Page 159 of My Cowboy Freedom
Chapter 37
Sky
Sunday finally arrived. We’d dreaded the day, because it meant we’d see how bad things really were.
Elena had been keeping visitors outside the ranch house, even Foz. All Rocky would say was the boss wanted a chance to settle in before he started receiving guests. Which seemed like a reasonable request to the rest of us.
But Boss was going to church. He was ready for that, he said. And after, he’d meet with Ryder and Andi and Doc Winters. And Rock was going too, because for Elena, he’d become the man of the house. The boss had been home for a few days, but apart from a glimpse of him being transferred to the ranch house in a wheelchair, none of us had seen him.
We knew the boss had some paralysis. He had trouble talking. We saw that the first day, when we heard him try to speak. We watched and waited while he mouthed something—while he tried real hard and maybe got one or two words out—and some of the hands lost faith.
We were all worried because if the boss couldn’t run the place, it was up to Andi, and she didn’twant torun it.
So on paper, the boss was still in charge, but he was going to need a lot of physical therapy and no way was he letting anyone put him in some kind of home. Nurses, PTs, and such. They came and went at all hours.
That meant all our jobs were at risk and—this was so fucking selfish—I was sick with worry about mine. I talked tough about finding a place and making my way if Rock couldn’t stay unless I was gone, but the idea scared the crap out of me.
To get this close to my dream, to be free, to be working at the Rocking C at last, and then to have it torn from my grasp was like some cartoon sledgehammer from the sky, come to fuck me up.
I’d have to be the roadrunner again, and keep going.Beep,beep.
Whatever Chandler needed from me, I’d give it, of course, starting with a good day’s work, every single day, no matter what the future held.
I owed him that.
They were training Rock to help the caregivers. Apparently he was learning how to safely transfer the boss from his bed to a wheelchair and from that to the car. He was muscle, in case he was needed.
After morning chores, I went up to the kitchen and reminded Elena that I could help too. I’d transferred patients, bathed and shaved them. I’d cleaned and dressed wounds and probably done a lot of things that might come in handy. She turned me down nicely.
“No, baby. You’ve got your own job. Rocky’s only learning to help out in case one of the nurses doesn’t make it, but we don’t expect to need it.”
“All right.” I stepped from foot to foot, stalling. “Everything else going okay?”
“Bless your heart, you very transparent cowboy.” She arched a brow. “Rocky’s getting ready for church.”
I glanced down at my hat, which I seemed to be crushing.
“Let him know I said hey.”
“If you’re ready in half an hour, you can come to church with us.”
“Really?”
“You got everything done that needs doing for a couple hours?”
“I can ask Foz.”
“Do that. Tell him I said it will be good for your soul.”
“Thank you.” I nodded and jammed my hat back on.
Foz was in the barn when I found him. He said he had no problem, as long as when I came back, I wasn’t going to try sleeping all day.
In my room, I changed into what had to pass for Sunday duds—a white shirt, worn black trousers, and a weird, skinny tie that must have belonged to ’Nando in the eighties. I looked like a freak, but I was presentable. I tucked my Bible under my arm and left the bunkhouse.
Rock waited for me on the porch, backlit by the morning sun, wearing a pair of black jeans, a white woven shirt, and a Western-style suit jacket that looked tailor-made for him. He wore a hat I’d never seen—a black Stetson with a band of pretty silver conchos. His fancy-ass belt buckle shone like he’d spent hours shining it up, so of course it drew my eye. It and the fat package below it.
I’m a pig, I guess, because I can’t take my eyes off that for a while.
