Her Rodeo Man

by Cathy McDavid

  The feeling of satisfaction he’d been counting on didn’t come. Instead, he wanted to throw something. Or, better, punch a hole in a wall.

  He did neither. He left the arena, taking the long way to his father’s place.

  Chapter Seven

  Ryder parked his truck along Center Avenue, Reckless’s main thoroughfare. As they were every weekend, parking spaces were at a premium. He’d have to walk a quarter mile to reach Tatum’s art studio where Benjie was attending Saturday-morning class.

  Cassidy had been busy with the barrel racers and unable to get away, their practice heating up in preparation for the upcoming Wild West Days Rodeo. Since he had another errand in town, Ryder had offered to pick up Benjie. After a brief hesitation, and a promise from Ryder that no harm would come to her son, she’d relented.

  In truth, he was glad for the chance to have some one-on-one with his nephew. He really didn’t know Benjie well and wanted to spend as much time as possible with him before he left.

  At the corner, Ryder waited for the light to change and stifled a yawn. The talk with his mother had stayed with him long after it ended, interrupting his sleep. He kept telling himself he was right, his mother wrong. Experience had shown him, however, there were always two sides to every story. He had only to look at his termination from Madison-Monroe for proof of that.

  As he strolled through town, he couldn’t help noticing the many changes in preparation for the coming week. Wild West Days was a fever the locals had caught.

  A white banner with bold red letters announcing the event was draped from one side of the street to the other. Decorations adorned storefronts. Sandwich-board signs outside restaurants advertised specials, such as cowboy steaks and TexMex chili. An area had been cordoned off near the town square for Saturday night square dancing. Carpenters had assembled a wooden judge’s stand outside the library. Mock weddings would be performed in front of the judge, and people arrested and charged with outlandish crimes. The wedding license fees and fines would then be donated to the library’s book fund.

  The summer before Ryder had moved in with his father, he’d been old enough to perform in the “shoot-outs,” playing a bandit who was “gunned down”’ as he tried to escape. He’d milked his role for all it was worth, showing off in front of his pals and, to be honest, a girl or two, with his Oscar-worthy performances.

  Reaching the Silver Dollar Pawn Shop, a local establishment founded in the early 1900s that catered to both locals and tourists, he went inside. The store’s wares included everything from rare Western antiques to jewelry to the latest electronic gadget. His upcoming video interview at Myra’s office had spurred an idea for the arena, one that took hold last night and wouldn’t let go. The Silver Dollar seemed a good place to start.

  “Howdy!” The elderly woman behind the counter greeted him with a friendly smile. Four feet eleven in her shoes, she looked every bit of her seventy-plus years. “Can I help you with something in particular?” The friendly smile promptly blossomed. “Ryder. Ryder Beckett.” She darted around the counter, nimble and chipper as an elf. “My, my, it’s good to see you.”

  “Mrs. Danelli.”

  “Welcome home.” She propelled herself at him, and he enveloped her petite frame in a fond embrace. “How are you?”

  “I’m good. Sure is nice to see you.”

  They exchanged pleasantries for several minutes. Of course, she’d heard about his return. Reckless was still a small town, and news traveled fast. She didn’t ask why he’d quit his highfalutin marketing job, but he supposed she was curious like everyone else.

  “I actually stopped in for a reason,” he said. “Do you, by chance, carry any camcorders?”

  “Several. Anything specific in mind?” She led him to an aisle in the store.

  “I don’t know a lot about them, but I’m looking for something professional and good quality.”

  “Really good?”

  “Depends on the price.”

  “There was a gentleman who came in a few months ago. Claimed he was a filmmaker. Nature documentaries. Looking for money to finance a project. I wasn’t sure I believed him or if I’d even take his equipment. Not much call for the high-end stuff. When he didn’t come back to get his equipment out of hock, I doubted his story even more. When I called a few associates in the business, they told me the camcorder was actually one of the better ones on the market for that price range.”

