CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Darlene rolled in around eight-thirty, sunburned and euphoric. A few minutes later, the trailer carrying two of the last three came in.
Sylvia secured a bullhorn from somewhere and climbed up on a nearby table.
“I want everyone ready,” she shouted. “We’re bringing food in, but no one eats until the last trailer comes. And apparently, it couldn’t have worked better!”
She lowered the horn and addressed Jody, who was nearby. “They haven’t brought Cowboy, right? Your horse?”
“Not yet,” Jody said softly, the lump in her throat making it hard to speak. “The one-horse trailer is still there.”
“I got a text,” Chuck called out, waving his phone. “Ram says the horse was a bad actor, but they’re done and fifteen minutes out.”
Jubilation erupted—whistles and cheers, applause—until Eric called out gruffly, “Hey, you’re scaring the blasted horses!”
Jody giggled and looked around to see Joe hugging Darlene. Family. For so many years now, it had been just a word for something she once wanted. Suddenly, the old longing stirred faintly. Maybe there could be new families, crafted out of old, failed ones. Joe and Darlene were weaving their way through the crowd, and she headed in their direction.
“You’re so flushed,” Darlene muttered, hugging her. “Hope all the heat and craziness aren’t getting the better of you.”
“I’m fine,” Jody assured her, not even trying to move away from the embrace.
“And it’s over!” Sylvia whooped, again on the horn, as a truck pulling a trailer slowed near the crowd.
“And we are…”
“Saving Cowboy!” everyone roared, in well-practiced unison.
Jody barreled through the melee, unaware of anyone. The need to see Cowboy walk down the ramp overwhelmed caution. A stride or two away, she slowed, not wanting to upset her horse again. Hooves pounded the floor. Through the slats, a large body moved. A large gray body.
“Noooo! Cowboy! Nooo!” Jody cried, taking another step forward. Then her legs buckled and she fell into a bottomless black pit.
***
Voices and sensations swirled around her before she could climb back into the fading daylight.
“—so stupid of me!” Joe muttered over and over amid protests.
“—planned all along—”
“—protesters in this. Can’t hurt if he’s already screwed you.” Sylvia’s face came into focus, full of anger, and then the others around her, full of worry for her and fury at the situation.
“Jody, just rest a minute or two more,” a woman urged, lifting a bottle of water to her lips. “You’re dehydrated. We’re already trying to figure out what we can do.”
She pushed the bottle aside. “Thank you,” she said mechanically. She felt detached, not part of the scene at all. “You’ve done so much.”
“I’m calling Benton,” Joe told her, phone in hand.
“No,” Jody said, as he started to walk away for privacy. “Whatever he says, everyone here is entitled to know.”
Joe came back, kneeling by the bench she was on, and running a hand over her cheek. “Sweetheart, what if—”
“He tells me he killed Cowboy?” Tears streamed down her face, but she cried quietly. “Then all these folks saved sixty-something horses, Joe. They…you, you all did what I asked.”
“Put it on speaker and be sure he knows,” Darlene suggested. “Let’s see what the creep says.”
At first, there was no answer. Then Benton came on. “Thought I’d hear from you sooner, Roberts. Hope the little lady isn’t too broke up over this.”
“Listen, you bastard--”
“Watch it, Roberts. You and Colton paid for sixty-three horses that were in the pen this morning. You counted sixty-three horses. Too bad your horse needed a little attention and wasn’t one of them.”
“What did you do to Cowboy?” Darlene demanded.
“Who the hell is that?” Benton asked.
“Where’s Cowboy?” Joe pressed.
“You’ve got me on speaker phone, Roberts? You’re not helping yourself. All those protesters—”
“No one called them. They saw the trailers and got curious, Benton,” Darlene answered, over Joe’s attempt to hush her.
“Who the hell are you?” Benton asked.
“Your worst nightmare!” Darlene said dramatically, and Joe growled and pulled the phone closer.
“You knew the horse we wanted most was Cowboy, Benton.”
There was a snicker on the other end. “And you’re going to get him, Roberts. If you play nice.”
Jody pulled Joe’s hand away from his chest. “We did everything you asked. You have no right!”
“Nah, honey, but I got the horse.”
