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“Don’t tase him. Just back off,” I said and stepped between them and Cole. “Hey, look at me.” Cole’s eyes were wide and he wasn’t focused on me. Blood from his nose was smeared all over his chest. “Cole. Look at me.” He blinked, then frowned when he saw me standing in front of him. The tendons in his neck stretched tight and his chest heaved. “Cole, you need to calm down.”

“They attacked me. I’ll kill them if they come near me.”

“No, you won’t. You can’t say that to a cop.”

“I can say whatever I want.” His voice got louder and he pointed at them with jabbing motions. “This is a free country. These fascist pigs can’t tell me what to do. Who gave them the authority to take away my freedom? Last time I checked, I didn’t live in a police state. I don’t have to acknowledge a repressive totalitarian authority. As far as I’m concerned, they’re just a bunch of Nazis who can go fuck themselves.”

I looked over my shoulder at the twitchy cop. “Can you put that taser away? You’re agitating him.”

“I’m going to kill you, fucking Nazis,” Cole shouted and moved in their direction.

The cop raised the taser gun and fired. The electrodes flew by my cheek and the darts insert into Cole’s shoulder. He collapsed and convulsed grotesquely. His back arched and his face grimaced with each bolt. “He’s down, God damn it. Stop it. He’s down.”

The cop released the trigger and Cole contorted one more time before writhing around in pain. He groaned, then tried to get up.

“Stay down.” I knelt beside him and dug my fingers into his arm. He tried to get up again, so I pulled his ear. “Stay down or I will beat you myself.”

He rolled over and groaned again. “Fucking pigs.”

“Shut up.” I looked up at the cop who was more level-headed and said, “He needs to go to a psychiatric hospital, not jail.”

He nodded and spoke into the radio that was hooked to his shoulder. He called an ambulance, then crouched beside me. “Hey, Cole. I need to put some restraints on your wrists. If you cooperate, I’ll make sure they’re nice and loose. You’re not going to jail. We’re just going to take you to the hospital and make sure you’re all right. Your brother can stay with you the whole time.”

“Fuck you, pig.” Cole spit in the cop’s direction.

I leaned my elbow on Cole’s cheek, ground his head into the cement, and spoke right up against his face, “Shut your God damn mouth and be cooperative or I’m leaving you here by yourself. You understand?”

His face contorted as if I’d stabbed him, and he stopped fighting.

“Put your hands behind your back,” I said. He did it, so I took the pressure off his face.

By the time the ambulance arrived he had calmed down a little and he said, “Sorry, Billy. I don’t feel good. Something’s wrong with me. Don’t tell Mom. Sorry.”

I exhaled stress, and helped him sit up. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. It’s going to be okay.”

Three days after the incident in Victoria, I was driving home from my shift at the bar when my phone rang. I checked the message once I was parked in the driveway at my mom’s house. “Hey, Billy. It’s Shae. Um, I guess you’re still at work, or maybe you’re sleeping. I heard about what happened with Cole in Victoria. Um, yeah, so I’m just calling to see how you’re doing. I know we kind of left things weird, but I want you to know that you can always call me if you need someone to talk to. Always. Okay, so call if you want to. Or not. Yeah. Okay, bye.”

I went inside and showered. After making myself a sandwich, I lay on my bed and called her back.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey, I got your message. Did I wake you?”

“No, I just turned my light off.”

“Do you want me to call you back in the morning?”

“No, it’s okay.” Something about her voice was as soothing as someone singing a lullaby. It instantly relaxed me. “Were you working?”

“Yeah. I just got home. I was surprised to hear from you. I thought you weren’t going to talk to me ever again after the whole Blake thing.”

She hesitated before she responded, “That was the plan, but then I figured you were probably upset over what happened with Cole. I owe you an all night phone call.”

“I’m not upset.”

“You should be. It sounded terrible.” Her tone was both apologetic and appalled.

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“How’s he doing?”

“A little better. My mom flew out to Victoria to be with him so I could come home and work.”

“So, you’re all alone in the house?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty quiet.”

“You mean scary,” she teased.

I laughed. “Nah, I don’t get scared.” I fluffed up my pillow and propped my head against the headboard before taking a bite of sandwich.

“Liar. You were scared on that midway ride.”

“I was sick, not scared.”

“Oh, really? So, nothing scares you?” she challenged.

“Not that I know of.”

“That’s not normal.”

“What scares you?” I asked.

“Rattlesnakes, tsunamis, algebra, cancer, the entire concept of childbirth, getting struck by lightning, staying home alone — as you know — and fog. Just to name a few.”

I laughed, both at the items on the list and how quickly she was able to rifle them off. “Tsunamis? You live in the Prairies.”

