“HEY, CT! You ready for round one?” His buddy Miles popped up next to him by the rail, and Curtis damn near jumped out of his skin.
“You know it. I want to get it over with.” He felt like he’d been out of the game forever. Hell, Curtis felt as though part of his brain was still back with Roper.
All his damn heart was, and that was the truth.
“Damn, you’re jittery,” Miles murmured.
“I am. I got all ants in the pants, huh?”
“Good on you. Ought to help you ride.” Miles clapped him on the shoulder. Then his friend sobered. “How’s Stetson’s momma?”
“Dying.”
Miles’s face fell. “Shit marthy. I’m real sorry, man. I was praying for a miracle for him.”
“Me too.” Curtis sighed. “She’s so mad when she knows what’s going on, like she wants to beat down the world.”
“I can’t even imagine. How’s Stetson holding up?”
“Stretched thin.” He didn’t want to talk about Stetson’s lack of funds, but he knew it was a problem. Stubborn cowboy. Curtis wanted to pay off loans or invest or something, but how did he bring that up without hurting Stetson bad?
“Yeah.” Miles nodded. “Thank God I got me some brothers to work the land, and they got me to make money.”
“Right?” See, that could work, but they’d gone round and round about that already. Stetson would want him there, and if they were ever gonna make it work, Curtis knew he’d have to stay.
Curtis wasn’t sure he could do that. Not yet. Soon. A year, maybe, and he’d be ready to retire. The ranch had felt more like home than anything since he’d left his folks’ place in Texas, right? Shit, the ranch was… it was where Stetson was. “How’s it going for you, man? You riding good?”
“Yep. Stampede pushed me over the top ten. Sitting in eighth now. I’ll be in the big money, I keep this up.”
“Fucking A.” Curtis intended to take it all, but he was always glad when his buds made it to the top with him.
“Right? You can say you knew me when.”
“You have to stand in line, buddy.”
“You took time off. You’ll have to work for it.” Miles grinned at him, pure evil shining through. “You gained weight, man?”
“No.” He had. Three pounds. It wouldn’t affect his balance, and he’d worked out every day—crunches and sit-ups and push-ups.
“You sure?” Miles couldn’t stop his grin for love or money.
“Positive. See?” He patted his belly, which was flat under his buckle, thank God. Hell, the way Stetson had petted him, he knew he had to look good.
“I do.” Too bad that ship hadn’t floated for a second. Him and Miles? Lord, that had been a wreck. One terribly bad night with lots of beer later, they’d decided friends was the way to go.
“You know I carry all my weight in my ass,” Curtis said, trying to get Miles to hoot and slap his leg.
“You and your lead backside.” Miles rolled his eyes.
“Keeps me in the middle.”
“That it does. You going to ride in all three events?”
“Going for all-around,” he agreed. “I have to. Got to beat out the ropers.”
“You can have the bareback and the bulls; leave me the saddle broncs.”
“We’ll see how I score out. I want to win, Miles.”
“Yeah? You feeling it?” Miles started rocking side to side, beginning to warm up, just a bit.
“I am.” And suddenly he was. A plan was forming in his mind, a reason to get the job done.
He had a goal, and God help him, that was what he needed. A direction. A way to keep his mind in the middle.
Curtis rocked his head on his neck. Right. Time to warm up, get moving. Stetson wouldn’t thank him for bucking off.
No, he had to put on one last show for Miz Betty. He bounced up on the toes of his boots, grinning at the cameraman who came by.
Somewhere Stetson would see that and know that smile was for him.