David woke up at eight the next morning, sweaty and irritated. The nose of the trailer was stifling because he’d gone to the Town Pump and filled the propane bottles when he got home, then cranked the thermostat too high because he was chilled through and through. Even after he’d kicked off all the blankets, he hadn’t slept for shit, his mind too full of Mary and bears and where he could possibly find a horse for Kylan in less than forty-eight hours.
He showered, shaved, and then checked his phone for missed calls. Rusty had left a message while David was at Two Medicine dancing with grizzlies. He’d promised to call back after he’d had a chance to look into a couple of likely prospects for Kylan. Sure enough, the missed-call icon was lit up on the screen, but the number wasn’t Rusty’s.
David stared at the phone, trying to line his thoughts up into some kind of order before he returned his dad’s call. The smart thing would be to ask him to cosign on a loan, but everything inside David balked. He couldn’t exactly say why. He just knew he wasn’t ready to give in. Not yet. He didn’t have to leave for Reno until Thursday morning. That gave him until tomorrow to figure out another way. And two more evenings he could possibly spend with Mary.
Right. Like she was gonna go for that. She’d made her opinion crystal clear the night before, when she’d booted him out in the cold without so much as a backward glance.
He splashed water on his face to rinse off the shaving cream, rubbed it dry with excessive force. Forget mooning over a woman. He’d wasted enough years and tears recovering from the last one. He had to keep his head on straight, take care of business. The first order was to tell his parents about Muddy before they found out on their own.
His dad must’ve had the phone in his hand, because he answered before the end of the first ring. “Hey, David. How’s it going?”
“Well, um, I have news. Good news.” Weird, how hard it was to get the words out. His throat went painfully tight, and his heart pounded as if this was the moment that finally made it true. “Dad, you’re not going to believe—”
“What?” his dad demanded, alarmed.
David drew a shaky breath. “I found Muddy.”
There was a moment of stunned silence. Then a sharp intake of air. “You’re kidding.”
“No.” David gave a shaky laugh. “Would I kid about this? It’s him, and he’s…” No, not fine. Better. “He looks great.”
Their words jumbled together, questions and answers running over the top of each other as David explained where and how and as many of the details as he knew. His father’s silences grew longer and more thoughtful when David told him about Kylan.
“Hell of a thing, having to take a horse away from a kid,” his dad said. “What’s he going to ride at nationals?”
“That’s why I’m still here.” David sashayed right past the part about Mary kidnapping Muddy and the ransom demand and on to the next excuse. “His uncle asked if I’d help them find another horse.”
His dad considered that for a long moment. “Frosty would probably work great for him,” he said slowly. “But you know how Adam feels about that horse, and how he tends to fret. He’s okay as long as Frosty is with you, but I don’t think I could ask them to let you leave him with someone Adam doesn’t know.”
“You shouldn’t,” David said. “If I’m going to leave a horse here, it should be my own.”
“You can’t do that.” His dad’s voice hardened, the sympathy leaching out. “I feel bad for the boy, but Muddy is worth too much. And I don’t need to tell you what it could mean, having him for the Fourth of July rodeos.”
“I know.” But it was good to hear his dad confirm that David wasn’t just being a selfish bastard.
Female voices sounded in the background, followed by a burst of laughter. “Your mom is back from the bakery. Do you want to tell her yourself?”
“You go ahead.”
“Figures. You know she’s gonna cry.” His dad blew out a gusty breath, sounding a little choked up. “Send us a picture, would you? I’m not gonna believe it’s him until I see his ugly little mug.”
David laughed. “He hasn’t gotten any prettier.”
“I don’t imagine, but he’ll still be a beautiful sight. And David…don’t beat yourself up. All considered, it’s damn good of you to do what you can to help the boy out. No one can expect any more.”
