Three
THREE
Tag
T he sun had yet to break over the horizon, and the pre-dawn light washed the wraparound porch in purple hues. I leaned against the railing, wishing away the inevitable. Woke late and needed to get my day started, but I was tired of running myself into the ground for no reason, sour about my bank account, and pissed off at my brother, Cooper. And worst of all?
I had one of those dreams again.
Not like I should’ve been surprised. Dreams were nothing new. I’d been having them since I was a kid; my fair share of nightmares and then, of course, the weird ones that felt a bit like a dope high—normal stuff for the most part.
But then certain ones were a category all their own, and I hated them from the depths of my soul. Coming out of those dreams reminded me of a bad hangover: throbbing head, heavy limbs, inexplicable sadness, nauseating déjà vu—that sort of thing.
I propped my leg up on the railing, resting fully against the white post and hoping Jesse would delay a few more minutes. I took another long drag and the end of my cigarette pulled from ash gray to hot orange. Half-way gone, the cigarette barely slowed the shakes. I always got shaky after those dreams.
Footsteps moved my attention to the corner of the house.
Jesse.
Climbing the porch stairs, he quirked a brow at my cigarette but said nothing. He leaned onto the railing a few feet away, temp tested his mug of coffee, and finally murmured, “Good morning.”
I flicked some ashes into the bushes below. “It is morning. Can’t say it’s good though.”
Jesse lifted his mug to his lips. “Where is he?”
“Take a wild guess.”
Jesse cussed softly. He’d called this yesterday. “He left, didn’t he?”
“Yep. Heard him going ‘round 2 a.m.”
“Did you try to stop him?”
“Of course I did.”
“I’m guessing that didn’t go too well.”
I took another long draw, deep and burning. Smoke lifted around my face as I answered. “Yeah, he had some words for me.”
“Not too nice, I’m sure.”
“Just airin’ his lungs, mostly.”
Jesse stepped closer and reached for my cigarette, plucking it out of my hand. He held it between us. “Where’d you get this?”
“Coop left them.” I snorted. “Nicest thing he’s ever done for me.”
I went to take it back, but Jesse moved away. He tapped the light out on the railing and flipped the butt into the garden bed below.
I stared at it, surprised by the strong irritation coursing through my veins. “Really, man?”
“Well, let me see. If I recall correctly, you told me approximately three and a half years ago, ‘don’t let me do anything stupid and I won’t let you do anything stupid.’ Starting that back up”—he pointed into the bushes—“qualifies as stupid.” He lifted his hands to the side of his face to look innocent. “Just upholding my end of the bargain.”
“So you let me pay Cooper’s bail, but take my cigarette? That ain’t logic.”
Jesse gave a humorless chuckle. “You know I did my best to talk you out of it. But you’re as stubborn as JoJo. ”
I shook my head. “No human’s that stubborn.”
“I’m sorry, Tag. I figured things would work out this way, but that doesn’t change that I hate it for you.”
“It’s my own fault.”
“No.” Jesse shook his head. “Caring for someone isn’t a fault.”
I nodded, wishing those words would do more to quell the unease in my chest and calm the storm that had raged within me ever since I received a phone call from the San Antonio Police Department. Like an idiot, I thought maybe this would be Cooper’s wake up call, and he would want to stay home. I hoped he’d realize drugs, women, carousing, and carrying on wasn’t a way to live.
He was arrested for petty theft and simple assault. Bail was only a few thousand. Granted, I didn’t have a few thousand to spare. But I made it work, because when Cooper asked me to pay, I remembered his tiny face, peeking out from under the covers and his hand in mine as we walked to the store for bread. Bailing him out was as much a part of my nature as breathing.
Regardless of Jesse’s opinion, it was my fault. Not that I expected anyone to understand.
I crossed my arms across my chest, determined to light up another cigarette when Jesse and I parted ways. Cooper had the power to stir up unrest in me like nothing else in my life. I deserved a smoke for dealing with it.
Soft shuffling turned Jesse and I toward the side of the house. Eight-year-old Cade sauntered up, kicking dust under his boots. His hands were buried in his pockets, a mirror of his father, and the frown on his face shouted his disdain for mornings. Cade’s scowl deepened as he mumbled something and stumbled up onto the porch. Jesse ruffled his boy’s auburn hair and draped an arm around his shoulders.
“Alright. Agenda for the day.” I looked at the ancient beams above us and closed my eyes, forcing my brain out of dreamland and into the present moment. I quickly ran through a mental checklist. “Penny’s comin’ around noon to check on Tillie. Walkin’ horses get vaccines, so let’s gather ‘em all in the holding pen. The sheep and short-go horses are leavin’ tomorrow, so don’t run any of them too hard in the hot walker. Rain will be in by nine-ish. Supposed to storm off and on all day. Once it starts up, keep Tillie in her stall. I’ll run to San Antonio to pick up a part for the baler then I gotta prep the semi. At end of day we need to pick up the Chevrolet. If we don’t get that far, we can grab it early tomorrow.”
