3. Clark
Clark
Ipicked up River’s walking stick, then sidled up next to Beau.
Damn, this cowboy was massive. I’d kinda picked up from the Insta photos that he was a big country boy, but the reality of him was jarring. His shoulders were at least double the width of mine, and his eyes were somehow bluer in person.
I was also pretty sure I’d overreacted, which was embarrassing.
“Sorry about poking you in the chest like that,” I said, my voice cracking for some fucking unknown reason.
No. I am not going to cry right now.
Beau seemed to want to contradict me, but instead, palmed my shoulder gently with his enormous hand.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low and slow. “You okay?”
No, not even a little.
And fuck me. I was always fine until someone asked me that damned question. I trembled, and more idiotic tears spilled down my cheeks. I brushed them away, but they kept coming.
“Sorry. Sorry.”
He stood there as I cried, rubbing my shoulder while keeping an eye on River. My son was, thankfully, focused on staying in the saddle.
Finally, I stopped weeping enough to try again.
“I …” Nope. Still crying. “Sorry,” I croaked.
“No, I’m sorry,” he said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.
I followed along, grateful for something to latch onto.
River passed by us, concern marking his features. “You okay, Dad?”
I pasted on a smile and wiped my tears. “You know me. I’m just emotional to see you on the horse.”
River let his head fall back, as if I’d just said the most mortifying thing ever. He nearly lost his balance again. This time, instead of crying, I had to bite back a laugh. He sent me a dirty look, then kept going.
Beau and I watched his progress around the pen again.
I broke the silence a few seconds later. “Sorry again. I’m not normally so emotional. It just …” I grabbed my chest and forced air into my lungs. “It feels like I haven’t taken a fucking deep breath since the accident.”
Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks.
“Hey now,” Beau said, his arms flexing as if he wanted to hug me. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I see a lot of my younger self in River and thought I knew how to manage his attitude.”
“You had a punk phase when you were his age?”
“Sure did.”
I snorted. “I’m trying to picture it.”
He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and thumbed through a few screens. His smile was nice as he leaned over to show me what he’d found.
Huh.
There was Beau, his hair in liberty spikes, shirtless, wearing a Utilikilt and combat boots. Even at River’s age, he had a beard and thick, reddish-blond chest hair.
Looking at the picture and then back up to Beau caused the ball of stress I’ve been carrying in my belly all day to dissipate.
“I need to stop thinking that he’s made of glass.”
“Maybe let’s agree between the two of us to trust River to show us what he’s capable of, yes?”
I sniffed as I toed the dirt. “Sounds like a plan.”
Beau hesitated, then squeezed my shoulder and stepped away. We watched River until he passed us again.
“Did you make the saddle loose on purpose?” I asked, putting my weight on the walking stick.
“No comment.”
I dipped my chin, my shoulders shaking.
“I usually have Jake make it loose, so I can show the kids how to tighten it,” he admitted, doing a piss-poor job of hiding his grin.
“Meanwhile, River had other plans,” I quipped, suddenly sad again.
I took a deep breath and let it out, feeling like a balloon that’d lost its air.
Or maybe it was just the altitude.
“I appreciate you sharing who you are with my son,” I said quietly.
“He was so mad about losing his mom that one of the first things he did when he woke up in the hospital was tell me about his first time with a boy from his school. Threw it at me like a fastball, like he expected me to shame him or just be terrible about it.”
Beau’s thoughtful expression made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t. At least not in a long time.
“Do you know why he would tell you that way?” he asked.
I considered the question, unsure whether my account of things was an accurate one.
“It’s kinda what he did when we told him we were getting a divorce. Like he expected us to use his queerness against him every time things got hard?” I huffed, frustrated. “Basically, he wanted to hit us with it before we could judge him.”
Beau nodded, listening carefully. “Something tells me you weren’t that surprised when he did come out.”
Shaking my head, I ran my fingertips along my bottom lip, lost in my version of the past. “He used to love getting into his mom’s makeup. Her jewelry. Which, I know that doesn’t a queer person make, but…”
“It definitely points you in a direction,” he said, unintentionally using my own words.
River made his way back to us, looking more confident. Beau grinned, and River didn’t immediately roll his eyes. Progress.
“How are your hips?” Beau asked, worry stitching his brows.
“I’m fine.” Ah. There was the eye roll. “My dad is so dramatic.”
I love my son, I love my son, I love my son.
Beau pressed his lips together for a second, then responded, “Excellent. Now, turn her around and circle around the other way.”
River nodded and eventually, awkwardly, got Betty going in the right direction.
Others may have executed a smoother turnaround, but my son managed to stay in the saddle, and I called that a win. Still, I was a little disappointed that we were the only ones here with Beau.
“So, are we the only family here?” I asked, looking around. “I didn’t see any families at breakfast, and I was hoping he would get a chance to hang out with, I dunno. Maybe teens his age?”
“We’ve got a pretty big family coming in tonight. Four kids; I think one or two of them around his age.”
“Oh, good.”
Beau’s face shifted from thoughtful to worried, back to thoughtful again. I shouldered him. “You’re not supposed to be the stressed-out one,” I said, teasing him.
“No, not stressed out. Just realizing that I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed.” He sent me a worried look. “You said he was injured, and he lost his mom. Was this the same event?”
I pressed my lips together and nodded. “Just this past Christmas. Don’t know if you heard about the big snowstorm in Chicago…”
“Yeah, something about people losing power and roads not getting cleared properly.”
