Chapter 5

      Cole drove for the first four hours back to Saskatoon, then we stopped for lunch. He went to the restroom in the restaurant and while I was sitting at the table waiting for the waitress, my phone rang.

      “Hey, Mom.”

      “You didn’t call yesterday. I was worried.”

      “Sorry. We’re fine. Cole didn’t win any prize money.”

      “I heard you bought a horse.”

      Shit. I had seriously forgotten about that. It hadn’t occurred to me that it was going to be hard to never see Tawnie again if she was taking care of my damn horse. I rubbed the stress in my neck, cursing the rodeo gossip grape vine that worked at the speed of light. “How’d you hear that?”

      “Doreen Roberts called yesterday. She’d been talking to Lee-Anne, so I got the whole story. What are you going to do with a horse?”

      “I don’t know. She’s fast though. I can probably resell her for a profit if she does well in the next couple competitions.”

      “Why don’t you get Shae to ride her? She’s better than that other girl.”

      It was a good idea, but she’d never go for it. “Shae-Lynn’s got Harley.”

      “How are those little Roberts girls doing?”

      “Well, they’re not so little anymore.”

      “I hope you’re keeping an eye on them around all those rowdy cowboys now that their mom’s not with them. Their dad doesn’t even know they’re touring.”

      “They’re fine.”

      “How’s your brother?”

      I looked up and saw him coming back from the restroom. “He’s right here. You can talk to him yourself. Love you.” I handed the phone to Cole as he sat down across from me at the table.

      “Hey, Ma.” He took his hat off and scratched his head as he listened to her. “Tell them to reschedule it…Why can’t they do it earlier?…I don’t care if that’s the only time the psychiatrist is available. I’m already registered for Luxton… I’ve been fine in case you hadn’t noticed…Whatever.” He sat back and slouched down. “No… It’s a waste of time…” He rolled his eyes and sat back up to lean his elbows on the table. “Listen, Mom, I know you’re just trying to help, but I’m twenty-two years old. I don’t need my mom confirming doctor’s appointments for me — especially when I’m not sick.” He shook his head while he listened. She talked for a long time then he said, “Yeah. Bye.” He hung up and handed the phone back to me. “Why’d you do that? You know I hate talking to her about that kind of stuff. Now I’m upset.” He stood, put his hat on, and left the restaurant.

      I ate by myself to give him time to cool off. Then I ordered him a clubhouse sandwich and took it back to the truck. He was sitting in the passenger seat with earphones in, so I climbed into the driver’s seat and headed towards the Saskatchewan border.

      I worked my ass off once we were back in Saskatoon — on the ranch six days a week and bartending most evenings. On the Tuesday before Cole was supposed to leave for the Luxton rodeo, he showed up at the ranch as I was coming off shift. The owner’s fifteen-year-old son wanted to get on the circuit, so Cole and a couple other local riders were allowed to ride the rough stock whenever they wanted in exchange for giving the kid a few pointers.

      “You want me to go with you to that hospital meeting tomorrow?” I asked.

      He reached over the side of the truck bed to grab his bull rope. “Nope. I’m not going.”

      “Why not? Just tell them you’re doing fine and be done with it.”

      “Mind your business, Billy.”

      “Mind your business, asshole.” I turned to walk to my truck.

      “We’re practicing on Wide Load today.” His tone changed the way it always did when he wanted something from me. “You want to stay and coach?”

      “No.”

      “Come on, you’re the only one who has ever ridden him.”

      “I’m retired.”

      “If you get on a bull I’ll go to the meeting tomorrow.”

      I shook my head, not interested in his manipulation, and kept walking. “I have to get to the bar.”

      The Palomino was already busy when I got to work. The owner was helping the servers, so I picked up the slack. At about ten o’clock, a girl leaned her elbows onto the bar and squeezed her arms to accentuate her cleavage. It caught my attention. When I looked up at her face, I realized I knew her. Although she and Lee-Anne were best friends because they spent so much time on the road with each other, I’d technically known Rochelle for longer. We’d been in the same class every year since kindergarten. She never liked me all that much. “Hey, Rochelle. That is a very nice top you’re wearing.”

      “Shut up.”

      I smiled and slid her a vodka cooler on the house. “You’re always so mean to me. Remind me why that is.”

      “Grade nine. We had to do a presentation on our hobbies. You did yours on bull riding. Dean Kline asked if you were ever scared. You said no, because whenever you got nervous about falling off you would imagine landing on two giant soft pillows like Rochelle’s.”

      I chuckled as I remembered. “That was funny. Get over it.”

      “It wasn’t funny, you jackass. It was humiliating.”

      “Why? It was a compliment.”

      “I was fourteen. Having boys only pay attention to me because of the size of my chest was embarrassing. It made me self-conscious.”

      “For your information, the teacher gave me a zero on that presentation and,” I pointed at her impressive cleavage overflowing her low cut top, “You’re obviously not self-conscious anymore.”

      “Shut up. I’m not here to discuss my emotional scars. I’m here because someone wanted me to deliver a message to you.”

      I poured a mixed drink for the guy who was standing beside her. I took his money then turned to look at her. “Who’s