“The sheriff—”
“Can have a copy of a bill of sale for sixty-three horses. And a signed tally that sixty-three horses were loaded by your guys.”
“What do you want, Benton?”
“Some of my compadres from Louisiana came to visit for a day or two. Problem is, there’s not much to do around here. They’d kill for a little fun. Here’s the deal. You ride Cowboy for my friends, then you can take him home.”
“What?” Gasps and protests rippled through the crowd, but Joe stood up, and concentrated on the man on the phone, unaware that Jody was following him. “What do you mean, I ride him?”
“Rodeo rules. Bareback, eight seconds. My friends get a kick whether you stay on or get tramped into the dirt. Either way. You get the horse if you stay on.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You know what, Roberts? I’m a decent enough guy. You try to ride him, and if you can get him off my property within twenty minutes after that, he’s yours. Easy enough.”
“No,” Jody protested, shaking her head. “We can’t trust him.”
“You got a lot of witnesses, there, girl, don’t you? Can’t back down from that, can I?”
“I’ll ride Cowboy,” Joe said, closing his eyes briefly and hearing gasps of worry all around him. “But if you’re having friends there, I’m taking the guys who helped me today. And some of my family is here.”
“There was a lot of picture taking going on today along the highway,” Benton retorted. “Nobody needs to be there to take pictures.”
“Will your friends have cameras?” Joe challenged.
“Well, you know, phones today.” Benton sounded flustered, finally, and Joe nodded.
“Take anyone you want, Benton, but my guys worked their tails off today. Time?”
Benton laughed. “That’s easy, son. High noon.”
“He hung up,” Joe muttered.
Conversation erupted around them, arguments and outrage blistering the descending dark.
Darlene squeezed Jody’s hand. “You two go get together on this,” she said gently. “No one else’s opinion matters.” Then she grinned. “Just so you know, at least Dora and Mom will be here tomorrow morning.” She let go of Jody, put a hand on each of their shoulders, and pushed them. “Get gone. We’ll wrap things up here.”
“Come to the house with me?” Jody asked, unsure that he would.
“Of course.” They walked together in silence, the noise behind them fading.
“I couldn’t face that empty stall again,” Jody told him as they walked into her room. She shut the door. “Joe, you can’t go tomorrow. You can’t ride Cowboy.”
“What?” Joe stared at her. “You heard Benton. He’ll kill Cowboy.”
“Am I supposed to sacrifice you for him? No!” Jody shook her head emphatically. “Not happening.”
“Jody, I rode him once.”
“I know.”
“Richard asked me not to let you ride broncs.”
“He had no right.”
“He loves you. And he’s family.” Jody leaned her head against his chest. “Don’t, Joe.”
He sighed and wrapped his arms around her. “I have to,” he said simply. “This has become my fight, too, and Cowboy has been part of it since I won the belt on him.”
“I don’t think I can go back out there tonight,” Jody whispered. “They all tried so hard, and now….”
“We don’t need to,” Joe murmured, and she could feel him smile against her. “Darlene’s got it covered.”
***
The scene at Benton’s the next morning was surreal. Benton’s friends had an expensive awning covering them as they peered into the arena, chatting and swilling beer. There were about twenty of them, Jody estimated, not wanting to count one by one. The last thing she wanted was that hideous group watching her try to get their number right.
Joe and she had more support. Everyone who had helped with the horse rescue came to see the rematch between the two former champions, and brought friends. Sylvia and most of the crew were nowhere to be seen, but Darlene explained she was afraid some of Benton’s friends might know her. Besides, she whispered softly, elbowing Dora, they both had high-tech cameras.
Jody fought constant nausea from the time she woke up in the morning until they walked from the car to the makeshift arena. Her heart lurched when she saw Cowboy tied tightly to the fence, held in place by a hastily constructed chute. Then she looked at Joe and almost lost her composure. Only the fact that it was just minutes before twelve made her clench her fists and keep walking toward the site of the spectacle.
“No matter what happens, go straight to the trailer afterward,” Joe reminded her. “Chuck and Ram are as good as they come at trailering horses, but I saw how he reacted to you that day we met.”
“The day you will curse the rest of your life?” Jody asked, trying to sound like someone other than herself.
“The day my life changed,” Joe corrected and pulled her into his arms for a long kiss.
