Chapter Text
Maybe the beers got to him.
That’s the only excuse Robby can provide himself for how he’s ended up with his back against a steel shed that’s definitely covered in cobwebs and dirt, risking tetanus as a problematically young cowboy frantically pulls at their belts and buttons in between heated kisses.
The sounds of a dwindling, booze-happy crowd move just on the other side of their temporarily private, but mostly public hideaway. The only light left is the remnants of street lamps strategically placed on the main gravel pathway, but hardly any of it reaches where they are. Cast in shadow, Robby gives way to the desperate, seeking hands sliding beneath his briefs –to the clumsy, unpracticed kisses sending fire up and down his nerves, like a lit fuse. That burning travels up the base of his spine, down to his fingertips, to every end of every hair on his body. The fuse burns, and Robby has no idea how long it can go before he’s finally set off.
—-
30 HOURS EARLIER:
The crunch of the wheels moving along in the white gravel driveway pulls Robby out of a two day trance that he hadn’t really realized he was in. It had been a long, boring drive to Nebraska, spent cycling between old mix tapes in his even older CD case that he’d brought along after chucking his phone into the Allegheny River. But, suddenly he’s blinking, and the scenery has changed from flat, drab midwestern corn and wheat fields to the sun shining through fluttering tree leaves, and the sight of Dana Evans waving at him from the porch of a low, long brick house with pale green shutters and a long porch spanning the front half of it momentarily brings his mind back to earth.
He unbuckles his seatbelt and exits the vehicle, grinning as they walk toward each other. It’s been almost six months since the last time he’d seen her. Since she’d walked away without saying a word, and Robby hadn’t blamed her in all that time. He hadn’t blamed her, but he had missed her. He’d lost two people he cared about six months ago.
“I’d be more flattered that you followed me to Nowhere, Nebraska if you weren’t the one I’d been trying to get away from in the first place, ya know?”
Robby allows a burst of genuine laughter to escape him as Dana pulls him into a big hug with her tiny frame, despite all her talk.
She looks the same as ever, but with a glow and healthiness around her that makes her look… sturdier. Steadier than Robby had ever seen her in their years in the Pitt. The last time he’d seen her she was faltering, and overcast. She had seemed weighed down by bitterness and disappointment. Not the sunny, resolute, positive person that Robby had come to know. Dana looks like herself again. Despite the three days he’d spent driving, Robby feels refreshed –he feels lighter than he has in the last 6 months in Pittsburgh, his lungs fuller as though he hadn’t had a good breath of air in all that time.
“Not all my ex-charge nurses can brag that I drove 18 hours just to beg them to come back to me.”
“Ohhh,” she squeezes him tight once before pulling away from Robby and gently patting him on the cheek. “That would almost be sweet if you weren’t so full of shit.”
Robby places a hand on his chest dramatically. “You’d have anybody think you couldn’t believe a word I say. How do I improve my credibility with you? Do I have to get on my knees?”
Dana smacks his arm. “Enough with the theatrics. You came out here for you, not for me. Besides, you’re gettin’ old. Might not get back up again this time.
That was always the worst thing about Dana. She always knew when he was deflecting. And she always knew when to let him get away with it and when to smack him on the back of the head when he was being an asshole. Robby knows that he would never have made it this far if it weren’t for her.
He wraps his arm around her shoulder as they begin walking toward the house, gravel crunching beneath their feet, and Robby looks around for the first time. “Wow,” he finds himself saying. He’d seen corn fields and cows enough for a lifetime on the long drive to Broken Bow, Nebraska, but there was something… quiet and beautiful about the sight of a nice little country home situated perfectly on a plot of relatively undisturbed country. Though Dana does have neighbors, they’re relatively out of sight. “This is nice. This is the house Ben inherited?”
“Mmhm. You hear that?” Dana said, patting Robby’s waist and parting from him as they approached her porch.
Robby tilts his head, listening for anything other than the sound of a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of nearby trees. “Hear what?”
“Exactly. Isn’t that beautiful? I haven’t heard a siren in two weeks. I counted.”
Laughing again, Robby follows Dana inside. “I sometimes wonder if I’ll even be able to sleep without the sound of traffic. Guess I’ll find out.”
“It bothered me at first, but now I feel like I never had a good night’s sleep in my life before we moved here. You get used to it. You’d be surprised what you can adjust to. What you can live without.” She glances at him, with that knowing glint in her eyes as she leads into the kitchen, where she pours him a glass of cold water. Robby just smiles, and hopes it reaches his eyes as he takes a sip. “So, you’re roughin’ it, are you?”
“If ‘roughin’ it’ counts as sleeping in the only motel in a twenty-mile radius, then sure. Rough as can be.”
“Trust me, if it’s that motel, it counts. Godspeed, soldier. You could’ve stayed here. Benji almost had an aneurysm when I told him you weren’t.”
