“Because Pete vouches for him. The committee handles all the financial logistics for events in this town, and Holden is their finance director. And sometimes you don’t have a choice but to work with people you’d rather never see again.” He glances at me, something sharp in his eyes. “So why the sudden interest in the business?”
I consider how much to tell him. “I don’t know anything concrete, yet,” I say carefully. “But I’m going to dig aroundbecause I think he’s pulling some shit behind the scenes. I’ll see what I can find.”
My father nods slowly. “Good. Keep me updated.” A pause. “I’m glad to see you taking an interest in this side of things, son. It’s something I’ve always wanted, for you to understand the business beyond just the competitions.”
The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. My father isn’t the type for heart-to-heart conversations. He shows his affection through criticism and high expectations, through pushing me to be better even when I want to tell him to go to hell.
“I know the riding won’t last forever,” I admit. “Figured I should start learning the rest.”
He’s quiet. “You know, your mother always said you’d be the one to build something lasting. Even when you were just a kid, she saw it in you. The way you paid attention to everything, not just the flash, but the details. She said you had the heart of a provider.”
I stop walking.
My father almost never talks about my mother. She died in a car accident that took her faster than anyone could process. One moment she was there; the next she was gone. And after that, it was like he sealed that part of his life away. Locked it in a box and buried it deep. The circuit came after, something he built from the ashes of his grief, pouring all that loss into motion and competition and the endless road.
“I didn’t know she said that,” I say quietly.
“She was right about a lot of things.” He clears his throat, looking uncomfortable with his own vulnerability. “Anyway, this June girl.” He keeps his gaze fixed ahead, hands shoved in his pockets. “The chaperone. You serious about her?”
I tense. “Why do you ask?”
“Saw you boys getting pretty intimate with her the other day. In the parking lot at the arena.” He glances at me sideways. “Hard to miss.”
Heat creeps up my neck, but I don’t look away. “More serious than I’ve ever been about anything.”
He nods slowly, processing that. “She seems nice. Strong, from what I’ve heard. Runs her own business, doesn’t take shit from anyone.” A pause. “You want a partner who can stand up for herself. Someone who won’t crumble when things get hard.”
“She’s all of that and more.”
“Nothing wrong with wanting to settle down, son.” His voice has gone gruff, but there’s something softer underneath. “Have a family. Put down roots somewhere.”
I stare at him. In twenty-nine years, I have never heard my father talk about settling down. Never about anything beyond the next competition, the next town, the next challenge to conquer.
“Would be nice to have some grandkids running around someday,” he adds, almost offhandedly. “Before I’m too old to chase them.”
I genuinely don’t know what to say. The man who raised me on arena dust and motel rooms, who taught me that home was wherever we stopped, is now talking about grandchildren?
“Dad…” I start, but he waves me off.
“Don’t make a big thing of it.” He clears his throat again, the vulnerability obviously making him uncomfortable. “Just saying. If she’s the one, don’t let her slip away. That’s all.”
I think about June, about her laugh, her fire, the way she fits against me as though she was made for exactly that purpose.
“I don’t plan to,” I say quietly.
He nods once, sharp and decisive, and that’s the end of it.
“Anyway. Let’s get to the rodeo. Lots to do.”
We walk to his truck in silence, but it’s a different kind of silence now. Heavier. More meaningful.
The drive to the rodeo grounds takes about fifteen minutes. My father keeps the radio on low, some old country station, and I stare out the window at the Montana landscape rolling by.
Golden fields. Distant mountains. The occasional farmhouse or barn.
He’s right that the riding won’t last forever. Eventually, every cowboy has to hang up his hat and figure out what comes next.
Maybe mynextis closer than I thought.