“Two minutes!” Benton bellowed and Joe moved away. “Get to the front of the trailer, not inside, Jody, I mean it—and let Cowboy know you’re there.”
She couldn’t say anything, so she walked toward the group of friends waiting along the unshaded fence.
“No matter what happens,” Joe repeated, and she moved her hand in acknowledgement.
They were getting the rigging on Cowboy without much effort. Had he always waited so stoically, realizing escape would only come when the gate opened?
She hurried to get out of the arena in time, helped by a quick boost from one of the ranch hands. He followed and seconds later, the gate swung open.
Cowboy whirled and burst into the ring, his solid front legs bracing themselves in the turf as he bucked viciously, moving forward in lunges, then burying his head and trying to catapult his rider to the ground. Six seconds into the ride, Joe slipped hard to the right, and Jody watched as he fought to stay on while still keeping his rope hand up.
The sudden blast of the buzzer stunned her. Momentary relief flooded through her, but then the rigging fell away and Joe hit the ground. Cowboy bucked a final time and shied away from Joe, who was still inert in the ring. Upset by the clamor, he barreled around the ring in a panic, and Jody couldn’t breathe. Then Joe slowly sat up, moved his legs and arms, and stood.
Trembling from the toll of exertion on his undernourished body, Cowboy stopped at the farthest side of the corral, away from everyone. Sweat drenched his neck, shoulders and haunches, and his sides heaved. After a few seconds, his head dropped.
“Off the lot in fifteen minutes or else,” Benton shouted, and even some of his guests booed.
“I need a halter and rope right now,” Jody murmured to Chuck, who came up with one almost instantly. “Back the trailer up to the gate.” She flushed slightly, finally tearing her eyes away from the rider and horse in the ring. “Please.”
“Just go,” he said, nodding. “Hey, Ram, get a couple of ropes ready just in case.”
Hundreds of eyes followed Jody’s diagonal path across the arena.
“You okay?” she asked Joe, who nodded.
“Jody—”
She ignored him, calling out to the horse instead. “Hey, Cowboy. Silly guy. Come on. We’ll find you a treat.”
Cowboy’s ears pricked and he turned his head slightly, but the big body tensed visibly.
“Joe, find me food—grain, or fruit, or a candy—anything,” she said urgently.
“Right here,” someone called, holding out a half-eaten granola bar. Joe retrieved it quickly, but walked back, stopping within arm’s reach and holding it out. Jody took it, put it in her palm and extended her hand.
“Cowboy, come on. Look what I have.”
He lowered his head a little, sniffing, but stayed by the fence. Jody walked toward him, talking softly, hand out, stopping a step away. Cowboy’s nostrils flared, then he nickered and stepped forward, nosing Jody. She laughed and handed him a bit of the oat bar, then slipped the halter over his head. “Come on, big guy,” she coaxed, patting his neck. “Let’s go home.”
No one made a sound as Jody led Cowboy straight across the ring and walked up the ramp. He put his front hooves on the ramp, then balked, snorting and throwing his head.
Don’t get in the trailer, Jody. Watching was hard as memories of his injury flooded back, and Joe moved toward the trailer, but Chuck grasped his arm.
“Her horse,” he said succinctly. “Give me your keys.”
Joe stared at him in confusion, but handed them over.
“When she walks out of that trailer, you go get in. Benton’s going to start something. Don’t embarrass her or risk the horse if he does.” Then he grinned and winked at Joe. “She does not need another cowboy to save.”
Jody’s voice called out from inside the trailer, urging the horse to follow her. His whole frame shook, but step by reluctant step, he did.
“Good boy,” Jody enthused. “We’re going home, Cowboy. Just a little while longer.”
Then she walked out and reached for the ramp, but several onlookers beat her to the task, locking Cowboy safely inside.
And the entire crowd erupted into chaotic cheers.
Except Benton, leaning on the fence, who called over to them, “Bet someone gets some ass tonight, hey, Rogers?”
Joe lurched toward the fence, but Chuck clung to him as if dogging a calf.
“Don’t you dare embarrass Jody!” he snapped. “You walk over and drive away. She’s waiting for you. And the whole crew’s meeting outside Cowboy’s stall. Go.”
Benton snickered and the crowd cheered.
Jody and he headed home with Cowboy.