“I can’t intrude. I don’t even know how long I’m staying.”
Here, Dana’s eyes soften. She wipes the counter absentmindedly as she looks out the window. “So. How’s it been since I left? Empty? Half empty?”
Robby looks up at her, then puts his elbows on the counter as he leans down, staring at the grout between the tiles. “Mm. Everything changed after you left.”
“Pfft. People come and go from that place all the time, Robby. It’s always changing. The constant ebb and flow of the Pitt used to be your favorite thing about it. The only thing that changed is you.”
“That was your favorite part, too, wasn’t it?”
“It was. And then I changed. And, believe it or not, I’m happy here. I never thought I’d say that, but I am. You know, the Pitt was a beautiful place –not always picturesque, mind you, but we built a family there. But you spend so long in that place, seein’ all these people coming and going and you build relationships but don’t really get to know anyone –most of the time you don’t get to see the changes you’ve made. You see people die, and everything keeps moving when it’s supposed to stop. And you can tell yourself that you’re making a difference every day, but that difference isn’t tangible. After a while, just telling yourself isn’t enough. Being able to see the difference I’m making and the people I’m helping… it’s made me a better nurse. Benji and I get to see our daughters outside enjoying nature instead of on their ipads. We’re all… just happy.” She smiles at him. “Maybe this is the change of pace you need, too?”
Robby thinks back to that day. To the screams, and the death and the tragedy. Going home, crying on the floor of his bathtub. Every unanswered phone call from his phone to Jake’s. And showing up for work the next day to do it all again. Compartmentalize, move on. Bury it.
“Well if you’re planning on waiting for me to come back with you, I know a lovely property just down the road from here. We could be neighbors. You can pay Quinn and Rory to mow your lawn. Rory mostly supervises. She’s not quite tall enough to reach the handle yet, but Quinn’s actually getting pretty good at it. Hardly any patches in our yard any more.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Robby laughs, setting his drink down as he takes a peak at the yard from the kitchen window. “Speaking of the girls, it’s pretty quiet here. Where’d everyone run off to?”
Dana grins, and Robby gives her a quizzical tilt of his head as he smiles back, unsure of her mischievous expression. “What’s that face for?”
“Oh, nothing. I’m just wondering how you’ll react, is all.”
“React? React to what?”
—-
“Whaaaaaat the fuck…”
Closing the door to his rental car, Robby finds himself standing on the outside of what looks to be a relatively small fairground, his mouth slightly agape as he stares up at the sign reading ‘The Broken Bow Rodeo.’ People pass him by as they enter the fair grounds, paying at the ticket booth and meandering in.
“You ever been to one before?” Dana asks. “Rodeo comes to Pennsylvania every so often.”
“I can’t say I have.” Robby scrubs his beard and laughs, starting to follow Dana toward the entrance. “You know, I think my parents just weren’t rodeo-going folks. And I may have skipped the ‘I want to be a cowboy when I grow up’ dream. I decided early on that I would mend any broken cowboys that came my way.”
Another knowing smile curls up the corners of her mouth. “Mending broken cowboys, huh?” Dana flashes a pass at an employee, and leads Robby by the arm as he looks back down at her.
“What, have you got a season pass? To the rodeo?”
“Don’t need one. Volunteers get in free.” She shows Robby her volunteer badge with a smile.
“Volunteer nurse?” He reads the little laminated card.
“Yeah. Closest hospital’s about a 30-minute drive. We’ve got two private ambulances on site but most folks around here don’t care to take one, so they’re mostly for the cowboys. Volunteer EMT’s, nurses and doctors on site. If they can get away with water, a cold pack or some ibuprofen and a bandaid, they’re good. You’re welcome to help out if you want. It’d be good to ingratiate yourself if you’re gonna be here a while.”
“Sounds fun. Taking a break from getting paid to be a doctor just to be a doctor and… not get paid. It’s the perfect vacation.”
“Good, I’m glad you think so, because I signed you up when I heard you were coming.”
Robby can’t help but grin as she talks and walks, the busy pathways and general chaos surrounding them reminding him a little bit of the pitt. But not too much. Not so much that the bad starts seeping in, burning the edges of his picture-perfect little vacation. Just the good parts –he can only let himself think about the good parts.
Dana was one of the good parts.
And Robby almost crashes into her as she stops abruptly at the entrance of a little red tent.
“Dennis Whitaker,” she says, her tone a warm kind of chastising as she folds her arms across her chest.
