Her Rodeo Man

“Not enough money. Finances were tight. I had to make a choice.”

Tatum was familiar with that dilemma. She lived it on a daily basis.

They returned Cupcake to her stall, hung the halter on a nearby peg and continued their tour of the grounds. He was careful to take her arm when they walked over a hole or navigated an obstacle. Tatum didn’t need the assistance. She liked it, nonetheless.

“I always figured I’d wind up like my dad and make rodeo my life,” he said.

“You’re more like your mother than you realize. She’s really savvy when it comes to business.”

Lines appeared on Ryder’s brow. “I hadn’t thought of that before.”

“It’s not a bad thing.”

He avoided commenting by asking, “Besides the bulls, what else is new?”

“Not much. Tom Pratt gives monthly roping clinics.”

They wandered toward the bull pens, which were located on the other side of the arena, far from the horses. The two didn’t always mix, and it was best to maintain a healthy distance between them.

“He was smart to do that. Nothing will grow the arena faster than good bucking stock.”

“We can hardly keep up with the requests.”

In addition to providing bucking stock for their four annual rodeos, the Easy Money leased horses and now bulls to other rodeos. It was their single highest source of revenue. Tatum had felt guilty when the Becketts first hired her, thinking they were giving her a job solely because she was a close family friend. That opinion soon changed. With the increase in business, she was earning her keep and then some.

What more could Ryder do to grow the business than Mercer already had? It seemed to Tatum they were at their capacity for bucking stock contracts. Unless the Becketts purchased more bulls. Or Ryder assumed even more of Tatum’s duties. Then she really would be a charity case.

A pair of lone riders were making use of the arena. Tatum and Ryder stopped at the fence to observe them.

“Dad mentioned the after-school program,” he said.

“That’s going well. So well, your dad’s considering building a second practice ring just for the students.”

“But rodeo events are where the real money is.”

“Lessons and horse boarding more than pay for themselves.”

“I wasn’t insinuating Mom and my sisters’ contribution weren’t an important part of the arena. There’s room for both.”

As they started for the office, Liberty passed them, riding one horse and leading a second. She stopped to say good morning and to remind Ryder of their dinner plans that evening.

“What are you up to?” Ryder asked her.

“Endurance training. This is a client’s horse.” She indicated the tall gelding behind her prancing nervously in place. Pulling on the lead rope, she groaned in frustration. “He’s raring to go. I’ll catch up with you later.”

Ryder stared after her. “I wouldn’t have guessed she’d be the one to take after Dad. Then again, none of us knew she was related to him.”

Tatum and Cassidy had shared many a long discussion about her parents. Tatum understood Sunny’s motives for lying to Liberty—she didn’t want to give a raging alcoholic any reason to remain part of their lives. But Tatum wasn’t sure she’d do the same thing in Sunny’s shoes, if only because of the wedge it had driven between Sunny and Ryder. Losing her children for a mere four months had been unbearable. Sunny lost Ryder for twenty-two years, and she still didn’t have him back.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Where to now?”

“The outdoor stalls and back pastures,” she suggested.

They went in the same direction as Liberty. Ryder, Tatum noticed, slowed his steps to keep pace with her shorter strides. He was tall. Her chin barely reached his shoulder. He must have grown six inches after he left. If he kissed her now, he’d have to dip his head considerably further.

Stop it!

The mental reprimand was useless. How could she not think of Ryder when he walked beside her, near enough to touch if she extended her hand a mere three inches to the right?

What had they been talking about? Oh, yeah, lessons and boarding.

“Liberty’s also in charge of the trail rides,” Tatum said. “There’s usually one every weekend when we don’t have a rodeo.”

“Just one?”

“We don’t have enough requests for more than that on weekends.”

“Are they profitable?”

“Actually, yes.”

“What’s the margin?”

“I’d say about the same as riding lessons.”

“How do we advertise the rides? And don’t tell me on the website and posters in town.”

“Okay, I won’t. But that’s what we do.”

He muttered under his breath.

“There are tourists in town,” she protested. “They see the posters.”

“What about the marina at Roosevelt Lake? Do we have a poster in their window?”

“No.”

“We should.”

Did he notice he was talking in the plural? “Is that more of your reciprocal advertising?”

“You catch on fast.”

“I’ll call them and ask if we can deliver a poster.”

“I’ll do it. In fact, I’ll just take one over this afternoon. That way, I can bring back one of theirs.”