Austin
My reaction time is for shit. I should have never bucked off that last bull.” A week later, I reach across the sticky table at The Pancake Palace to snag the syrup. “I’ve had slumps before. This feels different.”
“Quit worrying. You’ll ride your way out of it. You always do.” Shane shovels in waffles smothered in peanut butter, jelly, and honey.
“God, you’re giving me diabetes just watching you eat that.”
“You should talk. You want me to have the waitress bring in an extra bucket of syrup?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
He studies me as he chews. “Do you think it has something to do with you and Carly breaking up?”
Shane knows that Carly and I are done, but not the details. None of his business. And really, none of mine, anymore. “I don’t know. Could be, I suppose.” I take a mouthful of coffee to wash down the wad that’s only part pancake. “All I know is, rodeoing is less fun, every week.”
“Who are you?” He waves a broad hand in front of my face. “Alien? Walking Dead?”
I shrug. “I’m thinking about hanging this season up after this weekend.” I can’t bring myself to say—hell, think—that it’ll be for good.
He stops, mid-chew. “Serious?”
“Well, I’m sure not winning, so it means I’m taking money out of savings to fund my riding. And that’s backasswards.” Every dollar I take out proves Carly was right, telling me it’s time to quit.
The truth is, I’m afraid it is time. It takes me twice as long to warm up before a ride, and way longer than that to heal. I’m the oldest guy in the bar, most nights. How could I not have noticed that?
But it’s more than all those things. Rodeo has been my home for so long, and suddenly it’s like I’m trying to squeeze myself into a little kid’s chair—I just don’t fit.
But rodeo is all I know. And with nothing and no one waiting anymore…I feel as lost as a maverick calf.
“So, what’re you going to do, go home?”
“Yeah. Dad has been wanting me to take over so he can semi-retire.”
He snorts a laugh. “Like your dad is ever going to retire.”
“That’s what I thought. But he and Mom are talking about wanting to travel: Grand Old Opry, San Francisco, even an Alaskan Cruise.”
“Wow. Things are changing, huh?”
“Yeah, and you know how much I hate change.”
“But going from the lights and the crowd, to Unforgiven…” He mock-shudders. “I’m glad I’m younger’n you. When I do decide to hang up the riggin’, I’m not going back to that dead burg. I want to go where there are some people.”
My back hits the cushioned booth. It never occurred to me to go anywhere else. “Where?”
“I don’t know. Montana?”
“Oh yeah, because when you think population, Montana is the first place that comes to mind.”
“True. Maybe Colorado.”
“All they got there’s hippies, potheads, and Hollywood types, playing rancher.”
“You got a point. Luckily, I got time to think about it.” He takes a hit of his glass of milk. “But won’t it be weird? Unforgiven is too small for you to not bump into Carly every time you turn around.”
“Tell me about it. Maybe I’ll just become a hermit. A modern-day mountain man.”
“You’d look like crap in a beard. Besides, you like people.”
“There’s that.” The rodeo may be the past, but all I see of the future is endless days, following some shit-smeared cow’s butt. Forever.
Dang, Carly. Why couldn’t you have just waited?
Truth hits like a wasp sting. I’m a total ass. She did wait. Nine years’ worth. Trying to hang on to something that was over anyway, cost me everything.
I don’t have to remember Carly’s face; it’s etched on the back of my eyelids. Her rusty-red corkscrew hair that gets into everything I own. Tawny freckles that make her look like a naughty little girl. Those clear green eyes, looking into me—seeing the person I always meant to be.
And so clearly, am not.
* * *
Carly
I’m in my office at the diner the next day, sitting in front of my computer, trying to work out how to be a liar. After talking to Nana and Papaw last night, I’ve decided not to tell anyone about the baby until I can figure out how to do it and not hurt the diner. Or myself. It’s not a secret that will keep for long, but I’ll appreciate the reprieve for as long as I can get it. I need some drama downtime.
It’s weird, going about my day, talking to people I’ve known all my life, knowing something they don’t—something that will change how they see me. I’m ashamed of myself now, for privately looking down on girls who got in trouble in high school. Guess I bought into the stigma. The new Carly won’t be as quick to judge; she’s going to look deeper.
