Master’s Fate Page 3

  I walk over, patting them both on the head. “She’s going to be fine, you two.”

  Bandit jumps up and puts those massive paws on my chest, almost knocking me down as he licks my face. Before I have a chance to react, he snatches my hat in his teeth and takes off.

  “Hey, give that back! You know that’s my favorite hat.”

  The dog crouches down with his back end in the air, his tail wagging slowly, egging me on to chase him.

  When I don’t fall for it, he tosses my hat in the air and catches it again in his teeth.

  “Don’t you dare ruin that damn hat,” I warn him. Walking slowly toward Bandit, I growl under my breath to let him know I’m serious, determined to rescue my hat from those sharp teeth before he can damage it.

  He lowers his ears as I approach, lowering his tail before curling it under him in a sign of submission. He looks up at me with guilty eyes.

  I reach out to grab my hat from his mouth.

  That’s when he makes a break for it, wagging his tail as he prances around me like a show horse, my hat still clutched in his mouth.

  His name is well earned.

  I chase him as he dodges right and left, making a fool of me before Kiah surprises Bandit by snatching it from him and gently dropping it at my feet.

  “Thanks, Kiah.” I pat her on the head before picking it up and dusting it off.

  Looking over at Bandit, I shake my finger. “You little bugger…”

  The hat is a little wet from his slobber, but no worse for wear. As I place it back on my head, I swear he’s laughing at me.

  Ma comes out of the house and walks over to us, looking relieved. “You found her!”

  “Sure did,” Pop answers proudly. “Your son still has a knack for sensing God’s creatures.”

  She smiles at me. “Your connection with them is remarkable.”

  I shrug, smiling modestly. “Guess I have to thank you two then, since I was born with the gift.”

  She takes my hand and squeezes it. “It has everything to do with your big heart, honey. You feel for others, human or animal.”

  Looking at my bare chest, she teases, “So, I see you’re trying to keep up your California tan in Colorado, huh?”

  I chuckle, pointing at my shirt wrapped around the calf’s leg. “Nah, someone needed it more than I did.”

  She shakes her head, looking up at me proudly. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

  “Same here, Ma.”

  She glances over to my pop questioningly.

  I know what’s going on. She is silently asking him if he has “talked” to me, and he answers with an affirmative wink. I groan inside when I see the same worried look reflected in her eyes.

  “Not you, too…” I protest.

  “Brad, you know I love you, so I’m only going to ask one thing from you.”

  I’m an idiot to make a promise without knowing what it is, but I love my mother too much to deny her. “What, Ma?”

  She places her hand on my chest, over my heart. “Promise me you’ll open yourself up to these girls. I don’t want you developing a Teflon heart and letting the right girl slip away.”

  Leave it to my mother to use a cooking metaphor when it comes to love. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “I want more than that. I’m asking you to be open to feeling something deeper for them.” She looks lovingly over at my father. “You father was the most open man I’d ever met. It’s the reason I trusted him with my heart.” She looks at me again. “I don’t expect you to fall in love with all of them, just to be more open with a select few.”

  “I promise,” I assure her.

  “Good. You know I only want what’s best for you, sweetheart.” She stands on tiptoes to give me a kiss on the cheek.

  I think it’s funny that most parents would advise someone my age to not get too serious too soon—but there is nothing typical about my family.

  Paige

  I sit on the hill that overlooks our family’s ranch, hanging out with my three sisters. My mother has sent us off with a picnic basket, insisting we need time together as siblings. I love that about my mother. She has a knack for knowing just what we need, even if we can’t figure it out ourselves.

  Taking in the warm sun and eating Ma’s magic fried chicken, I sigh in contentment. I suck the meat off one of the wings, savoring my mother’s ability to get it crisp to perfection.

  Looking at my sisters, I ask, “So, you guys, what’s up with Pop? He hasn’t played a single practical joke the whole time I’ve been here.”

  My sisters glance at one other before the oldest decides to answer. “Pop’s worried about you.”

  “Why? We already had our man-to-man talk.”

  My little sister looks at me with those big green eyes. “I don’t get what’s so special about the darn horse barn. It seems like that’s the only place you’ve been since you got back. Is kissing really better than hanging with us?”

  I feel the heat rise in my cheeks. I realize this is her way of letting me know she’s missed me. “No, of course not. But my friends really like our horses.”

  “I bet they do,” Ruthie says sarcastically. She’s sixteen, so I have no doubt she understands what’s really happening in the barn—well, at least part of it.

  Megan sighs. “You can’t blame Daddy, Brad. It’s like you’re becoming a stranger to us. You used to play jokes on us girls all the time. Now…” She glances in the direction of the barn.

  “I’ll make it a point to make a fool of you more often, sis.” I rub the top of her head. “Not that it’s hard to do.”

  She elbows me in the ribs. “You know it’s more than that.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Mom and Dad are worried that you are really struggling, and I agree.”

  I frown. “Struggling with what?”

  She places her hand lightly on my shoulder. “I don’t think you ever got over what happened to Paige.”

  My throat constricts at the mention of her name. I haven’t thought about Paige in years. I shake my head, not wanting to talk about it.

