“Jesus Christ, Red, why did you let these kids go alone?” she yelled as she pulled me down from Dancer’s back. I collapsed into her and spoke with the very little breath I had left.
“Jake is . . . hurt . . . bad. Three hours . . . east of the pasture. He needs . . . help,” I managed to let out. That was my last memory before waking up in a hospital room.
I woke to the sound of beeping from a monitor above me. I was alive. It wasn’t a dream. I turned my aching body and pressed a button to call a nurse. After what felt like an hour, a nurse finally came in and shut off the monitor alarm.
“You were just tangled up, sweetie. How are you feeling?”
“Where is my husband? Where are Redman and Bea and Dale and Trish?” The nurse smiled, looking pleased at my alertness.
Before she could answer, I heard Trish’s thick Texas accent echoing from the hall. “Oh, she’s awake?” She came running in, followed by Dale and Bea.
Trish wore her hair big, blond, and curly as she had in her rodeo-queen days. “Oh, Avelina, you’re awake, it’s so good to see those big brown eyes staring back at me.” Her hair bounced on the tops of her shoulders.
There was pity on all three of their faces. My eyes welled up. “Jake?” was all I could squeak out.
Dale’s entire face looked forlorn, and it looked like he had aged since I had last seen him. Dale was more handsome than most men you might come across in Montana. He had an air of sophistication about him. His dark brown hair was straight and always neatly combed, matching the eyebrows that framed his light green eyes. But that day there was no glimmer in his expression like there usually was.
Bea stepped up with an obligatory smile. “Jake is down the hall. Redman is with him.”
“That’s not what I want to know, Bea.” My voice was high, loud, and demanding.
“Don’t sass me, girl,” she shot back.
I started crying and then sobbing. “What is it, Dale? You’ll tell me, won’t you?”
He was at a loss for words. I ripped my I.V. out. Holding my hospital gown closed in the back, I scurried toward the door. Trish stopped me from heading out into the hallway. She had a wrinkled upper lip that drew the pink color from her lipstick into the tiny lines above her mouth, which were only visible when you were standing about five inches from her face. The result of so many years of smoking, I assumed.
She frowned. “Thank Jesus, Jake is alive, honey. He was awake earlier today, talking to all of us.”
“Then why are you frowning?”
She huffed and swallowed audibly, trying to fight back tears. With her hands gripping the outsides of my shoulders, she looked me right in the eyes and said, “He broke his neck, baby. He’ll never walk again.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could disappear. I knew Jake would not be the kind of man to take that news easily. Terrified to see him, I shuffled into the hallway and followed Trish to his room. His eyes were open and he was staring at the ceiling from his hospital bed when I walked in.
Redman rushed past me on his way toward the door. “Glad to see you up and about. He’s all yours.”
I grabbed Redman’s arm and pulled him around. “Why was Dancer out there?” I said, staring intensely into his cloudy blue eyes.
He squinted and then shook his head. “I don’t know. We were packing the horses to head out and noticed that her stall was open and she was gone. A few minutes later she was coming toward the house with you draped over her. All that matters is that you’re both here with us.” He bent, kissed my cheek, and left the room.
I moved to Jake’s bedside and leaned over. He wouldn’t make eye contact with me.
“Hi,” I whispered. He didn’t respond. He continued staring past me toward the ceiling. His eyes looked hollow. “Jake?” I said softly.
I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed his fear and spoke. “You all should have left me out there.”
“Oh Jake, I’m so sorry.” I fell forward onto his chest, overcome with guilt. He was paralyzed because of me.
I knew he could move his hands and arms but he didn’t even try to cradle me. He just let me slide off of him. I collapsed onto the floor in sobs.
Jake spent a month in the hospital and then a month in a recovery center. For each milestone he achieved—regaining full use of his hands and arms, using a wheelchair—I danced around and celebrated while he sat there and glared at me. One day, when we were with his physical therapist, I asked her if Jake could try to work up to using his legs again.
Jake snapped before the therapist could answer. “The doctors said it would be impossible. Are you deaf? Did you not fucking hear that?” Before the accident he never spoke a hurtful word to me.
“I’m sorry, babe,” I mumbled.
He didn’t respond. Instead he wheeled himself down the hall toward the exit.
At our cabin, Dale and Redman built a ramp and made other accommodations for the wheelchair. Life didn’t get any easier once Jake was home. He didn’t want me to bathe him or care for his needs in any way that would embarrass him. Instead, he would call Bea, and even then it was only to do the bare minimum. It made me feel useless and drove a big wedge between me and Jake. By winter his hair and beard had grown long and his eyes had become more expressionless and distant. The electrical current that animated his eyes had disappeared, and they dulled in color to a doleful, hazy blue. He spoke few words to me or anyone else. He would sit in his chair all day long in the front room and stare out the window. People on the ranch would walk past and wave to him but he would never wave back. There was a small TV in the corner that he kept on all day, usually on a news or sports channel. I think it was to drown out his own thoughts.