I thought this would be the best time of my life. I sure never expected to be doing this alone. I wonder how Austin’s doing. Is he still mad? I force my mind from that worn track.
I smile as I type into the search bar: “bassinets.”
Ten minutes later there’s a knock on the door. I jump and turn off the screen. “Come in.”
Lorelei sticks her head in. “Have you placed the order yet? We need some coffee filters, and Fish says he needs more dish detergent.”
I wave her in. “I have it ready, but haven’t placed it yet. Close the door behind you, will you? I need your opinion.” I press the button, and the screen comes to life.
“Ohhhhh, cuteness!” She leans over my shoulder. “This is really happening, isn’t it?”
“Yep. What do you think, yellow flowers or blue sheep bedding?”
She points. “Click on that Dory mobile. No, the one in the right corner.”
There’s a commotion from the dining room. Both our heads come up when a wavery, high-pitched voice cuts through the babble. Lorelei beats me to the door, but I’m right behind her when she pushes through to the diner.
Nana stands, fists on hips, in full cry. “Don’t you flirt with me, you drunken rooster. You’ve been trying to get in my whities for decades. I’m married, and a lady, you douche-nugget.”
Wobbling on a stool at the counter is Manny Stipple, wearing a bowl for a hat. Pea soup drips down his face to plop into his lap. Luckily, he is far enough into today’s alcohol allotment that he just sits staring at Nana with bleary adoration.
Of course the diner is packed with an ogling early lunch crowd. My stomach drops.
Nana is in lecture mode, her pointer finger leading the way. “If Leroy was here, you’d be on your ass on the floor, and you know it. You Stipples never had a manner between you.” She sniffs. “And, when is the last time you brushed your teeth?”
We’d forgotten to give Sassy, the new girl, “Nana training.” If Lorelei had been here, she’d have sounded the alarm, and then headed Nana off at the door. I make it to Nana’s side and grab an elbow. “Nana, what do you need?” I tighten my grip on her elbow and sidle for the door. She has no choice but to follow. I tip my head at Lorelei, hoping she knows it means to get Manny cleaned up, and a free lunch.
“What’re you assholes staring at?” Nana’s slightly fuzzy chin juts. Not much gets by her, and surely not a diner full of staring patrons. “If one of you had any upbringing at all, you’da helped a lady who’s being accosted by a perv.”
“Come on, Nana, let’s get some air. Have you seen the new potato peelers at the dime store?” I push open the door and practically drag her out.
“Dickwads.” She throws over her shoulder.
I don’t relax until the door falls closed, and we’ve crossed the deserted street to the park, where I lower her onto a bench beside the cannon and release her. “What’s up, Nana?”
She glances around to be sure we’re alone, then takes my hands. “I couldn’t go on and on around Leroy, but I wanted to tell you how excited I am that I’ll live to see another Beauchamp generation.”
Nana doesn’t show love easy, but when she does, it’s wide open. Gratitude rushes to my eyes. I have to blink it back. “It’s sure not how I’d planned it, but I’m starting to actually get excited about a baby.”
“I hate that you felt like you had to go through this alone.” She pats my hand.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Child. After last night, I’d think you’d know you can talk to us about anything.”
I’m not sure how to put my jumbled thoughts into words. “I had my life all planned out. I knew exactly what, and who, I wanted. When that fell apart, I was so torn up I didn’t want to look ahead. Then, after…after Albuquerque, all I could do was think about getting through, day to day. When I did think about the future, I didn’t see past when the baby will be born.
“Papaw got me thinking last night.” I look at my sensible shoes. “But how could I even consider any new dreams? I have responsibilities. I’m going to have a baby. I’ve got the diner to run. What the heck would I do with a college degree, even if I could get one?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
Nana’s tone pulls my head up.
“It’s not like when I was young. You girls nowadays can do anything you put your mind to, and if somebody doesn’t like it, you can tell ’em to kiss your booty.” She tips her head and squints up at me. “I’m just sorry you never asked us. You don’t have to feel stuck. Hell, if you want to sell the diner, you just go ahead and do it. Your dreams can be whatever you want ’em to be, hon.”
