Ryder drove all night, watching Idaho disappear in his rearview mirror and miles of Utah desert stretch before him. Kale slept most of the way. And when he was awake, he worked the phones.
Tanner was back at the ranch. According to Lawson, he’d convinced the hospital staff to let him die at home. Someone from hospice was there. Tanner was holding on until Ryder and Kale got there, Lawson said.
“Was that your wife?” Kale asked in the darkness of his pickup cab.
“Huh? Who?”
“The pretty blonde. Joey.”
“No. Where’d you get that?”
The moon peeked out of the sky, and Kale gave a half shrug. “I don’t know. You seemed like you were married, that’s all. She your girlfriend?”
“She’s my mother’s caregiver. Was my mother’s caregiver. She’s a nurse and is starting work at a local hospital soon.”
Kale shuffled in his seat and cleared his throat. “I was sorry about Leslie. Dad told me.”
It had been more than five years ago. Kind of late for condolences. But whatever. It wasn’t as if Ryder and his half-brother knew each other. This was the most time they’d ever spent together and the most words—such as they were—they’d ever exchanged.
“Thanks,” he said and turned on the radio.
“I’m thinking of moving to California.”
“Yeah. Why’s that?”
“Sick of the cold. And figure I’m on the road most of the time, so why not?”
To Ryder that seemed like a better reason to stay in Colorado. “California’s expensive.” He’d seen Kale’s bronc riding standing this year. Beverly Hills wasn’t an option. Then again, next year could be better. The Coles tended to dominate the sport.
“You ain’t kidding. I’ve been checking out the real estate.”
“Where you looking?” Frankly, Ryder didn’t care, but the conversation was keeping him awake.
“I don’t know. San Diego looks nice. Maybe I’ll learn to surf.” Kale chuckled.
“San Diego’s a big city.” Most of the guys who followed the circuit lived in rural parts of the country. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to live on Lawson’s ranch when you’re not out on the road?” The kid didn’t strike Ryder as the sharpest tool in the shed.
“Yeah, maybe. But I’ve lived in Colorado my whole life. Might be nice to experience something new. See the ocean.”
Okay, Ryder got that. One of the things that appealed to him about being a trucker was getting to see so much of the country. Back in his rodeo days, all the towns had looked the same. And the only place he’d wanted to be was back home with Leslie.
“I was even thinking I could do some stunt work in Hollywood.”
The kid was delusional. But let him find that out for himself. Who was Ryder to tell him? He just wanted to get this over with. Say his final good-bye to Tanner and get the hell out of Dodge. If he timed it right, he could still make his run on Friday, then move his stuff into what would soon be an empty house. Empty. Just him and the walls, the way he liked it.
“Dad talks about you all the time, you know?”
Ryder slid Kale a sideways glance. “Nope.” He was tempted to tell Kale exactly what he thought of Tanner Cole, but what would that accomplish? His half-brother had obviously had a different experience with the old man. Why taint it?
“He says you’ll get inducted into the ProRodeo Hall of Fame.”
Ryder hated to disappoint the kid, but he didn’t give a shit. And the fact that Tanner went around bragging about a son he hardly knew pissed Ryder off. He might have gotten his father’s rodeo genes, but Ryder had worked damn hard at the sport all on his own. If there was anyone to thank for Ryder’s success, it was his high school and college coaches. Tanner didn’t get to take credit for any of it.
By the time they got to Lawson’s ranch, daylight had broken. The sky was streaked in bronzes and oranges as the sun rose over the horizon. From what Ryder could see, it looked like a nice spread. Flat land fenced for cattle.
Kale told him how to get to the house, which sat on top of a hill. It was a one-story wood-sided home with solar panels on the roof and an untended flower garden in the front yard. Ryder didn’t know whether Lawson was married or if he had kids. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he’d recognize him outside of a rodeo arena.
Ryder parked Kale’s truck behind two pickups. “This okay?”
“Yeah,” Kale said and was halfway out the door.
Ryder followed, feeling a little awkward about just going in. The house was quiet, like everyone was still asleep. It was barely six. Ryder looked for a place to rest his hat.
“You can hang it from one of the hooks.”
Ryder spun around to find an older version of Kale in the foyer. Lawson. His hair was darker than Ryder’s and his eyes were brown, but no one would miss that they were related.
“I’m glad you came.” Lawson scratched a night’s worth of stubble on his chin. “He’s been in and out of it. But when he’s lucid, he asks about you.”
Ryder gave a curt nod. “He asleep?” He wanted Tanner to say his piece so Ryder could hitch a ride to the Denver airport as quickly as possible.
“Yeah. The hospice worker is in the room with him. You want a cup of coffee?”
“Sure.” Ryder looked around for Kale.