His dad was wrong about that. Mary expected a hell of a lot more. So did Galen, even if he did feel bad about it. And David…well, he’d rather not take any chances. If the rodeo gods were determined to whittle out one last pound of his flesh, he’d pay up, one way or the other. Then he’d move on, free and clear, with nothing more than the memory of one heart-rattling kiss to tug at his sleeve at odd moments.
He tried Rusty’s number but got the answering machine. Hilary would be in the same teachers’ training as Mary, he supposed, and Rusty was probably out doing chores. No sense sitting in the trailer, staring at the walls. David’s phone worked just as well outside, and as long as he had time to kill, he might as well put it to good use.
Frosty’s shoes were due for a reset, so David pulled his portable anvil out of the tack compartment. Then he stopped, considered, and shoved it back in, slamming the door behind. Hell with it. Muddy belonged to him, and that shoeing job was driving David crazy.
He jumped Frosty into the trailer, unhooked the water and electrical lines, and headed west out of the fairgrounds. Within minutes, he was turning into Mary’s driveway. As expected, her pickup was gone, but the sound of David’s engine brought Kylan out of the barn, pitchfork in hand, hair sticking out every which way from under a backward baseball cap. Out in the pasture, Muddy raised his head long enough to give the rig a brief, dismissive glance, then went back to grazing.
David climbed out of the cab, debating how best to approach Kylan. The kid didn’t give him a chance to open his mouth. He gripped the pitchfork in one hand and held up a cell phone with the other, his voice quivering. “You better not try to take him. I’ll call JoJo, and they’ll pick you up before you get a mile down the road.”
David raised both hands. “I’m not gonna steal him back.”
“Then what are you doin’ here?” Kylan demanded, waving the pitchfork with enough menace to make David decide he’d best keep his pickup door open.
“I want to reset his shoes.”
Kylan’s eyes narrowed, suspicious. “He don’t need shoeing. We got it done right before I went to state.”
“I don’t like how he’s set.”
“Why not?”
David stifled a growl. “Get him in, I’ll show you.”
“Uh-uh. You’re tryin’ to trick me.” The pitchfork wobbled again, the tines long, shiny, and very sharp.
“It’s not a trick. Here…” David reached into the pickup, pulled the keys out of the ignition, and heaved them across the yard. They chinked onto the ground in front of Kylan. “Take my keys. Then I can’t leave.”
Kylan stared at the keys for a moment. His gaze bounced to his phone, then the pitchfork, then back again, stymied. He had to put something down in order to pick up the keys, but what?
David breathed a sigh of relief when he chose the pitchfork, jabbing it into a nearby bale of hay. Kylan snatched up the keys and stuffed them in his pocket, his expression still skeptical. “You really just want to shoe him?”
“Really.”
“And you’ll show me why before you do anything?”
“Yes.”
Kylan considered, then nodded. “Okay.”
While the kid went out to catch Muddy, David unloaded Frosty and tied him on the shady side of the trailer out of habit. Then he realized it was damn chilly there and moved the horse around into the sun. Criminy. Did they ever get actual summer here?
He set up his anvil and hoof stand just inside the barn door where he could also catch some warmth from the sun and buckled on a pair of short, heavy leather chaps to protect his thighs.
When Muddy was tied to the stall gate and munching from a bucket of grain, Kylan squinted at his feet. “I don’t see nothin’ wrong with them.”
“That’s because you don’t know what to look for.” David pulled out a hoof rasp, a twelve-inch length of flat steel, covered on both sides with curved teeth sort of like an industrial-strength cheese grater with a wooden handle on one end. He used the rasp as a pointer, tracing a line down Muddy’s cannon bone, around the ankle, and to the midpoint of the hoof. “See here, how his heels are low and his toe is a little long, so it makes this angle sharper?”
“Yeah. So?” Kylan looked over at Frosty. “It’s no different than your other horse.”
