Rough Creek

by Kaki Warner

  By July, the local cutting shows were in full swing. Rosco couldn’t compete in any of them, or in any show until his November debut at the annual USCHA Futurity in Fort Worth. But he could watch, and exercise in the loping area, and for a small fee, work cows in one of the smaller pens. But mostly, he was there to grow accustomed to all the noise and fanfare of the show ring.

  Assuming he handled all that well, in October and early November, Dalton would take him to several two-day pre-works at some of the private cutting horse training facilities around Weatherford and Parker County. That was where the real work began. And the real scrutiny. And the pressure.

  Pre-works were the lead-up to the big dance in Fort Worth. Rosco would participate with other debuting horses on a noncompetitive basis—no judges, no prize money, no scoring—but a whole lot of eyeballing going on between Dalton and the other trainers to see what his horse could do compared to what theirs could do. Sort of a horse-trainer pissing contest. These pre-works weren’t open to the public and only the more prominent owners and trainers were invited. Four Star had always been welcome, but since Dalton was new to the circuit, it would be a new experience for both him and Rosco.

  Then finally, on November 15th, after months of hard work, Rosco and Dalton would have their make-or-break moment in the arena of the Will Rogers Coliseum and complex in Fort Worth. Just thinking about it made Raney’s stomach flutter.

  The USCHA Futurity was a three-week-long event that drew close to a thousand horses, both as competitors for the four million–plus in prize money, or as offerings at the high-stakes auctions that went on throughout the competition. If all went well, Rosco would prove himself to be the outstanding colt they thought he was, Dalton would establish himself as an exceptional trainer, and Raney’s dream of making Whitcomb Four Star into a preeminent cutting horse training and breeding ranch would start to become a reality.

  No pressure. None at all.

  That was almost four months away. It sounded like a long time, but there was still a lot of work ahead, and not all of it would be done in the arena. Creating advance interest in the colt was important, too, as well as finding ways to boost Dalton’s credibility as a trainer. And nothing could elevate him faster above the other new-to-the-circuit trainers than having a well-respected, successful trainer vouch for him. And Raney knew just whom to call.

  Press said he’d be happy to do it, and before Raney could even ask, he offered to attend some of the local pre-works close by his daughter’s place in Oklahoma and give his thoughts on how Rosco and Dalton were doing.

  “I expect big things from those two,” he told her. “They got the talent and the drive. They’ll make a great showing in Fort Worth. Probably get offers on Rosco long before you get there, so be prepared. The kid, too. Smart outfit would try to snatch him up soon as they saw how he handled a green horse. Hope you’re ready for that, too.”

  Raney wasn’t. The idea of Dalton moving on to a more prestigious position somewhere else was something she didn’t want to think about. He was talented. Gifted, even. And if she could see that, others in the business would, too.

  Could he be lured away? How far would she go to keep him at Four Star?

  Questions she couldn’t answer. But that didn’t keep them from adding to her conflicted feelings about the man who occupied more of her thoughts as time passed. She had worked hard to keep firm control over whatever was happening between them. But she had never thought he might up and leave her.

  It felt like everything was moving too fast, that a crossroads was approaching too soon, and she’d have to face decisions she wasn’t ready to make. All she knew for certain was that the idea of losing Dalton was suddenly a lot more frightening than the idea of keeping him.

  * * *

  * * *

  On the Friday before Rosco’s first small show, Harvey and Uno washed the newer of the two ranch trucks and the smaller horse trailer, taking extra care to shine up the Whitcomb Four Star logos on the sides of both the truck and trailer, and the rear loading door. Good advertising, Dalton thought.

  Then, after Rosco’s daily workout and Dalton went to tend to his new duties at the breeding offices, they cleaned and oiled the tack, loaded it into the trailer with enough feed and hay for two horses, and made sure the gas tank was full.

  Rosco got the full treatment, too. Alejandro checked his hooves and made sure the shoes were tight and his legs were sound. Then he gave the colt a trim, a bath, a rubdown, and called it a day.