Robby looks up and around her, catching sight of only the back of a young, smaller-framed man’s head, his figure frozen with his hands very clearly occupied in some drawers of medical supplies. He can’t be more than 30, going from only the nape of his neck –dark blonde curls stick to the sweat there, peaking out from beneath a medium tan cowboy hat. There’s dry dirt and dust clinging to almost every surface of his clothing, from his light blue and white striped shirt to his dark brown vest all the way down to his boots. Robby is sort of stunned by the sight of him. It’s not that he hasn’t seen a cowboy before, but to see essentially the stereotype of one standing right in front of him is almost fascinating.
Almost. Until the stranger turns around. Almost-fascination turns to intrigue as he sees a guilty-looking Dennis raising his gloved hands in surrender, and Robby makes note of the unexpectedly muscular forearms exposed by the rolled-up sleeves of his… slightly bloody shirt. A very nicely stitched up 4-inch laceration cuts across the brachioradialis. Behind him, a pile of bloody gauze and a surprisingly perfect set up of syringes and saline solution –all the proper tools to treat a wound like the one on his arm. Robby can feel his eyebrows furrowing with a simultaneously impressed and confused look of interest.
“Before you get angry,” the boy begins, and Robby watches him closely, unable to help his amusement at the boldness of the obviously timid cowboy, “I did look for a doctor first.” He pulls his hat off politely and holds it to his chest as he gives a coy smile to Dana in an attempt to tame her. Robby finds himself staring at the dark blonde curls stuck to his forehead, darkened and wet with sweat. “There was nobody around. I just… borrowed some supplies.”
“Yeah, yeah. I caught you red-handed this time. Literally. Robby, look him over. I’m gonna clean this up. Whitaker, this is my friend Dr. Robinavitch.”
Dennis looks up at Robby, as if noticing him for the first time, and Robby smiles at him. He watches Whitaker’s eyes quickly shift away and his smile drop as he fidgets with the hat in his hands. Robby thinks he sees a flush of red crawl up the young man’s neck –or maybe it’s just the heat, and the light sunburn. It’s not overly hot, but it’s obvious Whitaker has been exerting himself in some way from the trails of sweat beading through the dirt on his skin, following the path of his throat, down to his clavicle.
It’s just the heat. It has to be.
“Um. It’s… nice to meet you. I’m Dennis. Whitaker.” Dennis offers a hand, and Robby shakes it firmly once before letting go. No lingering.
“Michael Robinavitch, but you can call me Robby. Likewise.” Michael looks away as he sanitizes his hands and pulls on a glove, reeling himself in. Dana bustles around him as he turns back to Dennis. “So, Mr. Whitaker… Why don’t you take a seat, and then you can tell me what happened?” Robby nods to the chair, and Dennis follows his eyes for a moment before looking back at the doctor.
“I’m fine, really. It was just a scratch –”
“How about you let me decide that, Mr. Whitaker?” Robby places a firm hand on the cowboy’s chest as he tries to shuffle past, trying to shake the very slight thrill upon feeling the damp fabric of his shirt, soaked through with sweat. That’s never happened to him before. “I’ll try to make it quick.”
Dennis looks down at the hand, closing his mouth firmly for a moment before giving a defeated nod. He takes a step back, breaking the contact and meeting Robby’s eyes as he sits obediently in the chair, placing his hat on a spare table.
“Run me through what happened.” Robby takes a seat across from him as he pulls on his second glove, tilting his head as he looks at Whitaker’s arm. Dennis holds it up when Robby gestures for it.
“Right, um… Well, I was trying to help pull one of the bullfighters through the fence when the bull started chasing him. I guess there was a nail sticking out, and it caught my arm. I couldn’t really stop pulling. Hence the length. It went about a half inch deep in some parts.”
“Oof. That must’ve hurt.”
“Didn’t feel great,” Dennis allows with a light laugh, shrugging in agreement.
“You’re up to date on vaccines?”
“Yes. I had my booster last year.”
“Perfect.” Robby smiles, and looks back at the arm. He holds it gently, his gloved fingers sliding over the reddened pale skin. Beneath his hands, the muscle tenses. Robby looks up. “Is that painful?”
Whitaker’s eyes widen, and that same flush crawls up his neck to his ears. “No. I mean. It hurts a bit in general, but it’s not overly tender.”
Nodding, Michael looks back at the wound to avoid staring. The stitches are done neatly –damn near perfect. “Good. Now, walk me through this. Am I interpreting this situation right? You did these stitches?”
Even from behind him, Robby can feel Dana glance over with a raised, disapproving eyebrow, and Dennis sharply avoids her eyes. Smart kid. “I… yes, sir.”
Robby looks over his shoulder at Dana, grinning as she shakes her head despite being obviously tickled. “Well, I’d love to be let in on the secret here,” he says as he looks back at the cowboy, tilting his head. “These are great. I saw your set-up. I assume you did a saline flush?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Impressive. And the stitches. They’re neat –I see one or two that are a bit tighter than I’d prefer but I don’t see any reason they’d give you lasting damage. No obvious signs of infection. I say we get some antibiotic ointment on this and get it covered up.”
