Page 22 of Cowboy's Way

As I place our order, I try to think of something to tell this kid to let him know life will get easier, but not having a clue what to say, I settle for sticking a twenty in his tip jar.

Once I have our order and Faith has rejoined me, we decide to sit outside. And that’s when I have my next choice to make.

Do I give her a reprieve? Just let her enjoy the day and her food without starting in on the myriad of questions that I have.

She makes the decision for me.

“What were your parents like?” she asks after consuming half of her burger.

“I couldn’t tell you,” I immediately respond like I have countless times before. “Orphanage, foster system, Army, and you know where I live now. How about you?”

She lets out a laugh, putting the rest of her burger to the side as she takes a long sip of her malt.

“My mom, hmm. Well, she was all I knew. She claimed she got a degree in graphic art, but who knows. She may have designed a website here or there, but mainly she forged documents. The one thing I know with absolute certainty is that she had horrible taste in men. Each one was worse than the one before.”

“Yeah?” I question, getting nervous when I think of all the group homes I lived in and knowing what the more attractive girls went through. “Which one was the worst?”

“The one that married her when I was fifteen,” she says with a little smile. “Now, don’t get me wrong. Mom watched me like a hawk, but it was like she got harder as the years went on. The guy seemed like he was pretty well off, but she had to have known about his gambling debts.”

“How deep was he in?”

“Deep enough to sell me.”

Of all the ways I considered this conversation going today, this was not one of them.

“What the fuck did you just say?” I ask, almost incapable of comprehending the bomb she so casually dropped, especially with how calm she is.

“My mother’s husband sold me to pay off his debt. It could have been a lot worse; my ex wanted a wife who was fun to show off and could never leave him.”

There are so many things wrong with what she’s saying, I don’t even know where to begin. This is fucking America—of course she could leave …

Then I look into her eyes and know there’s far more to the story. Just as surely as I know this is all she’s going to share with me today.

“Is he looking for you?” I ask after a moment, genuinely worried about how well she covered her tracks.

“No.”

“Faith …”

“Logan, I swear to you, he isn’t looking for me.” She stops short of snapping at me, but there’s no denying the stress in her voice and she looks away, ashamed of herself. “Look, I got lucky. The guy needed a wife to fulfill an image. It’s not something I want to talk about though.”

“If you ever do, you let me know,” I quietly reply. I fully understand what it’s like to have baggage, but also being guarded enough not to drop it at a stranger’s door.

We sit there, eating in silence, at least until I catch her stealing one of my tater tots.

“Hey! Keep your hands to yourself,” I tease her, nudging her with my shoulder.

“This place was definitely worth the ride,” she says with a sigh, patting her non-existent belly.

“The rideis worth the ride, this is just the icing on top,” I correct her. “What’d you think of your first time on a bike?”

“It’ll take a little getting used to,” she answers, carefully choosing her words. “But who knows? Maybe I’ll even open my eyes on the way home.”

“You don’t seem like the type who’d shy away from a challenge.”

My compliment brings a smile to her face, but the level of the sun tells me I need to get back home. Rocco will kick my ass if I let the chores pile up in his absence. Plus, it isn’t fair to the animals.

We’re both surprised to see Debbie’s purple car outside of her house when we get back, but their presence doesn’t seem to bother her, so I leave her to it.

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