5. Dane #2
Leaving Jesse to it, I exit the office and wander back to the rodeo ring.
It’s an impressive facility. Started almost twenty years ago by Hunter as a place where Canadian rodeo athletes could train year-round, it exploded into so much more.
Elite rodeo champions come here for coaching sessions with cowboys around the world.
Horse shows use the space, and people even rent it for private parties.
Now auctions seem to be added to the list, and I’m sure I’m missing more.
I might have been able to learn a lot about the rodeo school, but one thing lacking online was information about the Burke family. Other than Hunter’s rodeo history and marriage to Gabe, a lawyer, there wasn’t a mention of kids anywhere, but clearly, he has three sons.
It’s a short drive to the bank, and after parking, I head inside. After a short wait, it’s my turn.
“I can help who’s next.”
The bank teller waves, and I step up to their window. “I’d like to deposit this, and can you tell me if there will be any holds on it?”
“It’s a local bank draft, so none at all, Mr. Walker.”
“Perfect. Can I get a draft for five thousand made out to the Kissing Ridge Care Home? Here’s the information.” I pass her the business card with the address on it. “I’ll take two hundred in cash, and the rest can deposit to my checking account.”
“Certainly.”
The bank teller passes me the draft and my receipts, and I’m back outside in the sunshine of an early spring day. After stopping at the corner store for a treat for Darla, a man bumps into me on the sidewalk.
“Sorry,” I immediately respond and step to the side.
“No problem, Dane.” My gaze flies to the man’s face, and I don’t immediately recognize him, but something scratches at my brain—I know this guy. Maybe without the beard?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t get your name.”
No sooner than the words are out of my mouth, a memory surfaces in my mind, and my stomach churns.
“That’s because I never gave you one. Have a good day.”
He walks away, leaving me standing on the sidewalk like I’ve just seen a ghost.
Because I have.
Darla. I have to see my sister.
Breaking from the stupor, I almost knock over an elderly woman in my haste to get to my truck. I probably blew through at least one stop sign, but by the time I get to the care home and sign in, I can barely control the shake in my hands.
“The cowboy is here!”
Scanning the room, I bolt to my sister as she turns towards the door.
“It’s not a visiting day, Dane. I’m painting today. Tuesdays are for painting, not talking.”
“Not even when your brother brings you Rolos?”
“Oh.” She nods once. “I suppose I could sit for a few minutes.”
“Thanks, Dar. I just missed you and wanted to see you.”
That makes her smile big, and my heart rate calms. “I miss you all the time, Dane.”
Oof. That one kind of hurts.
We sit at the same table as always, and I place the Rolos in front of her. The fellow who always announces when I’m here, Quinn, walks over, and she places three in his hand without a word. He says thank you, and the whole scene is so familiar and comforting that I almost want to cry.
“Um, do you ever get any other visitors, Dar?”
She shakes her head and her hair falls in her face. I brush it back with my hand.
“It’s been a while since I braided your hair. Would you like me to do that?”
“Yes!” she shouts. Her painting day now forgotten. “In my room so I can get elastics.”
My sister leads me through the halls to her tiny room. I always feel guilty that this is all the space I can afford for her, but she has an organized chaos system going on here, and she never seems unhappy about it.
After placing a brush and a small container of hair elastics between us, she sits cross-legged on the bed with her back to me.
It’s just like when we were kids, and I’m rolled back to even more memories, happier ones.
Darla would chatter on about hair and makeup and cute boys, and I tuned out most of it except the cute boy part.
This was our time together, and it felt easier to tell her secrets when I couldn’t see her face. Since her accident, I never know if her secrets are real or if she even remembers how much those childhood times mean to me.
My fingers are out of practice and still shaking, but I carry on a conversation anyway.
“I’m going to do another rodeo event. Team roping.”
“You will win. Like always.”
I laugh softly. “I hope so. It’s a team, and my partner doesn’t like me much.”
“How? I love you. You’re the best brother.”
“I know, right?”
She laughs, and I fasten the end of her braid with an elastic.
When she turns around, she’s my sister, and we’re still in high school, talking shit about the cool kids who live in town.
The townies we called them. Except the small part of a scar that’s still visible on her forehead signals we aren’t teenagers anymore.
The permanent reminder of why this is her life. Our life.
“Thanks for doing my hair, Dane. I should get to my painting.”
“Oh, yeah.”
She scoots off the bed and leads me back to the common room. Darla hugs me and waves goodbye.
After stopping in the accounts office, I drop off the payment and chat with the office staff while waiting for my statement.
“Here you are, Dane. That sits you well for a little.”
“Thanks. It does.” Stuffing the receipt in my pocket, I lower my voice. “Does Darla ever get other visitors?”
“No, just you. Should we expect anyone?”
“No. Her friends were few, and when she got hurt, most never visited. It’s just me and the people in here.”
“She’s a delight to have, Dane. Really. Are you worried about her?”
“No. I was just curious.” Knocking against the counter, I turn to leave. “Thanks so much.”
After stopping at the grocery store and buying a ready-made meal at the deli, I pop it into the microwave in my room and let my mind wander back to the guy on the street.
When the microwave pings, I bolt up straight.
It’s the guy from the casino.
“Fuck.”
Why is he back?
Most importantly, what does he want?