Dennis blinks at him, his big, downturned eyes following Robby as he turns to ask Dana for the supplies he needs. “You’re… not going to restitch it?”
“I can if you want me to.” Robby raises an eyebrow as he sterilizes Dennis’ wound, then squeezes some ointment onto the back of his glove before spreading it over the laceration and stitches. “But, in my professional opinion… I’ve seen sutures done by professionals and I’ve seen them done in an at-home back-alley thought-they-were-helping surgery. This doesn’t look like the latter. You had all the proper tools to do it right, and it looks to be done right.”
The cowboy is silent as Robby places a strip of gauze over his arm, then transfers a second skin over the wound to keep it from getting dirty, but Robby feels Whitaker’s eyes on him. Cheeky kid. Still, Robby shouldn’t be as flustered by the attention of a twenty-something year-old kid as he is at his grown age. He plays it cool, ignoring the lingering eyes as much as he can as he leans back and pulls his gloves off.
“Alright, Kid.” The deliberate acknowledgement of his youth gets a twitch from Whitaker’s eyebrows, but Robby just smiles at him. “You’re good to go. Just try not to strain those stitches, and go to the hospital if there’s any redness, swelling, increased pain or fever.”
“And stay out of my medical supplies or so help me God I’m going straight to your mother, Dennis Whitaker,” Dana adds, poking a finger into the young man’s chest. Dennis rubs the poked spot dramatically as he nods in agreement.
“Speaking of,” Robby intervenes, placing a hand on Whitaker’s shoulder as they walk toward the tent’s entrance. Dennis’ eyes fall sideways, to the point of contact as Robby squeezes lightly before flickering up, briefly meeting Robby’s eyes before they fall decidedly on Robby’s mouth as he speaks. “You did pretty good. What kind of medical background do you have? Are you in school?”
“Oh,” Whitaker says, and Robby detects some hesitation in his voice. He observes as the cowboy chews on the inside of his mouth for a moment. “I was –”
“Aaaaaaaaand up next we’ve got a real treat for you folks, a fan-favorite event in our Broken Bow Rodeo featuring our very own home grown Broken Bow Beaus, Dennis and James Whitaker, Dennis riding his sturdy steed ‘Stagolee’ in this here Bulldogging extravaganza. You will want to see this, folks, believe you me. And show some love to–”
The announcement blares over a loudspeaker, and Whitaker looks simultaneously relieved and embarrassed to have an out as he takes his hat and awkwardly takes a few steps backwards toward the tent’s opening. Robby’s hand falls to his side. “Excuse me. That’s my cue. Thank you, for everything.” He places his hat back on his head. “I’ll… see you around. It was nice to meet you, Dr. Robinavitch. Dana.”
Robby watches Dennis turn on his boot heel and jog off, shouting after him, “Don’t strain it!” Dennis turns once and nods his head sheepishly without stopping.
Dana pats Robby on the back. “He’s a good kid.”
“Yeah. So… what’s his story?” Robby asks, doing his best to check his curiosity into a categorically casual demeanor. “How did you two meet?”
Dana considers his question, as though she’s considering how much she ought to tell Robby that wouldn’t mean overstepping her bounds. After a moment of quiet consideration, she takes a breath. “It’s a smaller world than you think. He takes his mom to church every Sunday. They have a farm a few miles down the road from us. That’s how I met him. He helps out with the girls from time to time, helps his neighbors, helps his mom. And… according to her, he was in medical school.” Here, Dana looks at Robby with a shit-eating grin. “In Pittsburgh.”
Robby laughs in surprise. “No shit?”
“No shit. Went all four years, and he was about to start his residency when he came back home. That was… a year ago, I think.”
Michael gains an understanding from her expression that this is all the information that she’s willing to divulge, so he nods as he glances off into the middle distance, to the crowds of people passing by their tent, in the general direction he’d seen Dennis Whitaker saunter off. “Wow. It really is a small world.”
After a jot of silence between them, Robby furrows his brow and looks at Dana. “What the hell is bulldogging?”
Dana laughs and shakes her head. “If you’re worried about him, why don’t you go check it out?”
“Aren’t you full of mystery today?”
“It’s more fun for me this way. You had a long drive –go explore for a bit. I can handle things here for a little while. The others will be coming around soon; I’m sure they’re just making their rounds.”
Dana shoos him away, and Robby reluctantly leaves the tent, glancing around as he begins to merge slowly into the stream of people. Kids carrying large cones of cotton candy and adults sipping beers and eating corn dogs and funnel cakes. There are some small fair rides that look to be mostly for the entertainment of children rather than adults –essentially a glorified playground, and all centered around a large dirt arena, where the majority of the crowd is gathering. Some standing near the fence and some taking their places in the bleachers. The announcer is saying something, like the names of the riders and their championship placings, and Robby takes a place near the outer fence where some kids stand on the metal rails surrounding the more secured inner ring of the arena, chattering excitedly.
