“Can’t predict whether it will or won’t, but if there’s a woman alive Bullet might listen to, it’s Dottie Patterson.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“You know the type. Some people just have a way about them. Dottie is a second mother to my Livvie, and one of the most loving people I’ve known in my life. You should meet her. She’ll look straight into your soul, and then wrap her arms around you in the best hug you can imagine.”
Tristan looked away when her eyes filled with tears. Dottie sounded like her mother. She’d been that way too. She’d always seemed to know the right thing to say, even if it was nothing at all. When she was a little girl, getting a hug and a smile from her mom always made things better.
Miss Dottie’s cooking reminded Bullet of his Gram’s. Every time he walked into the kitchen, she was cooking something that made his stomach growl. Her homemade macaroni and cheese was extra gooey, rich with butter, fresh cream, and a blend of sharp and mild cheddar cheeses. She added crumbled bacon to it as a twist. Grey ate two big bowlfuls and was asking for a third when Bullet swept him out of the high chair.
“He sure likes your cookin’, ma’am. And so do I.”
Dottie beamed at the little boy. “It’s my pleasure, Grey. You’re welcome at my table anytime.” She opened her arms, and Grey ran straight into them. It was another thing that reminded him of his Gram. Dottie’s hugs.
“I love having little ones in the house. I miss my granddaughter when she’s in Crested Butte.” Dottie looked at Willow, Billy and Renie’s three-year-old daughter. At a little over a year old, Grey was almost as tall as the little girl.
“Say hi to my baby.” Willow pulled Dottie toward Renie.
Dottie obliged by rubbing Renie’s belly. “Not too long before you have a little brother or sister.”
“I’m having a brodder.” Willow put her hands on her hips.
“Is that right?” Dottie asked Renie, who shrugged her shoulders.
“Willow changes her mind daily. Sometimes she’s sure she’s having a little sister.”
“You didn’t find out?” Bullet asked Billy.
Billy stood behind Renie and put his arms around her waist. “We decided it’d be more fun this way.”
Bullet had never known that kind of easy affection. When he refused to marry his daughter’s mother, and told her he doubted he was the baby’s father, she stopped speaking to him. After the little girl was born, and the DNA test proved he was her biological father, they’d tried to be friends. Sometimes they managed okay. Not very often, though.
Callie had done a good job of hiding her “dark side,” as he liked to call it, until after they got married. Even then, their relationship had never been like Billy and Renie’s. Bullet told himself he loved Callie, but being around the Pattersons made him question whether what he felt was really love.
“Got a minute?” Billy’s father asked Bullet.
“Go ahead,” said Renie. “I’ll keep an eye on Grey. He and Willow can play.”
“You sure?” Bullet felt as though he was always imposing on someone to watch Grey. Once he figured out where he was going to be based, he’d have to look for a regular babysitter or day care.
When Renie waved him off, he followed Billy’s dad out the back door.
“I understand you’re going to be working here, with me.”
“That’s up to you, Mr. Patterson.”
“Call me Bill, young man. And my son isn’t giving me much choice.”
“As I told your son, this here is your land. If you don’t want to be involved with rough stock, you shouldn’t be.”
“Let’s say I changed my mind. How would you feel about working here?”
Bullet wasn’t sure what to say. As long as he had a job, he didn’t really care where he was working. Being in Black Forest was convenient because he and Grey could stay with Lyric. The drive from her place here would take less than half an hour.
He’d have to give up the place he’d just rented in Crested Butte, but that wouldn’t be hard to do. He hadn’t gotten around to moving much of anything of his into the furnished apartment anyway. What little he owned, he’d packed to bring here, with him and Grey. He could make arrangements to give it up over the phone and send the keys to the property management company. That’s how transient his life was now; he could almost live out of two suitcases.
“The job comes with that place over there,” said Bill, as though he was reading Bullet’s mind. He pointed east, toward a house that sat closer to the road.
“Who lives there now?”
“Nobody’s lived there on a regular basis for years. Dottie keeps it on the ready though. Just in case. It’s the house we lived in when we were first married.”
“My sister has a place in Palmer Lake. Grey and I can stay with her.”
“Nah. Workin’ here means livin’ here. You managed a ranch before?”
Managed? Hell no. How in the world could he manage a ranch, take care of Grey, and get on bulls?
“Son, I asked you a question.”
“No, sir, I haven’t come close. I don’t know what Billy told you, but I’m a ranch hand for Flying R.”
“You think you could learn?”
“I know I could, but…”
“Go on, speak your mind.”
“I got my hands full, Mr. Patterson. I still ain’t figured out how to take care of Grey and hold down a regular job, let alone manage a ranch. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“You’d begin by learnin’. You’d be workin’ with me, learnin’ the ropes. For the time bein,’ you’ll only manage the rough stock portion of the ranch. I got a guy who’s been with me a long time, who manages the cattle operation.”
That was some relief. He understood rough stock. It was everything else that gave him pause.
“There’s somethin’ else isn’t there, Bullet?”
“What’s that, sir?”
“Bull ridin’. You’re lookin’ for a trainer, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir. I am.” Bullet took his hat off and rubbed his forehead. This conversation was giving him a headache.
