Full Rigged (Lost Creek Rodeo #4) - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,7
and he had a good rapport with every other cowboy he had gone up against, but once that steer came out of the chute, a switch clicked over within him. He could outride anyone else there, and wrestle the steer to the ground before half of the others could have even grabbed the horns. He owned that event every time he rode, and it never got old.
The glory tended to go to the rough stock riders—bareback, saddle bronc, and bull riders—but there was something special about steer wrestling. An underappreciation that made every one of them an underdog clawing for respect in the rodeo world.
Ford demanded that respect, and, more often than not, it came.
Once that buzzer sounded, though, and he stepped out of the limelight, he was back to just riding along and minding his own business. It was a helluva way to make a living, but he loved it. Last season, he had made more money than ever, and he was shaping up to be even better this year. Time would tell, and if he could break three-and-a-half seconds this season . . .
Well, that would turn a few heads, wouldn’t it?
He grinned and glanced over at his driving companion, currently sticking his massive head between the driver and passenger seats, silently navigating the drive and drooling all over Ford’s center console.
“You getting antsy, boy?” he asked the dark, hulking mastiff. “You’ve been to Texas before. Does it look familiar?”
Sherlock suddenly lolled his tongue out of his mouth, panting his humid, rank breath in Ford’s face.
“You’re worse than Lars,” Ford grumbled, gently pushing the dog’s face away from his own. “It’s not that hot.”
A tinny version of a Johnny Cash song sounded in his truck, and he glanced at his phone, hooked on a stand in one of the vents. He grinned at the caller ID and pressed accept. “Marty. You enjoying your rest and relaxation?”
“Not particularly, no,” his partner reported, sounding a little strained and not in his usual joking mood.
“What’s up?” Ford asked immediately. “Kids too much?”
He heard the man exhale roughly. “I don’t know how to tell you this, pal, but I busted my leg up pretty bad working on my father-in-law’s combine. Had surgery this morning, and I’m out of commission for three months minimum.”
Ford swore under his breath. “Sorry to hear that, bud. You sound good for just being cut up.”
“I’m on the good meds, and I’m taking a nap when we hang up, so I’m great,” Marty said with a laugh. “I just feel bad I’m leaving you high and dry, especially when you’re on this kind of roll.”
“I can find me a stand-in hazer, don’t you worry,” Ford assured him, forcing a note of confidence into his tone that he didn’t feel.
“But not one that’s been riding with you for three years.”
That was true, but Ford wasn’t about to give his partner any guilt for something that wasn’t his fault.
“Any cowboy worth his salt can drive a steer for me,” Ford reiterated. “I’ll talk to the Six and try ’em out down in Lost Creek. Maybe I’ll like it better than dealing with your smart mouth all the time.”
“Your boys wouldn’t know a flank from a flag, but good luck with that.”
He heard Marty sigh, and knew it was just killing the guy to be out of commission for a while, least of all because of the lurch it would leave Ford in.
But it wasn’t that bad; any capable cowboy could guide a steer like a hazer—it was just the timing that needed to be worked out. He knew plenty of cowboys with rodeo experience, and he’d find someone to stand in for Marty.
This was not a problem.
He refused to let it be.
“You heal up,” Ford told him. “Don’t worry about me. No guilt, got it?”
“Not likely.”
“Then just don’t tell me about your guilt, okay? Cuz we’re good.”
Marty signed off with a laugh, and Ford hung up, his smile fading as he drove the wide-open Texas highway.
“Crap, Sherlock,” he muttered to the dog beside him. “Crap, crap, crap.”
Finding someone on short notice who could pick up Ford’s style might be harder than he let on. Even among the Six, he wasn’t sure how it would go. They were his best bet, hands down, and they could practice in Lost Creek easily enough, but he might have to adjust his expectations for this rodeo.
Lost Creek Days wasn’t one of the major events of the summer, so there was that. It was a