They’re relatively close to the gates, behind and in front of which Michael sees teams of men, some on horseback and some readying their stations as two horses move in, one behind a rope. Robby sees Dennis Whitaker behind the far rope, holding reins taut in his hands as he steadies himself and the very rowdy dappled gray horse beneath him with what seems like, at least to Robby’s untrained eye, an expert calm. Though his horse is practically dancing with excitement, Dennis is laughing and talking with the young man on the other side of a smaller channel. He exudes a confidence that Robby hadn’t seen in his, albeit limited, interactions with the young man before, even from twenty yards away.
Michael looks over at the kids, who look to be about 12 or 13 years old. “Hey. What are they getting ready for?” He nods to Dennis.
“Steer wrestling. Didn’t you hear the announcement?”
“Is that the same as bulldogging?”
They both laugh, and one chimes, “Of course it is. This your first rodeo?”
Robby chuckles. “Yeah, I suppose it is. You seem to know a lot more about this. Why don’t you explain it to me?”
The younger of the two hops down from his position on the fence and moves closer to Robby, then climbs back up to be the same height. He points between the two cowboys, to the narrow stall between them. “You see that steer? And the cowboys? Here in a while, the men in the center are gonna release the steer from the chute. That steer’s gonna come outta there like a bat outta hell. That cowboy on the right?”
He points to Whitaker. “Yeah?”
“He’s the bulldogger. His job is to wrastle that steer to the ground by the horns. He’s gotta get outta that pen real fast –the faster he catches up to the steer the better. The other cowboy’s the hazer. He’s the one’s gonna keep that steer goin’ in a straight line, to make it easier for the bulldogger to jump on him.”
Robby nods warily. “Sounds dangerous.”
The kid shrugs. “Everything’s dangerous when it goes terribly wrong, I guess. Hardly any serious injuries in steer wrestling unless you’re real unfortunate. It’s the rough stock riders who really get hurt bad most times.”
“At the risk of sounding like an idiot… rough stock riders would be… bull riders?”
“Bull riding, saddle bronc riding, and bareback,” the kid affirms, to which Robby nods. “Course some cowboys do more than one event.”
Robby glances at Dennis as the man over the loudspeaker announces 30 seconds until the event begins, and he finds himself hoping that this is the only event he takes part in. For Whitaker’s sake. Seeing as he’s injured, and sort-of Robby’s patient now.
The horse under Dennis looks about to break free of the rope between it and the arena, but Robby isn’t looking at the horse. Dennis Whitaker’s face has changed, beneath the shade of his cowboy hat to fully focussed, pure love of the game. His body language has shifted, his posture lowered and at-the-ready. A hush falls over most of the arena, and even the announcer’s voice gets quieter as he builds the tension.
“Looks like Dennis has got his game face on… Here’s the countdown… Everyone’s at the ready, and…”
A gunshot goes off.
“Here they go! And boy howdy Whitaker’s got a fantastic position straight out of the gate–”
Before Michael can even process it, all three of the animals are out of the gate, but his eyes are glued on the cowboy with the tan hat –the cowboy who is all intensity and strength and commanding attention as his body moves easily with his horse as they chase a steer through the dusty paddock, hooves kicking up dirt that sticks to his brow and clothes. Then, without even a chance to blink, Dennis Whitaker is leaping from the side of Stagolee, his hat departing from his head as he lands to the ground with his arms wrapped around the steers head.
“And the steer is well in hand, and whoa-ho-ho!”
There’s no time to worry about Whitaker’s stitches, because all Robby is thinking of is how he can’t take his eyes away. He watches the boy, his slim body writhing with effort and the sort of useful strength that you don’t find in the city as he redirects the cow, twisting their bodies and aiming for the dirt. There’s no wasted energy in his movements –no useless bulk in his muscles just for show. Hidden strength that gets work done effectively and with no room for error. Robby’s hands are interlocked with each other in a way that makes his knuckles go white, only releasing when the steer’s head touches the ground and Whitaker releases him, jumping up from the dust bowl quickly and pumping a fist in celebration as the crowd roars.
“And a fan-tastic score for Dennis Whitaker with a take-down at 4.13 seconds. Folks I do believe this is his best run yet, and boy do these other cowboys have a score to beat tonight!”
“So, that’s pretty good, I take it,” Robby asks the kid next to him. He’s still watching Whitaker, and by God, he can’t seem to peel his eyes away. Dennis is grinning from ear to ear as he picks up his hat and dusts it off, his partner jumping up and hooking an arm roughly around his neck. Michael can feel something stirring and shifting as he internally rearranges what he always thought he knew of his preferences in men and women, having never thought to include ‘cowboy’ in that faction. He’d especially never before considered ‘considerably younger cowboys.’ Or, maybe it’s just this one.