“Let’s go back to the house. We’ll have a sit down with Dottie and Billy and see what we can figure out.”
“Yes, sir,” Bullet said again.
“My name’s Bill, son. I told you that before. We’re gonna be spendin’ a hell of a lot of time together, and if you keep callin’ me sir, it’s gonna make me uncomfortable.”
“Yes, sir. I mean, Bill.”
There were three hundred photos waiting for Tristan to sort through, and her father had another pile he wanted her to look at.
The one on top was of a bull rider Lost Cowboy sponsored. The photographer had captured him flying through the air, just as the bull bucked him off. Her father had written the words, “It’s not how good you are…it’s how good you want to be,” on a sticky note on the back of the photo along with the digital image reference number.
Tristan opened the digital file and adjusted the highlights and shadows of the photo in an image enhancement software program. Next, she added a blend near the bottom of the image, and then superimposed the words her father had written, on top of the darkened area.
She repeated the same process with the rest of the photos her father had asked her to look through. She added a date to each one, and then sent them to a local high school student who interned for Lost Cowboy. The images would be uploaded to social media sites on the dates Tristan had indicated in the file name.
The only time the prearranged schedule varied was if something significant happened either with one of their riders, or in the world. In that case, no matter where Tristan was, her father would email her a photo along with his caption, and she’d prepare the image and upload it herself.
“Got some good ones the last couple of weeks,” her father said and sat down in the chair by her desk.
“Really good ones, Daddy. I especially like this one.” The image was the silhouette
of a cowboy sitting on a fence, watching the sun set. The caption her father wrote was, “Most people don’t listen with the intent to understand. They listen with the intent to reply.”
It was one of life’s lessons she learned from him. “A conversation is like a game of catch,” he’d say. “If you’re not payin’ attention, you’re gonna get hit with the ball.”
Bullet sat in a rocking chair in the kitchen, holding Grey, who was sound asleep on his lap. He didn’t have the heart to move him. Billy and Renie had gone back to their place, which was just up the road, but Dottie and Bill were close by, cleaning up from dinner.
“What do you think?” he heard Dottie ask Bill.
“About what?”
Dottie must’ve swatted Bill with something, and the two of them laughed.
“He reminds me of someone.”
“He reminds me of someone too. And so do you.”
“Me? I thought we were talkin’ about Bullet.”
“Clancy. The way you talk to him, Bill. It reminds me of the way Clancy used to talk to you.”
“That’s a right fine compliment, sweetheart.”
Bullet could hear the emotion in Bill’s voice, even from the other room. Who was Clancy, and what did he have to do with Bill and him?
1965
The weather was better for their drive back to the ranch. Not that Bill was thinking much about weather. Clancy had been right. His mama told him that she and Mr. Snyder were getting married. She didn’t say a word about him coming to live with them, and he didn’t ask.
“She gave me hell about your schoolin’,” grimaced Clancy when they stopped for lunch.
She’d asked Bill if he was keeping up with his school work, and he’d muttered that he was, but nothing could have been further from the truth. There wasn’t a school close to Double-P-Bar Ranch, and even if there was, as an employee of the ranch, he wouldn’t have time to go to school during the day.
He and Clancy had talked about it a few times. There were other workers at the ranch with children who were home-schooled. Clancy had been willing to let Bill give it a try by teaming up with one of the other families, but Bill hadn’t done anything to make it happen. He was thirteen. Lots of kids whose families made their living on a ranch quit school before then.
“Your mama made me promise to get you back to learnin’.”
“I already missed two years. Nothin’ but a waste of time.”
Clancy squinted his eyes and raised his index finger. “I promised her I’d do it, and we’re gonna. Even if it means I gotta school ya myself.”
“Oh, yeah? You got somethin’ past a sixth grade education?”
The index finger came back up, and Clancy reached across the table to poke him in the chest. “One thing you’re gonna learn is respect for your elders, boy.”
Bill hated that he’d just disrespected Clancy. The man had been good to him. “I’m sorry, sir. I know better than to talk to you like that. And I sure know you’re a smart man.”
“You’re damn straight I am. And if you wanna know the truth, I got a college degree to prove it. I’m ashamed of myself for lettin’ your education slide, but not anymore. We’re gettin’ you back on track, young Flynn.”
Clancy hadn’t been kidding. Before they went back to the ranch, they stopped in Glenwood Springs, where Clancy ordered a bunch of books and other supplies from the bookstore.
“This is where the others get their materials. You’ll test at the school here too.” They stopped by the office and registered Bill for independent study. With as many ranches as there were in this part of Colorado, home-schooling was common.
Each day, Bill was expected to get up at dawn and do his chores, which had been greatly reduced. When he finished, he was expected to work on his lessons. Clancy would come back to the house they shared, have lunch, and review Bill’s work. If there was anything Bill didn’t understand, he had an hour of Clancy’s time to go over it. There was more schoolwork to do in the early afternoon, and then Bill was expected to do his afternoon chores.