“He hit the head,” Lawson said.
Ryder could use one himself. “You got another?”
“You can use mine.” Lawson directed Ryder to the master bedroom. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Ryder did his thing and splashed some water on his face. Later, he’d grab a shower. The house showed no signs of feminine influence. It was tidy enough but lacked the same kind of touches Joey had left on his. She’d painted, hung pictures and shelves, and put up a frilly shower curtain. There was always fresh flowers. And his house smelled nice, too. Like lemon furniture polish. This house had a musty odor.
He found his way to the kitchen, where Lawson was making a fresh pot of coffee and Kale was frying eggs.
“You hungry? I’ll make you some breakfast.”
If nothing else, his half-brothers were hospitable.
“I could eat,” he said.
Kale threw a couple more eggs in the pan and a few slices of bread in the toaster oven. Lawson poured them all steaming mugs of coffee. They drank in silence, none of them knowing quite what to say.
“How much time does he have?” Ryder finally asked.
“Not much.” Lawson topped off his cup. “He’s been hanging on for you. I guess he’s got things he wants to say before he goes.” He looked down at his scarred boots as a pall fell over the room.
Ryder knew this was as emotional as it would get. Cowboys tended to keep their feelings to themselves. He didn’t know why, but he thought about Joey. She would’ve known what to say at a time like this. She would’ve made everyone feel better.
Ryder glanced around the kitchen to keep from having to look at Lawson or Kale. It was a pleasant enough room. Bigger than his kitchen, with oak cabinetry and granite countertops. Other than that, it was run-of-the-mill.
His had been downright shabby until Joey had come along. In the last week or two, she’d peeled off the fifties wallpaper and had painted the room a “buttery”—her words, not his—yellow. It had gone a long way to cheering up the place.
Kale plated Ryder’s eggs and put them on the table. Kale ate his standing up.
“Nice place you’ve got here.” Ryder wanted to ask how many acres Lawson had but held off. For ranchers, it was like asking how much money they had in the bank.
“Thanks. Half the cattle are Dad’s. That’s probably part of what he wants to talk to you about.”
Ryder didn’t want Tanner’s damn cattle. He didn’t want anything from the old man. He was here for himself, not for Tanner Cole to buy him off.
“Hear you’re going to Vegas,” Ryder said to Lawson for the sake of changing the subject.
“Yeah. Made the finals. Doubt I’ll beat your record, though.”
According to his standing, Ryder thought there was a good chance of his half-brother breaking his record. Lawson was good, one of the best saddle bronc riders Ryder had ever seen. “I don’t know about that.”
“How’s the trucking business?” Lawson asked. Mostly everyone on the circuit knew that Ryder hauled livestock now.
“No complaints. I’m looking to diversify, maybe invest in a few more trailers to haul farm equipment, produce, that sort of thing.” Ryder cleaned his plate with the rest of his toast.
Lawson refilled Ryder’s coffee mug and joined him at the table. “Dad says you bought a place in Northern California.”
Ryder still didn’t know how Tanner had found out about that unless Shiv had told him. He hadn’t been aware that his mother kept in touch with the old man. “Just ten acres and a small house, nothing like this.”
“You run your business from there?”
“Yeah.” At least until the Addisons or the new owners tried to stop him.
“Nice.”
A woman came into the kitchen. She looked to be about Shiv’s age. Lawson stood and got down another mug. Kale offered to make her eggs.
“Thank you,” she said and looked at Ryder. “You must be the oldest son.”
Ryder nodded and introduced himself.
“I’m Fran from hospice care. He’s awake and would like to see you now.”
Ryder scrubbed his hand through his hair and followed Fran to Tanner’s room. The old man was on a hospital bed and hooked up to tubes. Joey probably would’ve known what everything was. To Ryder, it just looked like a bunch of clear plastic spaghetti.
Tanner lifted his head and then dropped back onto the pillow. “You came,” he said in a scratchy voice that was barely above a whisper.
“I’m here.” Ryder took the chair next to the bed and heard Fran slip out the door. “I’m sorry you’re sick.”
“I’m not sick.” Tanner pulled himself up into a half-sitting position, which proved too much, and he let himself flop back down. “I’m dying.”
Ryder didn’t know how to respond to that, so he remained silent.
“I’ve got a few things to say to you,” Tanner continued. “I’m going to say it fast because I want to get it all in.”
Ryder nodded.
“I was a lousy father to you.” He let out a rusty laugh that turned into a cough. “I guess ‘lousy’ is an understatement. I was lousy to your two brothers, too. I pushed them, rode ’em hard. But I raised ’em. I had no hand in raising you. Maybe that’s why you turned out so good.” Tanner’s lips curved into a pained smile. “I couldn’t be any prouder of the man you’ve become. Of the man your ma helped mold. I have too many regrets and too short of time to name them all. The biggest, though, is the distance between us.”