“You and Papaw were counting on me. I wasn’t going to let you down. But the baby—”
“Hell, if you’ve got class, I’ll take the baby to Bingo with me. Those old broads would love it. Don’t you worry about that. You just decide what you want to be, then you go bust your ass gettin’ it.”
“I’d never sell the diner, Nana. But Lorelei has proved that she’s more than capable of running it.” Could I? Could I really? And if I could, what would I choose? I’m not sure. “God, you’re a treasure, Nana.”
“And I love you, too, darlin’.” She sobers. “Are you sure it’s over with you and Austin?”
“I’m sure. He loved me as much as he could, but it turned out to be only the parts he liked.” And even if he could forgive me, the baby was a major part he didn’t like. I sigh. “How did you manage to stay with Papaw all these years? He’s a great guy, but you have to admit, he’s not the most evolved man on the planet.”
Her little eyes get a twinkly, far-away look. “Ah, he puts up with my failings, so I can’t be too hard about his. The toughest is when you’re young. You’re busy working for what you want, and your focus is on what you don’t have.
“But as you get older, all that crap fades. You see, under all that, friendship and companionship are what you always wanted. Spending your remaining years with someone who knows you better than you know yourself, you relax in their hands, knowing they’ll be there for you. Forever.”
“Guess you have to pick that kind of guy from the get-go.” My heart gives a heavy thud of regret. I look down at Nana’s hands, blue-veined and knobby, but strong and sure.
“Ah, hon, all men are pinheaded when they’re young. Hormones may be a lot of fun, but they’re not very damn smart. Don’t count that Davis boy out yet, Carly-girl. Given enough time, he might figure it out.” She pats my cheek, then pushes to her feet. “Now quit holdin’ me up. I gotta get to the dime store and buy some yarn.” She whispers, “I got some baby knittin’ to do.”
* * *
Austin
A week after my decision at the Pancake Palace to quit the circuit, I pull up my parents’ U-shaped drive and shut the truck down. I thought about going to my room over the store downtown, but nixed it fast. I’m not ready to face the rumpled sheets that Carly and I left, last time we were there. Besides, when you’re hurting, you want family.
The house looks the same, a sprawling adobe box, painted the color of desert sand. Home. Maybe—probably—for good. I’m usually excited to come home to Unforgiven, but sitting here listening to the ticking engine, I realize a bunch of that excitement had to do with Carly. There’s a hole; like a huge chunk of “home” has been ripped away.
My brother Troy’s new BMW is parked next to the house. Great. And I’d hoped to relax.
I open the truck door and slide out, making sure my right boot hits first. The left throbs, courtesy of a clumsy bronc. I reach behind the seat and pull out my travel bag of clothes; the gear bag can wait. Maybe forever.
God, I’m tired. Everything hurts: my foot, my brain, my heart.
The door opens and Mom steps onto the concrete porch, wearing slacks and a blue blouse. As always, she looks like she’s off to a country club for a game of bridge, even though we don’t have a country club, and no one in Unforgiven plays bridge.
“We were about to send the dogs out hunting you. Where have you been?”
She steps into the sunshine, and the silver threads in her dark brown hair light up. When did that happen? I don’t remember that from the last time I was here.
“You’re limping. What happened now?” She sounds worried and weary all at the same time.
I smile, take a few steps, and wrap her in my arms. “Ah, it’s nothing.”
She squeezes my waist, then steps back. “You say that every time. Do you need to go to the clinic?”
I know she won’t be at all sorry to hear I’m coming off the road. “Just bruised. It’s nothing that rest and your chili won’t fix.” I tuck her under my arm and head for the house.
“You can smell it all the way out here?”
“Nah. You always make it when you know I’m coming.”
“I’m that transparent, huh?”
“Nope. Steadfast.” I kiss the top of her head. “Where’s Dad?”
“In his office with your brother, grumbling over the tax assessor’s bill.”
When I step in the door I can smell the chili: rich and spicy. My mouth waters. “Cornbread, too?”
