Turn and Burn_A Blacktop Cowboys Novel

by Lorelei James

  “Yep. That was me.” He shot her a sideways glance. “Which is why you and me didn’t cross paths more often.”

  She laughed.

  “I didn’t make it to the CRA first year. I decided I’d give it another year and had a great second season, landing in the top fifteen. Then early on in my third season I had a bad night. Launched off too soon. Hit the dirt and the steer at the wrong angle. Blew out my knee, my elbow and my shoulder. I spent months recovering from surgery to repair a torn patella tendon in my right knee and a torn bicep tendon in my left arm. I moved home. I was worthless. I couldn’t help out on the ranch. I couldn’t get a job while doin’ rehab. My girlfriend saw me as a slug and dumped my ass.”

  “Sad story. And no offense, but I don’t see the parallels in our lives.”

  “Be patient. It gets worse. Calving season at our ranch means everyone pitches in, including crippled-up sons. We’d moved eight cow/calf pairs into the barn and I was tasked with watching them. Easy, right? I wasn’t out checking cattle in the cold and snow. I’m not sure if it was a change in the weather or what, but the calves freaked out, which freaked out the mamas. I was supposed to stop them to keep them from injuring themselves. But the second I got close to one, I fell down in the muck.” He fiddled with his gloves. “I froze. I’m not talking a momentary lapse. I stayed in the stall, frozen in fear for four hours before anyone noticed.

  “I’d gone into shock. Keep in mind—I’d started helping my dad separate cow/calf pairs when I was five years old. Twenty years of experience and I’m suddenly catatonic around livestock. Not only couldn’t I compete in bulldoggin’, I couldn’t help out at the ranch. And I didn’t know how I’d ever get over my fear.”

  “Obviously you did. How’d you do it?”

  “A neighbor of ours, Fife, a grizzled old rancher, called for help with his water heater. When I showed up, he admitted he’d lied to get me over there. My dad had confided in him, because he didn’t know how to help me. Fife took it one step at a time. After a month of daily baby steps, I’d conquered my fear enough to be around livestock. By two months I was milling around in the pasture with a hundred calf/cow pairs. Three months I was back to taking down steers. By month four I was throwing myself off my horse like I’d never taken a break. No one outside of my family knew I ever had that fear. I healed up, jumped back on the tour and won the world championship the next year.”

  “That’s a great story. Inspiring. But my situation is different. I don’t have the luxury of daily immersion. I have a job. So if I’m only goin’ to Eli’s one day a week, if I end up on your type of time frame to get this issue handled, I’m looking at a solid sixteen months before I’m even ready to saddle up. I’ll be almost thirty-eight.”

  “You don’t need me to point out that you can barrel race well into your fifties and sixties. Some of the best women in the world didn’t win until they hit their late thirties and early forties.”

  “But you can’t deny the majority of the winners are young,” Tanna pointed out. “I won two of my championships during my twenties.”

  “I’m just saying that even if it does take you sixteen months? You won’t be washed up. I can tell that you feel washed up right now.”

  Wouldn’t you? How can I ever get past this?

  “How would you feel if you never climbed on the back of a horse again?”

  “Sad.”

  Sutton nodded as if she’d said the right thing. “That’s good. How would you feel if you never ran barrels again?”

  That one she didn’t answer immediately. “Lost.”

  “More lost than you feel right now?”

  “I don’t know.” She fought a burst of frustration. “Why don’t I know?”

  “Whoa. There’s no right or wrong answer, Tanna. I’m just trying to share some of the same stuff to think about that helped me.”

  This guy she’d met only a half hour ago was going out of his way to help her. Eli had been the same way. “Is everyone in the West so dang helpful?”

  “Southern hospitality ain’t got nothin’ on us,” he offered in an exaggerated drawl.

  She managed a wan smile.

  “So see, I do know what you’re goin’ through. If you ever want to talk more . . .”