“Are you kidding? For an amateur, that’s about the best anyone could hope for. Hell, that’s a score to beat for the pros."
Robby laughs as he musses the kids hair and thanks him before he turns back and celebrates with his friends. He watches Dennis playfully shove his partner off before turning to take the reins of his horse from one of the staff members, then swings over its back easily. Robby feels his eyebrows stitch together when he sees Dennis nurse his arm as he rides out of the arena.
“Great view from here, huh?”
He glances over his shoulder with the smile he always uses to disarm other people as Dana approaches. One that makes him seem amused rather than betraying anything beneath the surface of his facade.
“You had your fill? I got a lost kid over here that I need to take to the security guards.”
Robby perks up and turns to Dana fully this time, noting what he had missed before, which is a young girl who looks to be about 4 standing behind her, holding onto Dana’s hand. He gasps playfully as he crouches down to her level. She’s got medium blonde hair and dark, grayish blue eyes which are just slightly downturned.“Oh my goodness! Whooooooo have we got here?” Robby folds his arms on his knee as the little girl smiles, shuffling behind Dana’s leg a little bit more.
“Say ‘Hello, Dr. Robby. My name is Violet.’”
Robby peeks around Dana’s leg and the little girl giggles and shakes her head. “Oh, she’s playing coy, I see. Well, Violet, did you know that the higher up you are, the better your parents will find you? No?” He asks, and looks up at Dana as she laughs down at him. “See, right now we’re so low to the ground that they’ll never be able to see you, but if you get waaaaayyyy up high like, say, on someone’s shoulders, they’ll find you super fast.”
At this, she tugs at Dana’s pant leg, who obliges her and picks her up as Robby stands.
He sucks in air through his teeth and shakes his head, putting his hands on his waist. “You’re still not tall enough. May I?” He holds out his hands for her, and she considers for a moment before reaching out for him. Robby grins as he hoists her up over his head, placing her securely on his shoulders as she giggles and holds onto his hair. “See, now we’ll find them in no time. Right Dana?”
She shakes her head at him as she laughs. “Fine, fine. You win. There are security guards over by the announcer stands. If you don’t find her folks on the way over there, they’ll make an announcement. Okay?”
“Say, ‘Aye-aye, Captain!’” He says, standing at attention as he salutes Dana, who smacks his arm. Above him, he feels Violet mimic his salute. When her hand grasps his hair again, Robby makes a sharp turn to march forward, grinning as Violet giggles above him. “Now, you be my lookout. If you see anybody who looks familiar, you cannnn yank on my hair, pat my head, pinch my ear, point… Or you can just tell me who you see. Got it?”
Robby feels a light tug on his hair, which he assumes means they’ve reached an understanding. He bounces her once on his shoulders, which elicits a small squeal and a giggle as they carry on. Robby is sweeping his eyes over the general area, looking for any sign of frantic parents or stray security guards, turning in a circle every once in a while to check behind him and to entertain Violet as she attempts to steer him as though he were a horse. They’ve made it about 30 yards from the medical tent when Violet yanks his hair. He lets out a huffed breath of surprise, gritting his teeth against the pulling. “Okay, okay, okay,” he concedes, desperate for relief as she points into the distance.
“Stagee!” Violet shouts, and Robby squints his eyes in the general direction of her little finger.
And there he finds none other than Dennis Whitaker, facing away from them but toward his dapple gray stallion with a phone up to his ear. He’s scrubbing a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck, then suddenly looking around frantically. Robby tilts his head. “You know that horse? Did you watch him earlier?”
“Stagee loves apple pie.”
“Does he?” Robby asks.
“Mmhm! And, um… like… saver.”
“...Lifesavers?” Robby feels Violet nodding, and he laughs, looking at Dennis again, who is pocketing his phone and quickly loosening a knot where his horse is tied to a hitch. A small world, Robby reminds himself as he jogs over to the boy with Violet in tow. “Whitaker,” he shouts just as Dennis is lifting his foot to put it into the stirrup to mount his horse. The cowboy looks up, worry draining his features until he locks eyes with Robby, and sees the kid on Robby’s back. He almost trips as he puts his foot back down to close the gap between them.
“Violet Whitaker!” Dennis’ voice is mostly relief even if he uses a tone of scolding as he reaches them both and Robby leans down to let him take the kid, who willingly climbs into his arms. A sort of realization dawns on Robby when he hears the man call her by her full name, and he watches as Dennis breathes a few times. “Thank you,” he says, looking up at Robby over Violet’s head and through his eye lashes, his eyebrows still all stitched together with worry even as he squeezes the girl against his chest. .
