but Stetson pulled in and headed for the door like the way was built into his muscles.

The place did smell like heaven. Red meat and bacon, chile and bread. Okay, Curtis could get behind anything this yummy no matter what it looked like on the outside. He settled into the booth across from Stetson and took off his hat.

“Stetson, honey. How’s Mama?” The waitress was as round as she was tall, her long black braid shining in the artificial light.

“She has her good days and bad days. Coffee and whatever this yahoo wants.”

Curtis smiled at the lady, whose name tag read Minnie. “Coffee please, ma’am.”

“You got it.” She reached out and squeezed Stetson’s shoulder.

Stetson sat there, looking at him, staring at him like he was a mirage or something. The silence stretched until he thought it would snap, Stetson barely even blinking.

“Hey,” Curtis finally said. “I’m glad you called me.”

“Liar. I appreciate you coming. Momma needed to see you. She was tickled.”

What about you, Stetson? Did you need to see me too? If she hadn’t asked for me, would you have ever once unbent enough to call?

Curtis grabbed the coffee Minnie set in front of him, sipped to keep from saying it out loud. It was a crazy, stupid thought and would only lead to madness. “She’s in a bad way, huh?”

“Apparently it gets worse, but yeah. She ain’t never going home.”

“Lord.” He had no idea what to say. None. “I—who’s working the ranch?”

“I got Mr. Butler feeding for me three days a week and José Garzas doing it the rest. I get home once every three nights or so.”

“Uh-huh.” He studied that lined face carefully. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Oh, I get rest.” Ah, Stetson, the master of the nonanswer answer.

“That ain’t what I asked.” The “baby” almost slipped out, and he hadn’t called anyone that in damned near eight years. No one. Hell, he could count on one hand the men he’d spent the night with….

“I don’t know. I drove out to the ranch last night, and they called me at six saying she was needing me.”

“That’s what? Two hours each way?” Shit. He was taking the couch and making Stetson sleep on the bed.

“Yeah. Don’t worry. I got the horse trailer here.”

“The horse—shit no. You come stay at my hotel room.”

No way his Stetson was staying in a goddamn horse trailer. What the ever-loving fuck? It was cold, even for Santa Fe, and a man could chill his bones clear to breaking. Wait. Stop that shit. This wasn’t his anything. He was here for Betty. Still, Curtis wouldn’t leave a dog out in the cold, would he? No, sir.

“You already put yourself out, Curtis. Coming out.”

“Uh-huh. It’s one of them kitchenette places? Then it will have a sofa. I may not share a room much anymore, but God knows I’m still used to a bunch of snoring guys.” That was that.

More coffee came, and Stetson drank deep, not even doctoring it. The man usually took cream and two sugars. Damn.

“So, what’s good here?” Curtis asked.

“The enchiladas. The mole bowl.”

“Hmm.” He glanced at the menu. “Ever try the green chile cheeseburger with the fried egg?”

“I have. The green chile rocks right now.”

“I’ll go with that, then.” He was starving. He’d missed out on a couple of meals somewhere along the line. He usually flew first class these days, but trading in his ticket, he’d had to go coach on this short hop, and then he’d hit Albuquerque at a crap time to stop.

“I’m going to have a burger, I think.”

“Sounds good.” They ordered, and Curtis went ahead and got the appetizer basket too. Onion rings, fried cheese, more fries. Stetson needed to eat.

Hell, Stetson needed to talk. The hard-assed son of a bitch was wound so tight he was fixin’ to explode.

Curtis waited until Minnie left them again before leaning his elbows on the table. “How long has she been down here?”

“Uh… it’s been almost three years since I couldn’t let her be alone. A tad less than two since she’s been… in a place like this.” Stetson wouldn’t meet his eyes. “She wants to stay home, but I couldn’t keep her safe at the ranch. I tried to, but I couldn’t.”

“Of course you couldn’t.” He wondered if other folks had blamed him or if Stetson just blamed himself. No one was harder on Stetson than Stetson Major.

“You been riding good this year.”

It sent a little jolt through him, just to know that Stetson had been following him. “I’ve been working hard. Thank God Finals are almost here.” He was ready for a break. He wasn’t old, but he was getting long in the tooth for all-around cowboying. Even if he only rode two events at some places now, it was still a hell of a beating his body was taking every week.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s late in the season.”

“Yep. The Stampede was my last one going in to NFR, but I don’t need the points.”

“I’m sorry for calling, but I didn’t have a choice. She don’t remember.”

“No, I can see that.” There’d been a shitton of times for Stetson to drop him a line, and it had taken a sick old woman crying to get him to pick up the phone. Sorry for calling. Fucker. “You know I love your mom.” Thing was, love had never been the problem.

“I do. She loves you dearly. She always did. Didn’t talk to me for six months after we split up.”

“Wow.” Considering Stetson and his mom lived together on the ranch, that was saying something. Miz Betty sure could be stubborn. “I’m sorry.” He kept saying it.

“Eh.” Stetson waved one gnarled, tanned-to-leather hand. “Happens. No big thing.”

Uh-huh. Except he knew better.

Stetson hadn’t been calm and cool before it was all over. Neither of them had been. Lord, what a knock-down, drag-out that had turned out to be. They’d called each other everything but lover. Hell, he’d driven off with a shotgun shell hole in the tailgate of his pickup.

Curtis grinned a little. “I was bruised for a week after that one fight.”

“Yeah. I ain’t sorry for that.” He got a slow wink.

