by Kaki Warner
“Timmy needs me. Alejandro can ride Rosco.”
But they both knew that wouldn’t work, even though a change of riders was allowed. Alejandro was good, but not as good as Dalton. “How about I go to Lubbock,” Raney offered. “I can check on Timmy, talk to the doctor, then report back to you.” Raney hated to push him, but they’d worked too hard to get here, and they’d never have a chance like this again. “It sounds like Timmy is mostly banged up, not seriously hurt. Your parents will understand, Dalton. They know how much you have riding on this.”
“Damn! Fuck! Shit!”
She saw defeat in the slump of his shoulders. “Stay here and do what you came to do. Let me take care of this. Please, Dalton.”
Five minutes later, she was heading out the door with her duffel while Dalton explained to his mother that Raney was on her way and he’d be there as soon as he could.
* * *
* * *
At that time of the evening, the drive only took four and a half hours. Visiting hours were long over, but the Cardwells had left word at the nurses’ station to send her on to Timmy’s room as soon as she arrived.
Timmy was asleep. So was Mr. Cardwell, stretched out on the padded bench beneath the window, snoring softly. Mrs. Cardwell was awake, but looked exhausted. When Raney tiptoed in, Clovis gave a worn smile, rose, and waved her back into the hall. “We can talk in the waiting room. How was the drive?”
“Fine. How are you?” Raney asked her. “Have you had any rest, or gotten anything to eat?”
“Coffee, mostly. But I have a muffin in my purse if you’re hungry.”
Raney shook her head and waited for the older woman to settle in a chair before sitting down beside her. “How badly is Timmy hurt?”
“He’ll live, but I doubt he’ll ever climb a ladder again.” In a thin, weary voice, she listed her younger son’s injuries. A slight concussion, a cracked radius in his left arm, three bruised ribs, and a few cuts and scrapes. “Because of the ribs, he’ll be sore for a while, but his arm should heal fast. He only has a splint, rather than a full cast. They’ll probably send him home in a couple of days unless the concussion acts up. How’s Dalton doing in the horse show?”
“Very well.” Raney explained about the semifinal ride tomorrow and the finals the day after. “We won’t know if he made the finals until tomorrow evening when they post the rankings, but he has a good chance. He and Rosco are doing an amazing job. They’re both getting a lot of attention.” Raney hesitated, then added, “Dalton was all set to have someone else ride for him tomorrow so he could come to Lubbock. I talked him out of it. He’s building a great career as a trainer, Mrs. Cardwell, and these next two days could make or break him. I hope I didn’t overstep, coming in his place.”
Mrs. Cardwell reached over and laid a wrinkled, blue-veined hand over Raney’s. “You didn’t. I’m glad you came in his stead. Dalton has given up too much for his family, as it is. He deserves his chance after what he’s been through.”
Raney felt a swell of gratitude. “I’ll tell him you said that.”
Blinking hard, the older woman took her hand away and smoothed the faded cotton of her shirtwaist dress with arthritic fingers, obviously embarrassed by her spontaneous show of emotion. Raney wondered how such a reserved woman could raise a son as openhearted as Dalton. But then, Dalton had his hidden places, too.
“I hope you won’t try to drive back tonight, Raney,” Mrs. Cardwell said.
“I had planned on staying until Timmy is discharged, in case you need help getting him home.”
“What about Dalton’s ride tomorrow? Don’t you want to be there for that?”
“The semifinals? I doubt I’d make it back in time even if I left first thing tomorrow. But if he gets into the finals, I’d definitely like to make that.”
Mrs. Cardwell studied her for several moments, a thoughtful look in eyes that might once have been as bright a green as her oldest son’s. “He’s in love with you, you know,” she said. “You mind me asking if you have feelings for him, too?”
“I do, ma’am. I think he’s a remarkable man.”
“Probably more so than you know.”
Raney thought that was an odd thing to say, but simply smiled in response. This conversation was becoming uncomfortable enough as it was.
“Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?” Mrs. Cardwell asked.
“I thought I would go by the hotel where we stayed when my sister was here having her baby. Will you share it with me? Or could I get a room for you and Mr. Cardwell?”
“No need. It’s my turn on the couch, and Dad has spent many a night dozing in a chair. Especially since the new TV plays football all night long. We’ll be fine. But you run on. Get some rest. Come see Timmy in the morning. He’d like that.”
Luckily the hotel had a vacancy, probably because the Texas Tech Red Raiders football team was playing away this week. As soon as she reached her room, Raney called Dalton, assured him Timmy was doing well and would probably be discharged the day after tomorrow.
“Stay until then,” Dalton suggested. “If we make it, the finals won’t start until afternoon day after tomorrow. If you leave early, you can make it. We can both use the rest, but I’ll miss you.”
She would miss him, too. She loved having him beside her at night and knowing he was just an arm’s length away.
“Let me know your draw for the finals as soon as you get it,” she said.
He chuckled. “Now who’s being cocky?”
“I have total faith in you and Rosco. You’ve got this.”
“I hope. But even if we don’t make the finals, be ready for offers. I’m already being stalked.”
“Offers for both of you?”
“I’ve made it pretty clear I’m not going anywhere, so don’t worry about me.”
Raney was trying not to. But the lure of being the big dog at a top-tier ranch had to look better to Dalton than what she could offer.
“Your mother’s here,” he said. “Hope the maid got to your room before she checked in.”
“My room?”
“That’s the one they put her in. Seems we’ve been using the room under Whitcomb, rather than the one for Cardwell. Think she’ll believe it if you told her you’ve started wearing boxers and using men’s deodorant? Although, I’d bet she already knows we’re knocking boots.”
“Oh, Lord.”
He laughed. “You’re not still worried about her knowing, are you?”
“Of course I am. As soon as it’s out, she’ll be pushing for a double December wedding.”
“Would that be so bad?”
“Seriously? Can you imagine the circus it would be? Joss, a crying baby, everybody looking at my waist and wondering if I’m having a baby, too? If I were Grady, I might not even show up.”
“I’m surprised you care that much about what others think.”
She thought about it, then sighed. “Actually, I don’t. Not really. I just want my wedding to be mine. Not Mama’s or Joss’s.”
“And mine, too, I hope.”
“Mercy, Mr. Cardwell, are you proposing to me?”
“Hell, no. You said when the time came, you would do the proposing.”
“Did I? Well, let’s see how you do in the finals before we do anything drastic. Good night, Muffin.”
“Muffin?”
“Sorry. Studmuffin.”
Laughter rumbled through the phone. “Good night, sweetheart. And don’t wear anything to bed tonight. It makes my dreams more fun.”
CHAPTER 25
The semifinals didn’t start until afternoon. Rosco had drawn 26, which meant he was the second rider in the third herd. A good spot. Since they changed cows after every twelve rides, his herd would still be fresh and lively, which allowed for a higher score. Dalton gave the colt an early-morning workout, hosed him
off, then spent a long time with him in the stall, giving him a rubdown, brushing him, and telling him what an outstanding job he was doing.
Rosco responded by dozing, which was what Dalton had hoped for.
By noon, Alejandro and Uno were off cruising the auction pens, so Dalton ate lunch alone in a restaurant in the exhibition hall. He was finishing a piece of pie when two men stopped at his table and asked if they could join him.
Max Rayburn and Sid Falk.
Rayburn owned a well-respected cutting horse outfit in Oklahoma, and Sid was an experienced, successful trainer who had been with him for years. Maybe too many years. The guy must be over sixty and moved with the stiff-backed gait of a man who’d spent most of those years in a saddle. Maybe he was retiring or stepping back from active training. Maybe Rayburn was looking for a replacement. Dalton doubted they were after Rosco—he’d already told Sid the colt wasn’t for sale. Dalton waved to the empty chairs at the table. “Have a seat.”
