Full Rigged (Lost Creek Rodeo #4) - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,9
He stretched out his back, picked up trash and clutter in the truck, then leaned against it while he waited for the pump to finish.
“Hey! You’re Ford Hopkins, ain’t ya?”
Ford smiled at the older man on the other side of the pump and tapped the brim of his cowboy hat. “Yes, sir.”
The man wheezed a cackle and hooked his thumbs into his worn and faded belt. “Shoot, boy, I saw you down in Lubbock last year. You rastled that bull down afore I had a chance to sip my beer! Clean as a whistle, and those hooves up in the air like one of them piñatas. You comin’ back round here soon?”
“I think so,” Ford hedged as he glanced at the numbers on the pump, waiting for it to reach a full tank. “We’re in Lost Creek next weekend, but after that, we’ve got a few gigs in quick succession.”
“Ted! It’s Ford Hopkins! That Montana kid who wrestles the steers in the rodeo! ’Member that?” his fan called to some companion of his that Ford couldn’t see.
Ford bit back a sigh, suddenly wishing he had kept going on his drive.
“He’s the only Montana kid I remember in the rodeo!” the man barked with some irritation. “I don’t care what you say, I’m gonna see if he wants to come with us to the Cadillac Ranch, swap some rodeo stories or something.”
Well, there went those plans.
“Ford, you got plans today?” his fan asked as he stuck his head back around the pump.
“Yes, sir,” Ford told him at once, keeping his tone apologetic as he set the nozzle back on the pump. “I’m expected down in Lost Creek. I’ve only stopped over to fill up the truck.”
“Aw, shoot.” The old man grinned, his few teeth making an appearance. “Can I talk you into a meal? Bit of small talk?”
Ford winced as he closed the gas tank. “Wish I could, sir. I’m on a pretty tight deadline. It was a real pleasure to meet you, though. Thanks for callin’ out.”
The guy nodded, tipping his straw hat at him. “Sure thing, son. You keep doing your thing with them steers.”
“Yes, sir.” Ford nodded and moved back around to his door, sliding back into the truck and turning it on as quickly as he could. He pulled around to get back on the main road before he’d even buckled his seat belt.
He didn’t need to go see cars in the ground anyway. It was cool, but he’d wanted to go by himself, not with a couple of old cusses who wouldn’t leave him alone. He wasn’t in rodeo for the fame, and he never minded flying under the radar. Direct attention outside of the arena made him uncomfortable, and he’d go to great lengths to avoid it.
Except for music. He’d play at bars or around a campfire or in someone’s home if asked, but those scenes didn’t lead to all that much attention after he finished.
That was the distinction.
He pulled over and hooked Sherlock’s leash to his collar, flipping on the hazard lights as he got out to let the dog relieve himself in some brush before the next leg.
“Come on, boy,” he said, opening the passenger door and bringing the seat forward to let him in the back. “How’s the water situation?” He looked at the travel bowl and grunted. “Parched, huh? You shoulda said.” He reached for a bottle of water and emptied it into the bowl, then readjusted the seat, shut the door, and went back around to his own side to climb back in.
A minute or so later, he was back on the interstate, shaking his head to himself, when his phone rang. Glancing at the screen, he grunted in surprise before pushing the button. “Bulldogger, what’s up?”
“Hey there,” Ryan Prosper’s voice sounded through the truck’s speakers. “You gettin’ in today?”
“That’s the plan,” Ford replied with a sigh. “We’ll see if it sticks.”
“Where are you now?”
“Amarillo.” He merged into traffic, trying to look ahead to the next sign. “I’m about to the city limits, I think.”
Ryan said something to someone else, his words not clear to Ford. “You up for a detour?”
Ford laughed once. “Depends what it is. Am I getting hotcakes the size of a manhole cover wherever I’m going?”
“You could probably finagle a way to get those, but that’s not what I had in mind. There’s a pecan farm just outside of Fort Worth, and Kells wants to know if you’d drive over there and pick up a few