CHAPTER SIX
Gus Benton’s office was a non-descript building in the middle of nowhere, stuck in a largely empty lot midway between the holding pens and Carrizo Springs. The place looked more like a mechanic’s shop or junkyard than anything else, but according to the sheriff’s deputy they had spoken with, Benton was on the road more than in the office.
Jody shifted as Joe parked next to Benton’s car with its tinted windows and air of luxury, and dug her fingernails into her palms.
She’d spent part of the morning puking, to Joe’s discomfort. The deputy had given them instructions as to where some of the export pens were. The cruelty being visited on horses being loaded or unloaded was burned into her brain. Then there was the trailer of horses sitting in the sun in a parking lot, waiting to cross. She’d held her breath and peered into the trailer with its slatted sides, praying she wouldn’t see horses that Benton might have sent. That she wouldn’t see Cowboy.
She opened the door and slid out before Joe came around the hood of the truck, but when he took her arm to help her over a rough patch of pavement, she let him. They were pretending to be a couple, and besides—leaning a little on someone felt good, even if just this once.
They stepped up on the concrete ramp leading into the building and Joe moved closer. “If it isn’t pleasant, hang tough. We’ll find a way,” he whispered, then brushed her lips in a light kiss.
Bells jangled as they entered. A woman in a low-cut blouse, tight jeans and stiletto heels looked up and shot them a false smile. “What a cute little couple,” she cooed. I’m Marsha. Deputy Ellis said y’all wanted to see Mr. Benton. Just a minute.”
She left the room and disappeared.
“He’ll see you now,” she called from down the hall, then brushed past them on the way back, dragging a hand over Joe’s arm. “Call me if you’re ever free, Cowboy."
Benton sat behind a large, cluttered desk. On the wall behind him were a couple of news stories, including the one about Cowboy. He didn’t stand as they came over, just puffed on his cigar, set it aside and gestured at the worn chairs.
“So. Our friends from yesterday.” He looked at a scrap of paper on his desk. “Joe Roberts. The rodeo guy, right? And Jody Colton.” He didn’t offer a hand. “Don’t know why your last name sounds familiar, girl, but it does.” He looked her over as if she were there alone and Jody struggled not to react. He had all the cards—sixty of them, more or less. And the ace: Cowboy. She couldn’t afford outrage yet.
He smiled. “You sure cleaned up good,” he said. “Too bad you and me can’t cut our own deal.”
“Mr. Benton,” Joe interrupted, brusquely, “the deputy who gave us your address here said he let you know why we were coming.”
“Yeah.” He waved a hand at the wall. “Guess maybe letting slip I had a famous horse in the lot was a mistake. He’s committed to the kill house, bud. Going down tomorrow.”
Jody gasped and started to stand, but Joe caught her hand and squeezed it.
“We’re here to stop that. What will it take?”
“Not happening, bro.” Benton stretched lazily. “Look, I’m going to be real honest. I can’t afford to sell one of a lot I’ve already committed. Not good for my rep, you know? And I take pride in what I do. They’re animals, like pigs or cows. Too many of ‘em everywhere, like dogs or cats. Where’s all the outrage over breedin’ too many or leaving ‘em somewhere to starve? I make money, I feed people—I’m a fuckin’ legend.”
“You’re not a hero—you’re a—”
Joe looked at her and shook his head imperceptibly. “Horses are what—fifteen or twenty cents a pound? We’ll give you fifteen thousand for Cowboy.”
Benton just laughed. Threw his head back and roared with laughter.
“Look, Roberts,” he said, the laughter gone. “I won’t sell one horse out of the lot. I’ve given a count to the slaughterhouse already.”
“What would you take for the lot?” Joe asked. Jody stared at him.
“They’re shipping in the morning.”
“We’ll give you fifty thousand for all of them.” Joe dropped Jody’s hand and leaned forward. “You won’t make that off those poor brutes, Benton. There are several that probably won’t even pass inspection. You’ll lose those, so we’re offering double what you’d get.”
