Читать книгу No Hero Like Him - Elaine Grant - Страница 11

SETH YAWNED and opened his eyes to narrow slits. Midmorning light filtered into the room around fluttering curtains. He breathed in the smell of sweet grass and fresh air wafting through the partially open window.

Still sleepy, he closed his eyes again, drifting aimlessly in murky half dreams to a bright, sunny day more than three months ago. Victory within reach. A rank bull named Rotten. Riding on top of the world—then plummeting into oblivion.

Fighting the sensation of falling, Seth jerked violently awake. He wrenched upward, triggering a shaft of pain in his left hip and leg, which were held together with a rod and screws. He let out a yelp and collapsed onto the bed, snatching fast, shallow breaths, squeezing his eyes shut until the pain began to ebb. Meanwhile, he pulled a pillow over his head and tried to shut out the awful memory.

When he could breathe normally again, he shoved the pillow aside and looked toward the nightstand, which was lined with medicine bottles. The clock there showed it was almost 11:00 a.m. Another day in hell. He hated how the pain meds fogged his brain, but some days they were the only way to get a few hours of relief from the constant ache. Then there were the torturous workouts at the gym. They seemed to be doing next to nothing to restore strength to his thigh.

Almost three months after surgery he was still a cripple. He’d been able to put his full weight on his leg for a week now, but without crutches, he still struggled to keep his balance.

Seth sat up again, more gingerly this time. Slowly he shifted his legs over the side of the bed. He pushed himself to his feet, then stood still for a minute to let the pain ease before hobbling to the bathroom. After a hot shower that loosened him up a little, he poked around the kitchen, then nuked a large chunk of leftover casserole and sat down at the table with the steaming food and a glass of milk.

He hated to impose on his sister for so long, but the choice had been Libby’s house or his parents’ ranch. In truth, he’d rather be alone all day than have to deal with his father after the way they’d parted when Seth left home after high school. Seth’s jaw tightened at the thought that once again he’d disappointed the man, even though he’d made a name for himself on the bull riding circuit. Rookie of the Year right out of high school, he’d earned a good living, been to the Professional Bull Riders World Finals in Vegas the last three years in a row, came in third last season. Damn it. He would have qualified this year, too. The way he’d ridden in the first few events, he could have ended up number one.

Then he could have returned home on his own terms to mend the rift between him and his father. Not now…not after that night in the hospital room when his father had assumed he was asleep.

“I knew he would end up this way. I tried to tell him,” he’d heard his father say to his mother. “What’s he going to do now that he’s all busted up?”

Judd Morgan had no idea that Seth had heard, but the old resentment had flared up again and Seth would rather have gone to hell than drag himself home in disgrace.

Instead, he’d ended up here. Laid up at his sister’s house, too dispirited to even follow the rest of the season on TV. He needed to get back on the circuit to bring in some money. He was losing his savings at an alarming pace, on expenses his meager medical insurance wouldn’t pay. No company wanted to insure a bull rider, at least not at a reasonable rate, so he’d taken the minimum coverage. Even though he knew the bull riding mantra—it’s not if you get hurt, it’s when and how bad—he’d never intended to use that insurance. The best intentions…

Plus, he had a hefty truck payment, and insisted on paying room and board to his sister. Libby didn’t want him to, but she didn’t make much teaching, and he refused to mooch off her. His sponsors had been patient so far, but the nasty rumors that he’d never ride again were getting around, and those sponsors wouldn’t wait for him forever.

Bile rose in Seth’s throat as he recalled the orthopedic surgeon’s dire prognosis after hours of intensive surgery.

“I’m optimistic you’ll be able to walk without a limp again, in time.”

Walk again? Of course, he’d walk again!

“Cut to the chase, Dr. Tandy. When can I get back on a bull?”

“Bull riding? No.”

Bull riding, yes! It was all Seth knew. All he loved. “I’ve got to ride, Doc.”

“Is it worth the risk? You could do permanent damage.”

If it wasn’t worth the risk, I never would have climbed on the back of a bull the first time.

“Come on, Doc,” Seth had countered, refusing to accept his fate. “Guys ride after breaking a leg. No big deal.”

