Last Chance Rodeo

by Kari Lynn Dell

  “It’s not a trick. Here…” David reached into the pickup, pulled the keys out of the ignition, and heaved them across the yard. They chinked onto the ground in front of Kylan. “Take my keys. Then I can’t leave.”

  Kylan stared at the keys for a moment. His gaze bounced to his phone, then the pitchfork, then back again, stymied. He had to put something down in order to pick up the keys, but what?

  David breathed a sigh of relief when he chose the pitchfork, jabbing it into a nearby bale of hay. Kylan snatched up the keys and stuffed them in his pocket, his expression still skeptical. “You really just want to shoe him?”

  “Really.”

  “And you’ll show me why before you do anything?”

  “Yes.”

  Kylan considered, then nodded. “Okay.”

  While the kid went out to catch Muddy, David unloaded Frosty and tied him on the shady side of the trailer out of habit. Then he realized it was damn chilly there and moved the horse around into the sun. Criminy. Did they ever get actual summer here?

  He set up his anvil and hoof stand just inside the barn door where he could also catch some warmth from the sun and buckled on a pair of short, heavy leather chaps to protect his thighs.

  When Muddy was tied to the stall gate and munching from a bucket of grain, Kylan squinted at his feet. “I don’t see nothin’ wrong with them.”

  “That’s because you don’t know what to look for.” David pulled out a hoof rasp, a twelve-inch length of flat steel, covered on both sides with curved teeth sort of like an industrial-strength cheese grater with a wooden handle on one end. He used the rasp as a pointer, tracing a line down Muddy’s cannon bone, around the ankle, and to the midpoint of the hoof. “See here, how his heels are low and his toe is a little long, so it makes this angle sharper?”

  “Yeah. So?” Kylan looked over at Frosty. “It’s no different than your other horse.”

  “But they’re not built the same. Look at Muddy, how straight he is through the shoulder. Then look at Frosty. See how his shoulder slopes more? With most horses, the natural angle of their pastern is the same as the angle of their shoulder.” He used the rasp again to trace the flex of Muddy’s ankle—which technically was a toe, not an ankle as compared to human anatomy—but he didn’t intend to go that deep in this impromptu lesson. “If they’re not lined up right, it can cause problems.”

  “Like what?” Kylan leaned in to look closer, suspicion elbowed aside by curiosity.

  “In Muddy’s case, you’re putting more stretch on the flexor tendons, which wrap around the navicular bone like a rope around a pulley. Too much stress can cause bone spurs, arthritis, or even navicular disease.”

  Avascular necrosis, in veterinary terms—degeneration of the bone due to loss of circulation.

  Kylan frowned. “That’s real bad.”

  “It can be,” David agreed. “Which is why I’d like to fix it sooner rather than later.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Kylan flipped a bucket upside down and sat, elbows on knees, watching intently as David pulled the right foot up between his thighs and propped it on the hoof stand. He rasped off the bent ends of the nails on the outside of the foot, then used the hoof nippers—long-handled, industrial-strength toenail clippers—to pry the steel shoe off.

  “I bet it took a long time to get good at that,” Kylan said as David set the first foot down and moved to the other side.

  David paused, arching the kinks out of his back while he looked from horse to kid. For all his other quirks, Muddy was civilized about shoeing, and Mary had said Kylan was interested in learning. “Want to give it a try?”

  Kylan snapped upright, eyes widening. “Seriously?”

  “Sure.”

  “What if I screw it up?”

  “I won’t let you.” Kylan eased around, sneaking up on the horse like he might turn into a grizzly bear.

  Muddy flicked an ear, rolling his eyes as though he was saying, “Oh, for God’s sake. Get on with it.”

  “You’ve picked up his feet before, right?” David asked.

  Kylan bristled. “Of course. I clean them all out every time I ride him, before and after.”

  “Good. Face toward his head, pull the foot up and hold his shinbone between your knees so his foot stays on the stand.”

  Kylan did as instructed, more smoothly than David expected. “Looks like you’ve done this before.”

