Chapter 12Staten Kirkland
Chapter 12
New Season, Old Friends
Staten Kirkland
D ecember slowly pushed its way into Crossroads with a few aging plastic signs dotted around town to remind everyone Christmas was almost here. One of the billboards of Santa Claus was missing a foot, and three of his reindeer had lost their horns. The little post office had paper gingerbread men strung across the only window. And, the school had a life-size manger and nativity scene.
Staten didn’t find it strange. It was just Crossroads.
He enjoyed teaching Dr. Lane to ride on Sundays. They’d talk about the books he was reading and the essays people had written about them. Out on the Double K’s open plains, it was the best class he’d ever had. He might not be earning credit for a course, but he was learning more than he ever had.
Staten didn’t always have the time to give the teacher riding lessons though. As winter set in, work piled up and sometimes Jake Longbow would take over her lessons.
But no matter what, Staten always made sure he kept up with Dr. Lane’s assignments. He loved sitting in the barn and studying freshman composition after having dinner with his grandfolks. His routine was changing. And he was changing again too.
Every night Staten spent an hour or two reading what Dr. Lane gave him. And the more he read, the more he got out of it. After studying the books that had been made into movies he’d watched before, he realized the stories were not the same. The books were so much richer. And he loved talking about them.
Amalah called less often than she had a month ago. By mid-December she was only checking in once a week. And usually only for a few minutes at a time. The good news was Staten and Amalah didn’t argue at all. There wasn’t time.
For some reason he didn’t tell her about his tutoring with Dr. Lane. Maybe he was afraid she would find it silly. Or maybe he wanted to keep it a surprise. But Amalah loved sharing the details of what she was doing. She showed little interest in his life on the ranch. “I have to run” became her trademark goodbye.
The only other friend Staten talked to was Quinn O’Grady. At first she’d called to check on J.R., but recently, she had started calling more often. Maybe she needed someone to talk with too. She didn’t say much about music school in New York, silently telling Staten the school was not fun for her. Which was a shame because he knew playing piano was her dream.
Although Amalah’s calls had grown shorter, his conversations with Quinn had grown longer. Some nights Staten spent a whole thirty minutes telling her the plot of a book she’d probably never read, or describing the difference between a book and its movie. He’d known Quinn all of his life. They had been friends for as long as Amalah had loved him.
At first, they talked about all of the things Quinn liked about New York, but then she didn’t have so much to say about it anymore. She told him once that she still loved the city but she didn’t care for the music school.
Quinn had always been much quieter and more reserved than Amalah and never shared her problems, but now the two of them had found a camaraderie in their unhappiness. Maybe it was because Amalah was too tied up in campus life to make time for either of them. Quinn was Amalah’s best friend, and Staten couldn’t help but wonder if Amalah was calling Quinn less and less too.
One December day, Quinn called him to ask if he could pick her up at the Lubbock airport and bring her home to Crossroads for the Christmas holiday. The music department at her school closed a week early because most of the students were performing at Christmastime. But for some reason she wasn’t part of that, and Staten hesitated to ask why. Quinn was the best piano player he’d ever heard.
“Hey, Staten, I’m sorry to bother you for a ride,” Quinn said, her voice small over the phone. “I called Amalah first and she was too busy to pick me up. She has to stay longer to get ready for next semester with her sorority sisters.”
Staten didn’t waste time with details. “Name the time. I’ll be there.”
“Thanks. I really am sorry to have to ask, but my father is out of town and Mom went with him for the first time.” Quinn sounded like she had tears in her eyes.
Staten knew Quinn hated asking for help. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got you. What are friends for?”
When Staten talked to Amalah about it later, she had been full of excuses. “I’m just too busy to pick up my best friend. I don’t have time. I’m too overloaded. I told her we’ll have time after Christmas. When I get back.”
Staten had stood like stone as Amalah had rattled on until he could get a word in. He tried not to give in to the resentment he felt brewing with each excuse. He thought about all of the things he wouldn’t be able to do if he drove back and forth to Lubbock to get Quinn. The Double K was busy getting ready for winter, and there were extra hands helping out on the ranch. He could have asked one of his men to go into Lubbock and get Quinn. But Quinn needed a friend. She was alone in a big city a thousand miles away from home. Every time she called, Staten could tell she didn’t want to hang up. Since Amalah wasn’t stepping up, he would come through for her.
