The Cowboy Way. Christine Wenger

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      Every article of clothing on him, except maybe his underwear, was from the “Jake Dixon Collection.” If something didn’t sport the name of Jake, his favorite bull rider, Kevin didn’t wear it.

      Waiting, hoping, looking so alone, he craned his neck toward every car or truck that came down the street. “Today it’ll come,” he’d told her earlier, total trust shining in his eyes.

      Five minutes later, when the white truck with the blue eagle on the side turned the corner, she saw him wave his fist in the air.

      “All right! Cool!” he shouted.

      To a ten year old, it must have seemed to take forever for Mrs. Owens, the mail carrier, to reach their mailbox. Beth stepped closer to the screen door so she could hear the conversation.

      “Hi, Kevin,” Mrs. Owens said. She leafed through a handful of mail and smiled. “It’s here. Gold Buckle Ranch, Mountain Springs, Wyoming.”

      “Yesss!”

      Beth held her breath. It would mean so much to Kevin if he won the contest, but realistically the odds were against him. She didn’t want him hurt any more.

      Mrs. Owens reached over the side of the truck and handed him the letter. He stared at it. Beth knew that because Kevin wanted it so much, it had never occurred to him that he wouldn’t win the contest.

      It had never occurred to her that he would.

      He smoothed out the envelope. Win or lose, he’d want to save it along with the letter and glue them into his Jake Dixon scrapbook or hang it on his bulletin board, another shrine to the popular cowboy.

      “Would you like to take the rest of the mail?” asked Mrs. Owens.

      “Sure.” He stuffed everything into the canvas bag that hung from the side of his wheelchair. “Thanks, Miss Owens.”

      “Hope you won, Kevin.”

      “I did!”

      As fast as his hands could spin the wheels, he tore up the driveway and the ramp to the rental office. “Mom! It’s here!”

      Beth opened the door for him and stepped back, laughing. “Slow down before you run over my toes.”

      He stopped in front of her. “Guess what?”

      “Something important come in the mail?”

      With fumbling fingers, he pulled the envelope out of his canvas bag and held it up to her.

      “I hope it’s good news, sweetie.”

      He let out a puff of air, carefully opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.

      When Beth heard his resounding “Yee-haw!” and watched him turn his chair in a complete circle, she knew that he’d won the Gold Buckle Ranch contest. Her heart filled with joy to see him so happy.

      “Mom!” he yelled. “This is so cool!”

      “We won the lottery?”

      “Better than that.”

      “What could be better?” She knew the answer to her own question. Seeing her son walk again would be better than all the money in the world.

      “Going to the Gold Buckle Ranch in Wyoming and being in Wheelchair Rodeo.” With a big grin, he handed her the letter. “I won the contest, Mom. I mean, you won. We both won!”

      Beth skimmed the letter and contemplated several problems. Sneaking a peek at her son’s bright eyes and big, wide grin, she couldn’t tell him that the plane trip from Lizard Rock, Arizona to Mountain Springs, Wyoming would wipe out her meager savings. She wasn’t entitled to a paid vacation yet, either. Any time off would be without pay. She had stacks of bills. Kevin was probably going to need another operation. There was that specialist in Boston and…and…

      She took a deep breath. She knew how much going to the Gold Buckle Ranch meant to Kevin. She’d watched him sweat over his entry. She’d helped him look up words in the dictionary, but he wouldn’t let her read the entire essay.

      “What exactly did you write?” she asked.

      “I told them why you needed a vacation in a hundred words or less. It only took me seventy-one words, and that’s counting the small ones.”

      She bit back a smile. “And why do I need a vacation?”

      “’Cuz, Mom…’cuz you worry about me. And Dad died. And we had to move to this crummy place. And ’cuz you have to work all the time.”

      His smile faded as his forehead wrinkled with worry lines no ten year old should have. It had been a tough two years for both of them. After the accident, Kevin had undergone four operations and thousands of hours of physical therapy. It was way too much for a little boy to handle. She could barely handle it herself. She had hoped and prayed that his last operation would be a success, but Kevin showed no sign of improving. The surgeons were puzzled. She was devastated.

      She had to save enough money to take him to Boston, to see the specialist, but now this…

      Beth walked to his side. She crouched down and ran her fingers through his soft, shiny hair that was so much like Brad’s had been.

      “Sweetie, I’m okay. We had to make some changes, like selling the house and moving here, but we’re doing all right. Aren’t we? There’s a pool…and you like your school.” She faltered. There had to be more reasons. “Aren’t we doing okay?”

      Kevin’s knuckles were white as he gripped the arms of his wheelchair. “We’re doing okay, Mom. But you need a vacation.”

      “And maybe you do, too, huh?”

      He smiled. The spark in his eyes was back. “I’m going to be in Wheelchair Rodeo. Jake Dixon and Clint Scully and Joe Watley and tons more cowboys do Wheelchair Rodeo every year at the Gold Buckle. There’s a campout and trail rides—on horses, Mom. On horses!”

      He paused for a quick breath. “And the cowboys teach us how to rope, too. I wish they were real steers, but they’re plastic steer-heads stuck in a block of hay. I’ll show you the picture. And then there’s this big, huge rodeo—a real rodeo. And the cowboys come from all over. All the cowboys I watch on TV will be there, but especially Jake Dixon. The Gold Buckle Ranch is Jake’s ranch, Mom, and I can meet him, and talk to him, and he’ll teach me to ride. And we’ll be staying for a week and…”

      Beth was mentally adding up expenses, but she let him ramble on. She loved it when he was happy and excited and acting like a ten year old again. She’d heard nothing but “Jake Dixon this” and “Jake Dixon that” since Kevin was six and had first shaken Jake’s hand at the Fiesta de los Vaqueros, Tucson’s annual rodeo.

      Jake had won the bull riding competition that night and had stayed in the arena to sign autographs. Beth had waited in line with Kevin for over an hour, and Jake had autographed Kevin’s program and given him a red bandana. Then Jake had taken the time to talk to him, making the little boy feel special. Ever since, Kevin had thought of Jake as his special hero, a larger-than-life figure who did much cooler СКАЧАТЬ