“LOOK, MOMMA. It’s Curtis. He’s waving to you.” Stetson didn’t bother to look and see whether she was paying attention. He knew she wasn’t. She sat there and breathed, in and out, in and out, gurgling. She was starving to death. She hadn’t swallowed in three days.
He swore by all he held holy, he was going to find somebody to get him some insulin in a huge dose, and he was going to put her out of her misery. This wasn’t fair.
Not a bit of it.
So instead of staring at her, he watched the streaming on his phone, here where there was Wi-Fi.
He watched Curtis.
Round three of the Finals, and Curtis led in bareback and bull riding. He was second in saddle broncs, and he was edging out one of the ropers for all-around by something like eighty points.
Every night Curtis called. Every night Curtis asked about Momma. Every night Stetson lied.
“Yeah, she’s rooting for you, cowboy,” he would say. “She went to bed right after the round.”
Somewhere that was true. Momma loved Curtis to death. More than that, she liked him.
The bull riding came up, and he leaned his elbows on his knees, staring at the screen. “Come on, cowboy.”
Miles Bend was pulling Curtis’s rope; Hank Rogers had hold of his vest. That was like a top-three ice cream sandwich, and Lord it was a pretty sight.
“I swear, Momma, you better not be able to hear me thinking, because I’m a bad, bad man.”
He grinned a little, then glanced at her. His smile faded. She needed to sleep. Maybe she was asleep. Who the hell knew?
Curtis was wearing his lucky shirt, the dark blue paisley looking fine on him.
Stetson clenched his hands when Curtis settled into place, then nodded.
The little Mexican bull turned toward the left, spinning fast as he tried to buck Curtis off. Curtis had ridden bulls twice as big and twice again as mean, but this one was quick as a wink, and that meant G forces.
“Come on, cowboy.” He nodded with every second. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Come on. You can do it. Eight. “Yes!”
The score wasn’t going to set the world on fire, but it was a score.
“Seventy-five, Momma! That keeps him above water. And this isn’t his best event.” He was so fucking proud. “That’s our cowboy right there. He’s going for it.”
He glanced over to find Momma staring at the TV, and he knew she wasn’t seeing what he was, but he hoped it gave her some solace.
At least her eyes were open.
He turned off the streaming video and tucked away his phone. “You ready for bed, Momma?”
She didn’t answer, the weird gurgling of the tube the only sound. He told himself that it was a blessing, that the last thing she’d said to him was that she loved him.
That was all right.
He rose, then kissed her cheek. “Night, Momma.” He would stay in the trailer tonight; he had people feeding, and the dogs were gonna forget who he was.
The night nurse was new, but he seemed kind enough, with an easy smile, a gentle manner. “You gone, Mr. Stetson?”
“I’ll be out in the parking lot. Y’all holler if you need me.”
“It’s damn cold tonight.”
It was damn cold every night. “Thanks, man. I’ll bundle up.”
“You need extra blankets, you holler at us,” the nurse murmured.
“Thank you. I’ll be in later to steal coffee, I’m sure.” He headed to the trailer and climbed up into the comforting scent of animal and hay. He settled into the blankets and waited for his phone call.
It didn’t take long, the buzz shaking his phone in his pocket. Curtis’s name was like magic, making him smile.
“Hey, cowboy. Good ride.”
“Hey, Roper.” That voice flowed over him like warm honey. “Thanks. It was solid. That little bull turned me every which ways but loose, huh?”
“You handled it, though, even spurred a little.”
“I did. Damn, I’m ready to come home.”
His heart flip-flopped, and Stetson told himself not to read too damned much into that.
“You’ve got another six days, huh? How many rides do you have left?” He pulled the collar of his coat up.
“Three, I hope. Maybe four. Depends on Louis Dreyman.” That was the guy chasing Curtis’s dollar total.
“You want I should come hit him in the knee?” he teased.
“Yes. Immediately.” Curtis chuckled. “Did you smoke today?” Curtis was giving him hell about the cigarettes.
“Yeah. A few.” Half a pack.
“Stop it.” All iron, those two words. “I need you all rarin’ to go when I get back, not down with bronchitis or something.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing you again. I…. You know.”