  Kylan hunched a shoulder. “I been watchin’ our horseshoer, and I tried it a few times.”

  More than a few, David guessed. He held out the rasp. “Here. Take off the bent ends of the nails.”

  The first few strokes were jerky, the nails catching the teeth of the rasp and stopping it short. Kylan swore and tried again, with no better results. David hesitated, not sure how the kid would react if he got too close. Guess he’d find out. He crouched, putting his hands over Kylan’s on the ends of the rasp. The kid didn’t flinch away.

  “Like this.” David tilted the rasp to the correct angle, demonstrating the proper amount of force needed to grind off the nails. “See?”

  “Yeah. I got it.”

  David stepped back. The rasp snagged again, but Kylan corrected himself, and the next stroke was smooth and steady. He clamped his bottom lip between his teeth, concentrating hard as he carefully removed the rest of the nail ends. He finished the last one and flashed a triumphant grin at David. “Like that?”

  “Perfect.” David took the rasp and handed him the nippers. “Now pull the shoe off.”

  Kylan struggled a little but pried the shoe off without help. Then David took over, the rest of the job requiring more finesse. Muddy dozed, bored as a socialite getting a pedicure, while David nipped off just the right amount from the front of the hoof, set the foot on the ground to inspect the angle, and showed Kylan the result. Then he used the rasp to plane the bottom flat and tacked on the new shoe. He let Kylan finish it off, clinching the pointed ends of the nails down and under on the outside of the hoof to clamp the shoe firmly in place.

  They repeated the process on all four feet. While Kylan clinched the last set of nails, David stretched out his back, groaning. “Short horses kill me.”

  “Doesn’t seem so bad to me,” Kylan said, setting the foot down and popping upright with a cheeky grin.

  “Say that after you’ve shod a couple thousand head.”

  Kylan’s expression went sober. “You think I could?”

  “Sure. Seems like you’ve got a knack for it.”

  “Really?” A delighted smile spread across Kylan’s face. “I’m not usually good at stuff.”

  A lump the size of a bowling ball swelled in David’s throat. His phone rang, and he could barely choke out a “Hello.”

  “Hey, David. It’s Rusty. I’ve got a horse that might work for Kylan. Can you track him down and come out this afternoon?”

  “He’s standing right here. How long will it take us to get there?”

  “An hour.”

  “See you in an hour and fifteen, then,” David said, and hung up.

  Kylan stepped back, suspicion flaring in his eyes. “Who was that?”

  “Rusty Chapman. He’s got a horse for you to try.”

  Kylan’s gaze flicked to Muddy, his face going sullen. “I already got a horse.”

  “Kylan—”

  The kid took another step back, shaking his head. “Mary said she had it worked out so I could still use him at nationals.”

  Dammit. Why had she told him that when she didn’t know for sure? “She offered me a deal,” David said, forcing the irritation out of his words. “But I have to say no. I can’t leave Muddy here.”

  “Why not?” Kylan demanded, his voice pitching higher.

  “My dad won’t let me.”

  Kylan blinked, momentarily surprised out of his sulk. “Your dad still bosses you?”r />
  “Parents never quit bossing you,” David said. Or sisters, for that matter. “I listen, ’cause he’s a smart guy. Plus, I need Muddy pretty bad right now if I want to make the National Finals this year.”

  Kylan’s lip poked out, his voice going sulky. “I guess that’s a bigger deal than the high school finals.”

  David took a deep breath. Patience. “It could be worth a lot of money to me.”

  Kylan stared down at his feet for several long moments. Then his shoulders rose and fell on a defeated sigh. “You’d have to be kinda stupid to leave a horse that good standin’ around here.”

  “That’s what my dad said. So…are we gonna go rope or what?”

  “I have to ask Mary.”

  “So ask.”

  “I can’t. She’s in that training thing, and they’re not allowed to have their phones.”

  “Then we’ll have to go without asking her.”

  “She won’t like that.”

  Oh, for God’s sake. The kid was eighteen years old, and he was afraid to leave home in broad daylight without permission? David took another calming breath. “Call Galen. He’s the one who asked me to help find you a horse.”

