especially not Jolene.”
The statement shamed him. But pride made him keep talking. “You know, nothing’s certain. We don’t know for certain that I’m the father.”
“Oh, I think plenty is certain. You’ve just told me that you treated Jolene disrespectfully, were too full of yourself to be a man and check up on her, and now still don’t want to accept responsibility. You’ve shamed me, son.”
Trent felt lower than a rattler’s belly. “Yes, sir.”
“You listen to me, and you listen well. You need to make things right. Pronto.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m glad we talked.” After a moment’s pause, his father slapped his hands on his thighs. “All right now. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m to take Ginny to Florida so you can get your act together.”
“There’s no need to leave.”
“Oh, there is. You’ve got a mess to clean up and a woman and a baby to get to know. I don’t want your sister witnessing that.”
“Honestly, Dad …”
“Listen to me, son. There comes a time in every man’s life when he has to decide he’s done being an idiot. This is your time. Start making decisions based on what is best for Amanda and Jolene instead of just you.” With a sigh, he got to his feet and started toward the door. “It’s time to grow up, Trent. You best do that and make your mother proud.”
When he was alone in the living room, Trent leaned back and thought about everything he’d done and everything he’d put off. And then he thought about his mother, and the way she’d always smiled at him when she hugged him good-night—as though she’d thought he was something special.
It was time he deserved that look again.
“TRENT, HOW YOU HEALIN’ up?” Steve Zimmer boomed on the other end of the cell phone.
“I’m getting there,” Trent replied as he maneuvered his truck down the bumpy road to the west barn. Continuing to hold the steering wheel with one hand and his cell with the other, he wondered why his agent had decided to give him a call. “What’s going on?”
“I was just thinking about you. A couple of sponsors have let me know that they’re going to be checking out the Silver Tour in Rapid City. Think you can make it?”
The Black Hills Stock Show was in February. “I don’t know.”
“That’s the wrong answer, Trent. We need you. The sport needs you, too. You’re turning into something of an attraction.”
“It’s probably just ‘cause that bout with Diablo got posted on YouTube.” Shaking his head, Trent cursed the anonymous fool who had decided to tape Diablo stomping on him, zooming in on his grimace of pain, and then posting the whole damn thing on the World Wide Web. All in record time.
“That YouTube segment’s been a regular little diamond mine, that’s true. But your blue eyes don’t hurt none, either, Trent. Girls are swooning every time they see that close-up of you getting your butt kicked.” He paused. “So what do you say?”
“I can’t commit to any tour dates yet, Steve. I’m stuck here at the ranch for a while.”
“What do you mean, ‘a while’?”
“I don’t know. My brothers are out of town and my dad’s recovering from heart surgery. And my sister, well, she needs me right now, too.” Not to mention all the things with Jolene that had to be worked out. “I need to hold down the fort.”
“No one else could do that?”
“I don’t think so. Plus, my arm still ain’t a hundred percent.”
“I hate to hear that, Trent. I’ve got to tell these sponsors something. They’ll bide their time for a bit, but not forever. If you don’t get back in the ring real soon, your career is going to be over.”
Over. That’s what he was afraid of. He was afraid he was going to finally break something bad enough to send him to the hospital for a month next time.
And fear wasn’t good. “I’m not in prime condition,” he muttered as he parked his truck and climbed down out of the cab. “If you want to know the truth, February sounds too early.”
“Aw, man …”
“It’s true, Steve. I haven’t been on a horse since I got home, never mind a bull.” Plus, he had no desire to get on one, either.
Just realizing that made him cringe.
Steve paused again, then turned his voice sweet. “Maybe you should see one of those sports psychologists or something …”
“Maybe.” But more likely, maybe not. “Listen, Steve, it’s good of you to call, but I’ve got to go.”
“You can’t give me another five minutes? I’m trying to manage your career here.”
“I know it. And I appreciate it, I do. I’ll call you soon. ‘Bye,” he added in a rush before he clicked off and strode to the barn.
Now that he was off the phone, he was more aware than ever of the elements—and of how weak he’d become. Growing up, there were days when his dad would have all three of them outside in the cold and snow for hours at a time. Whining and complaining only earned him a cuff from one of his older brothers.
And it never made the work go away.
Now, though, every burst of wind was burrowing into his bones like a weevil. Making his body hurt and his muscles scream in frustration. Worse than all that, his bones weren’t healing as quickly as he’d like. And there wasn’t a thing he could do about that except to bide his time.
Bide his time before he lost all the endorsements that he’d worked so hard to achieve. And that were so scarce in his chosen profession.
Still ruminating about Steve’s call, Trent unlocked the padlock on the door and pulled it open. At first look, everything was as it should be, but then one of the inventory books flashed into his head and he recalled the many items that Jarred had listed. Balers and cultivators and spreaders. Power saws and snow blowers. All kinds of expensive equipment that a ranch like theirs needed to have on hand.
Where was it all?
The air was musty and stale. He kept the doors wide-open, not even caring about the cold seeping back into his muscles as he walked around the space. Looking behind bales, he half hoped he was going to find a loose odd or end.
Or maybe a two-thousand-dollar power saw.
There was nothing there.
A truck pulled up just as he was circling around the area like the dumb cowboy he was, hoping that farm equipment was suddenly going to appear out of nowhere. Trent strode toward the front just as Pete, one of their longtime hands, entered the building.
“Hey, Trent,” he said.
“Pete.”