“That sounds good to you? Really? I got overhead. You got a place to put them tomorrow morning? Feed? You want me to cancel a commitment from a place that takes my horses pretty much every day? To miss out on other loads because I can’t stockpile ‘em here ‘til you clean out the ones I got now?” He leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his chin, then closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his face was hard. “Here’s my deal, Roberts and Colton. Don’t waste my time arguing, because this is bottom line and if you’re gonna do it, I want twenty percent tomorrow. I’ll hold ‘em in the pens here ‘til midnight on Saturday. That means I’ll be losing most of a week. All the horses in the pen—one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Period.”
Jody blanched. Joe was silent for a long time.
“You were going to give me fifteen thousand for the beat-up bronc that trampled you—Cowboy. You’d be paying about three thousand for each horse, with something for the feed, care and loss of income I’d suffer if I go along with it. Not to mention the bad publicity that will come of it. I don’t want all the stupid animal nuts celebrating this. ‘Cause startin’ on Sunday, the pens will be full again and the trucks will head south on Monday.” Benton shrugged and turned his attention to Jody. “Help him make up his mind, Sweetie. Because he doesn’t look like he wants to. Does he know you’re oil money?”
Jody flushed, wondering how Benton had found out so much about them so easily. “My family had oil. Once. But what you’re asking is…it’s criminal.”
“Watch your words, sweetheart. They’re my horses. I’d be happy to send them down to the pens early tomorrow. Hell, I might ride along just to watch the black horse go. I can ask whatever I want. I’m not holding a gun to your head, now am I?”
Joe stood without warning. He looked mad enough to go over the desk and choke the older man, but he merely shook his head. “No. You’re not holding a gun to our heads. But you’re asking an exorbitant amount. Neither of us has that kind of cash. You’re giving us what—four and a half days to arrange transportation for sixty-something horses. Give us a couple of hours to talk. And see if it’s even possible.”
“Guess that’s fair. And I’ll give you until noon tomorrow to make the deposit. The rest you pay before the first horse sets foot in a trailer to leave my pens.”
Jody stood up slowly and linked her arm through Joe’s. He turned and looked at her with surprise, as if he’d forgotten she were there. “We want to see the horses again before you get the deposit,” she said, wishing she sounded stronger. “We need to take a head count. We won’t pay the full price if we go and find pens full of dead horses.”
Benton wrote a number on a business card. “My cell. I want a yes or no by six this afternoon. That’s more than enough time for the two of you to…talk.” He leered the last word at Jody, who looked away, afraid of losing her composure and blowing everything.
“Be sure you don’t show up with a bunch of do-gooders. I don’t want it spread far and wide that I let go of a lot of kill animals. And you probably don’t want folks to know if you decide to blow that much cash on garbage.”
Joe took the card and slipped it in his shirt pocket. “Let’s go, Jody,” he muttered, and the relief she felt almost overwhelmed her.
They walked together to his truck without looking back, acknowledging the receptionist or talking. He opened the door for her, went around, got in and looked at her.
“So, Jody. Do you have a hundred and fifty thousand dollars?”
“Nope. You?”
“No. Lost my ranch in a divorce, along with most of my cash.” He grinned at her. “So, got property for sixty odd horses?”
“Nop
e.”
“Well, hell,” he quipped, and they left laughing.
CHAPTER SEVEN
He was starving. In spite of the frustrating events of the day, there wasn’t much point in not eating for the rest of his life. Joe peered out his window and saw a diner he’d stopped at when he did rodeo events in the area. Off the interstate and between cities, but with good food. If they were lucky, maybe there would even be a corner booth where they could start facing up to the truth of the situation—could they save those horses? The dollar amount was staggering, but it was only the beginning.
Jody glanced at him as if she really didn’t want him to stop, but said nothing. Her hesitation to speak out was a mixed blessing. She’d probably never bore him with the details of designer nails like Lorraine had done, but this was major.
“We should eat now. We may not have much time for the next few days,” he explained as he cut the ignition. “Besides,” he added, “we probably both need to use the john.”