“Oh, I didn’t do much. Dana found her at the tent a few minutes ago,” Robby offers, with a tight smile. “She recognized your horse. I figured they might be acquainted.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Whitaker laughs, turning to look at his horse for a moment before shaking his head. “Yeah, she’d recognize Stagolee before her own dad. She loves this horse. Hey, Violet. Why don’t you sit on Stagee while I call your mom?”
Violet nods, and Dennis hoists her up onto the saddle, keeping one hand on her back as he pulls out his phone. “Excuse me just a second, sorry,” he says to Robby,
Robby nods, chewing on his bottom lip as he scrubs his beard and watches Dennis turn away from him to call Violet’s mother. So, Dennis Whitaker has a kid. And, based on the general church-going conservative feel this place gives him, as though he has a sixth sense for it, Violet’s mother is probably his wife. Though, he didn’t see a ring on Whitaker’s finger, and Dana hadn’t mentioned his having kids –why should she? And it would make sense that he isn’t wearing a ring, wrestling steers and all. And Violet’s pretty downturned eyes and curly blonde hair make sense now.
Well, it’s certainly not his business. Robby had misread the situation, is all. More than that, he’d read into something that was never there at all. Not that there could’ve been anything, anyways. He’s got to be about twice Dennis’ age. Besides, though Robby isn’t strictly straight, the only relationships he’s had with men have been one night stands. Nothing serious –not that any of his actual relationships had been serious, either. And, if he’s being entirely honest, infidelity has never really stopped him before, either. It’s just that this kid just doesn’t seem like the one-night sort. Or the cheating sort.
So, there. The window of opportunity has been barred shut, never to be opened again. Dennis Whitaker is decidedly off limits.
Robby wonders why he’s even still standing here when Violet’s obviously found where she’s supposed to be. Until Dennis turns around, hanging up his phone. Robby catches a glimpse of it, noticing that it’s a flip phone. He didn’t even know they sold those anymore. He slips it into his back pocket. “Sorry, she was worried sick. Sarah will be around here soon. Are you…” he scratches the back of his head. “Will you be around for a while tonight? Maybe we could… well, I don’t know. I just thought –you’ve helped so much today. Maybe you’d like to have a beer.”
Jesus. “Sorry, I’m on duty tonight and I’m not sure when Dana will release me again.”
“Oh, right. Yeah. Can’t drink on the job. Of course not. Well, maybe –”
“Violet!” A female voice interrupts, and both Robby and Dennis look toward it to see a woman jogging toward them; Robby with relief, and Dennis with more than a hint of disappointment. She’s pretty, Robby thinks. Brunette hair and tannish brown skin, mid 30’s. Older than Dennis, certainly. Who’s Robby to judge that? When she gets to where the two men stand she practically collapses onto Dennis’ shoulder, adrenaline seeming to have left her body in her approach upon seeing her child. “Oh, Lord, Violet. Mommy was so worried about you.”
“Sorry, Mommy,” Violet offers, holding her arms out for Dennis to take her down from where she still sits on the horse’s back. Dennis then gives her over to her mother, who squeezes her and kisses her head violently until she begins to complain. Robby notes the ring on her finger –a simple gold band, with a small diamond in the center.
“Don’t ever run off like that again, Violet Whitaker. You worried me and your Daddy to death. Where was she?”
“She had wandered over to the medical tent,” Dennis offers, then nods to Robby. “Dana found her, and Dr. Robinavitch helped her find me.”
Sarah turns to Robby and smiles gratefully as she shakes his hand. “Thank you so much. You’re a godsend. Gracious –she’s always been so independent and quiet I just don’t know how she managed to get away from me. She was tired of the stroller, and I let her hand go for just a second and–”
“Sarah, it’s all right. She’s back.” Dennis places a hand on Sarah’s shoulder, and she nods, her bottom lip tucking in tearfully as she holds Violet tighter. Dennis glances up at Robby, and Michael gives him a tight smile in return.
“You two make a sweet couple. Violet looks a lot like her dad, huh?” Robby offers.
A silence falls between the two younger people, and Robby watches in confusion as Whitaker’s face morphs into one of distress and… well, disgust. Briefly, before he checks himself and blinks. “We look…” He begins, pointing alternatively between himself and Sarah, a look of disbelief distorting his features. “You think I’m her…?”
“Oh!” Sarah exclaims suddenly, her confused look turning into one of pure amusement as she bursts into laughter. “Oh, Dennis. And me?” She laughs to the point of tears, holding onto Dennis’ shoulder for support as Dennis watches her helplessly, and Robby harbors what he can only assume is a look of being completely lost. “Oh, sorry Dennis,” she gasps, wiping away her tears.
“Seems a little excessive,” Dennis mumbles, adjusting his hat awkwardly.
