built up before attending Texas A&M. It was while he was in college that he’d developed a hankering to rodeo. But if his dad hadn’t keeled over from a heart attack, and if Sully, who was five years older, hadn’t taken it upon himself to run everything on the ranch, including him, things might have panned out differently. Maybe he wouldn’t have fought with Willow. But then again… Ah, hell! Coop jammed in a CD and cranked up the sound. He hadn’t thought about Willow in weeks. It didn’t help now that Lady Antebellum filled the cab with “Need You Now.”
He popped the disk out midsong and shoved in another that was better suited to his current mood. George Strait singing “All My Exes Live In Texas.”
Coop didn’t have any idea if Willow still lived in Texas. All ties were cut when she’d married Tate-the-jerk-Walker. His friends—and enemies—knew better than to mention either of their names to Coop. But it still hurt that she’d married that blowhard over him. They’d both vied for her attention from the day Willow’s folks moved to Hondo when she was in the sixth grade. She knew how tough his dad’s death had been on him. And she knew he hated the way Sully took charge of the ranch and ordered him around. Still, she’d chose that bad time to give him an ultimatum. Rodeo or her.
Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, Coop felt the old gnawing emptiness well up again. Yes, her dad had been left wheelchair-bound from bull-riding. But she wouldn’t listen when Coop explained that bull-riding was far more dangerous than busting broncs, something he’d done for easily half his life.
The song ended and George started crooning a mellower tune.
All of that was ancient history. Sully had already settled down, happily marrying Blythe Thompson, who’d become a veterinarian. Now they had a son. Coop hated to think that part of his attitude toward Sully was jealousy. But he would’ve married Willow, and they would’ve had a kid or two by now. Crap, he never should’ve come back to Hondo. It would be best if he packed up and left tonight, he decided. Like he told Sully, he had other options.
Coop had made up his mind by the time he reached the Rocking R. He went looking for Jud Rayburn. “Your roundup’s winding down, Jud. I’ve decided to mosey down south. According to an ad in the newest Horse Trader, there’s a rancher down near Laredo who is looking for a horse trainer. Everyone knows I’d rather work with horses than with cattle.”
“I hate to lose you, Coop. Rest assured I’ll give you a great reference. But surely you aren’t leaving Hondo for good? I know Sully hopes you’ll return to the Triple D.”
Coop shook his head. “I doubt Sully still feels that way, Jud. He and I just had a run-in at Homer’s bar.” Coop flexed his right hand. “Sully’s got a rock-hard jaw and I guess you could say I have an equally hard head. This wasn’t our first argument.”
“That’s too bad, son. Matt would’ve wanted you boys to share the running of a ranch he loved. When your mom died, and Matt had to bury her, you and Sully were all that kept him sane. Kept him working and building up the ranch so that one day you boys would raise your families on the Triple D.”
Swallowing a hard lump that came into his throat, Coop said, “Yeah, well, that’s working out for Sullivan and Blythe. Me, I’m not ready to let one woman tie me down.”
Jud Rayburn cocked a shaggy eyebrow as he peeled off several twenties from a money clip and handed the bills to Coop. “There’s a lot to be said for crawling into bed with the same woman every night, son. A woman who knows your weaknesses, but who only sees your strengths. When you land in Laredo, phone me with your address so if I haven’t paid you enough, I can send you a check after the Rocking R accountant tallies your time sheets.”
“This more than makes us square, Jud. Anyway, I don’t want to make it easy for Sully to run me to ground.” Coop shook hands with the rancher who’d been his dad’s best friend. Crossing to the corral, he cut his two cow ponies out of the remuda, loaded them into his trailer and left.
Coop drove until midnight, then booked into a motel outside Laredo. He didn’t sleep well. He was plagued all night by dreams of losing his mom when he was ten, then repeating the loss with his dad when he was in college. Coop had idolized Matthew Drummond. Tossing and turning, he punched his pillow into a ball. He wasn’t ready or willing to admit how much like their father Sully had become. A quiet solid man’s man. A good husband and dad, by all accounts. A hard worker. A pillar of the community.
Throwing back the covers, Coop hit the shower. He’d squandered too much of his rodeo earnings on a truck, and on beer and women. Coop let the water sluice over his body until it ran cold. He was sure his dad wouldn’t be any happier with him at the moment than Sully was. Matt Drummond had been a peacemaker. Not liking the direction of his thoughts, Coop slapped off the faucets, dried quickly and dressed.
The late-June sky was streaked purple, red and orange when he threw his duffel bag into the pickup’s cab and made his way out of Laredo to the McHenry spread. Summer heat would soon shimmer off the asphalt highway.
Bob McHenry was a big, bald, tobacco-chewing guy, who spat twice before telling Cooper he was darned sorry, but he’d already hired a horse trainer.
Coop thanked him and returned to his pickup after asking if he could water his horses at Bob’s nearby trough. The whole spread was a nice, well-kept ranch, staked out by white tri-rail fences. Coop was disappointed he’d shown up too late. He would’ve liked working here, he thought.
“Hey, champ.” A gnarled cowboy with a booming voice called out as Cooper watered his horses. He glanced around and spotted a bowlegged man pulling off his gloves after he climbed over the fence.
“Bob McHenry gave me permission,” Coop said, thinking the cowboy was worried that he was up to no good.
Instead, the guy stuck out a hand. “Rafer James. You rode against my brother Lowell twice at the Mesquite rodeo. Beat him by seconds both times.”
“Sure, I know Lowell. How is he? I quit the circuit myself after last season, but I don’t recall seeing Lowell at the finals.”
“He met a gal from Montana, got married and then drew a bad hoss in an off-circuit rodeo. Crushed his hip against the chute. It never healed right. His wife wanted him to give up rodeoing, anyway. Her dad retired, so they took over running his feed store up near Bozeman.”
Coop pursed his lips as Rafer asked him what he was doing in Laredo. “I saw the ad Bob placed for a horse trainer. He said he already hired someone, so I’ll get on up the road and see if anyone needs a hand for summer haying, or maybe moving cows to a summer range.”
The other man stuffed a stick of chewing gum in his mouth. “Things are tight in this part of the country, what with the bad economy and all. I’ve heard of a widow with a little kid, a daughter, who lives outside Carrizo Springs. She can’t afford to pay scale, so she doesn’t keep a hand for long. Seems she’s barely hanging on since her husband died in a drunken brawl that ended in gunplay. Something else. The guys say she’s a looker.” The man nudged Coop’s arm. “Up to now she’s sent away any cowboy with ideas of getting into her bed. But, Champ, with your reputation on the circuit attracting buckle bunnies, I’ll bet you can score. Unless the low wage drives you off.”
Not sure he liked that picture of himself, Coop gathered his horses. “Isn’t helping women in distress the unwritten code of the west?” he snapped.
“Whoa, there. I guess you think all those wins puts you up on a pedestal. I meant no offense to the widow. I’m only passing along rumors. Take the tip or leave it, I gotta
