Blood Bourbon

Drowning

As more weeks go by

Daryl

Daryl hadn't been looking forward to New Orleans. Heaven knew it was a large city full of plenty of people but returning to where he knew Ryker lived had made him dread that stop on the tour for weeks.

Despite his high-minded words, he was still furious about the argument, even after several weeks. He had thrown himself back into working and training, starting earlier and ending later than anyone else on the crew. The circuit doctors had evaluated them himself, including making him work without animals in the ring to ensure he was still coordinated enough to keep himself safe. How his job had remained open for him so long baffled him, but he knew that he was one misstep away from being unemployed. Everyone had all been baffled by his recovery but even when he had been given the green light, he was still checked up on once, maybe twice, a night by a medic.

He had stopped drinking, fearing what being drunk and angry at the world would do, fearing that alcohol would somehow reverse the amazing gift of getting his brain back. He was thinking clearer than he had in years, his mind rarely stopping until he slept. When he wasn't working, he was occupying his time with more books than he had read since university. In fact, Daryl was already well on his way to learning both French and Gaelic with the sudden addition of mental energy. Why Gaelic? He had no idea. He had just seen the option in the language box and chosen it, along with French because... well, no one expected a cowboy to speak French.

He'd work himself to exhaustion, spend a couple more hours studying or reading, then sleep. And then do it all over again day after day. Any softness he had gotten while recovering melted away until he found himself building more muscle than he had before. Even his body felt younger than it had, though that may have been a result of his not drinking himself to sleep nearly every night.

Charlie and Mary still wouldn't talk to him though. They had refused to even drive him to the airport and every single cheque he had sent them had gone uncashed. Sarah texted him daily to let him know that everyone was fine, that things were going amazing and asking him to call.

Or better yet, come home.

Out of the blue, one of the heads of publicity for the circuit had approached him as he was finishing up for the day, making sure the trucks were loaded and ready to travel to New Orleans the next morning.

"Daryl!" Sue was no-nonsense, usually wore business suits, though she had finally relented and exchanged her heels for boots, hair up in a bun as she strode towards him. "There you are, you got a minute?"

"Yes Ma'am." Daryl smiled at her, pulling off his hat and wiping the sweat from his brow as he followed her into an air-conditioned hallway, then up a half set of stairs in the arena -turned rodeo grounds and finally into a small office.

Waiting for him, was the main director of the circuit and a man and woman he had never met before. They were wearing suits that looked as if they were bought off the rack and well worn. The two newcomers beamed at him when he entered, causing him to dust his hat off, then his hands, in time for Sue to introduce him.

"This is Rhonda Carling and Jack Strickland. They're from Wishes and Kindness... it's a local charity in New Orleans that does what it can to make terminally ill children's wishes come true." Sue offered, giving him a hopeful look.

"Sir, Ma'am. Pleasure to meetcha." He shook their hands after wiping them on his pants again, giving them a pained smile. "Sorry.. I'm filthy."

"No. We had the chance to watch you work out there. We also saw the show last night. One of our kids out here wanted to see a full rodeo, meet some of the riders." Jack grinned at him, waving him off. "We know that you're busy, we're sorry for dragging you away from your free time."