Читать книгу Tomas: Cowboy Homecoming - Linda Warren, Linda Warren - Страница 12

Chapter Four

Tuf couldn’t put it off any longer.

Accountability had arrived.

He held up his hands and took two steps backward. “Okay. Just listen. Don’t say anything until I’m through.”

Everyone nodded, except his mom.

“This is ridiculous,” she said. “You don’t have to tell us a thing if you don’t want to.”

Ace flung a hand toward Tuf. “Stop protecting him. You always do that. Tuf’s old enough and strong enough to take responsibility for his own actions.”

“Why did you start this?” his mom demanded of Ace. “I told you to leave it alone.”

Ace sighed and turned away.

His mother instinctively knew he’d been through something horrific, and she was doing everything she could to protect him. Shielding her kids from pain had been her life’s work, but Tuf couldn’t take the easy way out. Not this time.

“Ace is right,” he told his mother. “I have to take responsibility for the last two years, so please just listen.” He stared down at the dirt floor. “I was all set to come home. My commander said the paperwork was in order. One more mission and I was going to be flown to Germany for evaluation and then to a base in the U.S. and finally home. I couldn’t wait to get back to Thunder Ranch and family.”

He took a deep breath and stared at the corner post of a horse stall. “The insurgents had attacked a small village that they suspected of giving aid to U.S. Marines. Most of them were able to get out but two families were trapped. Our orders were to go in a back way in the dead of night and rescue the Afghans. An Afghan soldier guided us through rocky terrain to the village. Getting in undetected was no problem. We found four adults and three kids in a mud-walled hut. Dawn was about to break and we had to get them out quickly. Then we were informed by the Afghan soldier that there was an elderly woman trapped in another hut. We found her and brought her to the others.

“When we were finally ready to leave, daylight broke. For some reason a little girl about three darted for the doorway. PFC Michael Dobbins was closest to her and he jumped to grab her. But it was too late. The insurgents knew we were there. They fired at Michael and he went down and fell on the girl. We immediately returned fire, but Michael was taking the brunt of the hits. His body jerked every time a bullet struck him. I told the corporal to call the commander and let him know what was happening and to call for mortar fire. We needed help.”

His lungs expanded and his hands curled into fists as red flashes of gunfire blurred his eyes. “Then I charged out that door, firing blindly, and covered Michael’s bloody body.”

“No,” Sarah cried, and Josh put his arm around her.

Tuf didn’t pause or look at his mother. He couldn’t. He had to keep talking.

“The rest of my unit joined me, and we made a wall in front of Michael to keep more bullets from hitting him. We just kept returning fire, and we all knew we were in the open and could very well die there. Then the order came, charge up that hill and take out the insurgents, so we hauled ass. A marine was hit and then the Afghan soldier went down. We found shelter behind some rocks and then we waited, hoping and praying that the attack chopper would come in soon with mortar fire.”

He paused. “As soon as the blasts started, we continued our surge to the top. When we got there, six heavily armed insurgents came out of a cave. They fired on us, but we had the upper hand. It was over in seconds. We ran down that hill, picked up our two wounded men and headed for the rescue chopper. Everyone was shouting, ‘Run, run, run,’ but I kept thinking about Michael back at that hut. I couldn’t leave him in that hellhole.”

He unclenched his numb hands. “I ran in the other direction, and I could hear my men shouting for me to come back. We didn’t know if more insurgents were in the area, and we were ordered to get out fast. But I still kept running toward that hut. I fell down by Michael. The mother and father of the little girl were there desperately trying to lift Michael’s body off their child. He was a big man and deadweight. I helped them and the girl was still alive. On the ground was some sort of Muslim toy. The girl must have dropped it when they’d rushed into the hut to escape the insurgents. I handed it to her and realized the toy was the reason she’d run for the door. I pointed in the direction where the chopper was landing and told them to go. Then I hoisted Michael’s blood-soaked body over my shoulder and followed.

“Everyone had already boarded, but the chopper waited for me. Two marines helped to carry Michael inside. I watched as a medic covered Michael’s body with a blanket. He was dead. He was finally going home, too.”

“Oh, no,” his mother cried.

Tuf kept talking because he knew if he stopped he wouldn’t be able to start again. “I leaned my head against the chopper wall, closed my eyes and imagined I was back at Thunder Ranch in Mom’s kitchen eating peanut butter from a jar with my finger. I could see that look on Mom’s face when I did things like that and I relaxed, wishing and praying I was away from that awful war. Away from the killing.

“I don’t remember much about the next few days, but I was flown to Germany for evaluation and then to the San Diego base. I was going home and putting it behind me was all I could think about, but first I planned to go to the commander’s office and ask for Michael’s parents’ address. I wanted to go see them and tell them what a hero their son was in saving the little girl’s life. Before I could do that, I got a message my presence was requested in the commander’s office. I thought he wanted to wish me well or something. I was unprepared for what he really wanted. He said to call my folks and let them know I wasn’t coming home just yet. A plane was waiting to take me to the naval hospital in Bethesda, Maryland. Michael Dobbins was asking to see me.”

