Chapter Eleven
Axle
The first two weeks of rodeo school flew by, and a fresh crop of students will be filing in tomorrow.
I’m halfway through setting up the practice chute for this afternoon’s bucking bronc lesson. Which will be the last session we have with this group.
I’ve never been much for riding bucking horses. Always preferred the back of a bull, but the training and mentality aren’t all that different.
I’m lost in my thoughts about how quickly these days have gone and how I wish I’d had more one-on-one time with each of the kids when the familiar rumble of a side-by-side cuts across the arena.
I glance up at the sound.
The Wyoming sun beats down on the dirt. Dust hangs in the air while Royce wrestles with a gate chain on the far side.
Cabe is driving the ATV, but the surprise is the man sitting next to him.
I blink. “What the hell?”
The side-by-side rolls to a stop beside the fence.
Micah Trust climbs out, wearing a huge grin.
Micah is our cousin. His father is our dad’s younger brother, Gabe. He and Aunt Leah live in Casper, which is where we lived before moving here.
I plant both hands on my hips. “What are you doing in Wildhaven?”
Micah shuts the door and leans against it like he owns the place. “Good to see you too, Ax.”
Royce looks up from the gate. His eyebrows climb. “Holy shit. Micah?”
“The one and only,” Micah quips.
I stare at my cousin.
Last I heard, he was working on a ranch down in Texas. Before that, he’d spent time in Montana. Before that, somewhere in Oklahoma.
Micah never stays put for longer than a season.
“What are you doing here?” I ask again.
Micah grins. “I’m here to work.”
I raise an eyebrow. Work? “At the academy?”
Sure, he’s one hell of a cowboy, but he’s never been particularly interested in rodeo.
Before I can ask another question, Cabe hops out. “Nope. He’s here to work for me.”
“With,” Micah clarifies. “I’m here to work with you.”
I narrow my eyes. “On the ranch?”
Cabe folds his arms over his chest. “We needed another experienced cowboy because we’re adding to the herd.”
Now I’m even more confused. “What herd?”
Cabe and Micah exchange a look.
The kind of look people share when they’re about to explain something that apparently everyone else already knows.
Except I clearly don’t.
“The cattle herd,” Micah says.
I stare. “The what?”
Royce starts laughing. “Thank God. I thought I was the only one confused.”
Cabe sighs dramatically. “You two spend too much time getting tossed around by livestock. Don’t you pay attention at all when you’re home?”
“Sure we do,” I say.
“Right.”
Cabe leans against the fence. “Grandpa Earl and Dad decided to expand.”
I nod slowly.
Grandpa Earl and Dad have always kept a small cattle herd. Nothing huge. Just enough to feed the family and provide beef for Grandma Evelyn’s church food bank. But it’s never been a major operation.
Something useful and good but still just a hobby of sorts.
“Expand how?” Royce asks.
Cabe grins. “We’re adding to the herd this year. Some Angus and Wagyu.”
I stare. “Wagyu? The expensive-ass beef?”
“Yep,” Cabe confirms.
Then Micah drops the next bomb. “Matty agreed to a small bison herd too.”
“Buffalo?” Royce asks.
“Bison,” Micah corrects.
“Whatever. Same thing,” Royce says.
“No. Buffalo are buffalo, and bison are bison. Buffalo are native to Africa and Asia. Bison are native to Europe and North America,” Micah explains.
Royce shakes his head. “Huh?”
I look at Cabe. “What happened?” I ask.
“To what?”
“To Matty,” I say.
Cabe starts laughing. “Haven’t you heard?” he asks. “Maitland Storm has become a lot more agreeable since getting hitched and having a baby.”
I bark out a laugh despite myself. “You’re gonna die if she hears you say that.”
“Probably.”
Matty has always been strong-willed and downright terrifying when she wants to be.
I don’t believe marriage and motherhood have necessarily softened her, but they do seem to have made her happier, more relaxed.
At least a little.
Not that I’d ever tell her that. She’d probably punch me.
I look back at Micah. “Can you have cows and bison on the same land?”
Micah nods. “Sure.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. They’re both grazers. They’ll just have to be in separate pastures. Bison don’t always play nice with cattle.”
“They need different management too,” Cabe says as he slings an arm around Micah’s shoulders. “Which is why we recruited this guy.”
I nod.
That actually makes sense.
Like horses, different breeds require different handling, feed, and care. I imagine giant, prehistoric-looking murder cows would be no different.
Still …
Bison …
At Wildhaven Storm?
That’ll take some getting used to.
Royce folds his arms. “Sounds like a lot of work.”
Micah snorts. “That’s because it is.”
Cabe slaps him on the shoulder. “Good thing we have extra hands around this summer.”
The second he says it, I know where this conversation is headed.
I don’t like it.
Royce clearly doesn’t either.
“We’ll be busy with the rodeo school,” I tell him.
Cabe grins. “Not all the time. You have nights and weekends free.”
“We’re up early and work until dinner,” Royce tells him.