Around six in the evening, he’d meet Clancy and the rest of the cowboys at the dining hall for dinner. After dinner, Bill had free time. He’d stopped writing a letter to his mama every night. Instead, he used the time for reading or getting ahead on his lessons.
It wasn’t long before he’d made up the two years he’d missed and was close to a full year ahead of his age level.
It had been embarrassing every time he showed up at the school and they’d asked what level he was there to test for. Now, when they asked, he’d be able to hold his head high.
His grades were good too. He and Clancy had even started talking about colleges, although Bill didn’t see how it would be possible for him to go. It wasn’t just a question of how he’d be able to be away from the ranch, there was also the cost of it.
“You could get on a rodeo team,” one of the cowboys told him at dinner.
“What are you talkin’ about?”
“You aren’t good enough now, but if you’re willin’ to put the time in, Western State has a good team.”
“For what?”
“Junior Rodeo,” he answered, as though Bill was a complete dumbass.
Bill had been getting on some of the smaller bulls and broncs for a few months. At first it had been on a dare, but he took to it like a fish to water. He didn’t have the money to enter any rodeos, but he still practiced whenever they had free time on the ranch.
To him, there wasn’t anything like the thrill he felt when he heard the bell ring, indicating he’d stayed on a bull for the full eight seconds.
He was getting pretty good at bareback bronc riding, and he wasn’t half bad at tie-down roping. Usually, to compete in the all-around competitions, a cowboy had to focus on roping, either tie-down or team roping, and steer wrestling, but the requirement was to compete in at least two events.
Bareback bronc riding and bull riding worked, and if he added the tie-down roping, he’d be well-qualified. Was it really something he could do in college? It didn’t seem possible.
“That’s right,” Sadie, the cook, said, overhearing their conversation. “My niece goes to Western State. You remember Misty, don’t ya?”
Bill nodded that he did, although it wasn’t Misty he thought about from time to time; it was her sister, Dottie. And he thought about her more than from time to time.
Dottie and Misty came back to the ranch one more year. After that he’d heard Sadie say that the girls had gotten involved in so many activities at home, they didn’t have time to visit. Instead, she’d visit them in Gunnison, where her sister lived. Whenever she came back, she’d tell Bill that Dottie had asked after him.
“You should write her a letter,” Sadie told him.
He would, but he wouldn’t know the first thing he’d say to her if he did.
“I think she’s considerin’ Western State, too.”
She was? That changed everything.
“What’s so interestin’ to you about college all of a sudden?” Clancy asked.
“Just wanna better myself is all.”
The phone rang and Clancy stood to answer it. There was only one phone in the ranch house, and it was in the kitchen. Bill was in earshot, and he didn’t like the tone in Clancy’s voice.
8
“I can’t wait either; it seems as though it’s been months since I’ve been to Crested Butte. Does that sound crazy? It’s only been three weeks,” Tristan said to Liv.
“I know. I’ve been pestering Ben incessantly about getting you back out here.”
The two spoke a couple of times a week since Tristan left Colorado, although in the last few days, it had become daily. The two talked a lot about barrel racing, so much so that Tristan was beginning to miss it.
For the longest time barrel racing had reminded her of things, and people, she’d as soon forget. She talked about the sport with Liv, not the lifestyle. They also talked about many promising young competitors.
T
ristan had been working on new clothing designs that would serve as Lost Cowboy’s first true women’s collection. She hadn’t shown her sketches to her father yet, she wanted to get feedback from other women in the industry first. She hadn’t told Liv about them either. She wanted her friend’s initial reaction to be authentic, not based on anything Tristan told her beforehand.
“How’s the Black Forest operation going? Have you heard?”
“From what I understand, it’s going quite well. Renie told me Billy’s nose was out of joint at how well his dad and Bullet are getting on already.”
“Really? How interesting.”
“I told her to tell him to be careful what he wished for,” Liv paused. “I use that expression a lot. But it’s so true. What we ask of the universe sometimes comes back to us more quickly than we anticipate.”
Sound thinking, and very true words. Tristan began jotting down things Liv said while she was in Crested Butte. Things Ben said too. In fact, she took notes on many expressions she’d heard from the Rice and Patterson families. She planned to work them into Lost Cowboy’s upcoming social media posts.
“They’ll all be here next week.”
“Who all?”
“Billy and Renie, Bullet, even Bill and Dottie are coming. I can’t wait to see them…”
Liv was talking about Bill and Dottie, something about how much she missed them. But all Tristan could think about was Bullet. He’d be in Crested Butte next week. She had hoped he’d be there when she was, but wouldn’t have dared to ask.
“You’re done for today,” Bill told Bullet.
“What do you mean? Why?”
“Your head isn’t in it. You’re not paying attention to me or the two-thousand-pound animal you’re tryin’ to ride. You’ll get yourself killed that way.”
Bullet couldn’t argue. They were leaving for Crested Butte tomorrow, and that’s where his head was instead of on the practice bull.
“I’m sorry, Bill.”
“Don’t apologize to me. You wanna quit training, just say the word. All I’m doin’ is sittin’ on the fence watchin’. You’re the one who’s got the work to do.”
Win Me Over Page 7