  Meanwhile, Raney was trapped in the office going over the quarterly reports—her least favorite task in running the ranch. The transition from cattle ranch to breeding facility was going well, despite still being in the red. But since the losses were less than those in the first quarter, neither Raney nor the accountants were worried. She was almost through when Maria came in, her face flushed, her eyes round with worry. “Miss Raney, someone comes. In Miss Joss’s car.”

  “Where’s my sister?”

  “Napping, I think.”

  “Don’t wake her. We’ll see who it is first.” Raney picked up her cell phone and left the office, Maria on her heels.

  “I think he went to the back where the cars park,” the housekeeper said.

  “It was a man?”

  “Sí. I think so.”

  Raney quickly punched in Dalton’s number.

  “I see him,” he said before she even spoke. “I’m on my way.”

  Raney ended the call and told Maria to come with her as she hurried through the kitchen toward the veranda.

  It had to be Grady Douglas. Who else would drive all the way from Houston to return her sister’s car? As she stepped out onto the veranda, she heard men’s voices approaching from the parking area. Dalton’s, she recognized. The other, she didn’t.

  When they came around the corner of the house, she studied the newcomer.

  Nice-looking. Neat, rather than scruffy like most of the musicians she’d met. Fit. No obvious signs of drug use. Blond, blue eyed, no man bun or weird haircut, no obvious piercings or visible tattoos. Rather mild for Joss’s tastes. He was a couple of inches shorter than Dalton, and moved like an athlete. His features weren’t as chiseled as Dalton’s, his jaw less obstinate, his eyes not as deep set. Sort of a softer version. Younger-looking, too, even though Joss had said he and Dalton were about the same age. But then, he hadn’t spent his life outdoors, or gone to war, or spent time in prison. She hoped.

  She met them as they came up the veranda steps. “Hello,” she said, and extended her hand. “I’m Raney Whitcomb.”

  “Grady Douglas. Pleased to meet you.”

  It was true that you could tell a lot about a man by his handshake. Grady’s hand wasn’t as large as Dalton’s, or as callused. But he had a firm grip and took her hand fully into his, rather than just clasping her fingers. She liked that. Not an overly robust grip, like a man trying to show dominance, or as tentative as that of a surgeon or pianist who was protective of his, or her, fingers. Just a normal, regular handshake from a normal, regular-looking guy. Raney was relieved. And a little surprised. Not exactly what she had expected from her semiwild sister.

  “This is Maria, our housekeeper.” Raney nodded to the woman hovering in the hall doorway. “Can she get you something to drink? Beer, iced tea, fruit—”

  “Iced tea would be great,” Grady cut in.

  “Me, too,” Dalton said, then added with a boyishly disarming grin, “And maybe some of your wonderful cookies, Maria, if you have them.”

  He was such a suck-up.

  As Maria left, Raney sat in one of the cushioned chairs by the patio fireplace and motioned for the men to sit in two others. “Thanks, Grady, for bringing Joss’s car. That’s a long drive from Houston.”

  “I was motivated.”

  She raised her brows. “To see my sister?”

  “To find out why she won�
�t marry me.”

  The man certainly didn’t waste time on trivialities. Raney liked that, too. But before she could respond, he leaned forward, elbows on armrests, hands clasped in front of him. “I may have overplayed my hand.”

  “In what way?”

  “I’ll admit, when she told me she was pregnant, it was a shocker. But only for a minute. Soon as I thought about it, I realized there was nothing more I wanted in this world than to have Joss and our baby in my life.”

  Score one for Grady Douglas.

  “I can take care of them,” he went on, his voice and expression earnest. “And I will, whether she marries me or not. But I might have pressured her about marriage more than I should have.” He gave a sheepish and utterly charming smile. “I tend to worry about her. She thinks that means I don’t think she can take care of herself, but that’s the farthest thing from the truth. Joss may act a little wild, but it’s mostly a front. She’s smarter than she lets on. Creative. And totally dedicated to her music. I respect that. But the music world isn’t always a healthy place. Booze, drugs, wild parties, you name it. Not healthy at all. I tried to shield her from the worst of it. Nagged her a lot. Maybe too much.” He sat back, as though exhausted by his long speech and relieved to have gotten it all out. “And I’m sorry for that.”