When Quinn called to remind Staten when her flight would come in, she was excited in her shy way to be coming home with him. “I’ll get to see your Granny and J.R. and maybe ride for a few hours or more before my parents get back home. Would it be okay if I hang around for a while? I don’t want to go home to a silent house. Maybe I could help Granny with the baking. I love her apple pies.”
“Sure. If you’ve got time, you can help me count the cows.”
Quinn let out a yelp. “No way. I haven’t seen my folks for four months, and I don’t want to smell when I do.”
Staten laughed. “Well, maybe we can just go for a ride then.”
“Absolutely.” There was a smile in Quinn’s voice.
He hung up the phone feeling happier than he had in days. He might not have his Amalah, but Quinn was a great friend.
The next week, when he picked Quinn up at the airport, he hugged her as he always did, but the minute she got in his pickup she broke down crying. Staten had never seen her cry before. She was usually so quiet, she never let anyone know when she was hurting.
Staten gently pulled her across the bench seat into his shoulder and let her cry it out. She told him all about how much she hated the music school in New York.
“I have no friends. My roommate barely even talks to me. I get lost at least once a day, and it’s so cold up there. But worst of all is my professor. He seems to pick on me every time he gets a chance. Maybe he thinks he’s making me stronger, but he’s really not. It just makes me want to come home.”
Staten patted her around the shoulders. “You want me to go out there and beat up that old man? I will.”
“No, you’d get in trouble.” Quinn giggled. “He thinks he’s still young, but he’s not. I bet in a few years he’ll be scary. Maybe he wants to be. He flirts with some of the girls, but he just puts me down.”
Staten pulled back to look at her. “Don’t sweat it. He wouldn’t last thirty minutes in a bar.”
She smiled, settling into her seat and drying her eyes. “How would you know? Don’t tell me you’ve gone wild since you got back.”
He shrugged. “I pretended to be twenty-one a few times in Lubbock. The guy checking IDs was real busy one night and a head shorter than me. He waved me in. I’ve always looked older than I am.” He softly tugged the braided blond rope of her hair. “With that braid I’m not sure you could even pass for nineteen. You know, Quinn, if you try to marry young, the county clerk will probably file adoption papers instead.”
She pushed his shoulder but she was laughing.
He was glad he’d made her smile. Staten might outweigh her by fifty pounds, but Quinn was near his height and rod thin. Since about the fourth grade he’d called her “kid.” She’d always be sweet, innocent Quinn to him.
A little over an hour later, they were out at his barn, saddling up. Staten strapped on his Colt as usual. His grandfather insisted the boss and the ranch hands never go out riding out of sight of the headquarters unless they were armed for safety.
Quinn put her foot in the stirrup. “You still think you need that gun?”
Staten didn’t answer right away. He moved behind her and put his hands around her waist, then gently lifted her up onto the saddle. “J.R. always carried his old Colt. You never know what can happen out here.”
He smiled. Lately Staten had been out riding for a reason, for some job that had to be done. But now he was going out for no reason at all except to enjoy the day with his friend. He almost felt like a nineteen-year-old kid again.
He knew Quinn would make it exciting. Horses usually got her out of her shy ways. She might not be a strong rider but she could stay on and keep up, which was more than Amalah could do.
They rode out to a point that Quinn had always loved. J.R. once told Staten it was the center of the ranch. No one ever measured it so they didn’t know for sure, but it was a pretty vista. A quiet pasture with wildflowers in the spring. In the winter, they rode not on green land but rock-strewn plains colored in reds, oranges, and browns. They could see everything on horseback. Miles of gently rolling land interrupted by dried-up creek beds and twenty-foot rises.
Just as Staten turned to check on Quinn, six feet behind him, his horse slipped on some ice into a rocky creek bed. For the first time in years, he lost his balance. In a blink, he was tumbling sideways. There was no time for him to react. No time to catch himself. He fell.
Before he hit the brittle grass, he swore he heard his grandfather speak into his ear: “If you ride, you’re gonna take a few falls sometimes, son, no matter how good you are.”
Something hard smacked into the back of his head before he could respond to his grandfather, and the endless sky turned black.