The Long Ride Home

by Kari Lynn Dell

  Kylan stared at Frosty. The horse lifted his head, gazing back with his usual placid expression. “He looks really smooth to ride.”

  “He is.”

  Kylan stepped closer to the stall. Frosty stuck his head over the gate to greet him. “I bet he hardly ever hurts you.”

  “Hasn’t yet,” David said.

  Kylan held out a hand, smiling when Frosty nuzzled his palm. Then his face fell. “But if you don’t leave him here, what am I gonna practice on between now and then?”

  “I’m still working on that part.” And there was no sense getting anybody excited until they saw how Kylan and Frosty got along. “Before we do anything, we have to reset his shoes.”

  Kylan’s eyes brightened. “You’re gonna let me help you again?”

  “I was counting on it,” David said, and went to get his tools.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “I hope you know what you might be gettin’ yourself into,” Rusty said as they watched Kylan and Frosty lope circles at the far end of the arena, warming up.

  Since thinking too hard about it made his stomach buzz like it was full of bees, David just shrugged. Would’ve been nice if Rusty had been more encouraging. He and Heather might not know Kylan real well, but damn sure better than David did. If he was smart, he’d listen to them. Too bad he was operating on instinct instead of brains. The idea that had planted itself in his brain refused to be beaten down, no matter how much logic David threw at it.

  Kylan loped up and pulled Frosty to a stop in front of the chute. David handed him a rope with a breakaway hondo, so it would pop off the calf’s neck when the loop came tight. “Let’s start out easy, so you can get a feel for him before you have to step off and go flank and tie a calf.”

  The kid looked almost as tense as he had at the state finals. His nerves had no effect on Frosty, who settled into the corner of the box dead calm. Kylan nodded. The horse flowed out of the box, those long, effortless strides eating up the ground.

  Kylan took one extra swing over the calf’s back and threw, a quick jab of his arm that shouldn’t have worked, but the loop went around the calf’s neck anyway. Frosty dropped his butt, back feet sliding, fronts pedaling, pretty to watch, even more fun to sit on if you weren’t worried about shaving off tenths of seconds.

  The breakaway hondo snapped free, the rope flinging out to the side. Kylan sent David a wide-eyed grin. “Whoa. That was awesome.”

  “Looked good,” David agreed. “Run another one.”

  They ran a dozen more, switching to a tie-down rope after the first four. With every nod of his head, Kylan got more confident, more aggressive. And with every run, the pressure inside David’s chest built, a growing certainty of what he had to do coupled with the gut-wringing fear that he might not be up to the job.

  What did he know about teenagers, let alone a kid like Kylan?

  Kylan flanked the last calf and tied him pretty well. As he threw up his hands, a awestruck grin split his face ear-to-ear. “I didn’t miss a single calf! That’s the first time ever.”

  “Good job.” Rusty waited for Kylan to mount up and ride forward, putting slack in the rope so he could pull the loop off the calf’s neck. “Looks like that horse suits you to a T.”

  Rusty fired a weighted look at David. Well, now you did it, smart guy. David felt like a hand clamped around his windpipe. Shit. He was going to have to follow this through to the end. A small, selfish part of him had hoped Kylan and Frosty wouldn’t click and he’d be able to shrug and say, “Well, I tried.” But it had worked, better than he could’ve dreamed. He had the means to repair the damage he would do by taking Muddy, all he had to do was say the words.

  Hey, Kylan, how ’bout you come with me when I go?

  Kylan would say yes. What teenager wouldn’t? A month on the road, traveling to the biggest rodeos in the country, hanging out behind the chutes with the best calf ropers in world? Plus, free horse-shoeing lessons and riding Frosty at nationals. Where was the down side?

  Other than David having full responsibility for a kid who might run for the hills the first time they butted heads.

  And Mary. At best, she’d be skeptical. At worst, furious. She barely trusted him to take Kylan across the county. Could he make her believe, as he did, that loosening her grip on the kid was best for Kylan, both long and short term?

