David slapped the flat of his hand down hard on the flatbed of Galen’s pickup, then cursed when a sliver from the wooden deck speared into his palm. He wanted to yell, kick something, but he was already drawing enough curious stares from the pair of old ladies hunkered on a bench outside the entry of the building.
He took off down the sidewalk, needing to work off some steam before he exploded. A plastic grocery bag rolled in front of him, pushed by the wind. He stomped it flat, ground his heel for good measure, then relented and picked it up, though it didn’t make a whole lot of difference considering the drift of trash against the chain-link fence down the block.
He wadded the plastic into a tight ball, jammed his fists into the bottom of his coat pockets, and kicked an empty soda bottle down the sidewalk and into the street where the wind sent it skittering across the crumbling pavement.
It wasn’t fair, dammit. Finding Muddy was supposed to be the happiest day of his life. The answer to his prayers. After all the months, all the heartache…now this?
His phone rang and he fished it out, fully intending to let it go to voicemail if it was his dad. He couldn’t begin to pretend to be normal right now. He didn’t recognize the number. A 406 prefix. Somewhere in Montana, and he couldn’t think of a soul in the state who knew his number. But when he answered, the voice was vaguely familiar.
“Hey, David. It’s Rusty Chapman.”
“Rusty.” David had to roust the memory from a back corner of his brain. “Hi. Been a while.”
Almost four years. David’s first trip to the National Finals had been Rusty’s last. He’d retired from the road to concentrate on his growing family and their ranch. David knew Rusty the way he knew a lot of the other ropers…as members of the same fraternity. The road warriors—a relatively small group of cowboys who lived on and for the pro tour, following the rodeos to every corner of the country. They went head-to-head in the arena but looked out for each other, too. Rodeo competition was tough, but the travel was flat-out brutal. Everybody needed a hand somewhere along the way, whether it be a spare tire, an encouraging pat on the back, a ride to the next big show.
Or in this case, a friendly voice on the end of the line when a man was feeling badly outnumbered.
“I heard you were in the area,” Rusty said.
“You live around Browning?”
“Not too far off. I’m north of Cut Bank. Is the rumor I’m hearing about Muddy true?”
“What, did they send out smoke signals?” David asked, kicking at a flattened beer can.
“Nah. Facebook. You’re all over my wife’s timeline.”
Oh, great. Enough people knew Muddy’s story for it to spread like wildfire across the Internet. And that scene he’d made in Kalispell… “Are there pictures?”
Rusty laughed. “Not your best look, buddy.”
David groaned. His mother would tan his hide when she saw those.
“I can’t believe he’s been right here under my nose,” Rusty said.
David angled across the street to a park where he could lean on the railing of a wooden bridge. “You ever see Kylan rope on him?”
“Not that I remember. Kylan doesn’t rope well enough to attract attention outside the high school rodeos. My wife teaches fourth grade over in Browning, though. She works with Mary.”
Whoa. Back up. “Mary’s a teacher?”
“Special education. She’s amazing. The rest of the staff thinks the world of her.”
Great. A soldier. A teacher. Practically a damn saint. What next? Was he gonna find out she knit blankets for orphans in her spare time?
“She’s trying to force me to leave Muddy here until after the high school finals,” David said, the anger spurting again.
“How?”
David explained.
Rusty cursed softly. “I’m not surprised. Qualifying for nationals, that’s huge for a kid like Kylan. Damn sure more than anyone ever expected. I imagine Mary would do about anything to keep it from being ruined for him.”
Too late.
Guilt curdled in David’s gut, kicking his anger up another notch. “So I’m the bad guy here? Muddy is my horse.”
“I wasn’t saying…” Rusty stopped, gave a pained sigh. “This whole thing just sucks. Mary and Galen and them—they’re good people. I guarantee they had no idea Muddy was stolen.”
“They had to wonder when they saw how good he was.”
“Not necessarily. Jinks Yellowhawk could really rope. Went to the Montana circuit finals a few times, might’ve had a shot at the NFR if he could’ve kept his shit together, stayed off the drugs and all. I would’ve believed he’d have a decent horse.”