  Tanna must’ve looked skeptical.

  Sutton grinned at her. “I’m not hitting on you. Give me your phone. I’ll plug my number in. That way, if you want to talk, you can call me, but I’ll never bother you.”

  She handed him her phone.

  “Sutton, I need your help,” Eli called.

  “I’ve been summoned.” Sutton patted her shoulder as he stood. “I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”

  As she watched him amble away, she had the fleeting thought that he looked just as good from the back as he did the front. Sure, Sutton was a very attractive man, but that wasn’t his pull for her. He’d been in the darkness and found his way back to the light.

  Maybe there was hope for her.

  That thought gave her the courage to step foot in the pasture. And when the horses came running, expecting treats, she didn’t hide or retreat.

  One step at a time.

  Tanna returned to her trailer more rung out than if she’d run a marathon. Her shift at the bar didn’t start for hours and she didn’t know what to do with herself so she crawled back in bed.

  That’s when the nightmare came again. A continual loop of blood, death and horses. She’d lived the events, making the nightmare realistic—right until the part where her horse plowed through her mother, turning her into smoke. She opened her mouth but no sound came out. She tried to call out for her mother. For Jezebel. She gave it one last scream.

  And that’s when she woke up.

  “Tanna?”

  She froze at seeing Fletch standing in the doorway.

  “You all right?”

  “Yeah.” She raked her hand through her hair, hoping he didn’t notice how much it shook. “Just a bad dream. Guess that’ll teach me not to nap in the afternoon.”

  He frowned. Seemed to want to question her further but didn’t.

  “What are you doin’ here?”

  “I was in the neighborhood.”

  “Ha-ha. You know that’s the first time that line has ever rang true.” She patted the mattress. “Care to take me for a tumble?”

  “As much as I’d love to crawl between your sheets and thighs, I need to make a grocery store run. Anything you need?”

  Yeah. Can you pick me up a gallon of courage? And a bottle of fear retardant?

  “If you’re coming over after I’m done working, we probably need more popcorn.”

  “Done. And I’ll pick out a movie.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “And if you need to talk about your bad dream—”

  “I don’t.” She gave him a smacking kiss on the mouth. “Better get condoms too; we’re goin’ through them like crazy.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  At the end of the week Fletch finally ventured to the big metal building across from the barn. The structure had been jammed in at an angle—the front door was on the side opposite the barn, which meant access to the closest door was through the corral, and he cut through the rough stock horses. Hard to look at these beauties and imagine them trying like hell to buck you off.

  “Knock knock,” Fletch shouted into the cavernous room.

  A chair squeaked and Tobin yelled, “Back here.”

  Despite the vast emptiness of the space, Fletch’s footsteps were muffled.

  Tobin leaned against the doorjamb. “Is Hugh having an issue with an animal he forgot to tell me about?”

  “No. Since my morning was free I thought I’d take a look at what you’ve got regarding the commercial stock-breeding program.”

  “Come in and grab a cup of coffee. I’ve stored the info on a flash dr
ive.” He pointed to a long conference table. “You can set up over there. I have an extension cord if you need to power up.”

  “My laptop has a full battery so I’ll be good for a while.”

  “Knock yourself out,” Tobin said, tossing him the flash drive.

  Less than five minutes later, Fletch looked up from his laptop and said, “That’s it?”

  “Seems like there should be more, huh?”

  “Has any other work been done on this at all?”

  Tobin crossed his arms over his chest. “Not really.”

  “Because you’re short-staffed?”

  “More like shortsighted,” Tobin muttered. “To be honest, I think Renner has bitten off more than he can chew.”

  After he finished typing in a few notes, Fletch met Tobin’s gaze. “You wanna explain that?”

  Tobin shoved his laptop to the center of their shared work area. He took a long sip from the scarred insulated mug before he spoke. “Is there such a thing as doctor-patient confidentiality for vets?”