  Plus, there was the not-so-small matter of the reward money. If she was still hell-bent on collecting, she’d throw this whole scheme back in their faces and they’d be back to square one.

  As he tightened up his cinches and tied his rope on his saddle, David’s mind played out the inevitable argument. What he’d say, what she’d say, trying to account for every possible angle of attack. His body moved on auto-pilot, loping Muddy through a few warm-up laps, stopping to drop his rope on the ground and then coil it up and rebuild a loop from scratch, making sure there were no kinks. He tucked the tail of his piggin’ string in his belt as he rode toward the box.

  He had one more night in Browning. What were the chances Mary would still be speaking to him once he’d said his piece? Was there even a remote possibility he’d get to kiss her, hold her again? His body pulsed with heat at the thought. He had to find a way to talk her around. Charm had never been his strong point, but he was gonna have to give it his best shot.

  Muddy jammed his nose into the bit, ripping the reins through David’s hand.

  Pay attention, dipshit. “What?” David asked, realizing Rusty was talking to him.

  “I said, this calf’ll run pretty hard, so get a good start,” Rusty repeated.

  Muddy cranked his neck around to shoot David a disgusted glare. He blinked and gave himself a mental slap. What the hell? Here he was, rope in hand and Muddy underneath him—exactly what he’d fantasized about for four damn years—and he couldn’t concentrate? He had this one practice session before Reno, but instead of focusing on his horse, his rope and the calf, his head was full of Mary.

  And he’d invited her in. As if he hadn’t lost a big enough chunk of his heart and soul the first time around. Every championship dream he’d ever had was laid out in front of him, suddenly attainable again, and he was on the verge of giving another woman the power to cut him off at the knees. Wasting the second chance he’d thought he’d never get.

  He stuck the loop of his piggin’ string in his mouth and clenched it hard between his teeth. Roping was his job. His life. Like he’d told Kylan—if nothing else, the past four years had taught him how much he was willing to sacrifice to live his dream. If he wanted to make the most of his last night in town, he’d be a damn sight better off doing his laundry.

  With the skill born of long practice, he cleared his mind, tucked his rope under his arm and rode in the box.

  “All set?” Rusty asked.

  “You betcha,” David said.

  And then he went out and proved it.

  An hour later, they sat at Rusty’s kitchen table, sipping Cokes and brainstorming. Kylan slouched in his chair, his mood on the downside of one of the swings between elation at being invited to go with David and the morose certainty that Mary would never let him.

  “’Specially after last night,” he said, staring glumly into his soda can. “She said it was gonna be a long time before she could trust me again.”

  Rusty came back from his office with two sheets of crisp white paper fresh off the printer. He set them in front of David. “That should do the trick.”

  David already knew the gist, but he read it through to make sure Rusty’s attorney friend had put it all down just like he wanted.

  I, David Parsons, agree to provide Kylan Runningbird with a horse on which to compete at the National High School Rodeo Finals in Pueblo, Colorado, beginning on the twentieth day of July. In return, the horse registered as Mister Nicker Bar, known as Muddy, will be returned to me immediately and reward monies tha
t might have been applicable will be forfeited.

  There was more legal mumbo-jumbo, but for the most part, the contract was brief, to the point. David would take Kylan along with him, cover his expenses, coach Kylan when he practiced on Frosty. In addition, he would teach Kylan how to shoe horses. In a month’s time, the kid could master the basic skills. Where Kylan took it from there was up to him.

  And David would get Muddy back with his bank account intact.

  David’s heart pounded, slow, painful thuds against his sternum as he stared at the contract. Once this paper was signed, he was committed. Four weeks of living in a trailer with a kid he barely knew. What if they were a thousand miles down the road and Kylan had a major meltdown? Or health problems? For all David knew, he could have asthma or a heart defect, or who the hell knew what?

  But the vision that flashed in front of his eyes wasn’t any of the potential disasters. It was those damned old codgers up there on their front porch, nodding their approval.

