2. Two
Two
Cash
“Up next is a rising star in barrel racing, Quinn Compton. She was well on her way to the NFR last year and this year is no different, she’s going to prove to everyone…” The rodeo announcer’s voice boomed through the air as the crowd died down. Everyone turned their attention towards the end of the arena to where the horse would fly through at any moment.
I could see my client, Quinn, bringing her gelding round the corner. Her face was stern, etched with concentration, leaving no doubt in my mind how ready she was for this. We had been training for months before this rodeo, gearing up for this circuit. For her, it was all or nothing. This was the first ride of the twenty-seven we had planned through the upcoming weeks, and even though I was used to that vigorous of a schedule, I wasn’t sure if Quinn was. The girl was determined, I’d give her that. She insisted on this schedule, so who was I to stop her?
Seeing the drive there only brought out the spark in me I lost years ago.
But then that small twinge of electricity reminded me why I was on this side of the dirt.
Leaning against the railing, I lifted my left leg to catch my boot on the gate, my elbows keeping my torso steady as I watched Quinn gain speed. Her long brown hair flew behind her as her form on her gelding was perfect, the determination in both rider and horse unmatched. She rounded the first barrel, earning a cheer, then the second. Another loud whoop came, and Quinn smiled. I swear I could see the blush in her cheeks as she raced towards the third barrel. She had this…
Pulling on the reins, the gelding turned….
And Quinn lost balance.
My eyes widened as I froze, watching as her weight fell off to the side, her gelding’s massive body following—both landing on the dirt—her horse coming down directly on her leg. The horse rose quickly, taking Quinn and her stuck boot with it. She grimaced as her hand flew up, reaching up her leg. I watched as she maneuvered, doing exactly what I taught her, removing her boot and letting the horse go. Once she was free, she flopped on the hard ground, the prideful expression she had mere seconds before now exchanged for one of pain and defeat.
The crowd gave a loud groan as she lay there, her hat near her hip, one boot missing as she spread her arms out to her side. This wasn’t her first accident on this particular gelding, but it was her first in front of a crowd.
But hey—at least the barrel was still standing.
“Awe man,” the announcer bellowed. “That’s hard to see, especially for a rider like Compton, but there she is, up and ready to ride again. Give her a cheer because a fall doesn’t stop cowboys and cowgirls. They get right back in that saddle.”
Quinn slowly stood, grabbing her hat before she dusted off her Wranglers. She waved at the crowd and kept her eyes trained on the ground as she jogged back to the entrance, a slight limp in her step. I knew what that felt like. I knew the embarrassment and dread that came with a fall. I had fallen off horses before, and I did just what she did. I picked myself up and stood—limping away with a wave.
Pushing myself off the gate, I felt the pain shoot up my left leg, my hamstring reminding me of one particular fall, even years later. The one where I didn’t get up. Ignoring it, I quickly made my way over to Quinn. She grabbed the reins, keeping her left foot lifted from the ground, toes pointed as she hobbled.
“We need to get that looked at,” I shouted as I came up behind her.
Her back was covered in the dirt of the arena, and her cream hat was now bent. Dust flew around her as she shook her head.
“I’m fine,” she grumbled.
“Your 1700-pound horse just fell on your leg; we’re getting it checked out,” I demanded, taking the reins from her and offering my arm to help carry her off the path. “A quick x-ray and before you know it, you’ll be back on the dirt.”
Her gaze met mine as a long, slow breath left her lungs. She grimaced.
“It hurts…” she whimpered, her voice low so only I could hear. She clearly recognized that not even her brave face could win against me.
Taking on barrel racing clients wasn’t the first pick of training jobs for me, but since saddle bronc riding was no longer a way for me to bring in the checks, I had to start somewhere. I had saved up enough throughout my competing days that I was able to pay all my medical bills and afford life, but my nest egg could only last so long. I had known Quinn a little over a year, and she just happened to be looking for a new trainer when she joined the league. She was thrilled to get The Cash Callahan to train her. Last year was a win for us, Quinn gained a lot of traction and almost made it to the National Finals Rodeo. This year we were both determined to get her there, basically becoming her agent as well as her trainer. But now with a possible broken leg she just jogged on to get off the dirt, well…looks like we’d have to add recovery time to the lineup.
Quinn is a tough gal, for her to tell me it hurt…that was different.
“I know, trust me, I know,” I responded, giving her side a squeeze. “Let’s go get it seen about.”
“I can’t be out for the year.” Quinn’s voice rose as she took a step, a gasp leaving her lungs once we made it to the stall.
“You won’t be.”
“How do you know?”
“You givin’ up on me already?” I raised an eyebrow.
“No,” she griped. “That was going to be a good run. Hook had it.” She gave her gelding a quick glance as he sauntered into his stall. I helped sit her on a barrel next to it before closing the lock.
“ You and Hook had it.” I held onto her shoulder “The horse is as only as good as the rider.”