  “Absolutely. Whatever cattle tell me when I’m doctorin’ on them stays strictly between them and me.”

  “I’m serious, Fletch. If I can’t share my honest thoughts with you, without worrying that you’ll take them to Renner, I’ll just keep my mouth shut and take my coulda, shoulda, woulda lumps from you.”

  First time Tobin had taken that tone and Fletch definitely wanted to hear what was on his mind. “The only way I’d talk to Renner about what we’ve discussed is if the information you share adversely affects the health of the animals. If there’s something he’s not doin’ that he oughta be doin’, or something that he is doin’ that he shouldn’t be doin’.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “So what did you mean that Renner might be in over his head?”

  “I’ve been working here almost four years. Renner is the most ambitious guy I’ve ever met. First he built the Split Rock. Then he moved his rodeo stock contracting operation up here. Those two businesses, plus we’re running a hundred head of cattle, are more than enough to keep Renner and me and Hugh busy. Hugh’s even replaced most of the guys who were involved with Jackson Stock Contracting in Kansas with locals. Works out well for these guys because they love rodeo, but they can’t afford to be gone from home for weeks on end.”

  “Renner does have the reputation of bein’ more than fair with his wages.”

  “That said, with the stock contracting business bein’ localized and with our current workforce, the maximum amount of distance Hugh is willing to haul stock is twelve hours from here. Keeps costs down across the board, keeps Renner’s rough stock in demand.”

  Fletch nodded. “Which is why he hasn’t lost much stock.”

  “Maybe he’s worried about that. The man can pick rough stock like no one I’ve ever seen. I’ve gone to auctions with him and he’ll buy a scrawny-looking bull and the next year, that sucker is huge. And usually mean.”

  He laughed.

  “Over the years Renner has occasionally sold semen from his best bulls and horses to raise funds. So the idea has gotten stuck in his head that instead of buying bulls and bucking horses, he oughta be breeding them. Then he could act on the demand from other contractors and other breeders. There’s huge money in it, if it’s done right.”

  “And that’s the part you’re worried about?”

  Tobin sighed. “We’ve only talked about starting a commercial stock-breeding program loosely—I mean very loosely. We mentioned it to you. That’s it. The next thing I know, Renner had . . . some guilt or panic attack or something, because he’s leveling the ground to build this place, claiming it’s for our future endeavor.”

  The place in question being a ten-thousand-square-foot metal pole barn. It was unused except for this large corner, which Tobin and Hugh had turned into office space. “My understanding was the reason he did it was because the contractors were already breaking ground on his and Tierney’s house.”

  Tobin gave him a thoughtful look. “I know that’s what he says, but I think he had some kind of provider anxiety due to Tierney’s pregnancy. Hell, maybe this is his way of nesting. But I believe Renner wanted yet another financial fallback in case any of his other businesses went to hell. He didn’t want to be beholden to his wife making all the money.”

  Damn insightful.

  “And I get this building is only a few months old, but I just don’t know what the hell he expects to do with it.”

  “Is he putting pressure on you to figure it out for him?”

  “No. Maybe I’m putting pressure on myself because my background and education is in animal husbandry and genetics. But with Hugh bein’ mostly gone now that summer rodeo season is in full swing, I’m so damn busy dealing with the livestock and stuff goin’ on at the Split Rock, I don’t have time to think about it. Let alone come up with a viable business plan that won’t waste a whole lot of Renner’s time and his money.”

  Fletch studied Tobin. He did seem stressed, which wasn’t the norm for him.

  “Now you’re here, out of the blue, ready to get to work on what’s basically been an abstract idea— and it would’ve been nice to have a heads-up on that from my boss—I feel like I got caught with my pants down and I’m about to get spanked.”

  He let the pause between them linger for a minute before he said, “I’m assuming this confidentiality thing goes both ways?”

  Tobin nodded.