She blushed and hurried to beat him out of the truck, leaving him to wonder how she’d react if someone said she was sexy as all get out. He pushed that idea away. They were unlikely partners in a bizarre, hopeless venture. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable on purpose. If everything fell through, he wanted her to trust him enough to know that he really had cared.
He ushered her in, nodding at a waitress he remembered and thankful the table he wanted was vacant.
“Everything’s good,” he assured Jody as she picked up the menu.
“Same old, Cowboy?” the waitress asked, smiling at Jody, then focusing on him. “How you been, anyway?”
“Good, Dottie.”
“Darned shame what that horse did to you.” Dottie snorted, and he saw Jody turn red.
“Dottie, Jody here used to own that horse. Wasn’t his fault.” He shrugged. “Just rodeo, that’s all.”
“I guess.” Dottie turned a speculative glance in Jody’s direction. “Didn’t mean to insult you, Sweetie. Just miss old Joe coming in as often as he used to. Loved to listen to him and his buddies talk about all their rides.”
Jody nodded and faked a smile, then ordered a burger.
Joe raised his eyebrows. “That’s enough after the day we’ve had?”
She nodded again and he ordered the chicken fried steak with extra fries. Dottie picked up the menus and left.
The silence that surrounded them felt ominous.
“We can’t do this, can we?” she asked, her voice full of pain and resignation.
The opening was there: all he had to do was take it. Say, no, we can’t and be done.
Instead, he lifted a hand, reached across and touched her cheek gently. “Let’s not count ourselves out yet, Jody. Folks do crazy stuff every day.” He stood. “Sometimes it even works,” he added and headed for the john. True as what he said was, he felt like a coward saying it. He probably was only prolonging her anxiety and suffering. But they had three hours to figure out the impossible. He wouldn’t let her down a minute before he had to. He refused to ask himself why he felt that way.
When he came back, Jody was reading a poster in the window he hadn’t even noticed. “Cowboy Casting Call” jumped out in huge red text, and underneath the details explained that a new season of the self-declared hit series, “Not Their First Rodeo” would begin shooting soon; they were looking for cowboys and their significant others for the reality show.
She looked up at him as he paused by his bench. “That was in the paper, the one with the photos of the horses. I didn’t even look at it.” She shrugged. “Reality shows mostly make me sick. What’s real about them?”
He sat down and reached for the glass of tea Dottie had filled again.
“Although this one…”
He almost spat the tea out. “This one? You think this one would be better?”
“I thought it might be useful. You know, to pour light on what happens to horses after they’re put out to pasture. It doesn’t really happen like that, does it?”
“Not always. Not often enough. I actually called Cowboy’s last owner when I saw he was in with the slaughter horses. Barty Owens runs a good show—honest animals, prize money—everything above board. He breeds his own bulls. Retires his stock on a huge ranch when they’re too old to perform. Cowboy had years left. It didn’t make any sense.”
“So what happened?”
Joe sighed. “Long story short, he tried to help a friend get started in the business and keep his own wife from making him sell Cowboy—and a few others—to increase his cash. Divorce—isn’t it always? So he leased them out, on paper. He basically gave Cowboy away. He didn’t know the friend had a nice little addiction going on. And all his stock went to auction before Barty even knew anything.”
“So, you don’t think the folks who run the Rodeo series would help us somehow?”
“No. They’re between seasons right now, anyway.”
“It could make a promo or something. People might be as horrified as we are.”
“Honey, all they want to promote are marriage meltdowns and ruining lives.”
She didn’t miss the bitterness in his reaction. “Sounds personal,” she prodded gently, tilting her head to consider him. “Were you in the show or something?”
“No. But I might still be married today if I had been.”
He waved Dottie away as she headed toward them with a pitcher. “My ex, Lorraine, knew a producer with the show. He wanted us to appear after I won the title but couldn’t ride again. She wanted it, too.”
“You’re kidding!” Jody stared in disbelief. “Why would he want that?”