“But they’re not built the same. Look at Muddy, how straight he is through the shoulder. Then look at Frosty. See how his shoulder slopes more? With most horses, the natural angle of their pastern is the same as the angle of their shoulder.” He used the rasp again to trace the flex of Muddy’s ankle—which technically was a toe, not an ankle as compared to human anatomy—but he didn’t intend to go that deep in this impromptu lesson. “If they’re not lined up right, it can cause problems.”
“Like what?” Kylan leaned in to look closer, suspicion elbowed aside by curiosity.
“In Muddy’s case, you’re putting more stretch on the flexor tendons, which wrap around the navicular bone like a rope around a pulley. Too much stress can cause bone spurs, arthritis, or even navicular disease.”
Avascular necrosis, in veterinary terms—degeneration of the bone due to loss of circulation.
Kylan frowned. “That’s real bad.”
“It can be,” David agreed. “Which is why I’d like to fix it sooner rather than later.”
“Oh. Okay.” Kylan flipped a bucket upside down and sat, elbows on knees, watching intently as David pulled the right foot up between his thighs and propped it on the hoof stand. He rasped off the bent ends of the nails on the outside of the foot, then used the hoof nippers—long-handled, industrial-strength toenail clippers—to pry the steel shoe off.
“I bet it took a long time to get good at that,” Kylan said as David set the first foot down and moved to the other side.
David paused, arching the kinks out of his back while he looked from horse to kid. For all his other quirks, Muddy was civilized about shoeing, and Mary had said Kylan was interested in learning. “Want to give it a try?”
Kylan snapped upright, eyes widening. “Seriously?”
“Sure.”
“What if I screw it up?”
“I won’t let you.” Kylan eased around, sneaking up on the horse like he might turn into a grizzly bear.
Muddy flicked an ear, rolling his eyes as though he was saying, “Oh, for God’s sake. Get on with it.”
“You’ve picked up his feet before, right?” David asked.
Kylan bristled. “Of course. I clean them all out every time I ride him, before and after.”
“Good. Face toward his head, pull the foot up and hold his shinbone between your knees so his foot stays on the stand.”
Kylan did as instructed, more smoothly than David expected. “Looks like you’ve done this before.”
Kylan hunched a shoulder. “I been watchin’ our horseshoer, and I tried it a few times.”
More than a few, David guessed. He held out the rasp. “Here. Take off the bent ends of the nails.”
The first few strokes were jerky, the nails catching the teeth of the rasp and stopping it short. Kylan swore and tried again, with no better results. David hesitated, not sure how the kid would react if he got too close. Guess he’d find out. He crouched, putting his hands over Kylan’s on the ends of the rasp. The kid didn’t flinch away.
“Like this.” David tilted the rasp to the correct angle, demonstrating the proper amount of force needed to grind off the nails. “See?”
“Yeah. I got it.”
David stepped back. The rasp snagged again, but Kylan corrected himself, and the next stroke was smooth and steady. He clamped his bottom lip between his teeth, concentrating hard as he carefully removed the rest of the nail ends. He finished the last one and flashed a triumphant grin at David. “Like that?”
“Perfect.” David took the rasp and handed him the nippers. “Now pull the shoe off.”
Kylan struggled a little but pried the shoe off without help. Then David took over, the rest of the job requiring more finesse. Muddy dozed, bored as a socialite getting a pedicure, while David nipped off just the right amount from the front of the hoof, set the foot on the ground to inspect the angle, and showed Kylan the result. Then he used the rasp to plane the bottom flat and tacked on the new shoe. He let Kylan finish it off, clinching the pointed ends of the nails down and under on the outside of the hoof to clamp the shoe firmly in place.
They repeated the process on all four feet. While Kylan clinched the last set of nails, David stretched out his back, groaning. “Short horses kill me.”
“Doesn’t seem so bad to me,” Kylan said, setting the foot down and popping upright with a cheeky grin.
“Say that after you’ve shod a couple thousand head.”
Kylan’s expression went sober. “You think I could?”
