Page 17 of My Cowboy Freedom
Across from me, Rock’s throat worked. “I see.”
“Are you scared of me now?”
He gave a tight nod. “A little.”
My heart sank. “I’m not a bad guy. Not the same kind of bad as your Lefty Wheeler anyway. I wouldn’t hurt someone for no reason.”
He snorted. “Lefty’s a damn douche nozzle.”
That made me smile. “Tell me about him.”
“I came to the Rocking C right after my accident, when I was still having some memory problems. Some of my math skills, like counting out change quickly, are still crap. I guess he figures I’m not smart because of the dog and the constant supervision from Elena and the hands. He says stuff. Does some real bullying shit. I hate him.”
“You haven’t found a way to shut it down?”
He deflated. “Nope. No luck.”
“I don’t think I’d like him either if he calls people names.”
“I used to do that. Before.”
That’s a mighty small voice.
He continued, “Maybe I deserve it, because I used to think—”
“Nobody deserves to be bullied,” I said. “If you hurt people when you were a kid or whatever, you can make that right. You can apologize and change.”
“The thing is, Lefty goes to the same church they make me go to.” Maisy had circled the picnic table four times and had finally found a spot she liked, right next to Rock’s left hand. He gave her a pat. Apparently Rock could pet Maisy while she was working but it wasn’t okay for anyone else.
It’s always good to know the local customs.
I was jealous of his dog. How pathetic was that?
“So you see this dude pretty often, then?” I asked.
He nodded. “I think he looks at me and figures... I don’t know. Short bus?”
Ouch.“People can change.”
“I don’t think Lefty will. He has some misconceptions about me and he’s not real bothered about straightening things out.” His smile was a lopsided slice of uncertainty. “I used to think guys like him were hilarious in high school. It’s true. I have brain damage, but it’s not like he thinks.”
His honesty was a painful, beautiful thing. “Everyone has to grow up sometime. Sounds like Lefty hasn’t gotten there. You say he has a spiderweb tattoo like mine?”
Rock nodded.
“Did he ever do time?”
“Not unless you count working at the Walmart in Marble Falls.”
I laughed. “Yeah. Well. I don’t count that. But some might.”
“I’ve never met anyone who was in prison before.” He toyed with Maisy’s collar, her vest, the knots in her fur. He looked everywhere but at me. “It’s weird.”
I picked up my dishes. “Where do I put these?”
“I’ll show you.”
Together, we took the well-worn path in the direction of the ranch house. The rest of the hands had already gone. Maybe that’s how Rock got away to eat with me. I scraped my plate into the trash—although I’d barely left a crumb of food behind—and rinsed it in the sink outside where I’d washed my hands. Then Rock showed me the crate for the dishes.