Ryder started to say it was Tanner’s fault but stopped himself. It wasn’t altogether true. Every time Tanner had reached out, Ryder had rejected him. He’d learned that it was safer to be an island than to build bridges. First, when Tanner had left. And later, when Leslie and the baby had been killed.
He reached over and touched Tanner’s gnarled hand. “I’m here now.”
Tanner’s skin was so pale it was nearly translucent. And his lips held a blue tint. Ryder hardly recognized the once robust cowboy he’d idolized and then hated.
“I’m leaving a third of my cattle and a third of my money to you. It ain’t much, and I know it can’t make up for all those years I never…” Tanner trailed off. Ryder couldn’t tell if it was too physically challenging for him to complete the sentence or he was simply having trouble saying good-bye.
Good-bye. It was so permanent.
Suddenly Ryder wished they had a little more time together. Perhaps just so Ryder could tell Tanner what a shit father he was. Or maybe just to get to know the man who’d given him life. The last thing he expected was to feel regret. But here, in this dimly lit room that smelled of death and disappointment, he wondered what would’ve happened if he’d at least met Tanner halfway. If he’d just once returned his father’s calls. Or hadn’t walked away from Tanner as his father tried to shake his hand in a crowded rodeo arena.
Now he’d never have the chance to find out.
“Get to know your brothers,” Tanner said. “Whether you like it or not, they’re your family. Blood’s thicker than water, boy. And now they’ve got no one but you. Open your heart a little. It’s good to have people, Ryder. It’s good to be loved.”
Ryder’s chest tightened as he squeezed his father’s hand.
“I love you, son.”
Ryder tried to say it back, but the words wouldn’t come. They were stuck in his throat like a wishbone while he struggled for air. It was now or never. From the looks of things, Tanner wouldn’t make it to the end of the day.
He thought about lost chances. He thought about his mother and what she’d said about regret. He thought about Leslie and how she had more love in her than anyone he’d ever known. He thought about what she would’ve wanted him to do and how she would’ve wanted him to carry on without her.
Ryder squeezed his eyes shut and felt warm tears sliding down his cheeks. “Dad”—his voice cracked—“I love you, too.”
* * * *
Tanner passed away that evening. Ryder stayed the week at Lawson’s to help with the funeral arrangements. It was a well-attended service. Neighbors, ranchers, and a number of Tanner’s rodeo buddies came to send him off in style.
Ryder left, feeling an unexpected camaraderie with his half-brothers, with whom he now owned a herd of cattle. Nothing had been decided on that front. Ryder, Lawson, and Kale had chosen to put off talking business until his half-brothers had had time to grieve.
In his own way, Ryder grieved, too. For the father he never really knew, and for the missed opportunity of getting better acquainted.
He returned to Nugget to an empty house. Joey’s room had been cleaned out and left bare. And the only hint that Shiv still lived here was the bed in her room. Little by little, his mother had begun transferring her belongings, including much of her furniture, to her new house. She and Peter planned to be fully moved in by the end of the week.
He walked the wooden floors, hearing his bootsteps echo through the sad little house.
“You should start fresh,” his mother had told him before she’d gone to work at Flynn’s. “Furnish the place with things you like. Things befitting a young man, not an old lady.” She’d pulled his head down for a kiss.
Yeah, as if furniture shopping was top on his to-do list, he thought to himself as he stood in Joey’s empty bedroom. The faint scent of her perfume still clung to the air. He continued to stand there, inhaling her smell and holding on to her memory. Everything felt different without her. Lonely and dull.
She’s just down the road apiece, you jackass.
He could visit her if he wanted to, but that would be sending mixed signals. I want you, I don’t want you. Better to go cold turkey, he told himself.
He wandered outside, sat on one of the rocking chairs on the porch, and tried to convince himself that he was looking forward to the solitude. Finally, he could move out of the fifth wheel and have a little breathing room. Maybe he’d get one of those couches with the reclining seats and a larger flatscreen. Watch TV in his BVDs if he wanted to.
He sat there, staring out over the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range, watching the clouds float in the sky like big, fluffy pillows. Instead of enjoying the peacefulness of being alone, the desolation depressed him. It gave him too much time to think, too much time to wallow in his own sorrow.
“It’s good to have people.” His father’s words came back to him. “It’s good to be loved.”
He grabbed his keys from his camper, and before he could change his mind, got in his truck. As he passed the Beary Quaint, he noticed the chainsaw bears that had once cluttered the grounds were nowhere to be found. It made the place look a little less “mountain hillbilly.” The “no-vacancy” sign was on, even though there were no cars parked in front of the cabin rooms. Ryder suspected the new owners would be taking over in the next few weeks. He’d find out who they were soon enough.