  He folded the paper and put it in his shirt pocket. “Looks good.”

  “She strongly advised that you have the signatures notarized,” Rusty said. “Assuming you can get Mary to sign it at all. What are you gonna do if she holds out for the reward money?”

  Kylan’s head came up, his expression puzzled. “What reward money?”

  David did a double take and then looked at Rusty, who looked equally astonished. Hadn’t Mary told Kylan how she hoped to coerce David into letting them keep Muddy until nationals?

  Rusty leaned back, folded his arms. “When Muddy disappeared, David put up a five-thousand-dollar reward for anyone who helped get him back. Mary wants to collect.”

  “We didn’t help you find him,” Kylan said.

  Exactly.

  “The reward money would go toward buying another horse for you,” David said.

  Kylan framed his soda can in both hands, pushing a dent into the side with his thumb. “But why should you pay if we didn’t earn it? And besides, I don’t want another horse. I want to ride Frosty.”

  “That’ll only get you through nationals,” David persisted, bound and determined to shoot himself in the foot. “What then?”

  “I dunno. We’ll figure it out.” Kylan set his jaw, defiant. “If you teach me how to shoe horses, I can earn my own money.”

  In the kid’s eyes, David saw the stirrings of what he hadn’t seen before. Pride. Determination. The belief that he could make his own way. All the things David hoped he could give Kylan in exchange for Muddy.

  “You have to convince Mary,” David said.

  Kylan stared the soda can for a long, weighted moment. Then he said, very quietly, “No, I don’t.”

  “What do you mean?” Rusty asked.

  Kylan’s voice was barely more than a whisper, as if he was afraid to say the words out loud. “Before Mary bought Muddy, she made me promise I’d take care of him, clean the barn, all that shit. And to make sure I understood he was my responsibility, she put the bill of sale in my name.” Kylan lifted his gaze to meet David’s across the table. “Mary doesn’t have to sign that paper. Muddy belongs to me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  David peeled his clenched fingers off the steering wheel one by one for the hundredth time since they’d left Rusty’s. Then he thought about Mary and his knuckles went white again.

  She lied. She lied. She lied. The refrain rang inside his head like a hammer on steel.

  She’d been lying to him all along, playing him for a fool. No wonder she didn’t want him anywhere near Kylan. She was scared shitless what the kid might say. And now her worst nightmare had come true, damn her perfect little ass. Had she meant any of it? The kisses, the heat he’d seen in her eyes—had any of it been real, or had she just been humoring him?

  “She told Galen she’d do anything.”

  David pried his fingers loose again, rubbing clammy palms down the front of his jeans, first right, then left, as he steered the rig down Browning’s main drag. Kylan was mute with anxiety in the passenger’s seat. The stores and restaurants seemed as familiar as David’s home town. He even recognized a couple of the stray dogs hanging around the grocery store parking lot. Geezus. He had definitely been here too long.

  Well, that was fixin’ to change. They’d swung by the county courthouse in Cut Bank on the way back. He had one signed, notarized copy of the contract stashed safely in his trailer, the other in his pocket. Muddy was officially his again, and there was nothing Mary could do to stop them both from leaving in the morning.

  It remained to be seen whether he’d be traveling alone.

  Kylan was determined to go along, but his bravado was pretty thin. Hell, he was so scared David could hear his teeth rattling from across the cab. Could he really stand up to Mary? David wouldn’t bet on it, but he knew one thing for sure. She was gonna blow a fuse when she saw what Kylan had done.

  Bring it on, sweetheart.

  As if in response to his mood, clouds had built up behind the mountains, churning gray and white around the peaks and sending a bitter wind whistling down across the plains. Gusts slapped at the pickup as they cleared the west end of town and made the short drive to Mary’s house. Her pickup was parked in front of the house, and she stepped out onto the deck as they rumbled down the driveway. David swung his rig around and stopped by the barn.

  “We can do this, right?” Kylan asked, his voice small.