Muddy was a hell of a lot more than decent. And Mary and Galen might normally be great people, but as far as David was concerned, this was nothing but pure extortion. If they thought he’d walk away and leave Muddy here for another month, they were insane.
Or desperate.
“Can they do this?” he asked. “Force me to pay to get him back just because they’re on the reservation?”
“I don’t know.” Rusty huffed out a breath. “You could probably fight them, and you might win, but I’m guessing it would take more time and money than paying the reward.”
“Which is what they’re betting on.”
“Yeah,” Rusty agreed. “I wish I could be more help, but I don’t know anybody who has much influence with the tribe. Hilary’s got a friend who’s a lawyer, though. Practices in Cut Bank. We could ask her opinion. Off the books,” Rusty added.
Meaning free of charge. Just what David could afford. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” His temper eased, his head clearing enough to make way for curiosity. “If Mary’s a teacher and she’s been in the army, she’s gotta be older than she looks.”
“Close to thirty, I’d say. She went to college at Montana State, then basic training and stuff. Then she was deployed for a year. This is her sixth year teaching.”
At least two years older than David. “How come Kylan lives with her?”
“His mother’s in prison for selling meth.”
Oh. Geez. “Tough, having your mom arrested.”
“Better than living with that woman. She’s bad news, coming and going. Best thing that could’ve happened to Kylan, having Mary named his guardian. Hasn’t been easy, though. Kylan is… Well, he’s got some challenges.”
David looked up and saw Galen shuffling out of the office building, swiveling his head as he searched for his missing passenger. “Listen, Rusty, I gotta run.”
“No problem. I’ll call you after I get a chance to talk to our lawyer friend. If you need anything else while you’re here—a place to stay or a practice pen to run some calves—don’t hesitate to call.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.” David tucked the phone away but stayed put, bracing his elbows on the railing to stare down into the murky creek. He had to settle down, use his head. Slamming around kicking things and antagonizing everyone in sight wouldn’t help. Much as he’d like to paint Mary and Galen as the villains, they were getting the shaft here, too. And so was Kylan.
His conscience reared up and gave him a sharp jab. Hell. Why did it have to be a kid? Why couldn’t Muddy have been with some thirtysomething rodeo stud who had four other horses in the pasture?
David contemplated his limited options as he walked the two blocks back to Galen’s pickup. Leaving without Muddy was not a possibility, but even if he could conjure up five grand out of thin air, that still left the kid without a horse, at least in the short term. And with nationals just over a month away, the short term was pretty important to Kylan Runningbird.
David stopped a few yards short of where Galen was leaning on the pickup’s flatbed, seeming content to wait as long as necessary. The man must be a great poker player. That face gave away nothing.
“Who are you anyway?” David asked, irritated enough he didn’t care that he sounded rude. Galen didn’t flinch.
“How do ya mean?”
“What are you to Mary? An uncle or something?”
Galen gave a single deliberate nod. “Mary’s brothers were my wife’s nephews.”
David blinked, not sure which part of that statement to try to comprehend first. “Mary’s not your niece?”
“Not by blood. Her mom left my wife’s brother and hooked up with some white man down in Great Falls for a while, came home pregnant. None of us ever laid eyes on him.”
That would explain why she wasn’t as dark as the rest of them. “What about Mary? Has she… Does she…”
“She went to see him once, when she was in high school.” Galen shrugged. “Never went back, so we assume he ain’t much.”
David shook his head, baffled. He couldn’t imagine growing up that way. Then he remembered Galen had referred to her brothers in the past tense. “What happened to your nephews?”
“Car wreck. Killed the two of them and a couple others.”
“Oh.”
They stood, taking a moment of respectful silence until a gust of wind peppered them with road grit.
Galen tugged the collar of his jacket up another inch. “Guess you got some thinking to do.”
“Yeah.”
Galen nodded, then circled the pickup to the driver’s door. “Might as well see some of the country while you’re at it. Hop in. I got a job down Heart Butte way.”
David hesitated. He needed to get on the phone, figure out how to put together either the reward money or enough cash to hire a lawyer of his own, but he got the distinct impression Galen wanted to talk, so David got in the pickup.
If Mary’s sort-of uncle had any bright ideas of how they could work this out, David was all ears, because he didn’t have a clue.