I’m not ready to face that something so sacred to me may never be the same again. It doesn’t matter that Tate promised it wouldn’t be any different. Promises are fragile. Broken all the time, both with and without intent.
The last conversation we had was the day of River’s grandmother’s birthday party. It took everything in me to shift my mood before walking back into the house to grab her. Thankfully, her brother was a big enough asshole I got to put my energy to use.
She’d been right. By morning, they were all gone except Jaxon. He’d called her and asked to have breakfast, which turned into her inviting him here and her cooking for all of us.
I see why she favors him over the other two. He’s a cross between the my-shit-don’t-stink attitude Warner walks around with, the indifference of Kane and then the uppity vibe of her parents, but there was something down to earth about him too.
Yet the moment he left, I was back to obsessing about my brother. Tate had been genuine when he asked me to come help at the ranch. Explained it was something he thought we could do together and apologized a million times about having to keep secrets from me.
I couldn’t give him an answer. For once, without River’s influence, the urge to tell him to fuck off wasn’t there. Part of me wanted the relationship we had when we were boys. Part of me wanted to help, if for no other reason than I didn’t want to see something so special to me go down the drain at the hands of someone else.
It’s not Tate I worry about destroying the legacy, but anyone he might have to hire. Running a fully functioning ranch that doubles as a rodeo is no small feat. A single person can’t do it alone.
Tate will try until he realizes he can’t run that place alongside our family farm on his own. Not without killing himself in the process.
But the pain still lingered. I couldn’t get past those feelings of resentment and all the shitty words we’ve slung at each other over the years. Or the lie. The lie is what has kept me from saying yes.
“Would you help me if I lied to you?” I ask Bull, scratching behind his ears.
He groans, rolling to his stomach, his paws draping over his eyes as if he no longer wants to talk to me.
I can’t blame him. He’s the only one I’ve had here to talk to since I dropped River at the arena two hours ago.
I’d thought about going to the bar, but it wouldn’t serve me to get drunk and not be able to pick her up, either. She’s supposed to let me know when the last rider is about to go up. That way, she has time to tidy up her room before I get there.
Switching on the massive flat screen TV mounted on the wall in front of the couch, I mindlessly scroll through the channels until I hit the local news station that often showcases clips of rodeo nights.
The barrel racers are out. Tami steering her horse around the third barrel before charging home.
I’ve never been a fan of watching rodeo events on TV. You miss the atmosphere. The smell of the dirt and the livestock. You miss the roar of the crowd and the way your heart pumps in your ears.
The day I have to give up riding will be a tough one for me, but another thought shoves its way to the forefront.
I’ll have to stop riding someday. My body will quit, or my mind will. It doesn’t matter which because the ending will be the same. It doesn’t mean I have to walk away from what I love. Many retirees never truly leave their rodeo roots behind.
Boulder Ranch can still be a place I call mine if I can put aside my issues.
And for once, some clarity around the shit show that is me and my brother comes into view.
I’ve been sitting outside in the parking lot for thirty minutes, but I haven’t heard from River yet. The moment the broadcast announced a break for awards, I grabbed my keys and left.
I called when I was here, and she said she was just bandaging up a knee and would be out within twenty minutes.
Thirty passed before I called again. The endless ring before her voicemail kicked in left me in knots. Worry clutching at my chest as I scanned the half-full lot around me.
Checking my phone screen again, there’s still nothing. My patience no longer allowing me to just sit here and wait, I stalk toward the rear barn.
The humid air melts my shirt to my skin. The jeans clinging to my thighs making my skin itch from the heat. This is typical spring weather in Cole County. Especially being so close to the lake. The thick, wet air can become a beast to endure. The combination so stifling it’s like drowning in a sauna. Summer can be even worse.
Tugging at the front of my shirt, I do my best to ignore it until I step into the cool air of the barn.
It’s empty as I weave my way through the structure and to the back toward the med room. Slowly opening the door, it’s empty.
It looks just as it would after River has packed up for the night, but she’s not here. There’s no sign of her at all.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I call her. Thering, ring, ringblaring in my ear with each second of her not answering until someone finally does.
“Hello?” a heavy-breathing male voice answers the phone.
