THE PHONE had been ringing off the hook.
Curtis hadn’t said anything before Christmas, but they were fixing to get into the New Year, and he didn’t want Stetson to drag this stress with him if he didn’t have to.
So when the phone rang next and Stetson was out shoveling the path to the barn, Curtis answered.
“Hello?”
“We’re trying to reach Miss Betty Major.”
“I’m sorry, she passed away. What can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry?”
“She’s deceased. Can I ask who this is? What are you calling in regards to?” He could remember his mom handling these calls when his grandpa died, and he kept his tone calm. He was gonna have to call a lawyer about what Stetson needed to do.
“Are you the executor?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Curtis hedged his bets. He knew enough to lie until he could get some names and numbers.
“Well, this is a creditor, and I’m required by law to tell you we’re trying to collect a debt.”
“Yes, ma’am, I understand that. What debt and who’s calling?”
“We’ve got a hospital bill here for $39,549, sir. Are you going to make this bill right?”
“As I’m sure you know, I have a right to a statement of my mother’s account in writing. Once the estate has all the information it needs to proceed, then action will be determined.” He said it by rote, grateful to his mom and to his contract lawyer, Paul, who’d told him over and over never to agree to any damn thing on the phone.
Forty thousand dollars. Damn. That was a chunk of change. He listened to the little voice on the other end of the line, getting more and more aggravated.
“You send that bill on in the mail.” He hung up, because, damn, those people were a nightmare. Then he found his favorite contacts and keyed up Paul Davidson. The lawyer lived and worked in Dallas and was a shark in a cowboy hat and Wranglers.
Curtis kind of adored him.
“Paul Davidson’s office.”
“Hey, Shelly. It’s Curtis Traynor. Is Paul in?”
“Let me make sure he’s not on a call, honey. He’s always in for you.” She put him on hold, the strains of a Muzak version of a George Strait song making him groan.
“What the hell do you want, Mr. Traynor? Aren’t you supposed to be on break?”
“I am on break, buddy. I Christmassed until my jeans don’t fit. I just need to pick your brain.”
“Surely. Shoot.”
“A friend of mine just had his mom pass away. He’s got bill collectors trying to get medical bills. A passel.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.
“There any life insurance? Any assets?”
“Uh.” He had no idea. Stetson had said there was enough life insurance to bury her. “I know she was sick a while. I bet she turned it all over to Stetson a long time ago.”
“You find that out first. Find out the details and then holler. Assuming your buddy wasn’t stupid, we can take care of this easy.”
Relief flooded him. “Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. Congratulations on the win, by the way. You did it.”
“I did.” He let himself feel the pride of it. “I didn’t really think I would.”
“I never doubted you. Holler when you have all the details, buddy. I have another call coming in.”
“You got it.” He hung up, tickled as a pig in shit. He could help Stetson with this. Ease the load.
Speak of the devil, in he walked, covered in snow and shivering.
“Hey, you. Get in here by the fire.” Curtis trotted over to tug Stetson all the way in.
“I was sweating my ass off until ten seconds ago, swear to God.”
“Right. You stopped working. That’s the danger zone.” He tugged off Stetson’s jacket so he could start rubbing those cold arms.
“No shit on that. I got it cleared, though.”
Damn, were Stetson’s lips blue? “Jesus. You need a shower. I’ll start the hot water.”
“I just got the path shoveled. That’s all. I do it every year.”
“Honey, last year you had another thirty pounds on you. I’ve seen pictures.”
“I guess….” Stetson shivered, and that was that. He took Stetson back to the bathroom, getting the water going.
“Sit on the pot. I need to take your boots off.”
Stetson sat. Blinking at him.
He eased off the boots and rubbed those red feet. God, that was ridiculous. He was going to get them better socks before Stetson lost his toes. The winter was bitter this year, as if the earth knew about Miz Betty.
“Oh, burns. Damn.” Stetson began to pant softly.
“Yeah, and we got to get the blood flowing again before we stick you in hot water.” He didn’t think they needed lukewarm foot baths or anything, but damn.
“I wasn’t out long.”
“Uh-huh. It’s bitter and fixin’ to snow again.” Once he felt like Stetson’s heart wouldn’t explode the minute he got them in the water, he hauled his lover up off the pot and stripped him down. Socks, towel warmer, maybe a portable heater for the bathroom. Fuzzy towels and the world’s softest bath mat too.
He didn’t figure Stetson would mind him redoing the bath a little. The guest bath, now, it needed a total overhaul. All those roses.
“What are you thinking on so hard, cowboy?”
“Roses.” He got naked so he could push them both under the spray. “And about how we need some new bath stuff.”
“Roses? It’s too early to plant more, and God knows Momma has a bunch in the ground.”
“More like the ones on the shower curtain in the guest bath.” He didn’t want to overstep, because Stetson needed time, but man, those were old roses.
“You mean the scary bathroom, huh? That’s been there since I was in elementary school.”
“Oh.” He scrubbed Stetson’s arms gently to keep the blood moving. “Is it special?”
Stetson looked at him, shrugged. “You don’t know what it was like there, before I took her to the hospital.” Stetson never called it a nursing home. Never. “If you moved anything—anything at all—she’d start screaming. Then she wanted things moved back like they’d been twenty years ago. It got to where I was scared to touch anything. I blocked off my side of the house so she wouldn’t go tear my things up while I was working.”
“Oh, Roper.” He couldn’t even imagine that. Constantly having to tiptoe around your own home for fear of upsetting someone you couldn’t even be mad at….
“Part of me wants to burn this fucking house to the ground. Part of me wants to leave it like she did. Part of me wants to have a huge yard sale and make it something new.” Stetson’s eyes went all shimmery, and he lifted his face to the spray. “All of me hates how it ended up with her. It ain’t right. I wanted her to go, by the end. She starved to death.”
Curtis just took Stetson in his arms, holding on tight. Christ, he should have been there. But Stetson needed what Curtis could give now too. He needed a new start.
“I think this—you, you being here, loving on me—I think this was the last thing she gave to me.”
Now it was his turn to feel the sting of tears. “Then she did good by both of us, baby. Real good.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” Stetson rested them together, relaxing against him and trusting Curtis would hold him.
He would. Curtis so would, for as long as the good Lord let him.
Maybe longer. He was a stubborn son of a bitch, after all.