Free The Bull Rider's Collection by Lynn Cahoon

what?” James strained in the dark to see what Lizzie wasn’t telling him. What could be this bad?
    “And JR gets Medicaid and we get food stamps.” Lizzie dropped her head.
    “And you were waiting to call me when things got rough?” James lowered his voice. “Seriously, taking welfare is easier than asking me for help? I would have paid child support, whatever you needed. I would have been there.”
    “Yeah, but you weren’t, remember?” Lizzie’s voice cracked. “You’re not even really here now. You think you can ride in and every problem will be fixed? What fairytale did you step out of, Prince Charming?”
    The screen door slammed and JR and his flashlight came flying back at the pair. “I found it. Finally.” He handed the can to James. “What did I miss?”
    “Thanks.” James shot Lizzie the same we’ll talk later look she’d given Cash earlier. They didn’t need to fight in front of JR. “JR, shine the flashlight right there.”
    Silence reigned while James tinkered with the pump. Then he primed it a few times and hit the reset switch. The pump roared to life.
    JR jumped backwards and fell on his butt. “Wow. You fixed it.”
    “I did. But the pump needs to be oiled and the lines are pretty ragged at the edges. We’ll have to do some work tomorrow when it’s light.”
    “I thought we were going to the rodeo tomorrow to see Uncle Jesse ride?”
    “We are. But work comes before play. We’ll get up early and fix the lines. Then we can go.” He nodded at Lizzie. “Why don’t you go in and make some coffee and hot chocolate while us men check the rest of the system?”
    “I can do that.” Lizzie’s voice was soft with gratitude. Just hearing her talk made him want to reach for her.
    “Am I one of the men?” JR asked, interrupting the vivid daydream that was beginning to take James away.
    “Yep. You and me. We’re the men tonight.” He stood and took JR’s hand. “We’ll be back in a few, woman.” He winked at Lizzie. “Make sure there are marshmallows in the hot chocolate.”
    “And sugar for the coffee,” Lizzie answered. “I remember.”
    He watched her walk to the house before turning back to the shed. For the first time in five years ago, he felt like he was home. Her words replayed in his mind: “I remember.”
    I hope you do, he thought, because I remember too much.
    • • •
    Lizzie poured milk into a pan and set it on the burner. James would have a cow if he knew how much she and JR depended upon the generous taxpayers of Idaho to get by these days. Along with the Medicaid and food stamps, this year for the first time she’d also gotten heating assistance to pay for filling the propane tank, as well as help with her electric bill. Then there was the financial assistance checks that kept the growing JR clothed.
    It had taken swallowing every bit of pride she possessed to apply for assistance at all, but just when her dad seemed to be coming out of the daze her mom’s death left him in, he’d taken some kind of left turn away from them again. Lizzie had only managed to keep the cabins running as long as she had because nothing broke. But when the lines from their signature hot springs went down and all her dad said was “I’ll get to it” then wandered off to who knew where, Lizzie did what she had to. Because with the fall-off in trade due to the economy, the money to pay for outside help to get the place back on its feet just wasn’t there. Going to James for help after all this time hadn’t occurred to her at first. Then when it did because of questions on JR’s social services and welfare forms, she’d decided it was a bad idea best left to lie. When the interviewer prodded, Lizzie said simply that JR’s daddy wasn’t in the picture and had never been. Eventually the subject dropped.
    Yeah and James finding out about JR this weekend has been so much easier.
    Turning down the gas under the milk, she went to brew a pot of coffee. Social Services wanted