Tomas: Cowboy Homecoming

His other brother, Colt, edged his way toward them. “Now, Ace kind of fibbed about the firstborn Hart grandchild.” Colt pulled a boy of about eleven or twelve toward him. “This is Evan, my son.”

Tuf stared at the boy and then back to his sandy-haired, handsome brother. Love-’em-and-leave-’em Colt—that’s how he was known around the rodeo circuit. Romancing the ladies came easily to him, while Tuf found it almost painful sometimes. Maybe because his brothers cast long shadows and it was hard to walk in their wake. Seemed as if all his life he’d been trying to prove he was tough enough to match his older brothers and cousins.

“Nice to meet you,” the boy said and held out his hand.

Tuf took it. “Nice to meet you, too, Evan.” The last time Tuf was home, there had been no mention of Evan, and now wasn’t the time to point that out.

Reaching behind him, Colt pulled a brown-haired woman forward. Leah Stockton. “You know Leah. We’re married and these are her kids, five-year-old Jill and three-year-old Davey.”

Tuf touched his forehead. “Am I in another time zone or something? Colt is married with a ready-made family?”

Colt punched Tuf’s shoulder. “You bet.”

Leah hugged him. “Welcome home, Tuf.”

After that he was lost in a sea of unfamiliar faces. His cousin Duke strolled over with his new wife, Angie, and her eight-year-old son, Luke. He also met the new bride, Sierra, and his uncle Josh’s wife, Jordan, who walked with a white cane and had a yellow Lab Seeing Eye dog named Molly. He didn’t get the whole story, but he could see Uncle Josh was very much in love.

Seemed Sierra owned the Number 1 Diner in town and Jordan was her aunt. He was beginning to think there was something in the water. In the past year, his whole family had gotten married.

His mom shoved a plate of food into his hands. “Eat. We’ll talk later.”

He picked at the food, his eyes going to Dinah and Austin. That marriage still puzzled him. Buddy Wright was an alcoholic. Austin had said many times he would never be like his father, but Tuf had seen him at rodeos where he could barely stand. Tuf liked Austin, even though he had a problem holding his liquor. He didn’t understand how he and Dinah had gotten together.

Finding a vacant chair, he sat down and continued to nibble at his food. Dinah slipped into the chair beside him.

“You know, you have a lot of explaining to do.”

“Yeah.” He speared a piece of prime rib. No one had enough guts to bring up the past two years tonight but his sister. She always danced to the sound of an offbeat drummer.

“But I’ll give you time to settle in before I grill you.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“You do know I’m the sheriff now, right?”

He glanced at her. “Mom mentioned it. If I see you in town with a gun on your hip, you’ll have to forgive me if I laugh.”

She frowned. “You better not.”

“So you and Austin, huh?”

“Yeah. I love him and he’s changed. He really has.”

He stirred the meat into mashed potatoes. “A lot of that going around.” Home was different now and he wondered how he’d fit in. They’d all moved on without him. He felt a little lonely in a room full of loving family.

“Mmm.” Dinah kissed his cheek. “Welcome home, lil’ brother.”

Soon after, he said his good-nights and made his way to the stairs. His mom followed.

“Your room is ready. I washed the sheets every week just in case you’d come home.”

Guilt the size of a boulder landed on his chest and he took a deep breath. The worry he must have caused her was too painful to think about.

His room was the same as he’d left it. Horseshoe patterns decorated the curtains and comforter. Horseshoes were branded into the headboard and the dresser—something he’d done when he was about twelve, much to his parents’ disapproval. He had a thing about horses. All the Hart kids did, but he was the only one who’d branded his furniture.

Chaps lay across a chair and he picked them up. “I don’t think these will fit anymore.”

“No, you’ve filled out.”

On a bulletin board attached to the wall were newspaper clippings of some of his rodeo adventures in bareback riding. Belt buckles lay in a tray. His youth was in this room. He turned to see his mom staring at him.

“Go back to the party, Mom. I’m tired from the long drive and I’m just going to bed.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “I would ask a long drive from where, but I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

“Mom…” That boulder got heavier on his chest.

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged. “I’m so happy you’re home, my son.”

He swallowed. “I’m home to stay.”

“Good.” She touched his face. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

As the door closed, he laid the chaps on the bed and walked over to the window. His room faced Thunder Road. Pushing the curtains aside, he glanced toward Buddy Wright’s place and thought of Cheyenne. What was she doing back in Roundup? Was it for a visit? Or was she here to stay? He couldn’t seem to get her out of his head, especially that tortured look in her eyes.

Almost ten years and he was right back where he’d started—dreaming of Cheyenne.

* * *

IN THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED, everyone gave him his space, even Dinah, and he was grateful for that. He was used to getting up early and was usually out of the house by 5:00 a.m. Since it was still dark, he’d jog around the barns and inspect all the new additions. An updated mare motel had been built to house pregnant mares. Webcams monitored the activity of the mares. Ace had his vet practice set up in another barn with private stalls for his four-legged patients. The office for the ranch was next to that.

Cattle carriers, trailers and trucks were parked to the right of the barn. They sported a new logo: Hart Rodeo Contractors arched across the top, the lettering green. In the center was the Bull Mountains shadowed by a blue cloud with a bucking horse and bull in front. Below was etched Roundup, Montana. Very impressive. The family had invested heavily in the contracting business.

As soon as the sun peeked over the Bull Mountains, he saddled up Sundance, his brown quarter horse with a white blaze on his face, and galloped off into miles of Thunder Ranch. Snow blanketed the ground, but in places winter grass poked through. He stopped and sucked in the fresh, cold air. There was no scent anywhere like winter in Montana.

He kneed Sundance and rode along Thunder Creek. The snow-banked water was frozen in places. Sundance picked his way through the snow and Engelmann spruce, and they came across a herd of cattle huddled together near a windmill. At the sight of horse and rider, the cows bellowed. Tuf dismounted and saw the water trough had frozen over. Picking up a pipe left there for such purposes, he broke the ice. Cows milled around for a drink.

He swung into the saddle and was surprised not to see more cattle. The herd must have been downsized—more changes. He rode back to the house in time for breakfast.

When Tuf was in Afghanistan, he often dreamed of his mom’s warm yellow kitchen with the pine plank floors, the natural butcher-block counters and cherry-stained cabinets. It relaxed him and he’d wondered if he’d ever sit at the family table again.

He ran his hand across the butcher-block table and felt the warmth of being home.

His mom watched him while he ate. She did that a lot, and he felt guilt press on his chest again.

Picking up his mug of coffee, he asked, “What happened to all the cattle?”

She shrugged. “The economy tanked and cattle prices dropped and I made the decision to downsize. The contracting business is time-consuming, and we need every available hand to make it a success.”