“Some of my fears might be slightly irrational.”

“Slightly,” I teased.

She chuckled, then after a comfortable silence she changed the subject. “Stella won, eh?”

“Did she? I haven’t talked to Tawnie since Saturday night.” I took another bite of the sandwich.

“How did your date go with her?”

Rodeo gossip was unbelievable. When was I going to remember that everything I did was public knowledge? “Uh, it was probably the worst date she’s ever been on. Is there anything you girls don’t gossip about?”

“No, not really. Is the gossip why you don’t normally date girls on the circuit?”

“It has more to do with not living in the same towns. I don’t do the long distance thing that well.”

“So, you plan on meeting the girl of your dreams in Saskatoon?”

I laughed because that was kind of unlikely. “I don’t know. I don’t really see myself getting married anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to be like my dad.” I popped the last bit of sandwich in my mouth and got out of bed to take the plate back to the kitchen.

“I liked your dad. Why don’t you want to be like him?”

“He was a shitty husband. He cheated on my mom pretty much every time he went out of town.”

“Really?” she sounded genuinely shocked. Obviously she was too young to remember that rodeo gossip, or maybe only Cole and I knew about it.

“Don’t tell your mom. My mom doesn’t know.” I washed the plate, then poured myself a glass of milk.

After she spent some time processing that my dad wasn’t who she thought he was, she said, “Technically that’s something you’re scared of — becoming like him.”

“It’s not a fear. He just wasn’t someone I admired.”

“Does my dad cheat on my mom?” she gasped as if it just occurred to her that it might be possible.

I’d never heard any rumours about Trent, but maybe he was just better at hiding it. Or, maybe he was a stand-up guy. “Not that I know of, but maybe that’s why your mom travels with him so much.” I finished the milk and walked down the hall. “Can you hold on one second?” I placed the phone on the bathroom counter and quickly brushed my teeth. “Sorry about that,” I said after I picked the phone back up and crossed the hall to my room.

“I wonder how a person knows for sure if they’re with the right person.” Her voice lowered a little. “Have you ever been in love?”

“No.” I climbed back into bed and propped the pillows behind my back. “Have you?”

“Um, yeah.”

“What’s it feel like?”

She took a deep breath and was quiet for a while. “Well, when you can’t be together, it feels like getting kicked by a horse in the chest.”

I laughed because I knew firsthand how bad that hurt. “Then why would anyone want to fall in love?”

It sounded as if she rolled over under her sheets. “They can’t help it. It just happens.”

“When you are together, does being in love feel better than having sex? Because if it doesn’t, I’ll just stick to what I’ve been doing.”

“Um, actually, I wouldn’t know.”

I smiled at her innocence. “I told your dad you were a good girl. He’ll be happy to know it’s true.”

“He told me you said that.”

“It obviously didn’t help. He still made you withdraw from the competition.”

“That was because we lied to him.”

“Your mom knew you were there. She should have just told him she gave you permission.”

“The deal was that she would let us go by ourselves, but if Dad found out, we weren’t allowed to tell him she knew. It would have been a win-win if he hadn’t somehow found out. Ahem.”

I chuckled at her not so subtle accusation. “You shouldn’t lie. It always comes back to bite you in the butt.”

“I guess you would know.”

“I’m not a liar.”

“No? I heard you tell your mom you weren’t chewing tobacco when you were.”

“White lies don’t count.”

“Yes, they do. Hold on a second.” It sounded as if she was stretching to do something before she said, “You know, retiring from bull riding is no guarantee that you won’t be anything like your dad. If you really want to be a better man it’s going to take more than that.”

“Yeah? You’ve got me all figured out?” I reached over and turned off the lamp next to my bed. “Did you also figure out how my brother got himself onto the roof of the hotel and why he was pole dancing in his birthday suit?”

“No. That’s a mystery. It must have been so embarrassing.”

“Cole doesn’t care about stuff like that when he’s doing it.”

“I meant embarrassing for you.”

“Oh, is that why you really called, because you feel sorry for me?”

“Pretty much. I mean, not that I think you should be embarrassed or anything. It’s not like it was your fault, but if it were Lee-Anne up there doing some naked pole dancing and I had to tackle her to the ground, I would die.”

The visual of that made me grin. “If it were you and Lee-Anne wrestling around, it wouldn’t have been embarrassing. It would have been hot. The police would have just let you go at it.”

“Jesus. Don’t let my dad hear you talking like that.”

I laughed. “I’m just saying; people would have paid money to see it.”

“I’m pretty sure people would have also paid money to see you wrestling around with Cole’s bare ass hanging out.”

“Yeah, it must have been quite the sight. I wonder if it’s on YouTube.”