  She unlocked the cable anchoring the merchandise to the shelf and handed the device to Ryder. It was larger than the handheld models he was used to seeing. A large microphone was attached to the top beside an elongated lens.

  “There’s a tripod and a case and some other accessories in the storage room. I didn’t put them out. If you’re interested, I’ll find them.”

  “I’m interested.”

  Mrs. Danelli reappeared a few minutes later. She dropped the box on the counter, evidently as far as she could carry it. Ryder rifled through the contents while she assisted a newly arrived customer. Luckily, the original owner’s manual was still in the case. He quickly scanned it.

  “What do you think?” She sidled up next to him, the top of her permed gray hair barely reaching his shoulder.

  Ryder replaced the charger he’d been inspecting in the box. “I’ll take it.”

  She gave him a deal, and Ryder thanked her.

  “Filming the rodeo this weekend?”

  “And the different events around town.” Ryder had a friend who was an editing genius and could probably take all the lousy footage he produced and turn it into a decent commercial short. Another friend could supply the voice-over. Perks of being in the marketing business for over a decade. “I’m hoping to make a digital short on the arena. For advertising.”

  “That’s a great idea!”

  And right up Ryder’s alley. Much more so than delivering posters. Plus, his family could continue to use the digital short long after he left.

  Mrs. Danelli sent him off with another hug and motherly peck on the cheek. Outside, he stood a moment and checked the time. Still ten minutes before art class was over. Cassidy had warned Ryder not to show up early. Her son was the class clown, and Ryder’s presence would only give Benjie an excuse to cut up.

  Hearing a loud clacking, Ryder spun. A riderless horse galloped straight for him, reins flapping and stirrups bouncing with each thunderous stride. Someone screamed. People dived out of the way like pins being knocked down by a bowling ball.

  Horses weren’t uncommon on the streets of Reckless, especially during Wild West Days. Uncontrolled horses, however, presented a danger.

  Ryder didn’t stop to think. He set the box with the camcorder on the sidewalk and ran into the street, arms waving and shouting, “Whoa. Whoa there, fellow.”

  For a split second, he thought the enormous bay gelding might gallop past him. All at once, it gathered its front hooves under it and clamored to a stop, eyes wide, nostrils flaring and flanks heaving.

  Ryder gathered the reins and gripped them firmly just beneath the horse’s jaw. “Easy does it. That’s a good boy.”

  Whatever had spooked the horse seemed to have passed and, little by little, he calmed. Where was his rider, and was the man or woman all right? Ryder searched the vicinity but saw no one. Eventually, people ventured back on to the streets.

  “Anyone know who this guy belongs to?” Ryder called out.

  A few folks shook their heads or offered a “No clue,” before walking away.

  An old-timer wandered over. “That looks like one of Bucky Hendriks’s stock. His crew has been in town since early this morning carousing and causing a ruckus. They’re a good bunch of boys. Usually. Just get carried away now and then.”

  “You know where they are?”

  “Last I heard, the Reverie.”

 
A bar three blocks over. Strange that the horse’s owner hadn’t come to fetch him yet. Perhaps he was still inside the bar and unaware.

  Ryder checked his watch again. Not enough time to take the horse to the bar and be back to fetch Benjie. But he could hardly abandon the bay, even tied up.

  “You have a vehicle?” he asked the old-timer.

  “My scooter.”

  Ryder noticed the motorized chair parked nearby. “You think you can drive it all the way to the Reverie?”

  The man snorted with disdain, evidently insulted.

  “Let Bucky’s crew know I have the horse, and I’ll be at the Ship-With-Ease Store. They can find him there.”

  The old-timer pressed pedal to the metal and took off at a brisk four miles an hour.

  The horse perked his ears and stared after the man as if he, too, found the sight amusing.

  “Let’s go, boy.”

  Ryder gave the horse’s neck a pat, then reached down, retrieved his box and balanced it in the crook of his arm. The horse ambled quietly beside him. They garnered their share of curious glances.