“The bone twisted apart in three separate places. If you injure it again…” He’d shaken his head and turned away from the hospital bed, writing on his chart. “Do yourself a favor, Seth. Find another career.”

Seth made himself stop thinking about that. He grabbed his gear bag, went out to his truck and headed to the gym.

THAT EVENING, Libby brought home food from the local café. Seth didn’t say so, but the fried fish, coleslaw and beans were a welcome change from the casserole he’d eaten for three days straight now.

“How did your workout go?” she asked.

Her sincere interest made him feel guilty. Her eyes searched his face and she shook her head, making her short blond hair bounce. “Not so well, huh?”

“I didn’t go today.” He wouldn’t admit that he had driven all the way to Bozeman, only to take in a movie and drive home again.

“Seth, you can’t do that! You have to be consistent with your rehab or you’re never going to make progress.”

“So what? Doc Tandy says I’ll never ride again, anyway.”

“Maybe not, but you’ll do something else, and you’ll want to be healed.”

Libby must have seen despair on his face, because she changed to that firm older-sister voice she always used when he was hurt. “It’s going to take awhile. There’s no overnight fix and you have to have patience. Grab a couple of plates, okay? I’m starving.”

Seth limped to the cabinet, laying napkins and utensils on the table, as well. “Patience,” he griped. “You sound like Doc. If I hear that word one more time, I’m going to blow. And patience for what, if I can’t ride?”

Libby began to eat, her face set in a worried frown. Maybe, Seth thought, he needed to move out, get away from his sister so she wouldn’t feel so…burdened, and he wouldn’t feel so guilty. The problem was, he’d sublet his apartment in Billings for the summer—a decision he now regretted.

“You’re not going to ride bulls again,” Libby said at last, “and you might as well accept it.”

“I don’t accept it!” Seth retorted. “And I don’t intend to.”

Libby put down her fork. “You know, changing your attitude might help a little.”

“My attitude will change when I see progress.”

The two of them ate in silence for a while. When Libby took her empty plate to the counter, she said, “Well, you can’t just lie around this house all summer. You’ll only get more depressed and down on yourself.”

Seth followed her to the sink, where she began to wash the dishes. “Are you kicking me out?” he asked.

She handed him a plate to dry. “You know I’d never do that. But I want you to do me a big favor. I want you to help out a friend of mine this summer.”

“Doing what?” Seth asked skeptically. He leaned against the counter, shifting his weight off his sore leg while he dried. “You know I can’t work on a ranch with this useless leg and that’s about all I know how to do. Besides, I have enough saved up to get by until I can ride again. If you need more rent I can pay it.”

“Certainly not. You’re welcome to stay here for free for as long as you want to—you’re the one who insists on paying room and board.” Libby finished the dishes and pulled the plug, letting the water flow down the drain. “I just hate to see you so low. If you had some sort of job, I think you’d feel better, and Claire is in a real bind.”

“I’ll feel better when I can ride a bull again.” Seth dried the last glass and set it in the cabinet. He handed the dish towel to Libby and she spread it across the double sink divider to dry.

“You’re being stubborn.”

“As always.” He managed a grin. “What’s the deal with your friend?”

“Claire’s the nicest person—and really pretty.”

Seth straightened and gave his sister a warning look. “Do not try to play matchmaker.”

She jammed her hands on her hips. “I’m not playing matchmaker. Claire just happens to be pretty, and she really needs help. She has a camp for at-risk youth starting next week at the Rider ranch, and the guy she’d hired to be in charge of the boys quit today. If she doesn’t have a full-time male counselor in place by early next week, they can’t come to camp.”

“Stop right there. I’m not babysitting a bunch of rotten kids all summer.”

“This isn’t babysitting. These teenagers need help, and Claire’s willing to provide it. She’s worked for three years to get a camp started, and has finally succeeded. Then Barry—he’s the assistant principal at school, who was going to help her this summer—he got a great job offer out of the blue, a position that starts immediately. He quit on her today and she’s afraid she’ll never find a replacement in time.”

“Nice guy.” Seth shrugged a shoulder. “But I don’t have the experience.”