“I thought people knowing about what happened with Blake and me was embarrassing, but what happened to you is way worse.” Her tone wasn’t joking anymore. She was genuinely sympathetic. “No offence.”

“I don’t care about the embarrassment. I just worry about him.” I pulled the blanket up over my shoulder and closed my eyes, surprised that I was about to talk seriously about it with her. “If I hadn’t been there they definitely would have arrested him, and they might have even shot him. He was really out of control.”

“You can’t always be there. Even if you are there, something could still happen to him. He’s not your responsibility and it won’t be your fault.”

I exhaled slowly and felt my real feelings surface. “I’ll feel like it’s my fault and if I don’t do it, no one else will.”

She seemed to sense that I had opened up in a way that rarely happened, and her voice became even more gentle and sensitive. “Were you scared of him?”

“No, just concerned he’d hurt someone else and I wouldn’t be able to stop it.”

“Well, there’s nothing more you could do for him that you don’t already do. It’s up to Cole to take care of Cole.”

I reached up and rubbed my forehead because all the honesty was giving me a headache. That was as much opening up as I was capable of. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure,” she said without hesitation. “Who’s your favourite singer?”

Relieved that she understood me well enough not to push things, I smiled and answered, “Bruce Springsteen.”

“Shut up. Are you seventy years old?”

“His music is timeless.”

“Old,” she teased.

“Timeless.”

“What’s your favourite meal including dessert?” she asked as if she was reading it off a card.

“Shepherd’s pie and apple crisp. What are your favourites?”

“Carrie Underwood, lasagne, and Key Lime pie.”

I laughed.

“What? Those are all good.”

“I’m not laughing at that, although Carrie Underwood is a joke. I’m laughing because I just heard a noise outside that would have made you pee your nightie, or whatever you sleep in.”

“Ooh. It’s probably a murderer who’s going to break in and chop you up with an axe. By the way, I can’t believe you just sass mouthed Carrie. And, I sleep in a tank top and boxer shorts, not a nightie. Who sleeps in a nightie, Bruce Springsteen lovers?”

“One of those loose tank tops that guys wear, or a tight, stretchy one that girls wear?” I asked, distracted by the image of both.

“What difference does it make?”

“I was just wondering.” I decided on the tight, stretchy one.

“What are you wearing?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar,” she said, but her tone made it seem like she was considering the possibility that I told the truth.

“I swear.”

“Well, your axe murderer is going to be in for quite a surprise.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s just some racoons getting into the garbage.”

“Maybe you should go outside and scare those coons off.”

“I can’t. I’m busy talking to a pretty girl about her sexy nightwear and questionable taste in music.”

She was completely silent on the other end of the line. I couldn’t even hear her breathing.

“Are you still there?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“What’s wrong? Are you falling asleep?”

“No.” It sounded as if she sat up in bed. “Um, I should probably let you go, so you can get some sleep.”

“No way. You owe me an all night call.”

“Oh.” She seemed surprised that I wasn’t going to let her off the hook. “Are you admitting that you’re upset?”

I smiled when I realized I was willing to admit it to her if it meant she would stay on the phone with me. “Maybe a little bit.”

“All right hold on.” It sounded as if she threw the phone on the bed. Then the sheets rustled and her feet pattered across the floor. A door squeaked and a few seconds passed before she came back on the line. “Pink or blue?”

“Pink or blue what?”

“Nail polish. If we’re going to be up all night, I might as well do my nails.”

“Pink. I like it when girls have pink nails with white tips.”

“That’s a French manicure.”

“Do that one.”

“All right.”

We talked until the sun came up and I never got tired. I just felt relaxed. She sounded relaxed too. I stretched and looked out the window. “Do you have a job you need to go to?”

She yawned. “Yeah, I have to be there at eight-thirty.”

“What do you do?”

“I work at a daycare.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah. It’s fun and they schedule my shifts around my rodeo events.”

“Where are you competing next?”

She checked the schedule. “Leduc.”

“All right. I’ll see you in a week.”

“You’re going? You think Cole is going to be well enough by then?”

“No. He can’t ride, but I still need to go so I can pay Ron Miller for Stella and deliver Cole’s camper to Mutt. He lost it in a poker hand.”

“Mutt shouldn’t take it. It’s a bit unethical to take a bet like that from someone who has a mental illness.”

“That bet had nothing to do with his mental illness. It had to do with his stupidity.” I sat up on the edge of my bed and rested my elbows on my knees. “Thanks for talking to me all night.”

She stole my line and said, “Don’t mention it.”

It sounded cute. “Have a good day, Shae-Lynn.”

“Yeah, you too, Billy Ray. Bye.”