“I’d bragged about how I’d be back. And he told Lorraine they needed to regain ratings by ‘sexing it up’ a little. He wanted at least the hint of affairs. The possibility I’d never do anything again.” He emphasized ‘anything’ and wasn’t surprised it embarrassed Jody to consider that. “A perfect storyline. How would a wife—how would Lorraine—deal with a champion bronc rider one minute and a cripple the next?”
“She…she came to you with that? She wanted you to be okay with it?”
Joe gulped the last of his tea and slammed the glass down. “Hell, her first open affair was with him. Our divorce wasn’t final, and she didn’t even tell me she was filing until after she did.”
“Wow,” Jody said.
“Yeah.” He drew a deep breath. “But we’ve got our own issues now, don’t we? I guess we need to ask ourselves if we can swing the deposit. And find a place for the horses in a day or two, so we’ll have time to trailer them.”
“Shouldn’t we worry about the big stuff? The hundred and fifty thousand dollars?”
He laughed. “Actually, that’s the easy part. We have to go to Dallas, but I’m not worried about that. Everything else scares me.”
Jody grinned and her eyes glowed. “Then we’re good,” she said, without hesitation. Because I can take care of all the rest.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was five-thirty-five when Jody pushed the door closed behind them. Joe walked ahead of her to the tiny kitchen and pulled a chair out for her, but she shook her head, too nervous to sit. He pulled his phone out of his jeans, then fished the card out.
“Remember,” Jody said, as he started to punch in the number. “Ask him to meet us at my bank after we do the head count. I don’t trust him.”
“Benton, Joe Roberts,” he said, nodding at her to let her know he’d heard. “We still think your price is outrageous, but if you won’t let Cowboy go by himself….”
“No, okay. Can you meet us at the bank tomorrow at ten?”
Benton’s voice came out of the cell, sneering. “Why not my office? Afraid of me?”
“No, but we have a lot of arrangements we need to finalize before Saturday. We’re meeting your price, Benton. We’re acting in good faith here. Give us that much of a break, won’t you? Any reason you don’t want to be seen?”
Benton cut loose with a few choice expletives before snapp
ing, “Okay. Ten. Don’t be late,” and ending the call.
Joe sighed with relief. “We did it, girl.”
Jody sagged against the counter for a minute. The implications were enormous. How could this stranger have accepted her plea for help, desperate as it had been?
“Joe—”
He shook his head. “No second thoughts, Jody. We made the call.”
She nodded. “I need to talk to Eric tomorrow sometime. How soon do you need to go to Dallas?”
“Not me, Jody. Us. We should go as soon as possible. Just in case.”
“In case of what?” Her palms felt damp and breathing normally was hard. What if he had no intention of following through? What if she took money out of her savings and lost it the way—no. She wouldn’t doubt Joe. He’d come to see Cowboy. He couldn’t have expected her to be there.
“I hate big cities,” she said, then brushed past him. “I need to check some stuff online.”
She made herself look back at him, hoping he couldn’t tell how close she was to coming unglued. “Come with me? I know the room is tiny, but we can tie up loose ends while I check email.”
He followed her without comment, sitting in the chair farthest away from her computer and watching as she powered up her system.
“I keep thinking,” she said, her back turned to him, seemingly intent on the screen. “We’re paying so much to save those horses. What you said when we first talked is so true—there are so many others.” She glanced at him. “I can’t keep doing this, but now…it will be hard to think about all the others.”
He nodded slowly. “Getting the horses away from Benton may be the easiest part, Jody.”
“I asked before, but is there somewhere else you have to be? Someone waiting for you, or a job or whatever?”
“Not right now, no. But, Jody, I’m not here for the long haul.” He leaned forward and she sensed his struggle to find the right words. “It’s hard to explain, because right now, I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know what I want, if I can’t do what I want to—which is ride broncs. For a year after Lorraine left, I thought I wanted her back. Then I realized she’d been gone for most of our marriage.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what I want.”
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