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There had been a time when she and Zack talked about coming back to the academy. So many grads did. In fact, the current superintendent was a grad—a woman, and a three-star general. She was the first woman named superintendent of the prestigious institution. The commandant was a grad too. He was a one-star, and a pilot. The head of the department where she taught was a grad too. He was a colonel.
Some of them had been deployed. Some had even served in Afghanistan. They’d come back though. Unlike Zack.
Sometimes she’d let herself imagine what it would have been like if he had. He would’ve been down at the airfield; she would’ve been up on the hill during the day. Maybe they would’ve met on the terrazzo for lunch, in the shadow of the iconic, landmark chapel.
There would’ve been parties they would’ve gone to together. She would’ve joined the spouse’s club. And when they had children, they would’ve gone to school on the academy grounds.
That’s what they would’ve done if Zack had come back. But he hadn’t.
Bree was babysitting tonight, so Tucker and Blythe could have an evening out to themselves. When she walked in the back door of the house, Tucker was waiting for her in the kitchen.
“Hi,” she said softly. “What’s wrong, Tucker?”
“Come, sit down,” he said.
Bree’s hand covered her mouth, her eyes filled with tears, and she started to shake.
He walked over to her and put his arms around her. “I’m sorry, Bree. Relax. Nothing happened. Everyone is okay. I wasn’t thinking. Come. Sit.” He pulled her over to the table.
She couldn’t stop shaking. He sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I should’ve thought this through.”
“Just tell me what it is, Tucker.”
“It’s Jace, honey. I’m worried about him.” He rubbed her back when she put her head on his shoulder.
“Why?”
“Can’t explain it, but I think it has something to do with you.”
Jace was losing the ability to differentiate one town from the next. And traveling with rough stock was much different than traveling as a saddle bronc rider. As a rider, he’d pull into town, pay his entry fee, cover a bucker or two, and more often than not, collect a check. Afterwards, he’d grab something to eat and a beer with the other cowboys, get a good night’s rest, and in the morning, head to the next town.
Now he pulled in, unloaded bulls and broncs, made sure they were fed and secure, and then he’d head to the motel, get a few hours of sleep, wake up, and tend the stock again.
Other than the towns, the only other thing that changed was his travel partner. Billy, Tucker, and Ben rotated shifts. Ben’s brothers were responsible for the bulls and broncs that stayed behind in Crested Butte, and Bullet and Billy’s dad covered the ones in Monument. Jace’s dad, along with their ranch manager, Yance, handled the stock still in Montana.
The end of the season was in sight, although it wouldn’t last long. Once the Professional Rodeo Cowboy Association’s, or PRCA, National Finals were over, around mid-December, they’d have three or four weeks before the first events would start up again with the Professional Bull Riders, or PBR.
He didn’t remember what it felt like to sleep in his own bed, or eat a home-cooked meal. He did go “home” between events, sometimes to Crested Butte, sometimes to Monument, less often to Montana. And while he did get a home-cooked meal when he was in either place, he was usually so exhausted that he’d unload the broncs and bulls, eat whatever was put in front of him, and then fall asleep on the closest unoccupied bed.
The only good thing about his perpetual exhaustion was that he was often too tired to dream. When he did, his dreams only plagued him.
On the road, driving the endless miles between events, he’d get lost in thought, and his mind would drift back to the night he’d spent with Bree. The memories were so vivid. He could remember how her lips felt, trailing over his bare body, or how it felt to be buried deep inside her. He could picture the look on her face when they made love, and hear her soft moans of pleasure.
When he and Billy were on the road, Billy would go back to the hotel to call Renie after dinner, and Jace would go to the bar. There, he would meet cowboys he knew from his time on the circuit, but being around them made him feel like an old man. Most of them were in their early twenties.
There were plenty of girls, but they were just as young, if not younger. Once or twice, he’d agreed to a dance, but nothing more than that. Holding them in his arms felt wrong. They’d rub themselves against him, and that felt worse. Sometimes he’d get so disgusted he’d walk away, leaving them standing on the dance floor alone.
Eventually he stopped going to bars. When Billy, or Tucker, or Ben went back to the hotel, so did he.
“You’re a grouchy sonuvabitch, you know that?” Billy said to him one morning at breakfast. Jace didn’t answer. He kept eating. “Take a few weeks off. Go home.”
“I’m good,” he answered.
“Bullshit,” Billy snapped.
“Drop it.”
When Billy didn’t, Jace got up, threw a twenty on the table and walked out of the restaurant.