  “Renner didn’t tell you about me showing up here because it wasn’t something either of us had planned.” Fletch rubbed the back of his neck, feeling oddly self-conscious about telling the truth, even when Tobin needed to hear it so he wasn’t questioning his position and future with Renner. “Here’s what happened.”

  After he finished, Tobin pierced him with a look. “You’ve never taken a vacation.”

  That’s what Tobin chose to focus on? “Besides a few days here and there? Nope.”

  “Jesus, Fletch, you sound just like my dad.” He winced and clarified, “Not because you’re old, but that’s the same mind-set he has. It’s also probably why he’s had two heart attacks.”

  “My old man mentioned that same scenario to me. The issue is I don’t know what the hell to do with myself when I’m not working.”

  “Did you know when you went to vet school your career would be this demanding?”

  Fletch shook his head. “Like most thirteen-year-old girls, I’d romanticized bein’ a vet just a tad.”

  Tobin snickered.

  “Besides, I went to college to play football.”

  “So you didn’t have the burning need to become a veterinarian because you were constantly bringing home birds with broken wings and had a desire to help four-legged members of the animal kingdom?”

  “Fuck off.”

  Tobin laughed and Fletch was glad to see some of the shadows had cleared from his eyes.

  “Like I said, I got a full-ride scholarship to play college football. My grades weren’t great; I was a little better than an average student—which probably ain’t a surprise to a brainiac like you.”

  “Fuck off, right back atcha, Doc.”

  “Prior to college, I hadn’t thought much about what career path I’d end up on, even when I knew I’d never play pro ball. I registered late for classes and got stuck in an ag exploration course. I figured it’d be an easy A; I’d hung out with ranching kids my whole life. I ended up liking it and did well enough in subsequent classes that by the end of freshman year I decided animal sciences would be my career focus. Got my undergrad degree in pre-veterinary sciences at Colorado State and went right into their DVM program.”

  “How long did that take?”

  “Total? Six years. After graduation I worked for a large animal vet in Fort Collins for a year who was set to retire. He had clients in Wyoming. I moved back to Rawlins, took over some of
those clients and went into business for myself.”

  “I gotta ask, ’cause I’m still paying off my graduate school loans, but did you get a full ride for vet school too?”

  Fletch grinned. “Yep. One of the few times it paid to be Indian. My advisor steered me toward every possible scholarship and I received every one I applied for and some I was just awarded. So not only did I come out of vet school debt free, I came out money ahead because I’d chosen to work in an underrepresented section of animal health care—large animals. And I’d chosen to work in a rural area—I always knew I’d be back in Wyoming. And I was a minority.”

  “Man. That was smart.”

  “I also realize that I was fortunate for the financial support. I try and give back, especially to the Indian community, even when I really don’t know a whole lot about bein’ Indian.” He smirked. “Of course, my cousin Eli is more than happy to school me on that every chance he gets.”

  “Speaking of Eli . . .” Tobin took a swig from his mug and grimaced. “He called yesterday.”

  “About?”

  “About swapping out our old trail horse Lyle for one of his younger training horses.”

  Fletch frowned. “Did he give you a reason why?”

  “Said he was working with someone who’s really skittish around horses and wanted a horse that wouldn’t buck or get spooked by anything.”

  Was that horse for Tanna? Question was, had Tanna requested it, or was it Eli’s decision? Whenever Fletch asked her specifics about the time she spent at Eli’s, she became evasive. Then she seduced him.

  “So, it probably ain’t my business, but is Eli wanting that horse for your girlfriend?”

  “I imagine so.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “Tanna ain’t talking. And Eli is the most trustworthy, secret-keeping motherfucker I know, so he ain’t talking either. It sucks.”

  Tobin grinned. “A woman not bein’ honest or spilling her guts? I’m shocked.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Tanna is always so upbeat and sarcastic around me. Don’t take this wrong, but the raunchy comments that woman makes would make a porn star blush.”