He went to the closest one, took out his pocketknife, cut the twine and waited for the mattress to unwind and fall flat on the wooden bed frame. That was the last of his strength.
Miraculously, he managed not to fall. He sat down on the side of the bunk, eased himself back until he lay full length and fell asleep with his boots on.
Bobbie Ann finally gave up her fight for sleep and got out of bed at five the next morning. Something was happening or going to happen with Monte—she’d known that since early yesterday.
True, he’d been on her mind constantly since he got hurt again and every sportscaster on every PBR telecast had to speculate about whether or not he’d ever be able to ride again, but this was different. This was even different from that wild, clawing need that had tormented her—the need to go to Houston, to find his hospital room, to take him in her arms and beg him to come home and let his mother take care of him.
She hadn’t done that because it would make Monte do just the opposite. If pushed, Monte would go to Brazil before he came home. So she had only called him and had kept her voice under control. Prayer and only prayer had given her the strength to do that.
Only prayer had sustained her since yesterday when the hospital operator had told her he was no longer there.
The phone rang as she was padding barefoot to the closet. She knew as she ran to get it that it was about Monte.
And it was. It was Jo Lena, the girl who used to love him, speaking in her husky voice, made even more husky by sleep. Jo Lena, the girl who could’ve made his life so different if he had let her love him.
“Bobbie Ann? Have you seen Monte yet?”
The phone froze to her ear.
“What are you talking about?”
“That’s what I thought. He’s on the ranch somewhere. When he didn’t let Dexter drive him to the house, I figured he wanted to lay low for a while.”
Quickly, Jo Lena told her what she’d seen and what she’d found out from a friend who’d seen Monte make the high bid for Annie at the Bandera sale. To which he had apparently hitchhiked from Houston.
“I would’ve told you last night, Bobbie Ann, but I was so…shook up, myself. And I knew he was too tired to face anybody.”
Bobbie Ann brushed her hair back from her face with a hand that trembled.
“I did try to call him yesterday and the hospital people said he was gone.”
Her voice was trembling, too, and she couldn’t seem to stop it.
“Is it all right if I come over there this morning?” Jo Lena said.
“Of course! Anytime!”
“Please don’t misunderstand,” Jo Lena said. “It’s the horse I’m interested in. I want her back. I wouldn’t trust Monte as far as I could throw him.”
The quick, sharp hope died, the hope Bobbie Ann hadn’t even realized had been born until then.
“Sweetie, I understand,” she said. “You have every right to feel that way.”
They hung up, with no need to say any more.
Immediately, Bobbie Ann went through the house, the apartment in the barn and the guest house, seeing with the quickest glances that everything was undisturbed. She didn’t see an extra horse anywhere. Only when she was headed back to the house, ready to call Manuel and tell him to go look for a campsite, did she think of the old bunkhouse.
She ran across the dew-laden grass, knowing in her heart what she would find. So, when she got there, she opened the door as quietly as the pink sun was rising on the new day.
Monte lay sprawled on his back on the bare, striped-ticking mattress, one arm outflung above his head, the way he’d always slept as a child. His face was empty in sleep but the sunlight showed lines in his forehead, crow’s feet beside his eyes and creases at his mouth. In fact, he was frowning a little bit—probably from a dream.
His open pocketknife lay where it had fallen from his dangling fingers to the floor.
Bobbie Ann sighed. Thirty-one years old and worn to a nub. Hard living and soul-racking pain had made her darling son old before his time.
But had they made him any wiser?
He was a feast for her eyes, though, no matter what.
He was home!
At least for this moment. Well, this moment was the only one she knew she had to live.
Thank You, Lord.
She leaned against the doorjamb, hugged her joy to her and watched him sleep.
Jo Lena Speirs leaned against the doorjamb, watching the baby sleep. No… Lily Rae. She had to quit calling her “the baby,” had to quit even thinking of her as “the baby.” Good heavens, the child would be five years old in the fall and she’d be going to kindergarten.
That old, familiar feeling clutched the pit of her stomach. Lily Rae was growing up, fast. Someday she, too, would leave her, the way Monte had done.
No, not the same way. Lily Rae would surely tell her goodbye.
The hurt stabbed her through to the bone, just as it had done on that day six years ago. She closed her eyes against it.
Dear Lord, please take this hurt away. Please help me know that what I feel for him now is sympathy and Christian love, not the kind of love I used to have for him. Give me Your strength and help me feel nothing at all when I see him today.
Jo Lena opened her eyes, shook her head and tried to banish the memories. What had happened to her vow not to give Monte any more power over her? Just because he was back in the Hill Country was no reason to backslide into thinking about him all the time.
If she’d married Monte, she would’ve only been settling just as she would have been if she’d married any of the other half-dozen men who had asked her over the years. She didn’t need a husband. She had her faith in God, her child, her friends, her home, her work, her horses, and she didn’t need anything else.
Except Quick Way Annie. She would get that taken care of today and then she would avoid Monte. The Rocking M was a huge place. She could ride Scooter and Lily Rae could ride Annie and sometimes Bobbie Ann would ride with them. Annie would be perfect for Lily Rae. Nothing like a seasoned, settled mount for a child to learn on.
It took all her self-control not to cross the room and wake the child up. She couldn’t wait for Lily Rae to see her horse.
Monte had had a lot of nerve, anyhow, to even think of buying that mare. Whatever he intended to do with her.
Monte woke in a haze of hurting. His right arm lay above his head and a direct line of fiery pain ran from it down into his back. Every other part of his body either ached, agonized or tortured him.
The pills the doctor had given him in the hospital had worn off long ago and he had no prescription, since he’d snuck away on his own. He would have to tough it out except for the over-the-counter stuff he always carried in his gear bag for the usual aches and pains from bull riding.
For one long moment, he dreaded moving and creating greater pain, then, without stopping, he lowered his arm and began to try to sit up. He wouldn’t think about it; he wouldn’t let the pain into his mind.
It flowed in anyway, but he got to his feet in spite of it and staggered to his bag and to the bathroom. Ten minutes later, his face and hair wet by hasty ablutions performed while unable to bend over the sink, he stepped outside. He stood on the stoop and squinted in the sunlight.
Time to go up to the house. Time to face the music. Time to see his mom. He’d feel