A collective “oh” echoed around the dusty barn, and Tuf noticed Royce and Grace had taken seats on bales of alfalfa, listening intently.

“I was stunned but glad he was alive. I figured he wanted to thank me for carrying him out of there. I was mistaken. The doctor advised me to be prepared for the worst. But nothing could have prepared me for the sight of Michael. He was bandaged from head to toe. Tubes seemed to be attached to every part of his body. The gunfire had blown off the left side of his face. They’d amputated his left leg and he was in danger of losing his left arm. But Michael was refusing any more surgeries. He wanted to die.”

He gulped a breath. “I stood there staring at his one good eye. The right side of his face and mouth were the only parts of him that weren’t bandaged. A suffocating feeling came over me, and I didn’t know what to say or what to do. Michael had plenty to say, though. ‘Why couldn’t you have left me there? Why did you have to play the hero and come back for me?’ His strained voice demanded an answer. Again, I didn’t know what to say. ‘I hate you,’ he screamed at me. ‘I’d rather be dead. I have no life like this. Why did you have to save me?’

“I couldn’t answer so I walked out. The doctor informed me that Michael was refusing to see his parents, his wife and their three-month-old son. I was the only one he’d asked to see. The doctor added that I was Michael’s only hope. I was overwhelmed by the responsibility, and I wanted to leave that hospital and never look back. But I found I couldn’t. All the years of Mom and Dad preaching morals, values and honor must have reached me. I went back into that room prepared for battle.

“As soon as I entered, Michael screamed, ‘Get out.’ I told him no. He’d asked for me and I wasn’t leaving. He looked at the ceiling and refused to speak. I searched my brain for something to say, something to get his attention. I just started talking off the top of my head, telling him the cowboys around the rodeo circuit have a saying—when things get rough, ‘cowboy up.’ I reminded him it was time to ‘marine up,’ to fight for the most precious thing he had—his life. He kept staring at the ceiling, and I kept talking, saying stuff like cowboys and marines don’t give up and if he did, he wasn’t the man I thought he was.”

Tuf felt as though he was back in that hospital room. He could smell the antiseptic, hear the beep of the heart monitor. He swallowed hard.

“Out of the blue Michael asked if cowboys died with their boots on. ‘Hell, yes,’ I said, ‘and it’s even better to die in the arms of a beautiful woman.’ He seemed to relax and I could swear he was smiling. I felt I was getting through to him so I kept pressuring him, telling him how much he needed the surgeries. Finally, I asked in a loud voice, ‘Marine, what’s your answer?’

“He didn’t say anything for a long time and then he asked if I would stay with him. That threw me. I reminded him that his wife and parents were waiting. He said he didn’t want them to see him like he was. I heard the pain in his voice and I found myself agreeing to stay. I told the doctor the surgeries were a go and then I called Mom to tell her I couldn’t come home, but I would as soon as I could. I gave her my cell number in case she needed to get in touch with me.”

Nobody said a word and Tuf forced himself to finish the story. “After the first surgery, I figured I’d leave, but it took six surgeries to repair his arm. Janet, Michael’s wife, haunted the lobby, but Michael refused to see her. I felt sorry for her and I didn’t know how to get through to Michael. I slept on a bed in his room, and every night I pushed him about seeing his wife. He finally admitted his fears about his face. A part of his jaw and cheekbone were missing as was his eye. He was going to look different and he wasn’t sure his wife could take that. In a way I understood his fears, and I stayed as the doctors started reconstructive surgery to his face. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Thanksgiving and Christmas came, and I sat through every painstaking surgery praying and hoping that Michael was going to find the strength to live again.”

He drew in deeply. “After calling Mom, I’m sorry I never called home again. I felt guilty and conflicted about Michael. I kept wondering if I’d done him any favors by saving his life. I kept thinking it was my fault he was going through so much pain. If I hadn’t played the hero, like he’d said, he wouldn’t be suffering, but I could never make myself believe that. All I knew was I had to stay there to help him heal. I had to really save him this time. If I had spoken to anyone here and heard of Mom’s health scare or the ranch’s financial situation, I wouldn’t have been able to do that because I wanted to come home so badly.”

“Oh, my poor sweet son.” His mother rushed to him and wrapped her arms around him. He clung to her because his legs felt weak. “Don’t you apologize for a thing.”

“Did Michael recover?” Ace asked in a low voice.

“Yes. It was difficult, but the reconstructive surgeries to his face were amazing. They rebuilt his cheekbone and jawbone, and he received a new artificial hand-painted eye. It looked real. There were scars, but they were hardly noticeable. This was when I told Michael it was time to see his wife. He didn’t know it, but I’d been sending her pictures of Michael from my phone when he wasn’t looking. She needed to see that he was alive and healing. I told him if he didn’t see her, I was leaving. He sat in a chair stone-faced and I headed for the door.”