“I bet not. You had a hell of a right cross.” He’d put Stetson up against anyone in a brawl. Man could throw, and take, a punch.

“Still do.”

Jesus Christ on a Popsicle stick. That was a smile.

The expression gave him a warm glow in his lower body, and he had a stern, totally mental talking-to with his privates.

He wanted to just…. Hell, he wanted to take Stetson, beat the living fuck out of the son of a bitch, then swoop him away and hold the man until everything was better. He knew that Stetson wouldn’t thank him for it, that was for sure. Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d thank himself for it. Fact was, he was still a rodeo man and always would be, and Lord knew Stetson had precious little respect for that kind of life. Still, there had always been something about Stetson, some deep calling that made him want to grab on tight.

Their food came before he could start making grand gestures, though, and damn, that cheeseburger tasted like heaven on a plate. The app basket came out with the food, but they dug into it anyway.

Stetson ate like he was starving, like there was a hole in him that needed to be filled.

Curtis reckoned there was. If he could give Stetson a real meal and a good night’s sleep, then he’d accomplished something no one else had in what looked like months.

Stetson’s phone rang, and the man jumped, expression going all worried. He grabbed it, looked at it, then sighed. “Just a telemarketer.”

How bad did your life have to suck that you dreaded a phone call? Curtis held out his hand, and Stetson handed over the phone, seeming a little surprised that he had. Curtis tucked it into his pocket. “I’ll pull call duty tonight.”

“What? I—I didn’t mean for you to—I’m just—” Stetson appeared damn near panicked, but Curtis knew how to deal with an emergency situation, if nothing else. He’d spent a good amount of his life in one dumbass emergency after another. He was a Texan and a cowboy, after all. They only came in dumbass.

“Shh. Easy. Please, cowboy. Just be easy for a second,” Curtis said.

“I don’t remember how,” Stetson confessed, looking hangdog as all get-out.

“I’ll try to help.” Curtis waved a french fry. “You want dessert? That pie might be calling my name.” A case stood up front with three kinds of pie, all perfect and creamy.

“The pie here is stellar, but I’ll have the sopapillas.”

“Oh.” Oh God, how long had it been since he’d had fried dough with honey? “Yes, please.”

Stetson chuckled softly. “Been too long since that was a standard, huh?”

Lord, yes. What passed as home for him nowadays was the Western Slope, where it was way more Midwestern than Southwesty. Meat and potatoes and plenty of pie. Sopapillas were Stetson. New Mexico and good memories. “I forgot how good they are here.”

“We know chiles and fry bread if we don’t know anything else.”

“No shit.” Denver could claim green chile all they wanted. Curtis knew better. “Two orders of sopapillas, please,” he asked Minnie.

“You got it.” She took the plates and refreshed their coffees.

“Better?” Curtis asked. He knew from stress, and sometimes powering through a big meal could blunt the panic, the terrible ache inside.

“Yeah. I haven’t been on regular mealtimes, you know. Running.”

“I bet.” How weird was this? Awkward mainly because it felt like old times, as if he’d never been gone. Yet this was a different man across from him.

Stetson’s eyes had gone old. There were little lines at the corners, a scar splitting one eyebrow that hadn’t been there before. There wasn’t a hint of gray—Stetson wasn’t even thirty yet, why would there be?—but if he saw Stetson in the stands at an event, he would have pegged the man at fifty, maybe fifty-five.

They lapsed into silence for a few moments, both of them thinking too hard for this time of night. The sopapillas came out and saved them, piping hot pockets of fried golden perfection.

The honey was thick and smooth, and he groaned as he bit into the sweet. So good.

When he glanced at Stetson again, the man watched him like he was Christmas morning presents under the tree on Christmas Eve.

“They’re good,” he said, licking his lips clean.

“They are.”

“You haven’t even had one yet.”

Stetson glanced down at the basket of bread and flushed. “Right.”

He didn’t even feel ashamed of the jolt of pleasure that gave him. He wanted Stetson to see him, to miss him, dammit. To want him. Even if it was a lie.

They’d burned brighter than a bonfire on New Year’s together. Good to know a spark still existed, because as many other guys as he’d tried on for size, none burned him to the ground like Stetson had.

Stetson was his one true thing, and Curtis knew it. Too bad they just… hadn’t worked. He munched another sopapilla to keep from saying something, anything, stupid.

“I don’t know what to say to you. I just want to keep thanking you. Momma’s been excited all day. She even got her hair done.”

“Well, I’ll hang around and see her some more. Just spend a little time. Is there anything else I don’t mention besides your dad and us breaking up?” Curtis wanted to keep missteps to a dull roar.

“There’s no way to know. Some days she’s clearer than others, but sometimes I’ll mention one of the dogs and she won’t remember. Sometimes there’s nothing that calms her down.”

“Okay.” The weight of that had to be huge on Stetson. Curtis could help him carry it for a few days, at least. “Well, I got your back for as long as I can stay.”

“I’ll pay for the hotel and to get you wherever too. I just…. Even just one more visit would be amazing.”

He reached out with his sticky hand and covered one of Stetson’s. “I don’t hate you, Stetson, and your mom is the best lady I’ve ever known. I’ll do anything I can. You ready to go put your feet up?”

Stetson nodded. “I guess I’d better, yeah.”

“You know where this hotel is? I can follow again.”

“I do. Yeah. Come on, cowboy.”

Stetson rose, but Curtis grabbed the bill before Stetson could touch it. Medical bills sucked, and Miz Betty couldn’t be on Medicare yet. Medicaid, maybe, but neither of those covered everything.

“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.