that Michael was refusing to see his parents, his wife and their three-month-old son. I was the only one he’d asked to see. The doctor added that I was Michael’s only hope. I was overwhelmed by the responsibility, and I wanted to leave that hospital and never look back. But I found I couldn’t. All the years of Mom and Dad preaching morals, values and honor must have reached me. I went back into that room prepared for battle.
“As soon as I entered, Michael screamed, ‘Get out.’ I told him no. He’d asked for me and I wasn’t leaving. He looked at the ceiling and refused to speak. I searched my brain for something to say, something to get his attention. I just started talking off the top of my head, telling him the cowboys around the rodeo circuit have a saying—when things get rough, ‘cowboy up.’ I reminded him it was time to ‘marine up,’ to fight for the most precious thing he had—his life. He kept staring at the ceiling, and I kept talking, saying stuff like cowboys and marines don’t give up and if he did, he wasn’t the man I thought he was.”
Tuf felt as though he was back in that hospital room. He could smell the antiseptic, hear the beep of the heart monitor. He swallowed hard.
“Out of the blue Michael asked if cowboys died with their boots on. ‘Hell, yes,’ I said, ‘and it’s even better to die in the arms of a beautiful woman.’ He seemed to relax and I could swear he was smiling. I felt I was getting through to him so I kept pressuring him, telling him how much he needed the surgeries. Finally, I asked in a loud voice, ‘Marine, what’s your answer?’
“He didn’t say anything for a long time and then he asked if I would stay with him. That threw me. I reminded him that his wife and parents were waiting. He said he didn’t want them to see him like he was. I heard the pain in his voice and I found myself agreeing to stay. I told the doctor the surgeries were a go and then I called Mom to tell her I couldn’t come home, but I would as soon as I could. I gave her my cell number in case she needed to get in touch with me.”
Nobody said a word and Tuf forced himself to finish the story. “After the first surgery, I figured I’d leave, but it took six surgeries to repair his arm. Janet, Michael’s wife, haunted the lobby, but Michael refused to see her. I felt sorry for her and I didn’t know how to get through to Michael. I slept on a bed in his room, and every night I pushed him about seeing his wife. He finally admitted his fears about his face. A part of his jaw and cheekbone were missing as was his eye. He was going to look different and he wasn’t sure his wife could take that. In a way I understood his fears, and I stayed as the doctors started reconstructive surgery to his face. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Thanksgiving and Christmas came, and I sat through every painstaking surgery praying and hoping that Michael was going to find the strength to live again.”
He drew in deeply. “After calling Mom, I’m sorry I never called home again. I felt guilty and conflicted about Michael. I kept wondering if I’d done him any favors by saving his life. I kept thinking it was my fault he was going through so much pain. If I hadn’t played the hero, like he’d said, he wouldn’t be suffering, but I could never make myself believe that. All I knew was I had to stay there to help him heal. I had to really save him this time. If I had spoken to anyone here and heard of Mom’s health scare or the ranch’s financial situation, I wouldn’t have been able to do that because I wanted to come home so badly.”
“Oh, my poor sweet son.” His mother rushed to him and wrapped her arms around him. He clung to her because his legs felt weak. “Don’t you apologize for a thing.”
“Did Michael recover?” Ace asked in a low voice.
“Yes. It was difficult, but the reconstructive surgeries to his face were amazing. They rebuilt his cheekbone and jawbone, and he received a new artificial hand-painted eye. It looked real. There were scars, but they were hardly noticeable. This was when I told Michael it was time to see his wife. He didn’t know it, but I’d been sending her pictures of Michael from my phone when he wasn’t looking. She needed to see that he was alive and healing. I told him if he didn’t see her, I was leaving. He sat in a chair stone-faced and I headed for the door.”
His mom patted his chest. “He saw her?”
“Not until I forced him,” he replied. “Before I could reach the door, he reminded me I’d told him that cowboys live by a code of honor and they always keep their word. He added I wasn’t a true cowboy if I left. He had me and it made me mad. I pulled out my phone and informed him that this is how a cowboy would handle the situation. I sent a text to Janet to come to the room. Now Michael was angry, but I told him not to worry. I had his back.
“It was a Saturday, and Michael’s parents had brought his son to visit Janet. When she entered the room, she held the boy by the hand. He was over a year old now and walking. He tottered over to Michael, who was sitting in a chair, and said ‘Da-da.’ A tear slipped from Michael’s right eye and I quietly left the room. The counselor wanted to see me so I went to his office. He said it was time to wean Michael away from me. I was all for that. I never slept in Michael’s room again. Janet finally moved in and I slept down the hall.
“The counselor advised me to do something I enjoyed away from the hospital. For me that’s rodeoing, but I didn’t have a way to get around so I bought a truck, got my rodeo card and signed up to ride. When Michael’s parents came to see him, I thought I’d go home for a visit. I got as far as Wyoming, and I saw Beau at a rodeo and knew once I reached Thunder Ranch, I’d never be able to leave. I’d given Michael my word, so I headed back to Maryland. I’m sorry, Beau. I couldn’t talk about it at the time.”
“Don’t worry,” Beau said. “I was just concerned. You weren’t yourself.”
“He’s home now.” His mom patted his chest again. “That’s what matters.”
“As soon as Michael walked out of that hospital on his prosthetic leg with his wife and parents by his side, I headed for Montana.” He reached into his pocket. “My unit was awarded the Bronze Star for bravery in protecting Michael. And Michael received the Silver Star for bravery in saving the little girl.” He opened his hand to reveal a Silver Star encased in a clear plastic sheath. “I was awarded the Silver Star as well for covering Michael’s body and for carrying him out of there.” He held it out to his mother. “I want you to have it.”
“No, no.” She shook her head. “You keep it. You earned it, my son. You’re the hero.”
Suddenly, there was that silence he dreaded. He glanced at their familiar faces and saw the look he dreaded, too—hero worship. He shoved the medal into his pocket and took a step backward. “I’m not a hero. Michael is. I did what I was trained to do. Anyone here would have done the same thing. Any marine in my unit would have done the same thing.”
Uncle Josh put his arm around Tuf’s shoulders. “But no one in your unit covered Michael’s body. No one in your unit ran back for him. They were running for the chopper and safety. You did that. Why is hero so hard for you to accept?”
“Because you’re looking at me different. I’m not different. I’m still the annoying younger brother.”
Ace approached him on the left side. “Yep, you’re still that annoying kid who had the nerve to wear my best boots to a rodeo, like I wouldn’t see the mud and the scuffs. But you’ll forgive me if I see a man where a boy used to stand.”
“Yeah.” Colt moved closer.
Dinah, Beau and Duke echoed the sentiment.
Some of the tension left him. “I know none of you understood my reasons for joining the marines, but when Dad died, I lost my love of rodeo. It wasn’t
