Chapter 9 #2
Gloria laughed. “I was hoping you were that kind of friends. Where are you from, Molly?”
“I was born and raised here in Omak. Grew up on a small ranch outside town.”
“How about school?”
“Graduated from Omak High and got a degree in animal husbandry at WSU.”
“Then what?”
“Traveled the rodeo circuit for a bunch of years.”
“Really? What was your event?”
“Barrel racing.”
“I’m embarrassed. I’ve never been to a rodeo. What’s barrel racing?”
“It’s the main event at rodeos for women. They set up three barrels in the arena and you race your horse around them. The fastest time wins.”
“I see. And how much can you win?”
“Purses range from $2,500 to $25,000, depending on the rodeo.”
“Okay, then. You were a professional rodeo rider.”
“Yes, until I retired from riding.”
“What are you doing now?”
“I inherited a fourth generation fishing resort on Summer Lake in Okanogan County.”
“Is that where Bart stays when he comes out of the mountains?”
“Yes, he pitches a tent in the federal campground. Currently, he’s staying at my cabin.”
“I see. And how many employees does the resort have?”
“About sixty in the summer. That drops to about thirty five in the winter.”
“Impressive.” She paused, “So how’s Bart doing.”
“I’m sitting right here, Gloria.”
“I know. I want to hear Molly’s perspective. She seems to be in a position to know how you’re doing.”
“I think he’s doing great.”
“Have you talked about his military experience?”
Molly paused, then decided there was no reason to not be honest. “We’ve talked about the PTSD and the fact he’s on a military disability.
I researched independently his Silver Stars and military awards.
I’ve seen where eight bullets entered his body.
We’ve explored a little why he’s living off the grid, and we’ve talked about his family.
I’ve become an internet friend with his sister, Kitty, who’s also a barrel racer. ”
“Do you have any advice for Bart or me?”
Molly thought about that for a few moments.
“I think Bart is doing great. He has a wonderful family in Montana that cares about him. I think he should make a greater effort to be in touch with them. They’re concerned about him, and I think it would be healthy for him to make an effort to be closer to them.
” She paused. “We had breakfast in a busy restaurant this morning. Bart did it for me, but he couldn’t relax.
He kept surveying the room for a person carrying a bomb or an enemy ambush that might be coming from the kitchen.
He has bad dreams in the night, tossing and turning.
I understand he continues to carry anxiety from his military service.
” She paused one more time. “I think it’s really sad that the army isn’t making a greater effort to help soldiers like Bart. A disability isn’t the answer.”
Gloria pondered that. “Well, Molly, I couldn’t agree with you more.” She paused. “Any other thoughts?”
“Not really. I’m glad he has these appointments because it brings him out of the wild to see me.” She looked at Bart, giving him the elbow. “Maybe you could increase the appointments.”
“I’m glad you found each other. It’s nice seeing Bart with someone and I know it’s good for him.”
“Do you have any advice for me? Any ways I can help Bart?”
“It sounds like what you’re doing is the best.”
“Lots of sex?”
She laughed. “I meant being his friend.” She paused, ‘But, yes, that too.”
“Okay. I can do that. You probably need time with Bart.”
“Yes, thank you. I’m glad you joined the conversation. Keep up the good work.”
Molly sat in the reception area making small talk with Amy until Bart appeared and they moved out into the hall.
“How’d it go?”
“Fine.”
“Did I do any harm?”
“You helped. She liked you. She said I was lucky to find you.”
“Do you have any homework?”
“More sex.”
“Perfect.”
Molly took his arm and pulled herself tight as they walked down the steps of the building.
What happened next occurred so fast, Molly wasn’t able to piece it together until it was over.
They were walking down the main street of Omak.
She was tight on his arm. Late spring temperatures were warming up.
They were at the park. The dogs had seen them coming and were barking their excitement.
Molly heard a hot rod coming up the main drag.
She heard an explosion, and suddenly she was on the ground with Bart’s body straddling her.
She lay on the ground, his body heavy on top of her.
She was pinned down. He wasn’t letting her up.
As he was scanning the scene, Molly figured out what happened.
The hot rod backfired, causing a loud, unexpected explosion.
The bomb-like noise triggered a PTSD moment for Bart who’d instinctively thrown her to the ground, protecting her from enemy fire.
She wrapped her arms around his back and whispered, “It’s okay. The hot rod just backfired. We’re okay.” Bear and Shadow were straining at their lines, barking and jumping about, not sure what happened to their masters.
Without saying anything, Bart got up and pulled Molly to her feet.
Molly wanted the dogs to know everything was fine.
She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face against his chest and holding him tight.
She’d just gotten an up front and personal dose of PTSD.
It was unsettling. He seemed to be in her world until he wasn’t.
Until a crowded room put him on high alert.
Until a hot rod backfired and sent him back to Afghanistan.
She held him close, and he let her. He still hadn’t said anything.
Finally, she took his arm and they continued walking toward Bear and Shadow, untying them and letting them run around.
They settled on the bench, Molly still holding his arm, snuggled in.
She decided to wait until he was ready to speak.
It took a few minutes before his words came in a slow, measured voice.
“I’m sorry about that. The explosion startled me.”
“I understand. I just experienced your PTSD.”
“Yes. I hope you’re not around when a helicopter flies over.”
“I hope I am. I want to be there for you at these moments.”
She kissed his cheek and held on a little tighter.
They had lunch at Molly’s favorite Mexican food truck.
She didn’t want to take him inside another crowded restaurant.
She wasn’t that hungry after the big breakfast, but she liked the idea of street tacos.
They settled at a picnic table under a tree, the dogs sitting nearby in the shade with a bowl of water.
The day was warming up. Molly was now conscious of passing cars and pedestrians, people nearby, life in the small, rural town.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine. Again, I apologize. Are you okay? I threw you down pretty hard.”
“Fortunately, we landed on grass. It would have been harder on pavement. But, this rodeo girl has been thrown to the ground many times, not always in soft dirt.”
“You’re getting an introduction to the PTSD. A crowded restaurant. My therapist. A backfiring car.”
“Yes, and I’m glad I am.”
“Not having second thoughts?”
“To the contrary. Makes me want to be there for you.”
“How was I last night sleeping?”
“You have bad dreams, fits of restlessness, tossing and turning, fighting your demons. I just hold you tighter.”
Molly could feel his discomfort level increase as they pulled into the Fred Meyer parking lot.
It was the middle of the day, and the lot was full.
There’d be lots of shoppers inside. She took his arm and stayed tight as they navigated into the store.
Bart headed directly for the garden center where he got a large flat platform cart. He had his system.
They moved efficiently through the store. Bart knew the aisles where the supplies were that he needed. Ten pound bags of flour, sugar, rice, and pasta. Powdered milk, salt, pepper, spices, cooking oil. All the essentials for living off the grid. Eggs, selected fruits, but no vegetables.
“Do you have a garden?”
“Yes, a small garden.”
“Chickens?”
“Tried chickens. They attract predators and are more trouble than they’re worth. That’s one thing I miss, though. I take a couple dozen eggs, but they don’t last long. Did you notice what I had for breakfast?”
“A five egg scramble, hash browns, toast, and black coffee.”
“I eat a lot of eggs when I come out.”
“I’ll remember that.”