Chapter Eleven #2
“You’re right,” Joe said. “I felt abandoned and left alone to weather the storms at home. I remember trying to talk some sense into Tía Rosa. I’d beg her to leave him, but she wouldn’t listen.
It used to make me so angry because it wasn’t just her life she was ruining, it was mine.
I’m not sure that she even cared that each time I stepped in to protect her, I’d get beat on myself. ”
“I should have been there to protect you.”
Joe shrugged a single shoulder. “Maybe, but I wasn’t looking for protection as much as a backup. If you’d have been home one of those nights, we could have stopped him and knocked some sense into him.”
“You’re probably right. But in retrospect, that might have landed you and me in juvenile hall—or worse.”
Joe reached for his fork, only to have another memory kick in, one that he’d never forget again. And along with it, more emotions: anger, frustration, grief.
“What’s the matter?” Rick asked. “Did you remember something else?”
“Yeah. Going home after what must have been their last fight. Red lights were flashing all around the neighborhood. The sheriff was there. Not Hollister, but an older man—heavyset, graying hair. He had Tío cuffed and locked in the back of the squad car. Tía was already in an ambulance, and they wouldn’t let me see her. ”
“She nearly died that night. She spent two weeks in ICU and nearly six months in rehab.”
“I remember thinking that it was all my fault,” Joe said.
“There’s no way. You weren’t even there when it happened. Tío was a brute when he drank.”
“Yeah, but if I’d been home, I might have stopped it.”
Rick reached across the table and placed his hand over Joe’s. “You were only fifteen. And if you had been there, you would have tried to stop it. But then you might have been the one hauled off in the ambulance or the squad car.”
“Maybe so.”
Joe didn’t bring it up because he didn’t think it was necessary, but he also remembered that he and his brother had both been sent to different foster homes that night, separating them when Joe had needed him most.
“I can’t fix what happened in the past,” Rick said. “But I want you to know that I’m sorry for whatever I might have done to you—or whatever I failed to do for you. You’re my brother, and I don’t want you to leave town without knowing how I feel.”
“Speaking of leaving Brighton Valley,” Joe said, “do you have any idea why I might have changed my name after I left?”
“I can’t be sure, but I think it was because you wanted to put our lousy past behind you.
Ramon and Rosa made newspaper headlines for a while, and the whole mess was pretty embarrassing.
I found it hard to deal with and didn’t speak to either of them for years.
But Ramon learned a hard lesson while he was incarcerated.
You might find this hard to believe—I know I did—but now that he’s quit drinking and gone through some intensive counseling, he’s like a new person. ”
Joe wished he had something to say to that, some feelings to go along with it, but he dug into his breakfast and let his scattered thoughts and memories simmer.
By the time they’d finished eating, a lot of things had begun to come together for him.
The foster parents Joe had to live with weren’t too bad, but Darrell, one of the other kids, used to bully the smaller boys. And since Joe had seen more than his share of abuse—and hated it—they butted heads more often than not.
One day, when Darrell began picking on one of the band geeks in the school cafeteria, Joe confronted him. A fight broke out, and even though Joe’s reason for getting involved was noble, the principal suspended them both.
Rick hadn’t been around that day, which led Joe to think he’d probably ditched school to spend time with his friends. And more than ever, Joe began to feel helpless and alone—with no one to care about him.
He had, however, earned the undying support of the band geek he’d stepped in to help—Dave Cummings.
Pieces of his ranch memories began to come together, and Joe soon realized when he’d been on the Rocking C before.
On several occasions, he’d run away from home and had ended up on the Cummings ranch. Just being around Dave and his parents had given him a glimpse of what a real family was supposed to be like, and he’d found himself drawn there.
“Do you need to go back to the ranch now?” Rick asked as he pushed his plate aside. “If not, I can take you to my place and you can meet Mallory and our son, Lucas. I can’t wait to introduce you.”
“I guess I should head back to the ranch. Maybe when my head is on a little straighter, I’ll make a better impression on your wife and son.” Joe really wasn’t up to meeting anyone right now, especially with his thoughts and feelings still jumbled. But it was nice that Rick had asked.
Joe took one last look at the picture of his parents, trying to get another vision, another memory, but nothing came to mind.