“Congratulations on making the semifinals,” Rayburn said after he sat down. “Sid, here, thinks your colt has a chance to go even higher.”
“That’d be nice.” Dalton didn’t expound on it, aware that neither of the Rayburn entries had made it past Round Two. Any horse can have an off day.
They chatted for a while, then Rayburn said, “Sid, here, is looking to retire.”
“Is that right? Sorry to hear that, Sid. You’ve got a hell of a track record.”
The older man shrugged. “Had some outstanding horses to work with.”
“He’ll be a hard man to replace.” Having dispensed with the prelims, Rayburn got down to business. “You’re definitely on our short list, Cardwell. You interested in making a change?”
Dalton started to answer, but Rayburn cut him off. “I’ll top whatever you’re making now. House included. If you’re on contract, I can take care of that, too.”
Dalton put on a regretful smile and sat back. “That’s mighty generous, sir. And I appreciate the offer. But I’m not looking to make a move right now.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, sir. I am.”
With a sigh, Rayburn rose. “If you change your mind, let me know.”
“I will. And thanks for considering me.”
“Good luck this afternoon,” Sid said, and followed his boss out of the restaurant.
Dalton watched them leave, hoping he’d done the right thing. Although he felt fairly confident things were working out with Raney, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be her employee forever. But he didn’t want to move on, either. Maybe he should keep his options open for a while.
Alejandro and Uno were saddling the horses when he got back to the stalls.
“We should leave now,” Alejandro suggested. “I am helping in the first go. When I am done, Uno can stay with the horses while we check out the cows in your herd.”
After Alejandro finished helping another rider in the first herd, he came back to the holding area where Uno stood with Rosco, loosened Mike’s cinch to let him breathe, and told the boy to hand walk him until he was cool before giving him any water. Then he and Dalton watched the remaining entrants in the first go and the scores flashing on the leaderboard.
All the horses did well, although, so far, none scored higher than Rosco’s 216 of the previous day. Not that that signified anything, since this was another day and a fresh scoresheet. But it told Dalton that if Rosco could score that high once, he might be able to do it again.
The second herd was a little tougher, with three horses out of twelve scoring over 210, although none higher than 216. But there were still thirty-six horses left and a lot could happen, including Rosco making a miss or having a poor ride.
While arena tenders drove out the cows in the second herd and brought in the ones for the third go-round, Dalton and Alejandro went up to the observation area above and behind the arena wall where the cows were being bunched, and studied them carefully.
They were a good group, and it took the handlers a while to settle them down and get them grouped against the wall. There were several standouts—cows that would offer a challenge rather than an easy ride.
“Ahí.” Alejandro pointed to a heifer with a pink nose and a white ring around her left eye. “There is the money cow.”
Dalton studied her for a moment and nodded. The man trying to settle the herd was having the most trouble keeping her bunched with the rest.
“I like that Angus with the white-tipped tail, too,” Dalton said. “And that smaller Hereford. She likes hiding in the middle of the herd. She’ll be harder to bring out.”
It was important to find stock that would be the least cooperative. A risk, but if successful, it might bring a higher score. After selecting several alternative prospects, in case the first rider picked the cows Dalton wanted, he and Alejandro returned to the holding area just as the tenders finished raking the arena. A few minutes later, the announcer listed the “up next, on deck, and in-the-hole” riders for the third go. It was now or never. Dalton and Alejandro mounted up and moved their horses into second position at the in gate.
Showtime.
* * *
* * *
Knowing she would be staying in Lubbock until tomorrow, Raney slept late the morning after her drive and went by a nearby bookstore before going to the hospital. Timmy was awake and eating an early lunch when she stepped into his room.
“Hi, Raney!” he called when he saw her. “Did Dalton come, too?”
“Maybe next time. How are you feeling?”