  Outside the Ship-With-Ease Store, he stopped and tethered the horse to a wooden column.

  Three young mothers stopped, glanced at the store and then Ryder.

  “Ladies.” He tugged on the brim of his hat, assuming they were parents of Tatum’s students.

  “Can we pet the horse?” one of them asked.

  “Just be careful you don’t move too fast.”

  Ryder heard a sudden bang behind him. Benjie stood at the art studio’s large window, both palms and his nose pressed to the glass. Ryder could hear a muffled, “Hi, Uncle Ryder.” A moment later, Drew materialized beside Benjie. The two pointed at him and broke into giggles.

  Not good, Ryder thought. He could already hear the reprimand from Tatum.

  As if on cue, she came up behind the boys. For a second, her gaze connected with his. Before he could mouth the words, I’m sorry, she marched the two young troublemakers away.

  “Don’t worry. She never stays mad for long.”

  Ryder faced the store owner, who’d come outside. “How you doing, Mr. Faust?”

  The two men shook hands. “’Bout time you called me Lenny, I’d say.”

  For over thirty years, the older man had served as the town’s postmaster. Forced into what he’d called an early retirement, he’d opened the Ship-With-Ease Store and proceeded to do a booming business, essentially competing with his former employer.

  “Afraid I’m being a distraction,” Ryder explained.

  “Ah. Breaking the cardinal rule.”

  “Tatum’s a good teacher, I hear.”

  “Great with them kids. Shame she lost her job at the school. If I have my way, she’ll be teaching third grade again starting with the spring quarter.”

  “You have some sway with the board?”

  “I’m one of the members. Serve with your mother. I’ll be at the meeting next week.”

  “She didn’t mention it.”

  “We’re up against some strong opposition. Money is tight this year. The school doesn’t have a lot to go around. Be a real shame to lose her.”

  “Do you think the board won’t approve the budget increase?”

  “Truthfully, I doubt the increase will pass.” He sighed expansively. “Sunny and I, we’re gonna do our best for that girl. Classrooms are crowded enough as it is. We need good teachers.”

  Ryder watched Tatum through the window. With the exception of her son and his nephew, every child stared at her with rapt attention. “She has a way with kids,” Lenny echoed. “That’s for sure. I told her she can use that space as long as she’d like. I’m not doing anything with it. Thought about expanding at one time, just hasn’t happened. Don’t really care about the extra rent money.”

  “That’s nice of you.”

  More parents had gathered as they talked, the group swelling to the size of a small crowd. Ryder had a hard time keeping them away from the horse. In hindsight, he probably should have tethered the gelding farther from the art studio.

  “I like that gal,” Lenny said. “Heart of gold. I’m thinking you like her, too.”

  Did it show? “She’s a good friend of my sister’s.”

  He winked. “If that’s what you say.”

  “I’m just here to pick up my nephew.”

  “Right.”

  Ryder was spared further scrutiny when the door to the studio flew open, and the boys tumbled out on to the sidewalk. They were followed by eight or nine other children of similar ages.

  “What are you doing with that horse, Uncle Ryder?” Benjie was the image of his mother, looks-wise. Personality-wise, they couldn’t be more opposite. Whereas Cassidy was reserved and intense, Benjie was outgoing, boisterous and extremely social.

  Was he like his father? Ryder found himself again wondering about the man’s identity and why his sister kept it a secret. Did Benjie ever ask? What did she tell him?

  “I kind of found him. His owner should be here any second.” Ryder ruffled his nephew’s already disheveled hair, then turned his attention to Drew. “How’s the finger?”

  “Mom says I’m brave.”

  “She’s right.”

  His face fell. “I can’t play kick ball. Or go swimming. Not until the cast is off.”

  “Would ice cream help? I can take you boys to Cascade.” The ice cream parlor had been Ryder’s favorite place as a kid.