“You know it’s illegal to serve chili without cornbread in this state.” She pats my waist and lets me go. “Why don’t you go tell them hello? Dinner’s in fifteen.”
Speaking of country clubs. My brother Troy is five years older—the successful-business one. The one with the money. He’s a financial advisor in Albuquerque, married with two kids and a ranch house in a gated community. And of course, that country club membership. We’re as alike as alligators and assholes. I have no doubt who the asshole is.
We traveled in different orbits growing up, and he was long gone to UNM by the time I hit high school. I skipped college for the rodeo. That’s not to say we don’t get along; it’s just that we can’t seem to hold up a conversation for more than two minutes. I walk the hall to the study.
“Dad, putting bucking stock on your land is a risky proposition. What you’ve been doing all these years has funded your retirement. Now’s not the time for risk.”
When I lean against the doorframe and clear my throat, Troy looks up. “Oh, don’t let me stop you. As Dad’s financial planner, you get a say. But just so you know, none of Dad and Mom’s money is funding this ‘risky venture.’”
“Welcome home, son.” Dad stands and comes around his desk to shake my hand.
“Hey, Austin. No offense meant.” Troy sits on the desk, his tie dangling from the pocket of his suit jacket and the top button of his shirt undone. That’s as far as he unwinds.
I know he didn’t mean it personally. Troy is all business, all the time. He always was intense, but his butthole has tightened considerably over the years. “None taken. But I think you ought to know the facts before you start throwing your opinion around.”
“I’ve looked into it. You’re looking at a good five years to prove out a good line of horses, much less bulls. Then there’s the extra costs: stouter fencing, more bills, and a string of horses means a farrier, and—”
“And, they’ll earn three times what beef cattle will. Not only the fees and payouts, but in semen and brood stock sales.” I step into the room.
“And the added expense of trailers and trucks to haul them. Insurance, and—”
“Boys, if you’re going to have a pissin’ contest, take it out back. Let’s have a drink, eh?” Dad opens the fridge below the bar behind his desk, pulls out two Lone Stars, and hands one to me, then pours a Dewar’s for Troy, because my brother can’t even drink a beer like normal folk. “Time enough for business later.”
I pop the top and take a long pull, then sigh.
Dad tips his chin at my leg. “Did you get stepped on again?”
“Yeah, damned mud-fest arena.”
Troy shakes his head. “You rodeo cowboys have a death wish.”
“Nope. Just want to live while I’m still breathing.”
He snorts a laugh and takes a sip. “There are other ways to live, brother.”
“And I’m going to find out what they are.”
They stare at me.
“What?”
Dad settles into his big leather chair. “This is where you say, ‘Next year.’”
“Nope. Starting tomorrow.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep. I’m your hired hand, if you still want me.”
A huge grin spreads across his long face. “Hell yes, I want you.”
“About time.” Troy stops swinging his foot. “Now maybe Mom and Dad can finally retire.”
“I’m in no hurry to retire,” Dad says, but the grin hasn’t dimmed.
“Dinner’s ready.” Mom’s voice gets stronger as she comes down the hall. “Come on, before I feed it to the prairie dogs.”
“Come in here, darlin’.”
We all stand when she walks in the room.
Dad walks around the desk and claps me on the shoulder. “Austin is home. For good.”
She spins to me. “For really, for good?”
The hope on her face makes my gut burn. Have they been waiting for this? How long have they put off retirement, so I could do what I want? “Yep.”
She takes the few steps to hug me. “Home safe, for good. My prayers have been answered.”
Troy raises his glass in a salute. “Better late than dead. Welcome home, brother.”
Mom herds us to the dining room. There’s a table in the kitchen, but she wouldn’t dream of serving a dinner there. Even though it’s just us, the table has a cloth and placemats and matching everything. Weird that I grew up here, and none of this stuff rubbed off on me. Troy sucked it all up first, I guess. He’s welcome to it. I sit.
Mom brings in the tureen of chili and the cornbread and after Dad says grace, we dig in. Mom’s chili is the best in town and she’s got the county fair blue ribbons to prove it.
