Chapter 6 Kacey
Kacey
Chet is an idiot. He took off this morning in my truck to get horse feed and we need to leave in fifteen minutes.
The flatbed had a flat tire, and he’s too lazy to change it.
Dad’s off somewhere working, and I could have Carson change it before we leave, but I don’t trust the spare to make it ten miles down the road, let alone an hour to the jackpot.
I’m going to kill Chet.
Thirty minutes later, Chet shows back up. After unloading all the feed and a good ass chewing from me, he heads out to doctor some calves. Carson gets the trailer hooked up while I grab the horses and we leave, running forty-five minutes behind schedule.
I hate being late. It stresses me out.
“We’ll still have plenty of time. We aren’t one of the first teams. Just take a deep breath,” Carson says, knowing I’m highly irritated right now. I don’t reply and after a minute he asks, “So you got that shoe back on Hooch this week, right? Who came out for Jack?”
“Yep, some bull rider buddy of his from Oklahoma came out. I guess he’s here for a few weeks covering for him.”
“Oh, he’s got a Sooner kid doing his bidding? Good for Jack.” He smiles. Carson normally doesn’t talk much unless he’s around Dad and me. Most people think he’s grumpy, but he’s not, at least not with me. He’s just quiet; always has been.
After my mom passed, my dad tried his best to balance taking care of me and the ranch, but it was hard.
When Carson showed up a year later asking for a ranch hand job, my dad hired him, but unbeknownst to him—and Carson—he’d just hired a babysitter.
I followed Carson everywhere. I was a sad kid, and he seemed a little sad, too.
I didn’t want to talk about my mom, and he didn’t make me.
Carson also never mentioned anything about his life before he came to the ranch, and I never asked. We all have things that haunt us; it should be our choice when and if we share those nightmares with others. I have a feeling Carson has more than one nightmare from his past.
When I was sixteen, I wanted to start roping. Carson taught me to throw a rope, and Dad got me an old grade bay gelding that was already trained. Carson would drag the roping dummy for me every night. I’d get home from school, and he’d have my horse saddled and the dummy hooked up.
The next summer I started roping live cattle, and we quickly discovered I was a much better heeler than I was a header.
Carson has been heading steers for me ever since.
He’s never once complained or left me hanging.
I’m ten years younger than him, but that’s never mattered to us.
Even though I don’t have any siblings, I have Carson and know I can count on him.
I realize Carson said something, but I was too in my head to listen. “What?”
“So, is that bull rider any good?” he asks again. “Or is he a bull get’er on’er, not an actual bull rider?”
I laugh because it’s true, there are a lot of guys who get on bulls, but very few who can actually ride them. “Well, he’s shoeing horses instead of riding at a rodeo, so I can’t imagine he’s very good.”
He huffs in amusement. “Fair point. I wouldn’t think a top bull rider would want to shoe horses all day.”
Being a farrier is hard work. Horses don’t stand; they try to kick, bite, or strike you.
They’ll lay most of their weight on the one leg you’re trying to work on.
Not to mention there’s always flies biting them, making them waller around on top of you.
Most of the blame is on the owners not working with them—they think it’s the farrier’s job to train them.
It’s not. You don’t hire a mechanic and then expect them to teach you how to drive.
“Does anyone really want to shoe horses all day?” I ask, turning on the radio.
We rolled into the rodeo grounds twenty-five minutes later.
We showed up just in time to warm up our horses and rope our first steer. Thankfully, we were further down the draw list. Our time was 5.3 with no penalties. Not bad. We have two steers left to run; we’ll be here all afternoon.
There are several different formats for team roping jackpots. Some of them you can rope as many times as you want to pay the entry fee for. But this format only allows you to enter once as a header and/or once as a heeler. Then, it’s the fastest time off your aggregate. Entry fees are $100 per man.
Team roping is pretty simple; one person ropes the head—preferably just the horns of the steer—then one person ropes the two hind legs.
If you miss a hind leg, you get five seconds added to your time.
Another penalty is breaking the barrier.
The barrier is a rope at the front of the roping box that is tied to the steer through a pulley system.
When the steer reaches a certain distance known as the score—a head start, if you will—the rope will come off and the barrier will break free.
If you break the barrier before the steer has reached its score, you will have ten seconds added to your time.
Carson and I sit on our horses, watching the preceding teams make their runs while waiting for our next steer, but we have a while yet.
Carson looks around, then picks up his reins to ride over by the end of the small set of bleachers.
I see crutches leaning on the end. Jack sits above them, leg propped up next to him.
I smooch at Hooch, and we follow him over.
“Hey, Jack, how’s the leg?” Carson asks.
He waves at us. “Hey, Carson, Kacey, good first run you had. The leg is pretty good. Doc says I should be back in another five weeks.”
Does that mean Knox will be here for five weeks?
I get it’s the slowest months of the rodeo season, but that’s still a long time to take off.