She let out a groan, closing her eyes and holding onto her knee. Shaking her head lightly, she bowed her chin. Quinn was one of the strongest girls I had met in the last few years. Basically, whatever Quinn wanted, she worked her ass off and got it. She never let anyone, or any thing get in her way. All of that tethered in my mind as I studied her, noticing her bottom lip quivering as she held back the failure I knew she had to be feeling.
I was in almost the same spot almost three years ago when I got bucked off and the horse landed on me, causing my left leg to shatter, along with other long-lasting conditions. The pain will still seep through the tough skin I’ve grown to cover it up, but it’s there. If I closed my eyes I could still see everything clear as day. The reaction from the crown would still ring in my ears. If I still felt that, would she?
Watching as Quinn walked off the dirt with only a small limp until I got to her, my guess was a simple sprain or torn muscle. With training, she and Hook would be back on the dirt sooner than she thought. She would ride again. Me on the other hand…I haven’t been on the rodeo dirt since my accident. I didn’t see myself on the other side of the chute ever again.
Hook made a huff in his stall, pulling my attention back to him.
“I’ll strip him down. You rest, and then we’ll take you to the ER.”
“The emergency room! Come on Callahan, I don’t need the ER. A clinic is fine,” she protested, a snap to her voice that would have almost worked to get her way.
Shaking my head, I heaved a sigh. She only called me Callahan when she was pissed. I raised my eyebrows and motioned towards her leg. “I’m taking you to the ER. We need to add in recovery time.”
“I’ll be training if I can’t ride in the circuit,” she bit back.
“I would expect nothing less from you, but for now, you’re staying off that leg.” I opened the pen. “Give me fifteen minutes and then we’ll head on out.”
Quinn scoffed. “How far away is the closest hospital anyway?”
My eyebrows met in the middle as I tried to recall exactly how far away the hospital was. I unhooked the gelding’s reins and bridle. “An hour or so. Boise, I think.”
“An hour…” she repeated softly. “What about Hook?”
“He’ll be fine here.”
“We can’t leave him.”
“Just for a few hours Quinn. You need to get looked at, and I’m not leaving him in the trailer while we’re at the ER.” I gave her a stern stare, glaring at her until she finally let out a long sigh and grumbled.
“Fine.”
“Fine.” I turned back to the gelding. “Now keep quiet, and don’t move that leg.”
“Well,” I looked at the x-ray on the screen. “At least it’s not broken.”
With my hands on my hips, I turned to look at Quinn. Her leg was straight out on the bed, her back slouched as she lifted her gaze up to me. Fire brewed behind her green eyes, pure hatred for me at this point. The news that she tore a muscle and ligament wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear. She could ride, but she needed physical therapy—and a few weeks of rest before she could get back in the circuit.
“Eight to ten weeks,” she lamented. “I’m down for eight to ten weeks.” She emphasized the ‘ to ten’ bit. “That means I’m out until at least the beginning of May. Do you get how long it’s going to take me to get back on top fifteen, back to the NFR?”
“If you don’t make it this year—”
“I’ll quit,” she stated point blank, her gaze moving from me to her foot. Disappointment carved across her face as she stared at her wiggling toes.
“No. I won’t allow that.”
Quinn locked eyes with me. “Fine. I won’t quit. I’ll just sulk.”
“You can train, and we can stay right here in Boise while you do your PT.”
“Don’t you have other clients?”
Nope…
Her eyebrows twitched. “Don’t tell me you banked your entire year on me.”
“You proved to me last year you were worth it. So, show me I made the right decision.” I knew I had. This girl was one to watch and I was proud to call her my only client. It wasn’t that I had everything banked on her, it was that I knew she was it. I knew she was going to go far. And I wanted to be there to watch her. “One fall isn’t going to take you completely out of the running for the NFR. We’ll train and go to PT and lay low. I’ll work with Hook too, make it so he can go tighter, but…we may want to get Charming trained up with you too before spring just in case.” I sat on the edge of the table, making eye contact with Quinn.
“Charming is calmer for sure.” She inhaled. “And you think we can just stay in Idaho?”
“Think of it as a vacation.” I raised my arms, giving her the cocky grin I knew could pull most people from their anger. “We don’t have to, but hey”—I held up the many referral cards the doctors had already handed me—“we have a plan here already.”
Quinn folded her arms, annoyance seeping from her pores at my optimism. Her bright green eyes pierced into me, almost as if she could directly send me her thoughts. Her brown hair was up in a loose braid, small whisps falling around her pale skin. She closed her eyes and her bottom lip shook. Quinn wasn’t one to give up. She wasn’t one to show fear. Just being here showed a different kind of strength from her—vulnerable, raw strength.
“Don’t go crying on me.”
She let out a laugh, “I’m not crying, I’m just…”
“Crying?”
“Yeah…” She looked up at me as the first tear fell.
“It’s gonna work.”
“Eight weeks,” she sighed. “I can make this work for eight weeks.”
“Eight to ten,” I corrected.
Quinn agreed with a slight roll of her eyes. “Eight. Watch me.”
With a dip of my chin, I chuckled. “Oh, I expect no less.”
