Turn and Burn (Blacktop Cowboys 5)

“Such as?”

“Such as all you ever wanted was a home base. A place to come back to. The ranch was there for your convenience. You weren’t raising livestock on a daily basis. You were competing halfway across the country.”

“Did you resent me for that, Garrett?”

“Sometimes. But I also saw the writing on the wall right after you started competing professionally. Why do you think I kept taking all those classes? I knew I needed a fallback position besides ranching. It’s why I volunteered with search and rescue, the coroner’s office, the police reserves and the fire department.”

“I thought you were just trying to one-up me with all that shit.”

He laughed. “Well, I never could’ve competed with the trophies, buckles and saddles you won.”

“Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if Dad had died and Mom had lived?”

“Mom would’ve talked to you before she made a decision about the ranch.”

“Me? But like you said . . . I was hardly ever there. You were. Why not talk to you?”

“You’re the oldest. If you’d said sell, the place would’ve been sporting a FOR SALE sign. If you’d said keep it, she would’ve asked me how to make that happen.”

“After hearing about all this stuff I never knew . . . makes me question whether we ever were the happy family I remember.”

“We were. Even though I worked with Dad every day, I wasn’t as close to him as I was to Mom. I think he let us be her kids because it made her happy, and when she was gone . . .”

“He didn’t have to pretend anymore.” She closed her eyes and experienced that overwhelming feeling of loss and pain again.

Garrett was as quiet as she was.

Then he said, “You’ve never given any of this serious thought before now?”

“No. At first it was easier not to think about it because it made me miss Mom. Then I had other issues to deal with and, well . . . out of sight, out of mind.” She took a deep breath and confessed, “I have nightmares about her. They get all mixed up with that night with Jezebel. I wake up shaking. Crying sometimes.”

“Jesus, Tan. How often does it happen?”

Too often. It’d happened again last night. She couldn’t believe the scream that’d woken her up hadn’t woken Fletch. Then she’d skulked out of his bed and locked herself in her trailer. “Often enough.”

“Have you talked to anyone?”

“I’m talking to you.”

“Not what I mean.”

“You mean like a therapist? No.”

“What about Celia? Or Lainie?” he demanded. “You listened to their tales of woe for years.”

“They nag me about getting back on a horse. I figure if I tell them about the nightmare, their advice will still be to get back on a horse and I’m not ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”

Another bout of silence stretched—but it was unlike their previous pauses. “What?”

“You know I love you, right?”

“Right. And can I just say f**k you ahead of time for whatever you’re about to say, because no conversation starting out with those words ever ends well.”

“Fair enough. I’ll give it to you straight. Quit bein’ such a f**king baby about this horse shit. Get your goddamned saddle, get your tack, pick a horse, mount up and ride that fear right out of your head. I realize you suffered a traumatic event, but guess what? You’re not the only barrel racer in the history of the world to deal with this. Most barrel racers who don’t race anymore can’t . . . due to injuries. I’d bet if you asked any one of them, they’d love to have your problem—mental, not physical.

“You’re healed up. There’s no reason for you to walk around, wringing your hands, lamenting your lot in life and the sad turn to your career. Buck up. Get on a horse and move on. Or don’t. Do what Dad did. Excise every bit of barrel racing from your life and find something else to do with your life.”

Tanna had to sit down at hearing Garrett’s harsh words.

He remained quiet on the line for a long time too.

Or maybe he’d hung up.

“Tanna, I hate to end the call on this note but I’ve gotta go. I love you. Take care of yourself and I’ll talk to you soon.”

She paced and cursed and even cried a little for the next hour. She wouldn’t concede any points to her brother, except for one: she did need to talk to someone.

Tanna scrolled through her phone list. Her finger hovered above the CALL button before she pressed it down.

He answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey. It’s Tanna. Do you have time to talk?”

“Of course.”

“Where are you right now?”

“Oddly enough, I’m down by the pens.”

“At the Split Rock?”

“Yep.”

“So we can talk in person?”

“Yep.”

“Cool. I’ll be there in five.”

It was probably the only time Tanna was happy not to see Fletch hanging around the stock pens.

Tobin grinned at her. “Hey, lady. I think this is the first time you’ve ventured down here.”

“Why would I want to fill my lungs with barnyard scent when I don’t have to?”

“Point taken. If you’re looking for—”

“Actually I’m looking for Sutton.”