Forty-six
Cooper
Aquiet laugh pulled at my throat as Peter climbed down from his bunk bed like an old man.
After dinner last night, Harlan and I put him up on one of our broncs, Catchmere.
Catch wasn’t much of a champion yet—there was a lot of training to still do if he was ever going to earn his keep.
But his boring, predictable bucks made a perfect ride for a rookie like Peter.
His rides ranged from five to eight seconds, and we were downright proud of him. The fundamentals we’d been working on for the past week paid off. He had all the right form, and his tuck and rolls were perfect. And he was nailing the mark out every time.
But he’d be sore today from all the falls.
“How you feeling, sunshine?” I asked.
He frowned, denying me an answer which wasn’t surprising in the least. Peter hated mornings and needed two cups of coffee to function like a normal human. He turned away from me, pulling on a t-shirt and jeans and finding his tennis shoes.
The cowboys went to breakfast first, but I hung back, waiting for Peter, who moved through his routine like chilled molasses. When we finally walked across the barnyard, Peter’s gait had a limp.
“You hurting?” I asked.
“My hip.” He said, his voice gravelly.
“You feeling more alive?” I used his words to irritate him.
He rolled his eyes. “Not yet, smart ass.”
I stifled a laugh.
Today, everyone was present minus Hollie and her children, since Bea was on breakfast duty today. Bea exited the side door, a platter of biscuits in her hands. Since we were the last to arrive at breakfast, all eyes flicked to us as we approached the picnic table.
“Good morning, guys,” Bea said as her brow furrowed with concern. “Oh no, Peter. Are you okay?”
He tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “I’ll be fine.”
“What happened?”
I answered for him as a grin lifted my lips. “What happened is that Peter rode Catchmere last night and ate dirt a few times.”
Bea’s mouth popped open, whirling to face Peter. “You did what?”
Peter’s smile was tired, caffeine-deprived. “I rode Catchmere.”
“Why?” The desperation in her voice made my blood thrum. It felt like she was about to freak out and not in a good way. “Why would you do something like that?”
“What’s goin’ on?” Tag asked from the table, garnering everyone’s attention.
Bea shook her head, sputtering. “Peter—he rode Catch.”
Tag’s brows shot up, his eyes darting between Peter and I. “That’s…a little risky. Who’s idea was that?”
Peter raised a finger. “Mine.”
“It’s not a little risky. It’s insane,” Bea said.
“Why?” I blurted, incredulous.
“Beacuse Peter had a traumatic brain injury. He could get injured again. Did you not consider that, Peter?”
Peter averted his face, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, it crossed my mind, but—”
“But what? Hitting your head again could have disastrous consequences.”
I had no idea. I guessed it made sense though.
Her voice wobbled with emotion. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“Bea.” Tag’s voice came like a quiet plea. “It’s alright. Peter is gonna be fine.”
“I can’t watch him almost die again, Tag.” The rims of her eyes went pink, welling up.
“Let’s talk about it later, alright?”
Slowly, I sat down at the table, feeling guilty even though I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t my responsibility to make sure Peter didn’t get hurt again. He was a full grown man who wanted to do this.
In icy silence, Bea served the rest of the food and we loaded our plates.
When she came to sit at the table, she wouldn’t look at either of us and I could tell she was fighting for her life to not cry.
Tag could tell too, because he kept gently rubbing her back and pressed a kiss to her forehead twice.
Aside from a few updates from Tag and Jesse, the table was eerily quiet, and I couldn’t help but feel like I’d done something wrong. When we finished up, Tag said, “Cooper, can you stay back for a minute?”
My heart sank. “Uh, yeah, sure.”
Peter, Rudy, Cody, and Harlan dumped their plates and cleared out, leaving me sitting across from Bea, Tag, and Jesse. My stomach turned in my gut.
Tag asked, “Who’s idea was it?”
I reiterated, “Peter’s.”
“You do realize how dangerous it is, right?”
I nodded. “It wasn’t my decision.”
Jesse shook his head. “Coop, you can’t just throw Peter up on a bronc and hope he figures it out.”
I rolled my eyes. “Give me a little credit, Jesse. I’m not an idiot. Harlan has been drilling him on the fundamentals for days now.”