“So, not that busy,” Cabe notes.
I groan.
Royce groans too.
Because we both know we’re losing this argument.
It’s difficult to argue when our brother begins his day at four in the morning and doesn’t finish until the sun sets and every chore is done.
And the problem with growing up on a ranch is that everyone thinks you’re always available for work. No matter what. You could win the lottery, a world championship, or even become president of the United States, and someone would still ask you to fix a fence and expect it to be done right.
Probably in the rain. Before sunrise.
Royce looks at me. “Is the summer over yet?”
I chuckle. “Not even close.”
The truth is, the two of us get out of a lot of shit because of rodeo. Growing up, we all had to pull our weight, but since high school, the two of us have pretty much breezed in and out of town without having to contribute much.
It’s probably time we changed that. After all, Wildhaven Storm will be the place where we ultimately land, so it’s only fair.
Micah raises a brow. “You boys aren’t scared of a little honest work now?”
I point at him. “You literally just got here. You haven’t earned the right to talk trash yet.”
“Yeah. Don’t start none, won’t be none,” Royce adds.
Micah grins.
The bastard doesn’t have to earn shit. He can ride anything with four legs and fix anything with an engine.
Cabe looks between us. “Seriously though, we’d appreciate if you guys could pitch in just until we’re able to fill those fancy new bunkhouses Matty had built for ranch hands.”
The new bunkhouses, barns, and stables have been some of the biggest projects on the ranch, aside from the rodeo academy.
Matty has hired a few cowboys, but the beds aren’t completely full yet. However, they will be eventually. And when that happens, we’ll have plenty of help.
At least, that’s the hope.
Royce sighs. “So, what, we’re a cattle ranch now?”
Cabe shrugs.
I look toward the main ranch house. The familiar old barn, arena, horse pens, and the mountains rising beyond all of it.
Wildhaven Storm has always been a horse ranch.
Always.
The entire identity of this place is built around horses.
Breeding them. Training them. Racing them. Riding them. Teaching people how to ride them.
Everything revolves around horses.
The idea of becoming something else feels strange. Like somebody broke in and rearranged the furniture in your house without asking for permission.
But before I can say any of that, Cabe beats me to it.
“If Ironhorse can be a cattle ranch that trains horses”—he pauses dramatically, then points toward the ranch—“then Wildhaven Storm can be a horse ranch that sells a little beef.”
I open my mouth.
Then close it.
Because, damn it, that’s actually a good point.
Holland Ludlow and Caison expanded Ironhorse to include a new training and breeding facility for racehorses. They built one of the most successful operations in the state by refusing to limit themselves.
If they can make it work, so can Wildhaven Storm.
Maybe it isn’t about abandoning who we are, but about adapting, growing, and adding new revenue streams. Just like this academy and Harleigh’s new guest ranch.
The business side of me understands that.
The rodeo side of me doesn’t care.
The rodeo side just knows it’s gonna mean work. And all that side cares about is getting back on the road come fall.
Royce apparently reaches the same conclusion. “Fine. We’re in. But don’t ever expect to see my ass before eight a.m.”
Cabe smiles. “You can work times out with Dad and Grandpa.”
Royce groans.
I groan louder.
Micah laughs so hard that he nearly doubles over. “Welcome to ranching, boys.”
“We already ranch.”
“No.” Micah points toward the bronc chute. “You play with bulls and horses for a living. While we do the real work.”
I take offense to that. “We don’t play.”
“You get paid to ride them, don’t you?”
“That’s not—”
“You literally get paid to ride livestock.”
I look at Royce.
He shrugs. “He’s kind of got a point.”
Micah grins. The asshole is just trying to get a rise out of me.
Cabe shakes his head.
Micah glances toward the practice arena. “So, this is today’s class?”
“Yep.”
“Broncs?”
“Broncs.”
“Saddle or no saddle?”
“Bareback,” I say.
He whistles. “Kids are gonna get wrecked.”
“Nah. They’ll be fine.”
“Famous last words, right before somebody gets wrecked,” he mutters.
Royce finishes securing the gate and walks over. “So, you here for good?” he asks.
Micah nods. “Looks that way.”
“Damn. Never thought I’d see the day you settled down in one place.”
Micah grins. “We all gotta grow up sometime. Besides, I missed your ugly asses.”
That’s the thing about family. You miss them when they’re gone—when you’re gone—and nothing beats coming back together.
In the distance, I can hear the faint sound of hammers from another project happening somewhere on the ranch.
I glance toward the ranch house again and the rolling fields beyond it.
Wildhaven Storm keeps evolving. Every year, something changes. Every year, the place gets a little bigger. A little stronger. A little harder to recognize.
But maybe that’s not a bad thing.
Maybe that’s what surviving looks like. Not staying the same, but getting better. Finding new ways forward for the next generation.
Because this land—our family—is what matters most.
And Wildhaven Storm is home.
Which means, if they need help building a cattle operation out of a horse ranch, I’ll be there.
I’ll be complaining every second of the way.
But I’ll be there.