  “You were best friends since you guys were six, and you two did everything together. Remember when Paige collected all those cow pies, and you covered them in chocolate to sell them on the side of the road?”

  I burst out laughing unexpectedly. “Damn, I forgot about that…”

  “The day she died, you stopped talking. I don’t think you said a word for months.”

  A tear almost escapes my eye, and I fight to keep it back. I turn away from her and mumble, “The poor kid was only ten.”

  “Way too young,” my sister agrees.

  I shake off the wall of sorrow that threatens to drown me and growl angrily, “What does Paige have to do with any of this?”

  “I think you’re still hurting, brother.”

  I snort. “I was just a kid, and that was more than eight years ago.”

  She looks at me with compassion. “Paige was an important part of your life, and you lost her.”

  I snarl at her, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Megan shrugs, shaking her head. “See what I mean?”

  I do not like the direction the conversation is going, so I abruptly change it.

  Turning to my littlest sister, I grin. “Christina, let’s make a date for a tea party. I’ve been missing hanging with you and all those darn stuffed animals you have.”

  Her eyes widen. “Really? ’Cause I got three more since you’ve been gone.”

  “Only three?”

  “Daddy says I have to show restraint.”

  I chuckle. “Well, I look forward to being introduced to your new friends.”

  Turning my attention on Ruthie next, I tell her, “As for you, I’ll take you fishing at Barbour Ponds early tomorrow morning.” I bump her shoulder. “It’s been a while since I strung a worm on a hook.”

  Ruthie is a tomboy at heart, and seriously skilled with a fishing pole. I’ve nicknamed her “The Fish Whis
perer.”

  Ruthie giggles, clearly psyched at the suggestion. “See? I knew there was a reason I loved having a big brother.”

  “What about me?” Megan complains. “You leaving me out?”

  “Of course not. I have something extra special planned for you.”

  “Do tell…”

  “You know that roommate of mine?”

  “Thane Davis?”

  “Yeah, I’m bringing him back with me for Christmas.”

  A grin spreads across her face. “Does he know that?”

  “Not yet, but he’ll come, don’t you worry.”

  “So, what does that have to do with me?”

  “Everything.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “Spill, big brother.”

  “I owe the guy and want to surprise him with my best prank yet.”

  She leans forward, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Go on.”

  “He’s squeamish about commitment. Like, he has no girlfriends at all, so I thought we’d have a little fun with that.”

  “Oh, I’m liking this so far…”

  “I’ll take you out for shakes after dinner tonight so we can set up our game plan.”

  “You’ve got yourself a deal,” she says, that wicked little mind of hers already contemplating what’s ahead.

  After the picnic, I tell my sisters to head back to the house without me. “I’m feeling the need to reconnect with this place.”

  Megan nods her approval. “I think that is a good idea.”

  She wraps her arms around her two sisters. “Let’s take the basket back to Ma.”

  I watch them walk off, feeling grateful they’re my sisters. They ground me in ways no one else can.

  Wandering the ranch, I walk for several miles before I see the old cottonwood in the distance. I stop for a moment, realizing my wandering isn’t as aimless as I’d first thought.

  I reluctantly continue on, my heart beating faster with each step as I approach the huge tree.

  This ancient icon has been here for at least one hundred years, and it graces our ranch with its majestic presence. But, that’s not the reason the tree holds memories for me.

  The massive trunk has a hollow that Paige and I used as a hiding place when we were growing up. I look up at the enormous branches above me and listen as a light breeze rustles the leaves. We both felt an affinity toward the tree, but Paige had a special connection to it, calling it her “old friend.”

  I’m flooded with memories as I approach the hollow. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I bend down to reach inside. My heart stops for a second when I feel the bag of marbles.

  It was Paige’s…

  I slide down the trunk of the tree and sit on the ground, my hand trembling slightly as I stare at the small black bag I’m clutching. We used to spend hours playing marbles here on the hard dirt between the exposed roots.

  I open the bag and pour the marbles into my hand: cat’s eyes, aggies, and clearies. The colors are as vibrant as I remember, but it’s the peewee steely that catches my eye. That was her most prized possession. She saved up her allowance to buy it. After the addition of the peewee to her marble collection, she became a fierce competitor whenever we played for keeps.

  I pick up the tiny marble, my throat tightening as I remember the innocent joy on her face whenever we played. She always made fish lips and shut one eye just before she sent her marble rolling—her concentration focused entirely on the game. Paige never knew I purposely missed whenever her peewee was at stake. I couldn’t bear to win it from her.

  I’m surprised by how much that memory crushes me and shake my head to chase it away. It’s the reason I’ve kept all of those memories buried. Paige did not deserve to die—not like that…

  I close my eyes to stave off the rush of grief and nearly jump out of my skin when I feel something cold brush against me.

  I open my eyes to see Kiah. She nudges her wet nose against my cheek and whines softly as she sits down, wagging her white tail slowly in the dirt.

  Why she sought me out here is a mystery, but it’s clear from the look in those dark brown eyes that she is worried.