“Oh my Lord, I haven’t laughed that hard in a while. Jim’s gonna kick your ass when he hears about this.”
“I don’t see why you’d have to tell him about this, Sarah Lynn,” he hisses back. “Anyway, I’m not afraid of him anymore.”
“Oh, I’m gonna tell him. Violet, your Daddy’s gonna beat up Uncle Denny again,” she says gleefully to Violet, who bursts into a fit of giggles again, which makes Robby believe that this type of event happens frequently, and is not as concerning as he ought to think. Sarah turns to leave, waving behind at Robby as she departs. “Nice to meet you Dr. Robinavitch. Thanks for the laugh!”
As Robby and Dennis are left alone, Robby keeps his head down and scratches between his eyebrows, trying to stifle a laugh that’s been building up for a minute. He lets out a snort.
“She’s… my brother’s wife…” Dennis says, his tone acknowledging the humor of the situation, but seeming unable to let a misunderstanding go. “I’m not married. And, I don’t have kids. Just to clarify.”
Robby looks up at him, his hand pressed against his mouth as if to stuff his laughter back into his throat. When he sees how earnest Dennis looks, the laughter dies down on its own. Whitaker’s face is one of sober intensity, though his eyes are locked on the ground. “Okay,” Robby says in response, still smiling, but forcing his tone to sound casual.
A silence falls between them, and Robby has to break it as he watches Dennis chew on the inside of his lip.
“Well, I should –”
“Is that why you turned me down? Because you thought I was married? And… had a kid? Or, was it…”
“No,” Robby says honestly, shaking his head and folding his arms across his chest.
Dennis nods in understanding. “So you’re not–”
“No. You’re just –”
“Not your type?”
Robby takes a deep breath, and huffs out a laugh as he scrubs the back of his neck, then shoves his hands in his pocket. “Look. You just seem like a good kid is all. And I’m about 25 years too old for you.” At this, Whitaker rolls his eyes off to the side, his body seeming to go slack with despondency. “And I don’t know how long I’ll be in town, really. I just don’t see any point in getting anyone… tangled up with me.”
Whitaker takes a breath in. He nods slowly, and Robby is grateful that he seems to have taken no for an answer, because if he’s being honest with himself, he’s not sure how long he would’ve held out. “Are you always the one doing the tangling?”
“Generally. It’s not something I’m proud of.”
“Well… if you change your mind, I’ll be around,” Dennis responds, turning from Robby to get on his horse. Robby watches as he puts a boot in his stirrup and swings a leg over, now looking down at Michael.
“Hopefully not in the medical tent. How’s your arm? Looked like you hurt it during your event.”
At this, Whitaker looks at Robby with wide eyes. Hopeful. “You watched?”
“Dana wanted me to look after you,” Robby amends, hoping that Whitaker doesn’t read too much into it. It seems to work as Dennis forms a cloud of irritation and obvious disappointment. “Are your stitches holding up?”
Dennis thinks for a moment, quiet before he says, “I don’t need looking after. Have a nice day.” He pulls down the rim of his hat by way of goodbye as he turns his horse around. Robby doesn’t watch him leave, just nods and sighs when he knows Whitaker is out of ear shot, scratching the back of his neck as he stares at the gravel.
“Fuck.”
A beer would be nice right about now. Instead, Robby heads back to the tent.
The rest of the day goes by generally without a hitch. Robby treats a few people for heat exhaustion, two potential concussions which he recommended go to the hospital (though he knows that they won’t), one for a badly sprained ankle, applied a few bandaids and ointment, and three for dehydration. Still, in the end he ended up with at least three invites to dinner at his patient’s house –a welcome to the town, or something of the sort. To make sure Robby didn’t feel alone. It was a type of warmth that typically did not exist within the bounds of Pittsburgh. Or, maybe it was just one that he hadn’t felt in a long time.
After their shift was up, Robby and Dana found her husband and children, had a few drinks and a few laughs with a promise for the same tomorrow, and Robby left, driving the 10 minutes out to the only motel in town. He shouldn’t have been surprised by the amount of pickup trucks and trailers in the parking lot after today, nor the amount of cowboys and cowgirls sitting in the beds laughing. He’s grateful that he’d reserved his room before going to see Dana earlier in the day, and maybe slightly more grateful that this place may prove to not be as quiet as he’d initially expected; even as he closes and latches his door, he can hear the voices and revving engines in the parking lot. Even after he’s showered and tucked himself into an uncomfortably springy bed under dry, cool sheets that he doesn’t quite feel clean enough in, the buzz outside lulls him into a restless sleep.
When he wakes up, he feels the same tightness in his chest as he’d had before, the same dread of waking up and doing it all over again. But still.
He puts his feet on the ground, gets dressed, grabs his keys and his wallet, and he just… goes.