Not wanting to get emotional all over again, I kept it brief. “She lost control and hit a tree.”
Beau whistled low under his breath. “It must’ve been awful for him to lose a mom and you to lose a wife.” His expressive eyes widened and went shiny. “At Christmas.”
“She was my ex-wife, but yes, it was incredibly difficult. He was badly injured in that accident, and even though he’s so much better now, he’ll have headaches and a hitch in his step, probably for the rest of his life.”
“He had a head injury?”
“Either a bad concussion or a mild traumatic brain injury, depending on which doctor or insurance specialist you were talking to.” I rolled my eyes, probably not unlike my son.
“Dealing with insurance is the worst,” he said, scratching his beard. “Though I don’t recall seeing a head injury on the health sheet.”
Oops.
I grimaced. “I left that part off because when I say head injury, people look at him differently. Which is…”
“... annoying as hell.” Beau watched River as he made the final turn. “Not to press the issue, but … no seizures or loss of consciousness since he left the hospital?”
I shook my head.
“What about the punk look? The all black? That new too?”
“Yeah. Up until the accident, he preferred pastels and lip gloss.”
I swear to God, I will not cry again.
“Grief is a real son of a bitch.”
“Yep.”
He touched his shoulder to mine. “The horses are good with grief. You did the right thing by coming to us.”
He stepped away as River approached us again, not realizing how much I’d needed to hear those words.
“So? What’d ya think?” Beau asked, grabbing the reins.
“It’s cool, I guess,” River answered, his practiced indifference right on point.
Thankfully, I was fluent in teen speak and deftly translated his response into, “This is more therapeutic than I thought it would be. Thank you.”
I’ll take it.
Beau’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “If you’re still feeling good, let’s have you turn back in the original direction and go around twice. Maybe work up to a trot?”
River leaned down and petted Betty’s neck. “Sure.”
Beau and I stood side by side as River rode off, a little faster this time. He rode without any obvious pain and seemed almost … proud? Of himself?
Jesus, would I not stop crying?
Beau must’ve heard the sniffles because he held out his arm. I leaned my shoulder against his side, giving in to the half-hug.
“Thanks,” I said, my words a little watery.
“You’re welcome.” He squeezed me a little closer. “By the end of this, we’ll have you both on the horse, expressing your emotions and riding trail like real cowboys.”
I laughed, then cried some more because that’s what was happening today, apparently.
Maybe I hadn’t fucked up too badly.
As River came back around, Beau stepped away. “Guess it’s your time to get up on the horse,” he said with a smile.
“Are you sure I actually need to do that?” I asked, wondering how I was even supposed to get up there.
Oh, right. The mounting block.
“If you want to join us on the trail ride, you’re gonna need to get on the horse.”
“But didn’t, like, the trail rides of old have people who walked along?”
“Yeah, and some of them even went by covered wagon. But that’s not what we’re doing.”
Dammit.
Beau hid his laugh—poorly—behind his hand.
“Fine. Let’s get me up on a horse.”
“Come on, Dad, it wasn’t that bad,” River said as we walked back to the cabin.
To be honest, it was less like walking and more like we were a mini zombie horde making our way across the little footbridge. Maybe I should get my own walking stick.
“I’d have worked on my side splits if I’d have realized how much time I was going to be spending up on a horse.”
“Dad, you dragged us out to a dude ranch. To go trail riding. How’d you think you were going to avoid getting up on a horse?”
I didn’t even care that he was amused at my distress. The almost-smile on my son’s face was worth it.
“Well, son. In the olden days, they did have covered wagons …”
“You’re ridiculous.”
He turned his head and raised one eyebrow at me, dramatic in his disappointment. He looked like he was about to unleash another zinger when his eyes went wide. “Dad, watch out!”
Squish.
Oh … no.
I looked down and … Yep. I’d just stepped into a large pile of horseshit. Fresh, too.
I just keep winning.
River chuckled, then pinned his lips together, like he didn’t want to be caught actually laughing.
“Shit,” I said, trying to figure out how to wipe it off. I stepped off the path to rub it in a clump of grass but only made it worse.
“I can’t believe you wore those shoes on a ranch.”
“So?” I said, somehow making a bigger mess. “Look at what you’re wearing.”
“Yeah, I’ve got on combat boots. You can hose them off. Yours get ruined if you step in a puddle.”
I didn’t even want to talk about how much I paid for these stupid shoes.
“I think there’s a store in town,” I said as a couple of real cowboys rode by behind us. Pretty sure they were laughing at me.
“Beau would probably know where to go,” River said with a weird expression on his face.
I didn’t even bother asking what that was about. “He still in the barn, you think?”
“I dunno,” said River. “Go check.”
“How is wiping off this shit causing more shit to get on my shoe?” I finally asked, frustrated.
“I’m pretty sure you’re trying to wipe your shoe in another pile of horseshit.”
Mother … fucker.
I stopped and fake-sobbed. “This smells so bad.”
“Yep.”
“Oh, shut up. Do you want to go into town with me or not?”
“I’d rather not. I’ve peopled enough today.”
I was disappointed but reminded myself that I was the one who’d dragged my son out here. “Do you have a copy of the key to the cabin? Can you handle dinner for yourself?”
“Yeah, Dad. You brought, like, half the grocery store with us.”
I ignored his attitude and sent him a wave as I turned back toward the barn. Nothing like a cherry of humiliation on top of an embarrassment sundae.