When I stopped for a breath, Jesse piped up. “Did you say the sheep go to the rodeo tomorrow?”
“Yeah. The subcontractor who was bringin’ them had a problem come up last minute so Billy called me to fill in.”
Jesse’s fingers, laced through the loop of the mug handle, tapped uncomfortably. “Uh, who—who’s driving the trailer?”
Immediately, my head tipped forward in defeat. “Ah, shit .”
“You forgot, didn’t you?”
I pulled the hat off my head and plunged my fingers into my hair. Of all the stupid, empty-brained things I could’ve screwed myself over with. This was why I needed to write things down in a calendar.
“Tag?”
I replaced my hat on my head, exhaling long and loud. “When Billy called, I said no problem without battin’ an eye.”
A moment of uncomfortable silence set over us. I’d drop dead before I would allow Jesse to miss his trip because of a scheduling mistake on my end. I couldn’t do that to Cade. The road trip they took every year was a sacred memorial, akin to religion. And it meant a lot more to Jesse than just time away from the ranch.
“I could?—”
I held up my hand to stop him. “This was my mistake and the solution’s my responsibility.”
“But backing out could hurt your contracts.”
“I’m not backin’ out.”
When all the kids showed up to the rodeo tomorrow and there weren’t any sheep to ride, rumor would travel that Meadowbrook Performance Horses dropped the ball. Folks didn’t appreciate contractors like me not following through. One strike and I could be out of work. Backing out wasn’t an option.
I shrugged, unsuccessfully hiding my agitation. “I’ll call around and find someone to fill in.”
I avoided looking at him because the truth was between us like an elephant—there wasn’t anyone else. My trainer, Cook, didn’t work weekends because he competed in the rodeo circuit himself. My only other employee was an elderly man, who daily defied the laws of aging and physics by hobbling out to feed the horses and muck stalls anytime I was on the road. Letting that man behind the wheel of my truck and twenty five foot trailer full of investment would be downright irresponsible.
“Like who?”
I shrugged. “Let me worry about it.”
We pretended everything was fine by chatting for a couple more minutes about stuff going on at Meadowbrook that day. Inside, I kicked myself over and over. The universe sure was cooking up a fantastic day. My fingers itched to flick the lighter again and relieve some tension making a mess of my insides—yet another thing to be pissed about. How could I so easily need tobacco all over again? Should've never lit up the first one.
Jesse lingered back while Cade stalked off to the barn. He spoke quietly. “Tag, we can work something out. I don’t feel right about leaving you high and dry.”
“What would he say?” I nodded toward Cade.
Jesse caught eye contact and the deep green there looked burdened, reflecting his quiet and constant pain. “He’d be upset…at first. But he’d be fine.”
I huffed. “Man, say it like it is. That boy’s been countin’ days.”
“Yeah, he has.”
A beat of silence passed again. “Let me fix my own problems, Jesse.”
“You sure that’s how you want it?”
I nodded once. “That’s how I want it.”
“Alright.” He took a few steps closer to me and held out his hand, palm flat between us. “Under the circumstances, I feel awkward doing this…”
I glanced at his hand, not understanding at first.
He made a waving motion with his open fingers. “Hand them over, boss.”
I sighed, realization dawning.
“You’d do the same and you know it.”
I fished the pack of cigarettes out and slapped them into his hand, rolling my eyes. “Damn you.”
“I know.” He dropped them into his shirt pocket and stepped off the porch. He turned back slightly, saying over his shoulder. “Sorry.”
“It’s all good. Probably needed that.”
He smiled. “You definitely did. Your lungs still have about five more years till they fully regenerate.”
I huffed, annoyed, as he walked away.
Three and half years ago, Jesse and I found each other in a desperate moment. I got drunk out of my mind and spilled my guts to a random stranger at a bar. But it happened to be the right stranger—someone as lost as I was. Someone who knew darkness. Someone who drank for pain management. We’d been fast friends—mostly sober friends—ever since.
And I owed him for everything. Even taking the tobacco.
I took a few deep breaths of fresh air, hoping it would be enough to get me through the day. But knowing oxygen alone would never be enough to chase the dream out of my head or chase my brother’s leaving out of my memory. Oxygen alone wouldn’t cause a driver to materialize out of nowhere—that would require a miracle. And I wouldn’t be holding my breath for one of those. The world stopped doing me favors a long time ago.
I finally pulled myself toward the truck. Had to go now if I wanted to beat traffic and beat the rain. There was a storm coming in—first one in weeks.
The sun had barely kissed the horizon, and the dark clouds already gathered.