  “What about her music?” Dalton asked. “She thinks you want her to give it up after the baby comes.”

  Grady’s shock was evident. “No way. I’d never ask her to do that. Joss is too talented to give it up. And she wouldn’t have to if I was there to help out. That’s what I keep telling her. She’s got a great future. But not the way Crystal does it, moving from one casino to another. That’s no way to live. No way to raise a kid. Joss can do better than that, especially with me helping her.”

  Raney looked at Dalton. Is this guy for real?

  He gave a slight shrug. Looks like it.

  Grady didn’t seem to notice. “In fact,” he continued, “she’s already on her way. I heard back from one of the producers I sent her demo to and he said—”

  “Stop!” Raney held up a hand like she was directing traffic. “Don’t say anything else. Tell Joss first.” She rose from her chair. “I’ll see if she’s awake.”

  As soon as Raney left, Dalton said, “You’ll have your hands full.”

  “I know.” Grady’s expression indicated he was looking forward to it.

  “And not just with Joss,” Dalton warned. “Raney, too. These Whitcomb girls stick up for each other. And then there’s Mama.”

  “I heard.”

  Dalton had to laugh at the look of mild panic on the other man’s face. “She’s not so bad. Get on her good side and treat her daughter right, and you’re solid.”

  “Glad to hear that.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, then Dalton said, “You serious about Joss making it big?”

  “It could happen. People are showing interest. And she’s definitely got the talent to be a big success.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “About her being a success? I’m all for it. Always have been. But it’s a tough business. And it’s not always pretty.”

  Dalton figured the sisters would be coming down soon. If he was going to speak his mind, he’d best get to it. “I know you didn’t ask, but here’s my advice. Be patient. Don’t even try to rein her in. Let her go full gallop. It won’t be easy with a kid in tow, but let her find that out for herself. In the long run, she’ll do what’s right. For herself and her baby. She’s already more worried about being a good mother than being a big star.”

  “I think she can do both.”

  Footsteps sounded in the hallway from the kitchen. Dalton sat back. “Then I wish you both good luck.”

  Dalton and Raney excused themselves when they saw there would be no fireworks from Joss. In fact, it was just the opposite. As soon as she came out onto the veranda, Joss went straight to Grady and put her arms around him.

  That was good enough for Dalton, especially when she started crying and blubbering into the guy’s shirt. “I’m out of here,” he said to Raney.

  “I’m right behind you,” she muttered, shoving him toward the steps to the lawn.

  Their reunion must have gone well, since Grady was still there for the evening meal. And judging by the suitcase he carried up to Joss’s room earlier, he planned to stay for several more.

  The mutes stayed mute, staring from one to the other while the newly reunited couple grinned and sighed at each other throughout the meal. Dalton couldn’t look, afraid it would ruin his appetite.

  “How come he can stay in Joss’s room,” he complained to Raney later, when Joss and Grady headed upstairs for the night, “but I can’t stay in yours?”

  “They’ve already hanky-pankied. We haven’t.”

  “Yet,” he said, and pulled her in for a kiss.

  She met him with enthusiasm, which told him he was making progress. But all this tiptoeing around was starting to get on his nerves. This wasn’t high school. They were adults. Time they acted like it. “Come to my room tonight,” he whispered into her ear. “I’ll give you a ride you’ll never forget.”

  She didn’t refuse him outright, which he took to mean she was actually considering it. He pulled back to study her face. Saw the wanting in her expressive blue eyes, but he also saw indecision. “What?”

  “If this goes bad, I’ll lose a trainer. Rosco will lose his chance to make a name for himself, and you’ll have to start over somewhere else.”