“No, but you’re good with kids. And you could use something to occupy your time this summer.”

“I’m good with little kids—and teenage girls,” he said.

“Seth!”

He grinned again. “You know what I mean. Signing autographs and paying them a little attention, that’s all.”

Libby sighed in exasperation. “Anyway, Claire is concerned about one boy in particular. Micah Abbott. He’s been in a lot of trouble this year. If he can’t attend Claire’s camp, accomplish the work there, he won’t be allowed back in school next year.”

“So what’s the problem with this Micah? Sounds like he needs more than a slap on the back and an autograph. And that’s about my limit.”

“I don’t know much about him other than he has a bad home life. Claire’s camp is his last hope.”

Seth had never minded assisting somebody in need—changing a flat tire or lending a buddy a few bucks. But spending his summer herding a bunch of teenagers was a bigger commitment than he was willing to make. “Libby, I wish I could help your friend out, but I don’t think I fit the bill for what she needs.”

“Would you at least go talk to Claire? Maybe you could just fill in for a few days to give her time to find somebody permanent.”

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay, but don’t think too long. She needs help fast.” Libby’s voice held a rare edge of irritation. “And you could do this one favor for me. After all, I did you one, letting you come here, instead of making you go home to the ranch. I probably should have anyway, so you and Dad could make up. He wants to, you know.”

“No, I don’t know that,” Seth said. “He’s never done anything to make me believe it.”

“And when have you given him the chance? You won’t even talk to him. Even in the hospital you didn’t want him in your room.”

“Why would I? I did exactly what he always said I would. Ended up with my face in the dirt and busted up. I didn’t want him rubbing that in.”

“None of them would have done that. Everybdy was worried to death about you.”

“Yeah, well, Dad had a funny way of showing it.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Seth shrugged. “Just something I heard him say in the hospital.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I’ll think about helping your friend.” Seth felt trapped between the frustration of having an injury that prevented him from doing what he wanted to do, and the guilt of refusing his sister after all she’d done for him. He’d always hated being beholden, even to his family. “I’m going to bed. ’Night.”

He gave Libby a peck on the cheek, then hobbled to his room to watch TV and sulk behind closed doors. He slumped into a chair in front of the TV and used his cell phone to call some of his buddies. He wanted to catch up on the latest standings, see if his name had already dropped off the list of forty-five top-ranked riders, but nobody answered.

Were they checking their caller ID and deciding not to talk to him? He hoped not, but had to admit his attitude hadn’t been great lately. He couldn’t travel, and the others had to, or else they made no money. His travel partner, Jess Marvin, had been forced to pick up another buddy to defray expenses, but usually touched base every few days.

Sometimes Seth imagined that he saw wariness in the eyes of friends who visited him, as if what he had might be catching and if they hung around him too much, some of his bad luck might rub off and they could be the next one laid up. A lot of rodeo riders, like many athletes, had an unhealthy dose of superstition. Wearing a lucky hat or chaps. Dropping to a knee on the arena floor to give thanks to God after a ride or a save.

Who needed negativity when you had to go out and ride the next day? So his buddies had gone on with their lives and left Seth behind.

He picked up the Pro Bull Riders schedule from the floor beside his chair and studied it. No wonder they didn’t answer. They were riding tonight and the rest of the weekend, right up the road in Billings. He could drive there tomorrow. Limp around, breathe in the intoxicating scents of livestock, sweat and food from the concession stands. Take in the heady noise of the arena: the screams of the girls in the stands, the excited snort and grunt of a bull eager to get that rider off his back and that flank rope loose, the yells of the other cowboys urging their comrades on…The shouts of the bull riders luring a rampaging animal away from a fallen rider.

Seth remembered that sound well enough. And the pain, and the mortification of knowing he had to be hauled out of a hushed arena on a gurney. Yeah, he could drive up to Billings for all that. Sure.

He sailed the schedule into a corner, where it hit the wall and slid to the floor. No way in hell.

No, he’d just stay here with Libby all weekend and help her weed her flower beds. Hell, he might be doing that the rest of his life, the way things were going.