Walk for Christmas

Chapter 3

Vincent POV

For the next three weeks, I worked from sun up to sun down next door. I had moved into the loft above the main stables. The Dickson's had ranch hands, but given the chance, many would slacken off at this time; when the boss was away, they would slacken off, and I could not allow that to happen.

We could not afford to slacken off; we had a rodeo this weekend, and by the sounds of it, I needed to get their bulls that were registered ready. Mr and Mrs Dickson will be back tonight, and I hope they update me on how things are with Roxy. Mum said the funeral for Mrs Dickson had been done, and Mr Dickson was back to work. The boys were headed back to Uni soon; they couldn't hang around much longer, but there was nothing on Roxy. She will be missed this weekend at the rodeo. She was the champion in the barrel race and won't be here to defend the title that she has held for many years.

Dad covered what I had been doing at home for the time being. It is different but still homely, and I needed this to keep my mind off what had happened to me. Only at night, when I was trying to sleep, did Stacy manage to invade my thoughts, and each time, I slammed it down the best I could. One way was to think of the Dickson's and what they had been going through, putting the loss of a girlfriend as nothing compared to the loss of life. It was not easy, but it was the best I could do.

When Dickson's car arrived, I was busy getting the bulls into the transporter the following day. Mr. Dickson helped Mrs. Dickson got out of the car and called the men over to take their bags in, and he came over to me just as I got Goliath onto the truck. Goliath was precisely what his name says: he was the biggest, meanest bull they had on this ranch. He gets in that rodeo ring and goes berserk, but to me here loading him, he was the gentlest bull out of them all; he loved the attention and kind words. That was the trick when working with him: a soft voice and as gentle as a kitten, a stark contrast to his wild reputation when he was on the circuit.

'Thank you for looking after the ranch.' Mr. Dickson's tired voice said as he stood at the back of the truck, watching me climb down after securing the bull in place.

'That is what neighbors are for; you would do the same for us.' I replied, and he would. I know he would.

'You bet we would, but I hope you never have to go through this.' he said sadly, his face showing his stress and how much he was hurting.

'How is the family doing?' I asked as I headed to collect the next bull. He walked alongside me, deep in thought.

'My son is not coping; he had buried himself in his work and had not visited Roxy once since the accident. The boys have, but they must head back to university next week. They will call me when she wakes up, and if they are still there, they have no exams and will rush back to Roxy when she wakes, so she is not alone; the swelling in the brain will go down, and next week, if all goes well, they should start to reduce the medication and bring her out of the coma. Sadly, my son feels he is to blame for all of this.' Huh?

'What happened?' Did Mr Dickson make a mistake? He was usually a careful driver.

'Wet day, a truck drove through the stop sign, hitting the passenger doors. My daughter-in-law and Roxy were both on that side. Roxy is lucky to be alive, but now she will have a long road ahead.' He said level things half said. He hoped I could fill in the blanks; talking about it seemed a little hard for him, and his voice broke as he spoke.

'What do you mean?' That was the pits, and I was not going to try to fill in the blanks; I would only get it wrong.

'She will have to learn to walk again. Broke her back in two places. I am going to bring her here for rehabilitation because I cannot see my son giving her the help she needs. I think she looks too much like her mum, and he cannot stand to look at her without hurting, so he avoids her altogether. Our new husband and wife team runs that new therapy clinic in town. First, I need to renovate the downstairs room to take a wheelchair and build a ramp out back, little things that will make it easier for her, before bringing Roxy here.' Is Roxy coming here? This is no place for a wheelchair? What is he thinking? It was not my place to say anything, but that was going to be hard for Roxy—the poor kid.

'Let me know if you need help.' I offered and then wondered why I had done that; he had plenty of workers around and would not need me to.

'I will be taking you up on that. I think having a friendly face around her will make her recovery less painful. Could you help set up the ramps and other little things to get ready downstairs? It would be at least a month before she would be able to be moved.' He said a little more confidently.

'Is she going to be okay?' I asked, still skeptical.

'Yes, she has to be. It is the only thing that is keeping us together, our glue to the hope we have. That we can get through this.' He was not going to let her die if he could help it; that girl had been his and Mrs. Dickson's saving grace over the years, coming to stay each holiday and giving Mrs. Dickson the company she needed. She has been in all the rodeos and taking title after title.

'Dad is going to take our horses to the rodeo, and I am going to stay with you for now. Give you a hand. I just have one more to load up and am ready to leave. Do you want to come now or get Mrs Dickson settled first?' I was okay with taking them by myself; I had done it before, it was no skin off my nose.

'If you can start out, I will catch up soon. Mrs is not doing so well; this has hit her hard. Roxy was her world.' Yeah, I understood. They had a close bond, those two. Closer than mother and daughter did, which I never understood. I did not pay that much attention to it. To be honest, it was none of my business, but you had to be blind not to notice it sometimes.

With Mr Dickson's help, we loaded up the last bull, and I headed off to town. Yesterday, I got the feed and other equipment needed for the bulls to go to the circuit and set up a sort of camp. It is ideal to stay on the event camping ground during the rodeo rather than come home each day. I have three brothers, and only one rides bulls, other than me, that is, and that is Jonas. He is a year younger than me at twenty, Chris is nineteen, and he likes to ride bucking horses, and Eric, seventeen, enjoys barrel and smaller events but never into the dangerous side of the rodeo. They would arrive with Dad. If not already on their way. Mum would come too, bringing food and arriving in the car. And in the past, so would Mrs Dickson. I have a feeling she does not want to be far from home if she gets a call from the hospital. Then again, the mother might decide to stay with Mrs Dickson and try to cheer her up. I guess I will find out when I reach the ground.

The drive was only fifteen minutes, and the rodeo was on our side of town. We love the atmosphere. The Circuit season has one session in our small town, so we have to travel for a few days to reach the other places, and that takes a lot more work and preparation. I might have to take the bulls on behalf of Mr Dickson. There was so much to do when I got there: unload the bulls and ensure they were settled, fed, and watered, and then go and get them registered to be in the ring. Mr Dickson's bulls were in high demand. They are unpredictable yet so docile when not competing; Mr Dickson does a great job of training them. He says it was all Roxy and the work she puts in on them each break when she comes to stay; he is sad that she is no longer at school and that the time for her to be on the ranch will be less.

Now, with the accident, she is coming here to heal. I hope she manages to walk again and get back into the saddle. The rodeo group will miss her.