Wyoming Fierce

“He’s a fine man. We’ll do what we can for him. I promise.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

“You can come in with him when we get the results of the trace we’re doing. Won’t be long.”

“Thanks.”

* * *

ABOUT AN HOUR LATER, she went into the doctor’s office with her grandfather. The doctor was very somber.

“I’ve had my receptionist make you an appointment with a heart specialist in Billings,” he told the old man. “Now, don’t start fretting,” he warned. “We can do a lot of things to help a failing heart. You’ll have options and you’ll be able to decide…”

“What did you find?” the old man asked shortly. “And don’t soft-soap me.”

The doctor grimaced. He leaned back in his chair. “I think it’s heart failure.”

“Oh, no,” Bodie ground out.

“I figured there was something pretty bad wrong,” the old man agreed, looking no more upset than he’d been all along. “I’ve had some pain in my chest and left arm, and a lot of breathlessness. That sort of thing. Will I die right away?”

“No one can tell you that. I can tell you that it’s actually a fairly common condition at your age, and not necessarily a death sentence. There are medical options. Drugs. Surgical intervention if it will help.”

“No surgery,” the old man said doggedly. “Nobody’s cutting on me.”

“Granddaddy,” Bodie began.

“Won’t change my mind,” Rafe Mays told her flatly. “I’ve had a long life, a good life. No sense trying to prop up a body that won’t work right anymore.”

“You’ll have great-grandchildren one day,” Bodie said firmly. “I want them to know you!”

He looked at her. “Great-grandkids?”

“Yes!” she said. She glared at him. “So you’ll do what the doctors say, or else.”

The old man chuckled. “Just like your grandmother,” he said. “My wife was like that. Ordered me around, told me what to do. I’ve missed that,” he added.

“I’ll order you around more,” Bodie promised. “You have to try. Please. For me.”

He grimaced. “Okay. But I’m not getting cut on. Period.”

Bodie looked at the doctor with an anguished expression.

“We can do a lot with drugs,” he replied. “Wait and get the results of the tests. Then we can all sit down and make decisions. Don’t anticipate tomorrow. Okay? I mean both of you.”

They both nodded.

“Go home and get some rest,” the doctor said, standing up. “You know, most bad news is acceptable when the newness of it wears off. It takes a day or two, but what seems unbearable at first will be easier to manage once you have time to get used to the idea. I can’t get that to come out the way I want it to,” he said irritably.

“I understand, anyway,” Bodie assured him. “Thanks.”

“Thanks a lot,” the older man said, and shook hands with the doctor. “I appreciate you giving it to me straight. That’s why I come to you,” he added, and chuckled. “Can’t abide being lied to and treated like a three-year-old.”

“I understand,” the doctor agreed.

Bodie followed her grandfather out the door. She felt the weight of the world on her shoulders.

* * *

IT WAS MUCH WORSE when they got home. Her stepfather was in the living room, waiting for them. It was unsettling to notice that he’d used a key to get in. It was her mother’s property. The man had no right to come barging in without an invitation, even if he did own the place!

Bodie said so, at once.

Will Jones just stared at them with a haughty expression. The way he looked at Bodie, in her well-fitting but faded jeans and sweatshirt, was chilling. She glared at him.

“Got no right to barge into my home!” the old man snapped.

Jones shifted his position, in Granddaddy’s chair, and didn’t speak.

“Why are you here?” Bodie asked.

“The rent,” her stepfather said. “I’ve just raised it by two hundred. I can’t manage on that pitiful little life insurance policy your mother took out. I wouldn’t even have had that, if I hadn’t been insistent before she got the cancer,” he said curtly.

“There’s a really easy answer,” Bodie shot back. “Get a job.”

“I work,” the man replied, and with an odd smile. “I get paid, too. But I need more.”

More to buy his porno, he meant, because Bodie’s mother had remarked how expensive it was, considering the amount he bought. It turned Bodie’s stomach. She wanted to order him out of the house, remind him that it had been in her family for three generations, like the land. But she was unsure of her ground. Her grandfather couldn’t be upset, not now, when he was facing the ordeal of his life. She bit her tongue, trying not to snap.

“I’ll take care of it,” she told her stepfather. “But the bank’s closed by now. It will have to wait until tomorrow.”

“Oh, you can write me a check,” he said.

She drew in a long breath. “I don’t have enough in my checking account. I’ll have to draw it out of my savings account. I don’t even write checks. I use a debit card for groceries and gas.” Her old truck needed tires, but they’d have to wait. She couldn’t afford to let Granddaddy lose his home. Not now, of all times.

She would have told her stepfather what his health was like, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. Will Jones had been watching old movies on television at home when her mother died, with Bodie at her bedside, in the hospital. Bodie and her grandfather had made all the arrangements. Her stepfather said he couldn’t be bothered with that, although he was quick to call the insurance company and empty her mother’s savings account. He’d also been quick to produce a will with her mother’s signature, leaving everything her mother had to him. That had been strange, because Bodie’s mother had promised everything to her. Perhaps she’d had a change of heart on her deathbed. People did. Bodie hadn’t felt bitter at her for making her husband the beneficiary of her property; after all, he’d paid her medical bills.

“I’ll come by in the morning, first thing,” her stepfather said irritably. “You’d better have the money.”

“Bank doesn’t open until nine o’clock,” she pointed out with cold eyes. “If you come before then, you can wait.”

He stood up and moved toward her, his dark eyes flashing angrily. He was overweight, unkempt, with brown hair that looked as if he never cleaned it. She moved back a step. His scent was offensive.

“Don’t like me, huh?” he muttered. “Some fine lady you are, right? Well, pride can be cured. You wait and see. I got a real good cure for that.”

He glanced at the old man, who looked flushed and unhealthy. “I never should have let you stay here. I could get twice the rent from someone better off.”

“Sure you could,” Bodie drawled coldly. “I just know there are a dozen rich people who couldn’t wait to move into a house with a tin roof that leaks and a porch you can fall right through!”