There was a line of cars at the Bun Boy, and families jostled for space at the picnic tables. He checked the clock on his dashboard, surprised to see that it was suppertime. The days were longer, and he’d lost track of time. He crossed through town, turned on a residential street into a neighborhood he wasn’t all that familiar with, and parked in front of a blue house with a white picket fence.
He sat there, trying to gather his thoughts and put them into words that made sense. Words that would convey what a fool he’d been. And that’s when he saw her through the big picture window that looked out onto the front yard. His pulse picked up, and he crossed the driveway to her door and rang the bell.
Joey appeared in the doorway, as beautiful as ever. It had only been a week since he’d seen her last, yet it felt like an eternity had passed. He couldn’t help himself, and he pulled her into his arms.
“What’s this?” she said, surprised. “Hey, you okay?”
“I am now.”
She backed away a few steps to look at him. Their eyes met, and then she quickly looked away. “I heard you stayed for the funeral. That bad, huh?”
“No…I mean, it was sad. But I’m glad I was with him in his final hours. Glad I spent time with my half-brothers.”
“That’s good, Ryder.”
They both stood awkwardly at the threshold.
“Come in,” she finally said and led him into an empty living room. “Furniture is coming in a few days. There are chairs in here.”
He followed her into a sunny kitchen. Under different circumstances, he might’ve looked around, checked out the place. But he only had eyes for her. God, how he’d missed her.
“Shiv at work?” she asked, clearly curious why he was there.
“Yeah. She seems to like it.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why she bothered to leave her first job.”
“Because she was in love with her boss and couldn’t have him. I suppose that takes a toll on a person.” She held his gaze, her message clear.
He took off his hat, rested it on the countertop, and rubbed his hand down his face. “Come back, Joey.”
“What?”
“The house is empty without you.”
She just stood there, looking at him like she was trying to understand. He wanted to say how he’d fallen hard for her, but the words got stuck in his throat.
“I think it happened that first time you kissed me,” he said.
“You kissed me.”
He hitched his shoulders. “Okay. But that’s not how I remember it.”
“You think what happened?” Joey put her hands on her hips and stared at him, leery.
“I learned how to love again. I didn’t want to, so I stopped going to the Ponderosa when I thought you’d be there. But I never stopped thinking about you. Sometimes I’d lie awake at night reliving that kiss, reliving that first day I saw you sitting by yourself in the restaurant. I played you a song on the jukebox. George Jones.” His mouth curved up at the memory. “And that day you showed up to interview for Shiv’s caregiver…damn, I was gone. You don’t know how hard I tried to find someone else for the job, someone who wasn’t you.”
Her eyes filled. But instead of going to her, he stayed planted by the counter. He had stuff to say, things he should’ve told her the night she’d asked him to love her.
“I couldn’t tell you then, but I can tell you now. I love you, Joey. I didn’t think I could ever be happy again. But you make me so damn happy. I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life. So, come home.”
Standing stock-still, she didn’t reply.
“Joey, do you not love me anymore?” The prospect of losing her made his chest constrict so tight he found it hard to breathe.
She started to cry. “I still love you.” She choked on a sob. “But I thought…Oh, Ryder.”
He swept her up into his arms. “So, you’ll come home?”
“What if you change your mind?” She rested her head on his shoulder. “What if you discover that I can’t match up to Leslie? I can’t do this again, Ryder. I’ve finally started getting my life back. A nursing job, this place, a bedroom for Roni. I don’t want to compete with a ghost.”
“It was never about that, Joey. Leslie will always have a place in my heart. But I’m in love with you. You.” He placed his hand above her breastbone. “As much as I tried to fight it, you’re everything to me. I can’t lose you. And as for Roni, I’ll add on an entire wing for her if it’ll make you happy. Let’s be a family, Joey. You, Roni, and me.”
She swiped at a stray tear and wiggled out of his arms. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
“Never been more sure of anything in my life. Let’s do this, Joey. I don’t want another day to go by without you in it.”
“Be careful what you wish for, cowboy.” Joey pulled his face down and clasped her hands on both sides of his cheeks. “Because I plan on holding on to you forever. Can you do forever?”
His lips slid up into a lopsided grin. “I’ll raise your ‘forever’ to an eternity. And no one knows how to hold on better than me. I’m a two-time world champion, baby.”
Joey locked eyes with him. “I love you, Ryder.” She glanced around the kitchen and let out a long sigh. “I guess we’d better call Dana.”
“Yep. Tell her to put the place back up for rent because you’re coming home. But”—he pulled her back into his arms—“do it later. We’ve got lost time to make up for.”