  “Sure.” David stepped out of the pickup and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the mirror.

  Mary met them halfway, her shoulders hunched against the wind, her steps tentative, as if she sensed trouble. Or maybe she could see the expression on David’s face. Her smile flickered and then faded, her worried gaze darting to Kylan. “How’d it go?”

  “Awesome,” he said, in the same tone of voice he might use to announce a terminal illness.

  “Really?” Her gaze bounced to David, then back. “How come you both look so serious?”

  Kylan shifted on his feet, sucked in a deep breath and then blurted, “I roped on Frosty and we did great and I’m gonna ride him at nationals.”

  Mary blinked, confusion digging a furrow between her brows as she shot David a questioning look. “But…how? Frosty isn’t yours, David. You can’t leave him here. Can you?”

  “No.” His face felt stiff, layered in plaster, his lips barely moving for fear the mask would crack wide open and all his rage would come pouring out. He pulled the contract from his pocket and shoved it at her. “Consider this my counteroffer.”

  She fumbled, the wind trying to tug the paper from her fingers as she unfolded it. Her eyes followed the lines, left to right, left to right, the color draining from her face as she read. The paper crumpled in her fist, her voice climbing the scale as she stared at Kylan in disbelief. “You signed this without talking to me first?”

  He ducked his head, unable to hold her stare. “It’s what I want,” he mumbled.

  “What you want? Or what he talked you into?” She jabbed a finger at David.

  “He din’t talk me into nothin’,” Kylan insisted. “We made a deal.”

  “Oh, yeah, it’s a hell of deal. For David.” When Kylan opened his mouth to protest, she stuck up a hand, shaking her head. “Go in the house. We’ll discuss this later.”

  “But—”

  “Go!” she barked.

  Kylan shot David a pleading look. David considered arguing, but given that he was so pissed he could barely breathe and Mary was on the verge of a meltdown, there was a good chance things were gonna be said that Kylan shouldn’t hear.

  “Go on,” David said, jerking his chin toward the house. “You need to start packing anyway.”

  Kylan scowled but did as he was told. The instant the door banged shut behind him, Mary turned on her heel.

  “Over here,” she ordered, and stomped across th
e yard to put the tipi between them and the house. The wind plucked at her hair, whipping it into a crown of spikes as she spun around to face David. “I knew it! I knew if I let you get too close you’d find a way to get to him.”

  He took another step, looming over her so she had to tip her head back to glare up at him. “Congratulations. You’ve been looking for an excuse to blame me since the minute I showed up. Now you’ve got one.”

  “Oh, please.” She shook the contract at him. “You just scammed a teenager and you’re still trying to pretend you’re the man in the white hat?”

  “I’m not pretending anything.” He jabbed himself in the chest with one thumb. “I’ve been up front all along.”

  Her eyebrows met in a scornful peak. “Uh-huh. Like the way you didn’t bother to run any of this by me before asking Kylan to head off across the country with you?”

  “He’s eighteen years old. I thought he should be asked first. Unlike you and your attorney, who didn’t even include him in the conversation.”

  “We were speaking on Kylan’s behalf,” she said stiffly.

  “Because you didn’t want him to know what kind of bullshit you were pulling, or you don’t believe he has the mental capacity to think for himself?”

  She sucked in an audible breath, let it out on a hiss. “How dare you say that about him?”

  “How dare you treat him that way?” David shot back. “You talk a great game, Mary, but when push comes to shove, you rob him of the chance to make his own choices, keep him wrapped up so tight he can’t take a leak without your permission. And then you accuse me of disrespecting him?”

  Her mouth dropped open, and for a moment, she was incapable of speech, but she didn’t back off, not even an inch. And he wanted her to back off—was willing to say damn near anything to push her away—for reasons he didn’t understand or care to examine.

  Spots of hot color flared in Mary’s cheeks, her eyes glittering. “Kylan has been with me for five years. You spend two days with him and you think you know what he needs?”