His mom patted his chest. “He saw her?”

“Not until I forced him,” he replied. “Before I could reach the door, he reminded me I’d told him that cowboys live by a code of honor and they always keep their word. He added I wasn’t a true cowboy if I left. He had me and it made me mad. I pulled out my phone and informed him that this is how a cowboy would handle the situation. I sent a text to Janet to come to the room. Now Michael was angry, but I told him not to worry. I had his back.

“It was a Saturday, and Michael’s parents had brought his son to visit Janet. When she entered the room, she held the boy by the hand. He was over a year old now and walking. He tottered over to Michael, who was sitting in a chair, and said ‘Da-da.’ A tear slipped from Michael’s right eye and I quietly left the room. The counselor wanted to see me so I went to his office. He said it was time to wean Michael away from me. I was all for that. I never slept in Michael’s room again. Janet finally moved in and I slept down the hall.

“The counselor advised me to do something I enjoyed away from the hospital. For me that’s rodeoing, but I didn’t have a way to get around so I bought a truck, got my rodeo card and signed up to ride. When Michael’s parents came to see him, I thought I’d go home for a visit. I got as far as Wyoming, and I saw Beau at a rodeo and knew once I reached Thunder Ranch, I’d never be able to leave. I’d given Michael my word, so I headed back to Maryland. I’m sorry, Beau. I couldn’t talk about it at the time.”

“Don’t worry,” Beau said. “I was just concerned. You weren’t yourself.”

“He’s home now.” His mom patted his chest again. “That’s what matters.”

“As soon as Michael walked out of that hospital on his prosthetic leg with his wife and parents by his side, I headed for Montana.” He reached into his pocket. “My unit was awarded the Bronze Star for bravery in protecting Michael. And Michael received the Silver Star for bravery in saving the little girl.” He opened his hand to reveal a Silver Star encased in a clear plastic sheath. “I was awarded the Silver Star as well for covering Michael’s body and for carrying him out of there.” He held it out to his mother. “I want you to have it.”

“No, no.” She shook her head. “You keep it. You earned it, my son. You’re the hero.”

Suddenly, there was that silence he dreaded. He glanced at their familiar faces and saw the look he dreaded, too—hero worship. He shoved the medal into his pocket and took a step backward. “I’m not a hero. Michael is. I did what I was trained to do. Anyone here would have done the same thing. Any marine in my unit would have done the same thing.”

Uncle Josh put his arm around Tuf’s shoulders. “But no one in your unit covered Michael’s body. No one in your unit ran back for him. They were running for the chopper and safety. You did that. Why is hero so hard for you to accept?”

“Because you’re looking at me different. I’m not different. I’m still the annoying younger brother.”

Ace approached him on the left side. “Yep, you’re still that annoying kid who had the nerve to wear my best boots to a rodeo, like I wouldn’t see the mud and the scuffs. But you’ll forgive me if I see a man where a boy used to stand.”

“Yeah.” Colt moved closer.

Dinah, Beau and Duke echoed the sentiment.

Some of the tension left him. “I know none of you understood my reasons for joining the marines, but when Dad died, I lost my love of rodeo. It wasn’t the same without him there. I was always in the shadows of my brothers and cousins. I had to get away to find my own niche in life. I just never planned on being away so long.” He sucked air into his starved lungs. He never talked this much. Ever. “I’m home now and I’m ready to start rodeoing again to help out.” He looked at Ace. “Just how bad are the finances?”

After a round of hugs and shaking hands, he, Ace and their mom walked to the office. For the next two hours, they went over the books with Leah. They’d leased three thousand acres to a man from Texas who was always late with the lease money. That put a strain on making the payment on a three-hundred-thousand-dollar note at the bank. Seemed the economy, a flood and bad decisions made by their father had left the ranch deep in debt.

Tuf rose from his chair. “I’ll go to the house and get my checkbook. I have some money in my account, and I’ll sign it over to the ranch.”

“Absolutely not,” his mom said.

“Sorry, Mom, it’s my money and I can do what I want with it and I can sell my truck.”

“Slow down,” Ace advised. “You’re going to need a dependable truck if you start rodeoing.”

“Yeah. I hadn’t thought of that.”

Ace patted his back. “I’m sorry I was short with you earlier.”

“Come on, Ace, don’t do that. Don’t treat me with kid gloves. You’ve never done that before.”

Ace nodded. “Okay, then get your ass to rodeoing and see how much money you can win.”

“That I can do.”

“But I want you to know I’m proud of what you did for Michael. Dad would be, too.”

“Thank you.” Emotions clogged his throat for a second, and he wondered why it had been so hard to open up and share his experience with his family. In the end it had been cathartic.

His family might look at him differently, but he knew they would never treat him differently.

That he could handle.