Page 64 of Catch Me, Cowboy
“You feeling okay?” he asked after turning onto the highway.
“Better now that I know what’s going on with Gramps.”
He continued driving, past Harry Monroe’s cross, which had even more flowers and mementoes than the last time he’d passed it. Shelby turned her head to study the sad memorial as they passed, then focused again on the highway in front of her.
“I’m taking you home the long way.”
“I figured. I just don’t know why.”
But he did. And that was the important thing right now.
*
Ty turned ontoa county road that joined Highway 89 a few miles north of Marietta and continued down the gravel road. As soon as he’d made the turn, Shelby had known where they were going. Fifteen minutes later, they pulled to a stop on a small hill overlooking his family farm. Or rather the acreage that had once been his family farm and now belonged to a wealthy young couple who leased out the farming.
“Do you know what this represents to my father?”
Shelby held Ty’s blue gaze and slowly shook her head.
“The wrong choice.” He leaned his head back, staring out at the property with half-hooded eyes as Shelby studied his profile. “My great-great grandfather homesteaded the place. He grew grain to feed miners. Much smarter than trying to do the mining, but just as backbreaking. He was successful. He passed the land on and my great-grandfather and grandfather did well. My dad… not so much.”
They’d never discussed the sale of the Harding family farm, or its history for that matter. It had been on the block when she and Ty had broken up, but Ty hadn’t been living at home and it wasn’t until after it sold that she’d come to understand that Kenny Harding had sold the place because he’d had to. He’d been going under fast. And then she’d thought she understood why Ty had been so reticent to talk about the farm or his father.
“Farming is a tough life,” she finally said after a long stretch of silence. “Lots of people lose generational farms.”
Ty rubbed a hand over his chin. “My dad gave up bronc riding to take over the farm. A big part of him died when he did that. The farm started slipping not long after he took it over. He had a couple good years and then the droughts came…”
Shelby set her hand on Ty’s hard thigh. A moment later he covered her hand with his, squeezed lightly. But he didn’t look at her. He was focused on the house and outbuildings at the bottom of the small hill. The place where he and his brother had grown up.
“He encouraged Austin and me to be rough stock riders from the time we could toddle. Sheep, calves, broncs, bulls. As we started seriously winning events in our teens, Dad started coming alive. It felt so damned good to see him be something other than morose and defeated. And Mom… she was so much happier when Dad was happy.”
“So he lives through you and your brother?”
“Pretty much. I don’t think a day goes by that he doesn’t regret his decision to take over the farm.”
“So you did opposite.”
“I didn’t want to end up a bitter person like him.” Ty spoke slowly, choosing his words. “I thought I had to follow my career to avoid that.”
“Why didn’t I know this?”
“Maybe because I didn’t fully understand it at the time. Twenty-three-year olds aren’t exactly known for their deep comprehension of life issues. Although you couldn’t have convinced me of that fact when I was twenty-three.” He shifted his lower jaw sideways for an instant. “The other reason is because I’ve never talked about this stuff. But I’m going to start.”
“You are.” It was a flat statement, edged with a minor amount of disbelief.
“Bottling it up didn’t help anything.” His expression softened as their gazes connected and his hand slid over her leg. “I was protective of my dad; sorry for how his life had turned out. I wanted to win for him, but in a way… his needing Austin and me to win so badly… made him seem kind of weak.” His mouth tightened ever so slightly. “Does that make sense?”
“Yes. It does.” Perfect sense.
“When I was torn as to whether or not to go all out professionally, try to make the NFR Finals, he said that whatever I left behind would be waiting when I got back.”
“Was he referring to me?”
“Probably.”
She shot him a sideways look. “You know… that kind of makes me mad.”
“That he said it, or that I believed it?”