  Kylan dialed the number, listened, and then frowned. “Voicemail. I’ll try Cissy’s number.” He did and frowned again when he got another voicemail. “They’re prob’ly at the hospital with Aunt Mona. We’ll just have to wait.”

  “I’m only here until Thursday,” David said, hanging on to the last shreds of his temper. “We can’t sit on our asses all day. Besides, Galen already knows I was gonna call Rusty. And you know the Chapmans, right?”

  “Well, yeah, but—”

  “No but. We’re going. And…” He paused, aware that he was railroading the kid, but it was in Kylan’s best interest as much as his own. “I’d like to take Muddy along.”

  “To Rusty’s?” Kylan threw out his hands, shaking his head. “Uh-uh. You can’t.”

  “Why not? You’ll be right there to keep an eye on me.” Hell with it. He wasn’t too proud to beg. “Please, Kylan? I’ve been waiting four years. I never thought I’d get to rope on him again, and now he’s right here…”

  Kylan’s forehead crinkled, fear, uncertainty, and a hint of sympathy flickering across his face. “But Rusty’s place is, um…you know.”

  “What?”

  “Uh…kinda far.”

  “An hour, he said. It’s only eleven o’clock. If we get a move on, we could hustle out there, rope, and be back before Mary gets home.”

  “Well…” David saw the teen wavering and pushed the advantage. “Grab your stuff and let’s go. Time’s a-wastin’, and I don’t have much to spare.”

  Kylan hesitated for another few beats, then squared his shoulders and fixed David with a decent imitation of Mary’s cold-eyed soldier stare. “First, you gotta promise you’ll bring Muddy back.”

  “Cross my heart,” David said, and didn’t think twice about sealing the deal with a slash of his fingers across his chest.

  Chapter 18

  When they finally pulled in almost two hours later, Rusty was out in his yard roping a plastic calf head stuck into the end of a hay bale. He hadn’t changed a bit, still raw-boned and redheaded, with a permanent sunburn on his neck and oversize ears. He coiled up his loop and crossed to meet them as David stepped out of the pickup.

  “What took you so long?”

  “Kylan thought he knew a shortcut.” David didn’t bother hiding his exasperation since he’d already given the kid a raft of shit about the detour.

  “I forgot there’s not a cut-across from the boarding school road to Meriwether.” Kylan hunched his shoulders, but he didn’t seem all that apologetic. “At least we didn’t have to go through town.”

  “Yeah, that saved us a bunch of time,” David drawled.

  Rusty frowned at the empty cab of the pickup. “I thought Galen would be with you.”

  “He’s out of town,” David said.

  “It’s just the two of you?” Rusty asked, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief.

  “We’re big boys,” David said. “We thought we could handle it. Which horse are we looking at?”

  Rusty stared at him for a beat and then waved a hand toward the three horses tied to a rail in front of the barn. “The dun on the end. My wife’s cousin took him in on a trade, says he works good out in the arena but he’s a little tricky in the box.”

  That didn’t sound promising, but it couldn’t hurt to try, especially when it had given David an excuse to bring Muddy.

  “Let’s give it a shot,” he said, and went to unload his horses.

  Frosty backed out slowly, deliberately, one foot after another. David handed the lead rope to Kylan. Then he released the next swinging divider inside the trailer and jumped out of the way, snagging the lead rope as Muddy ejected. He followed the horse out.

  Rusty stared, dumbfounded. “Holy shit. That’s Muddy.”

  “In the flesh,” David said.

  “I didn’t expect… How did you get Mary to—” Rusty cut himself short and looked at Kylan. “Why don’t you grab your saddle and put it on the dun?”

  Kylan looked from David to Rusty and back again, then he handed off Frosty’s lead rope and did as ordered. The instant he was out of earshot, Rusty stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Mary and Galen don’t know you’re here, do they?”

  “Uh, no.” David tried hard not to look guilty, but was pretty sure he didn’t succeed. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t live on the reservation, David.”

  David sucked in air as he grasped the significance of Rusty’s statement. “Why didn’t Kylan say something?”