“Okay. My arm broke. See?” He held up his bandaged arm. “And my side hurts. And my head hurts. The doctor said I was brave. He said I could go back to my group home tomorrow. But I have to eat my lunch now.”
“Why don’t you do that while I talk to your mother?”
“Yeah. Okay. I have applesauce. See?”
Mrs. Cardwell looked a little better than she had the previous night, but it was clear sleeping on a bench, even if it was padded, was hard on her. “Did you get any rest?” Raney asked her.
“As much as I usually do. Dad’s gone to the cafeteria downstairs. It’s not bad, if you’re hungry.”
Raney wasn’t and suggested Mrs. Cardwell go have lunch with her husband while she stayed with Timmy. “How is he today?”
“Better. Had a bit of a rough night, but they’ve given him something for the sore ribs. Are you sure I can’t get you anything while I’m downstairs?”
“No thanks. Take your time.”
Raney and Timmy chatted about the group home and his friend George until Timmy finished his meal, then Raney gave him the flash cards she’d bought that showed how to make change. He did well but tired easily and was ready for a nap when his parents came back from lunch.
At about the same time Dalton was heading to the arena for his semifinal go, the doctor came in and told them Timmy could go home the following day.
After the Cardwells assured Raney that she didn’t need to accompany them to Plainview, Raney told them that after Timmy was discharged in the morning, she would head back to Fort Worth, in case Dalton and Rosco made it into the finals.
Raney was glad she wasn’t at the arena. The waiting was taking its toll on her, and with every passing hour, the knot in her stomach grew tighter.
Her phone buzzed fifteen minutes after four. Raney saw it was Dalton and stepped out of Timmy’s room into the hall. She took a deep breath, let it out, and punched ACCEPT.
“214.5.”
His voice sounded tense, but not depressed. Or maybe that was wishful thinking on her part. “That’s wonderful!”
“Not wonderful, but maybe good enough. He had a slight misstep on the second cow, but corrected and finished strong.”
“How are the other horses doing?”
“Pretty good. We’re about halfway through, but Rosco’s score is h
olding in the top third.”
“You’ll make it. I’m sure of it.”
He let go a deep breath that rustled through the phone. “This waiting is killing me. I wish you were here. I always feel better when you’re around.”
“Me, too. It’s like I’m missing a foot or something.”
“A foot? That’s the best you can do?”
Smiling, she added, “Okay, I miss your muscles, too. I would elaborate but I’m in the hall at the hospital and wouldn’t want to rile up the patients.”
He chuckled and some of the tension faded.
“When do you think the finals’ list will be posted?” she asked.
“Nine tonight. If we’re in, I’ll get my draw then, too. I’ll call as soon as I know.” There was a pause, the muffled sound of other voices, then Dalton said, “Better go. Press just walked up. Later, babe.”
“Fingers crossed. And tell Press ‘hi’ for me.”
Nine? How was she going to fill five more hours without losing her mind?
With Raney there to keep an eye on Timmy, the elder Cardwell left to run errands, fill prescriptions, and get gas for the car.
Meanwhile, Raney kept Timmy entertained. They read to each other, went over the flash cards again, watched cartoons on the ceiling-mounted TV. Later, she went downstairs, got a dinner plate, and came back up and ate with him while his parents ate in the cafeteria.
Nine o’clock came. Nine thirty. Still, no call. Raney was thinking of pacing in the hall, when her cell buzzed again.
“We made it!” Dalton almost shouted. “We’re in the Futurity finals, baby! Can you believe it?”
“That’s wonderful!” She could hardly hear him because of all the background noise, but she got the gist of it. She slumped against the wall, her heart thudding and her mind spinning. She wanted to do a happy dance, cry, raise a fist in triumph. Instead, she closed her eyes and whispered, “Thank you, God.”
“Gotta go. Some of the trainers are heading to a later supper. Oh, and our draw is 8, so we’re in the first go. We have to be ready by five P.M. Can you make it?”
