A Cowboy's Home by RJ Scott

but he had, so he couldn’t
have regrets now. The ranch was part of him, and he’d wanted to die
there.
    Only it appeared he wasn’t going to die, and
hell if he was going to eat the barrel of his gun right then. He’d
already tried that once, and he hadn’t been man enough to go
through with removing his sorry self from around normal people.
    “My bike,” Sam said flatly.
    “Leave it, walk back to whatever you do. I’ll
get on it and leave, and you’ll never have to see me again.”
    “Okay,” Sam agreed and held out the key.
“Take the key from my hand, make your way out of the tangle of
trees to the bike, manage to start it, and then stay on it without
passing out. Then you can take it.”
    Justin stared at Sam for a second. He reached
for the key but couldn’t quite get there; he was dizzy and sick and
beyond movement. He flopped back on the soft cushion, wincing in
pain. “Fuck you,” he said, with force and feeling.
    “Are you hurt anywhere else?” Sam pressed a
hand to Justin’s arm, running it the full length of it.
    “Stop fucking touching me.”
    Sam sighed. “I brought wipes with me, if you
want to clean off. You want my help?”
    “No.”
    “Jesus, you are one idiot patient.”
    “You’re not a doctor.”
    “Yeah, you’re right. So what’s to stop me
getting on my bike and just going to get a doctor, or calling the
paramedics?”
    “You haven’t already.”
    “Because I’m clearly fucked in the head,” Sam
cursed. It sounded wrong coming from his lips. “But you haven’t
shot me yet, so I guess I can do what I want.”
    Justin played the only card he had, gripping
the gun tight. “You’re worried about me dying? Tell you what, then.
You tell anyone I’m here, and I’ll kill myself.”
    Sam sat back on his haunches, his eyes wide
in shock. “What the hell? What kind of sick fuck would…? Why would
you…?”
    “Stop talking,” Justin snapped. “And go
away.”
    “And leave you wallowing in your own shit?”
Sam wrinkled his nose. “Literally? Look, do you think you could
move? We’re about a mile from some cabins on the ranch. I checked,
and there are three empty ones. You could get a bed and a
shower.”
    Justin knew the cabins like the back of his
hand. The closest were the Forest Cabins, spread apart, a mile from
the ranch itself, along an old loggers’ road. He’d discounted them.
They were too close to his family, to normality. Because even a mile was too close. “No.”
    “Jesus, this is fucking ridiculous! I live
over Branches. I’ll take you back to mine.”
    “Hell no. Just leave me alone.”
    “You are one stubborn fucking asshole of a
freaking stupid idiot.”
    Justin simply stared at him, counting down to
the moment Sam left. Which, inevitably, he would do.
    His head pounded with pain and he closed his
eyes. His throat was raw, his eyes ached, and he was freezing. Half
turning on the soft pillow, he found the wood floor was hard, and
he cursed as he cuddled his gun close. “If Rob knew I’m here then
he’d kill me, and anyone that knew I was here. ’S what we do,” he
muttered.
    Please, just leave me alone.
    The bile deep inside him bubbled up, acid in his mouth, and he lost
everything he’d eaten onto the floor right beside him.
    And Sam, holding Justin’s hair, his head,
reassured him and cursed at him in the same breath. “That’s fucking it ,” Sam was saying. “You’ll choke on your own vomit.”
    Sam rolled him a little more, bending
Justin’s knee and putting him into the recovery position. Before
darkness swallowed him, Justin could swear he heard Sam say he
needed help.
    And Justin couldn’t stop him.

Chapter Nine
    Sam stopped at Ember Bluff again, knowing he
could get service, and for a while his finger hovered over the 911
he’d typed in. Then flying by instinct alone, he deleted that and
instead went to Contacts. Ethan wasn’t on site—he was over in
Missoula—but Nate was down there somewhere, as was Jay and
Gabe.
    He