The Heart of a Cowboy. Trish Milburn

he was suffering, had been suffering for a long time. That’s what a lifetime of drinking brought a person, a painful death via liver failure.

      Pain of a different kind punched her right in her middle, the realization that probably before the night was through her dad would be gone forever. She bit her bottom lip and pressed down harder on the accelerator.

      Twenty minutes later, she pulled up in front of her parents’ small home, the one she’d helped them buy because they never would have been able to purchase one on their own. She cut the engine but didn’t get out of the truck. Instead, she stared at her mom’s older-model car sitting in the carport. Behind it sat a small SUV belonging to her sister Allison, who’d driven down the day before from Kansas City, bringing their youngest sister, Renee, with her. Her entire family was inside the little blond-brick home, sitting around waiting for her father to die.

      She gripped the steering wheel, fighting the visceral need to drive away, as far and as fast as she could. Even though she’d known this moment was coming for months, she still wasn’t ready. It wasn’t as if she had a perfect relationship with her dad, but he was still her dad and she loved him, despite everything. She wanted to be angry that he’d done this to himself, that his drinking had made his wife’s and daughters’ lives much more difficult than they should have been. But what was the use of being angry now? It wasn’t going to change the outcome.

      With a deep, shaky breath, she opened the truck door and slipped out onto the quiet street. Almost every light in every house was dark, except for those of her parents and Jackie Kincaid across the street, the neighborhood gossip to beat all neighborhood gossips. Natalie resisted the evil urge to find the nearest paintball gun and cover Jackie’s big picture window with globs of paint. Instead, she forced herself to walk toward her parents’ front door.

      She didn’t knock, instead slipping quietly into the living room to find Renee sitting there alone, reading a copy of some French magazine she’d obviously brought with her from Paris. Natalie had the unkind thought that Renee might have brought the magazine solely as an outward symbol of just how far away she’d gone from Wichita and their family. Part of Natalie couldn’t blame her for leaving, but now wasn’t the time to bring it up. Natalie kept those thoughts to herself as her sister looked up and smiled at her.

      “Hey, Nat.” Renee jumped up and wrapped Natalie in a hug.

      Needing that hug more than she cared to admit, Natalie held her baby sister a little longer than Renee probably expected, then continued to hold on to her upper arms as she took in how different her sister looked.

      “I like the new haircut,” she said as she finally released her sister.

      Renee ran a hand over the chic bob. “Thanks.”

      As Natalie examined Renee from head to toe, she realized that her sister looked more European than Midwestern. An odd sense of loss settled in Natalie’s heart despite the fact that Renee had been living in France for five years.

      Natalie glanced toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms. “How’s he doing?”

      “Dreadful.”

      Natalie jerked as if she’d been slapped.

      Renee softened her expression. “Sorry. I’m too blunt sometimes.”

      “I know you probably don’t want to be here, but thanks for coming.”

      Renee shrugged. “I’m not totally without feeling. There’s a part of me that loves him because he’s my dad, even though he wasn’t worth much.”

      “Renee.” Natalie knew she sounded like the scolding older sister, but she couldn’t help it even though there was some truth in her sister’s words.

      “Tell me I’m wrong.”

      Natalie couldn’t. Their dad’s drinking had led to him not being able to keep a job, to their mom working two jobs to support their family of five. He hadn’t been mean, or violent, but his inability to conquer whatever demons that led him to drink had caused his family a lot of hardship.

      Not wanting to focus on the past, Natalie instead took a fortifying breath and headed toward her parents’ bedroom. The mingling scents of cleansers and sickness assaulted her as she entered the bedroom, and it took all her effort not to let the way her stomach turned show on her face.

      Allison was the first to notice her and gave her a tired smile. Her sister reached across the bed and gently touched her mom’s hand and nodded toward Natalie.

      Her mom stood on legs that looked as shaky as the newborn colt’s and wrapped Natalie in her arms. “I’m glad you made it safely.”

      Natalie was struck by just how thin her mother felt and wondered if she hadn’t been eating properly.

      “There’s my other girl.”

      Natalie looked toward the sound of her father’s thin, labored voice. As unkind as it was to think it, Renee was right. Bill Todd did look dreadful with jaundiced skin and eyes, cracked lips and swelling in his abdomen that was obvious even under the blanket covering him. He’d never been a big, strapping man, but now he honestly looked like the death he was facing.

      Her mom stepped back, indicating that Natalie should take the dining room chair that sat next to the bed. Natalie wondered how many hours her mother had sat in that uncomfortable chair at her husband’s side, watching him slip away more with each passing minute.

      “Hey, Dad.” Somehow she managed to force some chipper light into her voice as she sat and placed her hand over his gnarled one.

      He tried to squeeze her hand but obviously didn’t have the strength to do so. Sadness swept over her, not so much that his life was ending but that so much of it had been wasted. All the times he’d made her mad, embarrassed her, caused her to question why she hadn’t been born into another family tumbled through her mind. It all could have been so different if he hadn’t been trapped in an unhealthy relationship with alcohol.

      “I’d like to talk to Natalie alone.” He took a shallow breath, as if only a small portion of his lungs remained functional.

      Natalie tried to figure out why he’d want her mother and Allison to leave the room, but then she caught a glance between her parents, an understanding of some sort. What was going on?

      Her mom ushered an equally confused Allison from the room and closed the door behind them. When Natalie looked back at her dad, his eyes were closed, and for a split second she thought he was gone. But then she saw the faint movement of his chest.

      “Do you remember when I took you fishing the first time?”

      Her forehead wrinkled at the out-of-nowhere question, and she wondered if his mind was going before his body. When he opened his eyes and focused on her, she realized she hadn’t answered him.

      “Yeah. The first and only, if I recall.”

      The edges of his mouth lifted in a weak smile, and she forced one in return though she’d never felt less like smiling.

      “You always did love animals of all kinds, couldn’t stand to see them hurt,” he said. “I can still see the tears in your eyes when you realized the hook was stuck in the fish’s mouth.”

      Even though she’d been sad at the time, as she looked back it was one of her favorite memories of her dad. They’d still lived in Texas then, and that day he’d seemed to be totally sober, the kind of dad she’d always wanted. Though it’d been many years since that day, she remembered the hope that had surged within her. Sometimes hope was cruel when it led you down a path toward even more hurt.

      His smile faded away, and she wasn’t sure if it was because it took too much energy to maintain or a darker thought had shoved aside the happy memory.

      Despite everything, she searched for a way to make him smile again. “I remember we sat beside the lake and had chicken-salad sandwiches and bread-and-butter pickles from the Primrose Café.”

      The barest hint of