He handed the photos back to his brother. “I’m glad I can’t remember how crappy life was before our mom died.”
“She had a prescription drug problem, which eventually killed her. She died of an overdose.”
A vision slammed into Joe, striking him as hard and unexpected as the Silverado pickup that had hit him in the dead of night, causing his amnesia in the first place.
Overdose.
Dave, cold and lifeless, sprawled out on the kitchen floor. The pain meds he used to swallow—two and three at a time, washed down by whatever liquid was handy.
Bits and pieces of his memory merged with the disjointed dreams he’d had, unleashing a storm of emotion: Worry and disappointment, irritation and resentment.
And it all came back to him.
Well, not all of it. But the memories of a battlefield will... Joe blinked, remembering Dave giving it to him, as well as the message Dave had asked Joe to deliver on his death and the reckless, suicidal rush at the Taliban insurgents... They were still a bit scattered, but they were clues enough.
He finally understood why he’d returned to Brighton Valley in the first place. He’d promised Dave he would deliver that letter, which Chloe hadn’t let him read.
The annoyance he’d felt off and on since the accident rose up inside of him, bordering on anger. And a sense of betrayal lanced his heart.
Dave had loved that woman enough to give her everything. And she’d led him on, convincing him that she loved him, too. Then she’d dumped him, and Dave had chosen death over life without her.
Just like Joe’s mom had done when she hadn’t been able to cope after their dad abandoned his family for that stripper.
More distrust and suspicion crept over him as another vision, this one recent, flashed before him: Chloe in the Cummings den, digging through files and scanning papers.
She’d looked up and spotted him in the doorway, guilt splashed across her face.
Her reaction had left him uneasy at the time, and now he knew why. He hadn’t trusted her.
But why? What clues had he missed? He racked his brain, trying to recall things she’d said to him when they’d talked about the Rocking C.
As the fragments of their conversations came back to him, he tried to make sense of them.
I’m trying my best to hold everything together until I know what’s going to happen with the ranch.
Had she already known about Dave’s death before the sheriff had notified her? Joe had, but that memory had been lost with all the rest.
I don’t want to move until the new owner is located.
Joe had quizzed her about that at the time. The new owner?
Whoever stands to inherit the ranch now that Dave is gone.
Chloe had given him the impression that she planned to move on. Yet she seemed to have settled in at the Rocking C, even going so far as to decorate the house for Christmas.
Joe had asked if she’d like a ranch of her own, and if so, would she give up her plan to go to nursing school.
I don’t know. Maybe. I’d probably invite some friends to live with me, so I’m not sure how much time I’d have to study.
Damn. Did she already have plans to take over the Rocking C? Would she fill it with friends and freeloaders?
I’d like to visit Sam Darnell, a retired cowboy I know, and ask him a few questions about ranching.
So she did mean to stay on and to make a go of the place. Apparently, she’d planned to all along. And when Joe had seen her in the den, rifling through the files, she must have been looking for a will or a deed or something that would secure her claim.
His gut twisted as suspicion settled over him. He shifted in his seat, but was unable to shake it.
What had that last letter said? Had Dave told her what he’d planned to do—and that he’d left her the ranch?
“Are you okay?” Rick asked. “You look a little shaken and confused.”
Was it that obvious?
Joe blew out a sigh. “I’ve just had a major breakthrough, Rick.
Things are still a little sketchy, but images and memories are slamming into me, along with a slew of emotions I’m trying to deal with.
And the more I think about it, the less comfortable I feel about staying at the ranch.
Would you mind taking me back for my things, then dropping me off at the Night Owl? ”
“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. But if you’re looking for a place to stay, come home with me. Mallory and I have a guest room, and you’re more than welcome to stay with us as long as you’d like. Besides, I want you to meet Lucas. He’s a great kid—and the spitting image of you.”
Joe had been a loner most of his adult life, but he didn’t want to be alone tonight. “If you’re sure Mallory won’t mind.”
“She’s eager to meet you—and she’ll be glad to have you with us, especially for Christmas.” Rick reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. “But why don’t you just drop me off at the clinic and take my truck to pick up your stuff from the ranch?”
Joe took the keys, while Rick picked up the check. “Thanks. It won’t take me long to pack.”
“Keep the truck as long as you need it.”