Page 9 of Roping My Rival

Clarence and I always butt heads. We have since we’ve known each other. He’s still my brother, though, and while I’m pissed he showed up late, I’ll accept his compliment since he doesn’t hand them out frequently.

“Thanks, Clary. I appreciate that. Will you be at Sunday dinner this week?”

“I’ll let you know.”

“You’ve missed the last two, Clary. Do it for our dads if you can’t do it for us.”

Clarence drops his gaze briefly as Jesse watches us. “Yeah. I’ll try.” He nods once. “Good night.” Then he leaves.

“Good job not tearing his head off, Warren.”

“It took a lot, believe me.”

“Listen, I’m gonna get this kiddo home. See you at family dinner, okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Drive safe.”

With my brothers gone and an empty rodeo ring that can be cleaned tomorrow, I head to the office to make sure everything is locked up before leaving. Upon entering the office, my dad’s hot dog costume is on the floor, and the shower in the private bathroom is running.

With a sigh, I pull out the stack of Post-it notes from the desk drawer and write out several messages that I’ve gone home and to make sure they lock the doors when they leave. In a rush, before I overhear anything I can’t unhear, I stick them on the back of the office door and close it behind me.

On the upside, at least I don’t have to find something to do outside while Dad gets a ‘massage’.

The following spring

“It’s not a problem at all, Mr. Walker. You always pay, and we aren’t about to kick Darla out, so please don’t worry.”

The woman in charge of accounts at the care facility pats my hand as I stare at the increase in Darla’s monthly costs. Another three hundred dollars a month hurts. A lot.

I heard another resident talking about subsidies. Not sure how to find them or what they actually are, but I’ll have to look into it.

“I know it’s always difficult to hear about cost increases, but we like to give our residents plenty of notice. Please reach out if you need anything.”

Yeah, I’m not about to do that. You’re helpful and all, but I don’t want to share my sob story with a stranger.

“Thank you. I appreciate it. It always works out,” I say with false optimism. Only because I keep getting lucky with couches to crash on or friends buying me dinner does it ever work out. But it’ll get better; it has to.

My boots echo in the quiet halls of the care home, and since it’s 3 P.M., I know my sister will be in the common room working on a puzzle. When I enter, another resident shouts, “The cowboy is here!” and Darla turns in her chair. She smiles and waves before going back to her puzzle.

“Hey, sis. Whatcha working on today? Is Milo helping?”

“Uh-huh.” She pats the stuffed dog she takes everywhere.

Her cheerful smile warms my heart, and I take a seat, patting Milo like I know she appreciates. “He’s a good boy.”

The puzzle she has today is one of a puppy, and it’s a fifty-piece puzzle. One of the hardest ones she does. “Do you need a new puzzle soon, or is this one okay?”

“I like this one. Did you bring me something today?”

Reaching into my pocket, I take out the package of Rolos and plop them on the table. “Share, though.” She laughs and immediately rips open the tube. One of the other residents hears her delight with the treat and asks for one. Darla, of course, gives him two, and he returns to his seat. Thankfully, Rolo’s are peanut free. Before I could bring any treats, I had to check with the staff and make sure any of the other people in Darla’s space were safe.

It really made me pause. There are so many things we never think twice about because we can use our voices. Darla can use her voice, but she’d never think about telling someone she’s allergic to kiwis unless she’s specifically asked if she’s allergic to kiwis. Brain injuries are no joke, and I’m constantly learning right along with her.

It’s the least I can do since it’s my fault she’s even here.

We chat a little more, and she asks me about my horse, Trigger, and sometimes I think she wishes we were back on the farm. She always gets a glassy look when she asks after my horse. I wonder if she misses the old life like I do.

“So, Dar, rodeo season starts soon and I won’t be here as often. You remember?”