  I chuckle. “Always looking after your herd, whether animal or human, eh, girl?”

  She leans forward to lick my cheek, then noses the marbles in my hand.

  I look down at them again and hear Paige’s voice.

  “I won’t be long. Meet you at the park…”

  Those were the last words she ever said to me. I remember waving to her as she mounted her bike and took off for home to get some change for the ice cream truck.

  I waited over a half hour, bummed when the ice cream truck came and, after waiting as long as it could, drove off, leaving me there alone. Once it pulled away, I got on my bike and headed to Paige’s house, ready to give her crap for taking so long.

  But, Paige never made it home.

  Some guy backing out of his driveway didn’t see her. She flew off the bike upon impact, her head hitting the pavement first. I heard later that she’d cried for her mother as she lay dying in the middle of the street.

  I still imagine her cries in my head, and it guts me…

  Tears blur my vision as I look down at the marbles again. Paige’s death killed the child in me. I stopped talking that day, my ten-year-old brain unable to reconcile the immense loss. I refused to attend the funeral service, although my mother begged and pleaded for the sake of her parents.

  Recoiling into myself, I blocked out the world, preferring to spend time with the animals. They accepted my silence and asked nothing of me.

  I avoided the tree and anything that reminded me of Paige.

  In a desperate attempt to escape the weight of her death, I turned my attention to learning how to ride a bull. I needed something that demanded my total focus.

  Although my mother was against it at first, Pop understood my need and allowed me to start training. Once I had something to invest my energy in, the words started to flow again—much to my parents’ relief.

  Being ten, I started with young steers, learning to anticipate their moves. I soon found out that each animal had a unique temperament I had to tap into if I wanted to stay on.

  Bull riding is so much more than gripping with your legs and hanging on for dear life. No, if you strip it down to the essentials, it’s a dance between the animal and the man. The bull is in the lead, and it’s my task to follow every twist, jump, and turn.

  Once the gate opens, it’s just the animal and me.

  The steers I rode didn’t care how old I was or why I was there. Their only goal was to get me off their backs, and my only goal was to make it look easy as I kept my free hand up and stayed on until the buzzer sounded.

  Eight seconds passes quickly—unless you’re on the back of a determined animal.

  God, I loved the thrill of it!

  But that thrill only lasted so long…

  I couldn’t bear the lull in between each practice. So, I took up the bullwhip. I have to laugh at the numerous times I cut myself with my first whip while I learned how to crack it.

  It’s a wonder my mother allowed me to continue after the number of times I’d walked into the kitchen, bleeding after another failed trick. Thankfully, she encouraged me instead of coddling me.

  My mother has always been my biggest fan.

  I ran from facing Paige’s death and never once looked back. Now, staring at the marbles in my hand, I realize I wasn’t being a coward then—but I am now.

  I pat Kiah on the head, knowing what I have to do. She licks my hand in encouragement before heading back to our herd.

  I slip Paige’s prized steely into my jeans pocket before putting the rest of the marbles back into the bag.

  It’s been more than eight years since I’ve spoken to Paige’s parents, and I hesitate for a second before knocking on their door. Her mother answers, and she immediately puts her hand to her mouth when she sees me.

  “Brad…”

  I take my hat off and nod
. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Willis.”

  “Please come in,” she replies graciously, opening the screen door.

  I hold my breath before entering Paige’s home. It’s as if I’m ten again, and I feel that, at any moment, Paige will round the corner and smile at me.

  But she won’t—she never will.

  Mrs. Willis leads me to the kitchen, and I can feel the cold weight of Paige’s loss in this place. It hovers over us like a ghost.

  “Pa, you won’t believe who’s come to visit,” Mrs. Willis calls excitedly down the hall.

  I wait, my anxiety rising, as Mr. Willis slowly makes his way to the kitchen. His face bears the look of a man who has suffered far too much.

  “You are the last person I expected to see.”

  I look at him with regret. “Mr. Willis, I’m sorry for not coming to…the funeral.” I can’t bear to say Paige’s name in front of them.

  He nods. “Truth be told, if I’d had the choice, I wouldn’t have been there, either.”

  We both swallow down our grief as we stare at each other.

  Mrs. Willis breaks the silence between us by saying, “Please, sit.” She points to the kitchen table. “Pardon my bluntness, but why have you come today?”

  I pull out a chair for her before taking a seat myself. “Mr. and Mrs. Willis, I need to apologize for my silence all these years.”

  Paige’s sweet mother takes my hand in hers. “We understood why, Brad.”

  “Still, I’m sorry if my actions hurt you in any way.”

  She pats my hand before getting up and walking over to an old bookshelf. Pulling out a large photo album, she returns to me with a proud smile. Placing the album on the table, she opens it up.

  “We have followed you ever since we lost Paige.”

  Even though hearing her name is like a physical stab to my heart, I start flipping through the pages. I’m surprised to see clippings of my stints as a young bull rider, along with the awards I earned during my school years. Even my mother doesn’t have such an extensive record of my youth.

  “When Paige died, I needed something positive to focus on. I found that by following you,” she explained.

  “Helpful…how?” I ask, not understanding.