3. Dane
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?”
“Yes. You tie the knots and make money to buy me things.”
My lips curve in a smile as I huff a short laugh.
“Yeah, sis. That’s it in a nutshell.” Everything I do is to buy her things. A room, food, stuffed dogs, puzzles, and the occasional package of her favourite chocolate. It’s all for Darla.
“Okay, Dane.”
She beams a smile my way and falls back to taking the puzzle apart again. With a forced smile, I tell her I need to go because Trigger needs dinner. We hug and I always hold her until she pushes for me to let go. She kisses me on the cheek, and I wave to the workers as I leave.
They know what I do and how the rodeo schedule is. Only the accounts office knows how sporadic the payments are.
After a quick visit to the big box store to grab the noodle packages on sale, a bag of bruised apples, and the marked-down loaf of bread, I go home.
If you consider a room in a boarding house with six other men home. It’s not ideal, but it beats sleeping in my truck, which I’ve done a time or two when rodeo winnings were scarce.
At least I’m still good enough to have a sponsorship. It’s a meagre one, but it covers the boarding and feed for Trigger—barely, but at least I have my horse because I let them use my face for advertising.
After logging into the Wi-Fi of the boarding house, I log into my banking app while the water boils in the kettle.
I’ve exactly $21.19 in my chequing account, and my savings currently cover two months of Darla’s care.
I need part-time work on a more regular basis.
Badly. It’s the only way I’ll be able to keep up with the expenses and still feed myself.
I shovelled steps and driveways a bit this winter, and that helped.
At Christmas, I worked at a pop-up meat shop in the mall for the month of December, and that was nice too, but I need something quick to tide me over until the first rodeo.
Quick and legal. That’s a line I can’t cross again, no matter how dire the situation is.
It’s been five years since I toured the bigger money circuit. If returning doesn’t pay off, I might be royally fucked.
After pouring the water over my ramen and sprinkling on some seasoning, I scroll through the local job postings and stop when one jumps out at me.
Immediate casual labour needed. Must be experienced with medium to large animals. Please call 458-478-8537 for more information.
Well, I have experience, I’m available immediately, and I need casual. It could be scraping roadkill off the highway, and I’d do it because eating ramen every day is getting old. I dial the number, and a deep voice picks up on the second ring.
“Burke’s Rodeo School, this is Jesse.”
“Uh, I’m calling about the ad for labour.” Hearing the name Burke over the line makes my guts twist, and I can’t blame it on the ramen.
“Oh, thank god someone called,” he gushes before immediately correcting himself. “I mean, thank you for your interest. Are you available immediately?”
“Yes, I can be.”
“As in…can you be here right away?”
“Well, yes, but I’d like to know what I’m getting into and what kind of pay before I show up for something. How do I know you’re going to pay me?”
Jesse laughs. “I don’t blame you for asking. $50 an hour if you accept payment under the table. $30 an hour if you don’t.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “And what’s the job, exactly?”
“Honestly, you need to see it to believe it. Can you be at the rodeo school right away? You can look and decide if you want it. Walk if you don’t.”
“It’s not burying a human body, is it? Because I really don’t want to go to jail.”
His laughter is tired, but it’s there. “No body. I couldn’t catch my brother, so that’s my problem. If you want the job, just show up.”
The call ends, and I stare at my phone in disbelief. How did the respectable Burke’s Rodeo School come off sounding like they were hiring a hit man? I snarf the rest of my noodles and leave the bowl on the counter.
This will either be a great opportunity or the worst decision I’ve ever made. Let’s hope it’s option number one.
I’ve never been to Burke’s Rodeo School before, but I sure as hell know where it is.
Since moving my sister here last year, I’ve learned the building is almost its own personality.
Not to mention, the Burke family is legendary in the rodeo circle.
You can’t live in Kissing Ridge and not know the Burke family.
If they aren’t winning everything in the rodeo world, they’re in the news saving kittens or some shit.
Except Warren.
Still no championship for him, even after I left the circuit. Yet he still reaps the rewards of being a rodeo king by proxy with his father, though. Must be nice.
Warren Burke is an entitled ass. It’s a great ass, but the man attached to it is unfortunate.
Yet here I am in his family’s empire because I need cash.
Currently, Jesse Burke, the steer wrestler and the most incredibly sunshine-happy person ever, is pacing the lobby. When I enter, he snaps his head up, desperation replacing his happy demeanour.
“Please tell me you’re the one I just spoke to about the job?” He cocks his head. “You’re in rodeo, aren’t you? You look familiar.”
“I am. Dane Walker, tie-down roping.”
“Ah! I knew I recognized you.” Noise comes from inside the building, and Jesse drops the formalities. “Okay, here’s the thing. There are 27 loose pigs in there. I need them caught.”
“Pigs?”
“It’s a long story, and it’s not really what the job posting is for, but I’m desperate. I can fill you in after. So… pig catching?”
Jesse’s expression is filled with hope that I’m not about to turn around and walk out.
“Yeah, man. I can do that. But there’s another job other than this?”
His shoulders sag. “Oh, thank god. It’s this way.” I follow Jesse back to the rodeo ring. “There is, and I’ll tell you all about it after we deal with the pig situation.”
A series of squeaks and grunts sounds as we get to the rodeo ring. A group of adorable pink pigs huddle together, and I raise an eyebrow at Jesse. “There are 27? This is only 8. Where’s the—” A loud squeal sounds behind us as a giant black-and-pink pig takes off down a row of seating.
“They got loose.”
“Alright. Questions later. Do you have any rope?”
Two hours.
That’s how long it took me and Jesse to corral 27 pigs. I can assure you it’s not a task I want to do again soon.
“Want a beer?” Jesse asks as he wipes his brow.
“Absolutely. Then you can tell me the story of how pigs got loose in here.”
I follow him down a short hall to an office.
He unlocks the door and motions for me to sit on the couch while he walks to a mini fridge in the corner.
It’s a comfortable office with photos of the family covering the walls and an oversized sofa against the wall.
Jesse passes me a can, and we both pop the tabs and raise them in a toast before we drink.
Jesse plops into the desk chair, splaying his long legs in front of him. There’s a tear in his jeans from when he tackled a pig, and it dragged him along for a few feet on the cement floor. Steer wrestling is easier, apparently.