“Has he?” Jesse looked impressed.
“Yeah, he’s been practicing. He’s not half bad either.”
“I don’t think you understand.” Bea shook her head. “There’s no way of really knowing the exact stage of healing in his brain. If, for some reason, he isn’t fully healed, the results of a second injury could be life threatening—”
I turned my eyes to her, suddenly angry for my friend. “So, what, Bea? You want him to live in a bubble the rest of his life?”
“No, I never said that.” She shook her head. “I’m not even a fan of him helping with the schedule.”
“But you can’t deny how much more relaxed he has seemed over the last couple weeks.
He loves riding.” Frustration built in my chest. It felt wrong, having this conversation without Peter here to say his peace.
I didn’t know how much Peter had shared with Bea, and I didn’t want to overshare on his behalf.
“All of you know the therapeutic benefit of working with horses. They ground people, and Peter has needed that.”
“Riding is one thing. Rodeo is another,” Jesse said.
“Regardless, Peter chose to do it, so I don’t see how a conversation behind his back helps.”
“I’m not trying to talk behind his back,” Bea said. “But if you helped him open this can of worms, I think you should try to talk him out of it.”
We held eye contact. “I’m not going to do that, Bea.”
“Why? Peter is risking his brain out there.”
Tag shot me a warning look and I softened my tone, remembering I was talking to his wife.
“Because I’m not his mom or his doctor. If you’re concerned then you talk him out of it.
” I lifted my hat, the roots of my hair suddenly prickling with angry heat.
“You know how emasculated Peter probably feels from everything that’s gone down over the last two years?
If he wants to go out there and risk his neck to feel powerful again, I’ll be the last one to stop him. ”
Bea went silent at that, blinking a couple times.
And for a while, we all sat there, thinking it through.
Finally, Bea asked, “What about Sarah?”
“What about her?”
“She wouldn’t want Peter to take this kind of risk.”
“Well, if she picked up her damn phone maybe she could tell Peter to stop.”
Tag laced his brows. “What do you mean?”
“He calls her every single night.” I shook my head.
“Sometimes he calls her three or four times just so he can leave her voice mails about his day. But she blocked him, so his calls don’t even ring.
I don’t know what the hell she’s waiting for, but Peter is barely hanging on and misses her so much that he—” I stopped myself.
The fact that Peter barely slept at night wasn’t mine to share. “Listen, he needs an outlet. Trust me.”
Tag finally spoke. “I trust you, Cooper.”
I exhaled with relief.
Bea turned to look at him, her eyes watering with confusion.
Tag kissed her forehead, pulling her into the crook of his arm. “I understand where you’re comin’ from, Bea. I do. But I think Cooper is right. Peter is a smart guy, and he knows the risks better than anyone—”
“The recklessness of this worries me,” Bea said quietly. “What if he wants to get hurt?”
I shook my head, emphatic. “That’s not it.”
Bea asked, “Are you sure, Cooper?”
“Yes. I’m positive. He might know the gamble he’s taking, but he’s not trying to get himself killed out there. He told me that doing something he’s never done with sight makes him feel more capable of doing it blind.”
“What’s his goal?” Tag asked.
“Say he did it. Have fun. Feel good about himself.” I shrugged. “He wants to compete at least once, but I need to find one he can register for.”
“Hilltown Stockyards,” Tag said. “They have an amateur open the first weekend in November.”
“That’s only a few days away.”
Tag tipped his watch toward his face. “Time’s flyin’. Well, you can see if they still have registration open.”
“Thanks. I’ll look into it.”
Bea looked down at the table, a lock of her hair falling in her face.
Her voice was quiet. “I’m sorry for freaking out.
” Tag rubbed her arm. “It’s just—he’s been through so much already.
” When she lifted her eyes to mine, a fat tear rolled down her cheek.
“Please help him be careful, Cooper. Please.”
“I promise I will.”
And I meant that.
Later, when I filled Peter in on the conversation, all he did was smirk, and we stopped our chores to look up Hilltown Stockyards.
I thought he was crazy, registering for something like that when he was as inexperienced as he was, but he said, “This might be my last chance. If everything goes according to plan, I won’t be here much longer. ”
And even though I clapped him on the back, those words sent my heart into my stomach.