He either really isn’t good, or he’s really good and can afford the time off.
Most top rodeo athletes take off April, May, October, and November.
Since their season is technically all year, they have to find a break in the season somewhere.
“That’s good news. I’m sure your clients will be more than ready to have you back. I hear you have a bull rider filling in for you.” Carson continues talking to Jack as I attempt to look around discreetly, but don’t see Knox.
Jack laughs. “Yep, sure do. He’s an all-around hand, really. I’ve seen him break colts, work cattle, and ride ranch broncs and bulls. He’s doing great filling in for me. He’s actually around here somewhere; he came to tack on two shoes and got roped into a couple resets.”
I can’t help but smile. “Yeah, that sounds like a bunch of team ropers, showing up to the roping half falling apart and hungover.” That makes Carson and Jack laugh.
“Sounds like a decent kid working for ya,” Carson says.
“Well, he ain’t much of a kid anymore, he’s thirty now. I keep telling him he needs to think about his plans for the future. You can’t ride bulls forever.”
Carson scoffs. “Well, I’m not sure bull riding is a great career choice at any age.”
“We should go warm up,” I interrupt. “They’re getting close to us. We’ll see you later, Jack.” We aren’t really that close to being up, but I don’t need crabby Carson offending my ex-bull riding farrier. Good farriers are hard to find, I’d like to keep mine.
We rope our next steer, he was a fast one, but we made it work for a 6.
8 second run. As long as we get one more clean run and speed it up a little, we should pull a decent check.
As we’re riding back toward Jack, I see Knox has shown up.
He looks good—really good. Even with dirt and horse hair all over his blue Henley shirt.
He’s leaning on the end of the bleachers with his arms crossed, grinning at me. “Keeping those shoes on, speedy?”
“Yeah, so far it seems like my farrier knew what he was doing.” I can’t help but give him a smile back. Something about him puts me at ease, like I’ve known him forever.
I don’t trust it. But it’s nice to pretend for a little while.
“Hey now, what about me? Three of those shoes were put on by me,” Jack says with mock offense.
“Well, so far she’s lost one of yours and none of mine, so odds aren’t looking good for you, old man.” Knox laughs, raising his brows at Jack. He has a genuine smile when he laughs, and I can’t help but stare. His dark blue shirt makes his bright blue eyes pop. He seriously could be a model.
“In your defense, Jack, she was chasing cattle all over the side of a mountain when she lost it.” Carson helpfully chimes in as he steps off his horse, walking up to Knox.
Carson stands over six feet tall causing him to look down at Knox as he reaches out a hand.
“I’m Carson, you must be the bull rider.
Or bull get’er on’er; no one has told me which one yet. ”
Oh my gosh.
I can’t believe he just said that to him. I can feel my face turning red with embarrassment, but Knox just chuckles and shakes his hand. “Yes sir, that’s me. You know the game, sometimes you’re the windshield, sometimes you’re the bug. The trick is being the windshield most of the time.”
Carson gives him more of a grimace than a smile. “I prefer being in the saddle of a broke horse, but to each their own.”
“So, which are you most of the time?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Well, maybe you’ll have to come watch sometime, then you’ll find out.” He looks at me with a grin, but is that cockiness or confidence?
Jack pipes up. “He’ll be in Greeley and Estes Park. Neither is all that far of a drive.”
“Really? I love Estes Park. My best friend and I take a trip there every summer, but we’ve never gone to the rodeo.
” I glance at Knox and see he’s fully focused on me.
I can feel my cheeks turning red again and I glance away.
I’m not normally this awkward around men.
I don’t know what it is about this one, but he makes me nervous.
“We might be too busy at the ranch, we’ll see how it lines out.” Carson says while he gives me a look. That big brother look. Like, you are not getting involved with this bull rider.
He has always been a little protective, but especially after my last relationship disaster.
I dated Garrett for two years, only to find out he didn’t really want me, just our ranch.
And he would do anything—and I mean anything—to get it.
When Carson found out, he was livid. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen him so mad.
He knew how I felt about Garrett, and I was really upset.
That was two years ago, and I haven’t dated since.
Knox smirks at Carson before turning to me. “It’s in early July. Let me know if you can arrange a couple of nights away from the ranch. It’s a great rodeo and I’m sure I could get you tickets.”
Before I can reply, Carson cuts me off. “I think we’re up soon; we should go warm the horses back up.
” He climbs on his horse then narrows his eyes at Knox.
“Nice to meet you. I’m sure we’ll see you around.
” We are most definitely not up soon, but I get on Hooch to follow him anyway.
It’s not like I’d ever go to Estes Park to play buckle bunny for some bull rider. That’s not who I am.
“Yeah. You, too. See you Tuesday, Kacey.”
Right, the broodmares.
By the way Carson is looking at me, he will also be helping trim the mares now.
Great.