“Well”—Mom puts her cloth napkin in her lap and shoots me a smug smile—“I guess this means we’ll be planning a wedding soon.”
A gut bomb goes off that has nothing to do with jalapeños in the chili. I knew Mom would bring this up, but hoped it’d be one on one. I put down my spoon. “Um. No.”
Troy pats his mouth with his napkin. “What’d you do now?”
Mom’s face is all downturned lines. She can read me—she knows it’s serious. “Oh, Austin. What happened?”
No one is hearing it from me. “Oh, you know me and my bronc-for-breakfast manners.”
“She always forgives you, son.” Dad reaches for more cornbread. “Carly is a sweet girl. She’ll be back.”
“Yes, she is, and no, she won’t.”
Mom pushes her plate aside. “Tell me what happened, Austin. Maybe I can help work this out.”
I knew that wouldn’t appease her. But I can’t do this now—talk, or eat. “Thanks, Mom, but I just want to settle. Okay if I go do that?”
“You go on, son,” Dad says.
I blow out of there before anyone can say anything else. I retrieve my bag from where I dropped it by the front door and head down the hall.
My old room is a time capsule of how great my life used to be. Rodeo posters on the wall, the one of Lane Frost, sticking it on Red Rock over my pine log bed that’s covered in the quilt Carly made me for Christmas two years ago. The buckle display case, full of shiny silver. Worthless silver. How empty all those wins are, without someone to be proud, someone to share them with. Why didn’t I realize that? All the excuses I made. All the years I wasted. All gone.
I know I’m going to have to move on. She made it clear that she’s not my Carly anymore.
We used to be in lockstep. I could’ve told you her opinion on anything because, most often, we shared the same one. But she’s changed. Or, more likely from what she said the last time we talked, she’s always had different opinions, and just kept them to herself. How was I supposed to know that?
I understand a woman’s brain about like I do quantum physics.
The walls close in. No way I can sleep in this grave tonight. I shoulder my bag, open the door, and retrace my steps.
Mom is loading dishes in the dishwasher.
“I’m going to go to the homestead house. That okay with you?”
She turns, hands dripping water, her look dripping concern. “Oh, Austin.”
“I’ll tell you about it later, okay? I just need some time alone.”
“I understand.” She walks over and gives me a hug that makes me want to crawl in her lap like I’m two again.
I pull back. “I’ll stop by. Soon.” The weight of her worry follows me as I slam out the front door into the night.
I’m backing out when my lights hit Troy’s fancy car, covered for the night. Normally, he’s rushing to get home to Albuquerque. I wonder about it for a nanosecond, but I’ve got my own problems.
Ten minutes later I pull in the dirt yard. In the headlights, the old house looks even more haunted than my room at Mom’s. I shouldn’t be surprised; ghosts from your past aren’t left behind that easily. I drag my duffel and sleeping bag up the steps and across the porch. When I open the door, I have the strangest feeling, like voices cut off mid-whisper. I skirt the middle of the parlor, where Carly and I made love the last time we were here. I glance to the stairs leading up. I know if I had a light, our footprints would be undisturbed in the dust.
I should have stayed in my old bedroom. At least the memories there aren’t fresh wounds. I limp to the dining room and roll out my sleeping bag on the floor. We never made love in here.
Carly’s known me for twenty-five years. How could I have been all that, for twenty-five years, and now I’m dog meat? Feels like she’s grown away from me. Or past me?
Then there’s the baby. If only it were ours, life would be so different. Funny how an unplanned pregnancy six months ago would have meant giving up so much. Now, it would be the only way for me to keep so much. Maybe it shouldn’t matter who the father is. But it does. Deep down in my core, it matters.
So: I’m not enough for her, she’s carrying someone else’s baby, my rodeo career is over, and my dream of a rough-stock business, even if I decide to go through with it, may be nixed by my dad’s financial planner.
How did life implode so fast? Or had it been on a long, slow slide, and I just refused to see it?
I kick out of my boots and clothes, then lay on my back and stare into the dark, listening to the whispers telling me I’m a fool.