  “Maybe he forgot.”

  No. He didn’t forget. David remembered the hesitation. “Rusty’s place is…kinda far.” Kylan knew what he was risking and did it anyway. Why?

  Rusty glanced over his shoulder at the kid, who was tossing his saddle blanket onto the dun’s back. “We could call the sheriff’s department right now. They’d be out here lickety-split. If you’ve got your papers and stuff along, you could leave here with Muddy today and settle the thing with the reward later.”

  David went dizzy at the possibility. Without even trying, he’d managed to smuggle Muddy off the reservation. All he had to do was jump him into the trailer and drive away.

  “My attorney friend called back,” Rusty went on, talking low and fast. “In her opinion, Mary doesn’t have a leg to stand on. Your posters said the reward was for information leading to Muddy’s return, but Mary didn’t come forward. You found her. If anybody deserves the reward, it’s Shane Colston.”

  David’s brain felt like it had been dropped into a blender. Too much information too fast. Rusty had put his finger on what had been bothering David about paying the reward. Mary hadn’t returned Muddy to him. In fact, she’d done the opposite.

  He was off the hook. Legally, ethically, he didn’t owe Mary or Kylan a damn thing. Except…

  “I promised,” he said.

  Rusty squinted, bewildered.

  “You what?”

  “Kylan made me promise I’d bring Muddy back to his place.” David let out a long, resigned breath. “I even crossed my heart.”

  Rusty stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “You’re shitting me, right?”

  “’Fraid not. I gave my word, and I gotta stand by it.” Even if it might likely kill him. Or his sister would when she found out. And she would find out. She always did.

  Rusty gave his head a slow shake, side to side. “You’re either the most stand-up guy I’ve ever met, or the dumbest.”

  “I’m an idiot. Ask my sister.” David clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go rope.”

  Before he grabbed his saddle from the tack compartment, David paused to scowl up at the cobalt-blue sky. Happy now, y
ou cranky old bastards?

  * * *

  By the time Muddy was saddled and bridled, David’s chest was so tight with anticipation he could barely breathe. He led the horse into the arena, stuck his foot in the stirrup, and swung his leg over. Muddy jumped ten feet sideways and nearly dumped him right back off again, just to see if he was paying attention.

  “Nice try,” David said but grinned. Geezus, the little shit could move.

  Muddy snorted and shook his head, then shoved at the bit, raring to go. David gave him some rein and Muddy took it, churning and puffing around the arena like a miniature steam engine, all stoked up.

  “These first three calves are a little juicy for Kylan,” Rusty said. “Why don’t you rope them?”

  David checked his cinches, remounted, fumbling as he readied his rope and piggin’ string. Criminy. He was shaking worse than the first time he’d ever roped at a rodeo, when he was eight. He rode into the box, turned around, and laughed out loud when Muddy kicked up his heels.

  Rusty grinned. “He’s ready. Are you?”

  “You betcha.” David cocked his loop and nodded his head.

  Muddy blasted out of the corner so hard the cantle of the saddle slapped David on the ass, and he let his loop go before he was ready. Muddy slammed him into the swells as the rope spun around the calf’s ears and off.

  “He’s kinda short on the stop,” Kylan called out, all helpful-like.

  David ignored the jibe, recoiled his rope, and rode back into the box. This time, he was ready for the start. He took three swings and threw, standing out in the right stirrup and pulling back on the reins, same as he’d been doing on Frosty for the past two years.

  Not a good idea.

  The first thing that hit the ground was the back of his head. Muddy spun him around and slammed him down so hard and so fast, David didn’t even feel it coming. Stars burst in front of his eyes, and every molecule of air was forcibly expelled from his body. He rolled over, scrambling to his hands and knees just in time to collide head-to-head with the calf as Muddy dragged it over the top of him.

  Rusty came running, grabbing the rope and flanking the calf to the ground while David forced oxygen into his flattened lungs. He heard a snicker and turned his head to glare at Kylan. “You should at least make sure a man’s not hurt before you laugh at him.”