“Sure. Seems like you’ve got a knack for it.”
“Really?” A delighted smile spread across Kylan’s face. “I’m not usually good at stuff.”
A lump the size of a bowling ball swelled in David’s throat. His phone rang, and he could barely choke out a “Hello.”
“Hey, David. It’s Rusty. I’ve got a horse that might work for Kylan. Can you track him down and come out this afternoon?”
“He’s standing right here. How long will it take us to get there?”
“An hour.”
“See you in an hour and fifteen, then,” David said, and hung up.
Kylan stepped back, suspicion flaring in his eyes. “Who was that?”
“Rusty Chapman. He’s got a horse for you to try.”
Kylan’s gaze flicked to Muddy, his face going sullen. “I already got a horse.”
“Kylan—”
The kid took another step back, shaking his head. “Mary said she had it worked out so I could still use him at nationals.”
Dammit. Why had she told him that when she didn’t know for sure? “She offered me a deal,” David said, forcing the irritation out of his words. “But I have to say no. I can’t leave Muddy here.”
“Why not?” Kylan demanded, his voice pitching higher.
“My dad won’t let me.”
Kylan blinked, momentarily surprised out of his sulk. “Your dad still bosses you?”
“Parents never quit bossing you,” David said. Or sisters, for that matter. “I listen, ’cause he’s a smart guy. Plus, I need Muddy pretty bad right now if I want to make the National Finals this year.”
Kylan’s lip poked out, his voice going sulky. “I guess that’s a bigger deal than the high school finals.”
David took a deep breath. Patience. “It could be worth a lot of money to me.”
Kylan stared down at his feet for several long moments. Then his shoulders rose and fell on a defeated sigh. “You’d have to be kinda stupid to leave a horse that good standin’ around here.”
“That’s what my dad said. So…are we gonna go rope or what?”
“I have to ask Mary.”
“So ask.”
“I can’t. She’s in that training thing, and they’re not allowed to have their phones.”
“Then we’ll have to go without asking her.”
“She won’t like that.”
Oh, for God’s sake. The kid was eighteen years old, and he was afraid to leave home in broad daylight without permission? David took another calming breath. “Call Galen. He’s the one who asked me to help find you a horse.”
Kylan dialed the number, listened, and then frowned. “Voicemail. I’ll try Cissy’s number.” He did and frowned again when he got another voicemail. “They’re prob’ly at the hospital with Aunt Mona. We’ll just have to wait.”
“I’m only here until Thursday,” David said, hanging on to the last shreds of his temper. “We can’t sit on our asses all day. Besides, Galen already knows I was gonna call Rusty. And you know the Chapmans, right?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“No but. We’re going. And…” He paused, aware that he was railroading the kid, but it was in Kylan’s best interest as much as his own. “I’d like to take Muddy along.”
“To Rusty’s?” Kylan threw out his hands, shaking his head. “Uh-uh. You can’t.”
“Why not? You’ll be right there to keep an eye on me.” Hell with it. He wasn’t too proud to beg. “Please, Kylan? I’ve been waiting four years. I never thought I’d get to rope on him again, and now he’s right here…”
Kylan’s forehead crinkled, fear, uncertainty, and a hint of sympathy flickering across his face. “But Rusty’s place is, um…you know.”
“What?”
“Uh…kinda far.”
“An hour, he said. It’s only eleven o’clock. If we get a move on, we could hustle out there, rope, and be back before Mary gets home.”
“Well…” David saw the teen wavering and pushed the advantage. “Grab your stuff and let’s go. Time’s a-wastin’, and I don’t have much to spare.”
Kylan hesitated for another few beats, then squared his shoulders and fixed David with a decent imitation of Mary’s cold-eyed soldier stare. “First, you gotta promise you’ll bring Muddy back.”
“Cross my heart,” David said, and didn’t think twice about sealing the deal with a slash of his fingers across his chest.