Once a Champion. Jeannie Watt
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the end of the practice, she had a good idea of the dynamics of the drills. Whether she and Beckett could do them was another matter. At one point she’d caught her breath when it appeared as though the riders were going to run smack into each other, only to have the horses weave together in a long serpentine pattern. There was a lot of splitting and joining, rollbacks and spins—all at high speed.
“So what do you think?” Andie asked after Liv had joined her at her trailer. She pulled the saddle off her horse and lugged it to the tack compartment. Liv automatically picked up a brush and started working on the bay’s sweaty back while Andie unbridled the horse.
“I think it looks challenging.”
“We all screw up out there, you know.”
“Yes. I know. I have it on film,” Liv said.
“Did you get the flaming argument between Linda and Margo?”
“I tried for close-ups,” Liv said with a straight face.
Andie laughed and leaned against the trailer. “So?”
“I can’t wait to get started,” Liv lied. She was intimidated as hell, but determined to try new things, face new challenges. And give her poor father an evening or two to himself.
* * *
MATT HAD NOT in any way, shape or form, ever expected to become a babysitter—which was exactly what he was, even if the kid was fourteen.
Craig seemed a lot more comfortable being in a strange place than Matt was having him there, which made him wonder how many times the kid had been dumped into someone else’s care...and why none of those someones were available this time.
“I’m kind of curious as to why your mom is having you stay here,” Matt finally said after setting a grilled cheese sandwich in front of the kid at dinnertime. “Surely she has other friends in the area?”
“She tried a bunch of them, but there were problems. Vacations, visitations. One of her friends, Gloria, had just gotten back from rehab—”
“I get it.”
Craig peeled back the edge of the sandwich to inspect the cheese. “This is a good opportunity for my mom. It’s hard to get horse jobs, which is probably why she has to cut hair on the side.” He spoke so earnestly that Matt hoped Craig didn’t think he was trying to get rid of him.
“Do you like horses?” Matt asked as he sat at the table. They’d spent a long, silent afternoon together as he’d worked on his quarterly tax report and Craig had played games on his phone. Matt had needed that time to get his bearings, get used to the idea of sharing his house with a teenager, but the silence was getting old. And uncomfortable.
Craig made a face before he bit into his sandwich. “Horses? No,” he said with his mouth full.
“Roping? Rodeo?”
“Uh-uh,” Craig answered through another mouthful of sandwich.
“Oh.” Well, that squelched talking about roping techniques with the kid. “What do you like?”
“I read a lot and there’s some TV shows I like. Have you ever seen Star Crusher?”
“I don’t watch a lot of TV.”
“But you do have satellite, right?” Something akin to panic lit the kid’s eyes.
“Yes. So...what else do you like?”
“The video games my mom allows, which aren’t many,” he said with a disgusted twist of his lips. “No exploding heads.”
“Can’t blame her there.”
“And I think old trucks are kind of cool.”
Score. Maybe they could talk. “I had a Studebaker truck once that I was going to rebuild.” And it still stung that he didn’t have it.
“I know,” Craig said excitedly. “I’ve seen it. That was what clued Mom in about your ex selling your stuff. Kirby Danson driving your old truck around.”
“You know all about that?”
“Well, Mom and her friends talk a lot.”
“And you listen.” Great.
“Well, she and I talk a lot, too. It’s just, like, the two of us, you know? That was bogus what your wife did to you.”
And not something he wanted to discuss with a fourteen-year-old, not even one whose eyes were now ablaze with indignation on Matt’s behalf.
“What are you going to do while you’re here?” Matt asked. “Besides play on your phone.”
Craig shrugged. “Whatever, I guess.”
Matt finished his sandwich and sat back in his chair. He would have liked to have had a beer with his meal, but didn’t know if that was allowable with an impressionable houseguest under his roof.
“If you have any work or anything that needs to be done around the place, well, I could do that.”
“Work?”
“Mom thought it would be a good idea. Keep me busy.”
Damn, this had to be tough on the kid. The problem was that Matt’s place was well-kept. He had a cleaning lady and the guy who fed his livestock when he was on the road also did the maintenance.
“Yeah. I can use some help.” Or come up with something. “I’d pay you.”
Craig shook his head. “No. You’re giving me a roof and food.”
“Your mom paid for the food.” Or had tried to.
“A roof, then, and she didn’t pay for that.”
“We’ll negotiate later, okay? You want to watch TV now?”
“In the worst possible way,” Craig said. “Mom says I can’t watch someone else’s TV unless they invite me to.”
“Consider yourself invited,” Matt said. “For as long as you’re here, the TV is yours.”
“Thanks,” Craig said, gathering up his plate and heading for the dishwasher. Matt watched in surprise as the boy loaded his dinnerware, then added the dishes that had been soaking in the sink. A quick swipe of the dishcloth around the sink after he’d rinsed it, then Craig headed to the living room. Wow. Willa had taught her son well.
As soon as the television came on in the next room, Matt opened that beer and sat at the table drinking it. Talk about a strange day. Found his horse, got an unexpected roommate—with whom he had nothing to talk about.
Matt reached out and grabbed the newspaper off the sideboard where he’d stacked all the stuff that’d been on the table when he’d cleared it to feed Craig. He flipped it open with one hand and looked at his brother—make that his half brother’s—smiling face on the front page and almost closed it again. But he didn’t.
Ryan Madison. The darling of the Montana rodeo circuit, who’d just done a charity roping clinic for the local kids, and who was also within striking distance of qualifying for the NFR for the second time in a row.
Matt shoved the paper aside.
Not that he didn’t want Ryan to qualify. He enjoyed beating his brother. He wished he’d had a chance to beat him last year, except he hadn’t because of four hundred lousy dollars. Ryan had come in a respectable fourth, which wasn’t bad for his first NFR and considering he’d been on a borrowed horse.
It’d killed Matt to sit on the sidelines and watch.
He and Ryan had been roping rivals since they were ten or eleven, and by the time Matt was fifteen, the two of them had developed an animosity that bordered on legendary—they’d also had no idea they were related. As far as Matt knew, Ryan was still in the dark—which was just fine with him.