A few more doctors in and out, some prescriptions given for pain, and Quinn was officially discharged from the ER and comfortable in her hotel room. I checked on her horses before waltzing into my own room right next to hers. I tossed my hat onto the nearest chair, kicking my boots off while simultaneously unbuttoning my shirt. I loved this life, but days that ended in the hospital added extra stress and took the thrill away. Though I was technically employed as just her trainer, I helped put together this string of rides, and now each one had to be notified and canceled. Seeing she was fast asleep and knocked out on pain pills in the room next to me, that task was going to be left up to me.
Standing in just my boxers and t-shirt, I grabbed my phone and laptop, pulling up Quinns schedule on our shared document. I let out a deep breath when I saw the twenty plus events I had to call and remove her name from. No one was going to like this.
Especially Quinn.
The rodeo was her life.
Hell, the rodeo was my life, too. Or rather, used to be my life.
The last time I sat down to cancel events, they were my own.
Letting those memories fester for two seconds, I pushed them out as quickly as they came.
I never let them linger.
My phone buzzed next to me, a much-needed distraction, and the name on the caller ID pulled my lips into a soft smile.
Lachlan Hartwell.
“Lach,” I answered, not even a hello between us.
“How’s Quinn?” His rough voice hit my ears, and I could see him sitting on his porch back at Hartwell Hills Ranch. His feet would be on his railing, a glass of water next to him as he watched the stars. The vision was clear as day—even if it had been years since I had seen him.
“You saw that tumble huh?” I scoffed, switching him to speaker phone so I could cancel the next event Quinn had lined up.
His deep chuckle reverberated the speakers. “Rhett’s wife was more concerned about her fall than the bull rider that almost got bucked.”
The memory of meeting Kyla Hartwell months ago floated through my mind. She was still so new to the rodeo world, so of course she would be more concerned over a barrel racer than a ‘tough’ bull rider.
“Compton will be fine. She tore a ligament, up to ten weeks PT and training before she can get back on the dirt.”
“Damn,” Lachlan breathed.
“She’ll be back before you know it. Tell Mrs. Hartwell she’ll recover, but she’s out for now. Currently canceling her line up.”
“So, what’s next? Montana for PT and rest?”
I had known Lachlan Hartwell for a long time and still thought of him as my best friend. We didn’t see each often—seeing as he stayed far away from rodeos, only really attending one a year in his hometown—but the communication was always there. He was the only Hartwell that still spoke to me on a regular basis, the only one who still checked in. Rhett Hartwell, tie down’s golden child as of last year, would talk to me when we ran into each at rodeos, but since he was taking the year off, Lachlan was my only tie to my previous life.
I stood, grabbing the phone as I made my way over to the bathroom. I caught my own gaze in the mirror. The dark brown eyes shown back at me, my tawny skin covered in dirt from the arena, making me look darker than I really was. Being the son of a mixed-race couple—my father Black, my mother Caucasian—my complexion was sometimes the same color of the dirt, but today it stood out like a sore thumb. Setting the phone down, I turned the sink on, cupped my hands and splashed my face, the dirt falling down the drain, almost with all the sullen memories I wish could be wiped from my brain.
“Staying in Boise,” I confirmed, grabbing the towel. “We can get PT going and find a place to train here. Sure, she wants to go home, but eight weeks here won’t be too bad. I just need to talk to the hotel and extend our time.” I rubbed my face with my hands before grabbing the light blue towel on the rack.
“Boise? Maybe Rhett and I can take a trip to see you one day. It’s been a while.”
My eyebrows perked up. A night with friends? Sure. “Drinks one night? Hell, I’ll even come to The Steel.” I did love that dingy bar.
Lachlan gave me a curt chuckle. “Yeah, sure. I’ll make sure to tell Abi and Wyatt.”
Abi.
Abigail Acosta.
My heart lurched as I threw the towel, watching as it hit the small lotion bottles on the counter, even toppling over my medication bottle into the sink. Thank god the lid was on, or I’d have to stop by a pharmacy. Groaning, I grasped the little orange bottle in my hand, holding on to it tightly as I gave myself one last look as thoughts flooded my mind. Wyatt Hartwell loathed me.
Wyatt I could handle, but Abi?
I hadn’t seen Abi in almost five years. Abi was, well, she was the one person I didn’t know if I could see again. Given our history and the way my heart fluttered just from hearing her name—I wanted to—more than anything, but…
“Yeah, that sounds fan-fucking-tastic.” I mumbled, setting my meds back on the counter, moving to rearrange the mess the towel created.
“Nah, just Rhett and I. I was just joking.”
I swallowed, giving Lachlan a nod I knew he couldn’t see. He knew. He didn’t know the full extent of what thoughts flew through my brain whenever I heard her name—if I were being honest, neither did I, but he knew enough to let it go.
A few more exchanges helped move the topic, easing me back into my normal rhythm, and once we said goodbye, my mind went right back to work. Quinn and the rodeo.
Not on Abi, or my past.