  “Yes!” Benjie and Drew exchanged high fives.

  “I’ll ask my mom.” Drew would have darted back inside, but Tatum chose that moment to come out. He practically collided with her. “Mr. Beckett is taking us to Cascade!”

  Tatum gave Ryder “the look.” “Oh?”

  “You’re welcome to come with us. In fact, I’d like that.”

  “I have another class.”

  “You’re on break,” Drew said. “You just told us.”

  “I can watch the horse,” Lenny offered.

  Ryder grinned. “It’s settled, then.”

  “Well,” Tatum hedged.

  “Please, Mom,” Drew begged.

  She pulled out a ring of keys and locked the door, relenting with a sigh.

  “We won’t be long.” Ryder nodded at Lenny.

  The older man winked again. “If that’s what you say.”

  * * *

  CASCADE ICE CREAM PARLOR wasn’t far. Just up the street. Tatum ran herd on the boys, which was worse than corralling jackrabbits. They insisted on charging ahead, zigging first in one direction and zagging in the other. Leaving the art studio, even for a half hour, felt a little strange to her. Leaving with Ryder, stranger still. People were surely looking at them. Jumping to conclusions.

  “Don’t go far,” she called after the boys.

  They didn’t listen.

  Ryder walked casually along beside her. “Where are Gretchen and Adam?”

  “At home with their grandmother.” Tatum’s reply was issued through clenched teeth. These days, any discussion of her former mother-in-law set her on edge. “She was going to take Drew, too, but he insisted on coming with me.”

  She didn’t add that Drew pitched a fit when she told him he’d be spending the entire day with his grandmother. Try as she might, Tatum couldn’t convince her oldest son that he’d be returned to her and not forced to live with his grandmother again. When his protests had dissolved into a fit of tears, Tatum had given in.

  Her mother-in-law blamed her, of course. Accused her of spoiling Drew. She also blamed Tatum for the dislocated finger. The day care accommodations she’d chosen clearly weren’t safe, if a child could suffer such a serious injury.

  Tatum tried to tell herself that her mother-in-law’s criticisms came from a pl
ace of love. She cared deeply for her grandchildren and wanted only the best for them. The problem was, beneath the caring and criticisms were subtle threats.

  Mess up again, and you’ll be hearing from Monty’s attorney.

  Not going to happen. Tatum refused to let it. She might not be living in the lap of luxury, but she was hardly an unfit parent.

  “Is she visiting?” Ryder asked.

  “For the day. It’s a compromise.”

  Her gaze strayed to his profile. What would her mother-in-law think of her having ice cream with a man? A very good-looking one. Or of her kissing him? Tatum still couldn’t believe she’d succumbed so easily.

  She should tell Drew to say nothing about their trip to the ice cream parlor. Knowing her oldest son, he’d brag to Gretchen the first opportunity. Then, Tatum would have to explain.

  Tension lay like a lead ball in the pit of her stomach.

  “You and she compromise a lot?”

  Glancing at Drew, Tatum assured herself that he and Benjie were occupied and not listening.

  “Ruth comes to Reckless one Saturday a month, and I take the kids to see her one Sunday a month. In exchange, she doesn’t pressure Monty to file for joint custody. Not that he wants it. He hardly ever visits the kids.”

  “Then, why?”

  “Other than he typically does his mother’s bidding?” Tatum swallowed. It did little to alleviate the bitter taste in her mouth. “She...questions my ability to provide adequately for my children.”

  “Because you lost your job at the school?”

  “I went through a difficult financial period. We, um, had to move from a house to a three-bedroom apartment.” She skipped over the part where she’d moved to a one-bedroom apartment for several months because that was all she could afford.

  “Lots of people live in an apartment.”

  “Apparently not her grandchildren. I’m hoping to find a house to rent soon.”

  “When you go back to teaching?”

  “Yes.” And when she finally paid off the bulk of her credit card debt.

  “Do teachers earn more than office managers?”