  He wouldn’t let that happen. “And if it goes good?”

  “Then we’ll expect more. More time together. More commitment. We’ll be a couple then, which brings its own problems and expectations—especially with my family. That would be a huge distraction. We’ve both worked hard to make a good showing at the Futurity. Do we really want to lose focus this late in the game?”

  Dalton didn’t know how to respond to that. Women overthought and overcomplicated the simplest things. He’d been hoping for sex. Raney was hoping for a lifelong commitment. He certainly wasn’t ruling that out, but they both needed more time. Meanwhile, couldn’t they maybe fool around a little?

  Her expression said no. She still had doubts.

  He was disappointed, but not surprised. He knew sex with Raney wouldn’t be a simple hookup. It would change everything. And it would definitely be a distraction. Hell.

  She must have seen his frustration. She gave him a slow smile that put a spark in her eyes. “But now you can tell me you think you love me, if that’ll help.”

  “Will you say it back?”

  “I’ll say it first.” She slid her palm up his chest, around the back of his neck, and pulled his head down. It was a whole new kind of kiss and revved him up so much he thought his heart would bust out of his chest. When it ended, he was gasping and she just smiled. The little tease.

  “I think I’m pretty sure I might love you, Dalton.”

  “You think you’re pretty sure?”

  She raked her fingernails along the back of his head in a way that made nerves hum up and down his spine. “I’m definitely pretty sure I might.”

  That was good enough for Dalton. For now.

  CHAPTER 17

  Soon after dawn the next morning, Raney and Uno watched Dalton and Alejandro load the colt and the help horse into the trailer.

  Bringing along an extra horse for a small show wasn’t strictly necessary since Rosco wouldn’t be competing and, therefore, wouldn’t require a horse and rider to help manage the herd while he worked his cow. But Big Mike was a mellow, show-wise, eleven-year-old gelding, and ever since he and Alejandro had joined Rosco’s daily workouts—turning back errant cattle who tried to break free and holding the rest of the herd together—Rosco had grown accustomed to having him around. Mike was a really good turn-back and help horse. He and A
lejandro made a great team. And for this first, stressful outing, Dalton felt the colt might be more relaxed if the older, more experienced horse came along.

  By the time they were ready to go, neither Joss nor Grady had put in an appearance. Not surprising, since, for now at least, Joss was back in love. Raney left a note on the kitchen counter saying where they’d be and that they’d be back late in the afternoon, then they left, Dalton driving, Raney riding shotgun, Alejandro and Uno in the backseat.

  Raney was as nervous as a kid headed to her first 4-H show, which was ridiculous. She’d been to plenty of horse shows. But it was all new to Rosco, and this would be Dalton’s first since he’d become a part of Four Star, and she was anxious that they do well. She wondered how soccer moms handled the pressure of watching their kids perform. Booze in their thermoses, probably. She was sorry she hadn’t thought to bring along a toddy for herself.

  Dalton tried to keep things calm by reminding her it wasn’t a big show, maybe a hundred or so horses. “No use overexposing Rosco to too much, too soon,” he said, making it sound like this first show was just a tiny step in Rosco’s training.

  Which it was. A tiny first step. And if the blare of the loudspeaker didn’t send him bouncing off the walls, or the chaos of having a hundred strange horses and people milling around didn’t frazzle his nerves, he would be fine. Probably.

  “I was able to buy a practice session with cattle in one of the smaller pens,” she said. “During the break, like you asked.”

  “I know.” He looked over with a condescending smile. “You told me already. Three times.”

  “Bite me.”

  Scheduling Rosco’s practice during the break would hopefully bring other trainers over to see what the colt could do. If he did well, that would build on the hype, so that when he went to the Futurity, there would already be a lot of interest. The cows used at these shows were usually rerun yearling heifers and wouldn’t offer much of a challenge, which was good. Having an easy first run would bolster Rosco’s confidence and help settle his nerves. Raney’s, too, she hoped.