“I know.” Curtis lowered his voice. “I want you, Roper.”
Oh, that warmed him a little. “You can have me. Whenever.”
He was a little stiff now, a little sore, but he’d manage, if Curtis was here.
“Okay.” Curtis chuckled, the warm sound keeping the cold night at bay. Then the inevitable question came. “How’s Miz Betty?”
Dying. “’Bout the same. We were watching your ride today.”
It was a lie, but a necessary one. Curtis needed to keep his mind in the middle.
“Damn. I keep hoping she’ll perk up. I know it’s stupid, but there it is.”
“We’re rooting for you. How’re you feeling? Your body holding up?”
“Yeah, actually. I hate to jinx myself, but I been riding good, and I’m just a little bruised.”
Maybe he was taking all the sore in Curtis’s place. That would make a great story for some horror writer, huh? Lord have mercy.
“Did you have supper?”
Curtis paused long enough Stetson knew he was about to get the load of crap this time. “I had a bite with Miles.”
“Liar. Try again.”
“I had a bite or two off Miles’s plate. I’ll grab a salad from room service, I swear.”
“Yeah? Because you have to keep your energy up.”
“I do. Chicken Caesar. I promise.”
Well, Curtis had never made him a promise, then broken it.
“Mmm. Eat the croutons for me?” He loved crunchy bread.
“I will. Acceptable carbs. I might even eat a few bites of a carrot cake.”
He’d seen Curtis do that. Order a big slab of cake from room service and eat two bites before tossing it.
“Oh, man. I should be there to finish it for you.”
“You so should. I’ll stop and get one on the way into town.”
“Fair deal.” He shivered a little, pondering running in and grabbing another cup of coffee. It was shitty, but it was hot.
“You okay, Roper? Are you in that fucking trailer?”
“Huh?”
“Roper….”
“Don’t you worry on this old cowboy.”
“I worry about you every day. That hasn’t changed.” Curtis sighed, the sound like a gust of wind. “I hate thinking about you sleeping in the trailer. How cold is it, Roper? How cold are you?”
“I’m fine.” If it got any colder, they would let him sack out in an unused waiting room.
“Let me get you a hotel room, Stetson. Just for tonight.”
“I’m fine, cowboy. Let it go.”
“I can’t. It has to be freezing there. Shit, it’s below freezing here in Vegas.”
“Is it? Damn, you have your coat with you?”
“I do. Shearling and all.” Curtis barked out a laugh. “Don’t you deflect.”
“De-whatzit?”
“Butthead. Don’t you turn it back on me. Please, baby. Let me get you a room.”
Stetson smiled, the care almost unbearable. “Tomorrow, huh? Ask me tomorrow.”
“Okay. I will. I need you all healthy, okay? Are you eating? They feeding you at the hospital?”
“All the Jell-O I can eat!” They were good to him, honestly, bringing him the tray of food Momma couldn’t eat.
“Okay. God, this hotel is loud. Even in my room. I got spoiled at the ranch.”
“It’s not loud out there, is it?” He had to chuckle, because there was nothing like being home and knowing no one was coming to bother you. That was a silence unlike any other.
“Nope. I mean, the coyotes let us hear them, but that’s about it.” Curtis had the best laugh.
“I miss you, cowboy.” He never let himself say it, but God knew he meant it.
“I miss you too. It’s a deep down hurt now I’ve been near you again.” Curtis hummed, the sound intensely sexual. Needy.
“Yes. Like I know now, how good it is.” He whispered the words, not out of shame, but because this was so raw.
“Right. We were so young before. Now we know what we’re missing, damn it.”
That surprised a laugh out of him, the sound loud and raucous. He stared up at the roof of the trailer, his body warming some at the thought of what they’d gotten up to before Curtis left.
Curtis laughed with him, sounding happier than he had at the start of the call.
“What’s your plan for tomorrow?” He listened to Curtis ramble, closing his eyes as he let himself live vicariously, pretend that his world wasn’t fixin’ to come tumbling down.
It wasn’t perfect, but he’d take what he could get.