Dream Wheels Read Online Free Page B

“Goobledygook aside, Mr. Wolfchild, I’ve never seen a shoulder so completely devastated. The thrashing of the bull ripped everything, and I mean everything, that once resembled a shoulder and left nothing. His leg is crushed and it’s going to take major surgery just to allow him to walk again. It’s as bad a scenario as I’ve seen.”
    It was Birch Wolfchild’s turn to grin. “You give it pretty good when you give it straight, don’t you, Doc? Well, that’s plain enough, I suppose.”
    “I’m sorry to be so blunt,” Foley said. “But the truth is, Mr. Wolfchild, your son is going to need a whole lot more than the surgery.”
    “Like what?” Birch asked.
    “Well, therapy. Physiotherapy—and a lot of it—as well as therapy for the emotional scars of the injury.”
    “Emotional scars? Head stuff?”
    “Yes. Head stuff. He’s not going to be able to ride rodeo anymore.”
    Birch slumped against the wall.
    “Frankly, putting that arm back together again is going to require specialized surgery, and right now I don’t know for sure how long it will take to rebuild it or even if it can be rebuilt. The leg needs a steel rod to give it strength and there’s no way it will ever be safe to take a tumble to the ground again. Now, as far as I know you can’t ride anything without strong arms and legs. When Joe Willie comes out of this he’s going to have to learn to cope with not being able to ride again. Can he do that?” Foley asked.
    The cowboy stared at the opposite wall for a long moment. Foley could see the mind working at registering what he’d just heard, and then the slow welling of tears at the corners of his eyes.
    “He needed three seconds. Three seconds on that bull and he was World Champion. Just a clean ride like the thousands he’s had before. Me, I figured it was a surefire thing. Hell, Doc, I was even helping to spend the money in my head. It’s all we’ve done. All we’ve done since he was three was live for this day. You know what All-Round Cowboy means, Doc?”
    “No. I have an idea but no, not really.”
    Birch pursed his lips. “It’s like reaching for the hand of the prettiest woman at the dance. A cowboy’s gotta be mighty lucky and mighty good. Joe Willie was mighty, mighty good.”
    “I’m sorry,” Foley said, recognizing the emptiness inherent in the words.
    Birch nodded solemnly. “I appreciate that. Hardest part for all of us now’s gonna be not being at the dance.”
    He walked slowly back to the group of cowboys, and Foley watched them talk. Foley could see the shock register but become replaced almost instantly with a collective look of hardened composure—grit, Foley thought. They circled around Wolfchild, and Foley knew that the family would have the support it needed to get through this. And they’d need a lot.
    Silence was the rule. She knew that. She knew that passage through moments like this, moments when his lust was a raging thing, his need for control, dominance and authority drove him to gripping, twisting, hitting, meant she needed to lie back and suffer it. Suffer it so it would end. So he could spend himself, roll off and move into the stilted semblance of home life that he pulled around himself for the community’s eyes. Why she spoke suddenly she never knew. Only that for the briefest of instants she saw herself beyond this, beyond the city, the routine, the performance piece her life had become and the freedom, maybe, of a horse on a trail in the mountains. Back to the dream she’d once held out for her life. The word spilled from her from her like dream words do, all languorous and distracted sounding.
    “Eric,” she said.
    He froze. “Shut up,” he said and continued his humping.
    “Eric, no.”
    He froze. Slowly, he pulled himself out, got off her, then stood above the couch, slid his shorts over his thighs and stood there looking down at her. Then he lit a cigarette, took a swallow from his glass on the coffee table and sat down at