Once a Champion

The injury in Austin had put a major crimp in his comeback season, a season that until that point had been gold. Hopefully, because of his winning streak, he’d earned enough to hold his qualifying position for the National Finals Rodeo in Vegas, but he wasn’t taking chances. The year before, while dealing with his divorce and all the shit Trena had thrown his way, he’d missed qualifying by four hundred dollars. Four hundred lousy dollars—after winning the world title the previous season. It’d killed him, and it hadn’t helped that his brother, in his debut season, had done so damned well.

He needed to get that championship back.

He sank down into his chair and stretched his bad leg out in front of him. When he’d wrecked his knee this time, he’d done more damage than usual. In the past he’d injured his right knee, the one he used to brace against the calf when he threw it to the ground. This time, however, the left knee had gone, the one he used to mount and dismount. The emergency room doctor had been blunt and told Matt he’d roped his last calf, but Matt had heard that before and had proved the doctors wrong three times so far—and that was only on his right knee. It simply made sense that he had at least two more goes on his left. If he spaced them out.

Matt eased off his boot. Life without roping was not an option—at least not yet. It was the reason he got up in the morning, the reason he needed Beckett back. They shared chemistry, he and the horse. If Trena had truly wanted to hurt him—and she had—she couldn’t have come up with a better way to do it. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes.

Honestly, even if he never roped off Beckett again, Matt wanted him back because, until he had that horse, Trena would remain the victor in their private war.

And Matt did not take losing well.

The sound of a truck pulling into the drive brought Matt out of his chair and for one wild moment he thought that maybe Liv had decided to take his offer. Beckett was worth many thousands of dollars and he was certain that Trena would have gotten as much out of him as she possibly could, since the sale of the horse, as well as his truck, old tractor and two of his hunting rifles, had apparently bankrolled her exit. Ten percent over what Liv had paid would make for a tidy profit for her and he could see where after some thought she might have come to her senses.

But the visitor wasn’t Liv.

Matt instantly recognized the battered red pickup when he glanced out the window. His cousin, Wilhelmina, or Willa to anyone who didn’t want a black eye.

Willa was practically on his doorstep when he opened the door and a kid of maybe thirteen or fourteen was shuffling up the walk behind her. When had her son gotten so old?

Matt and Willa were not the closest of relatives, despite the fact that they lived in the same area, but that was mainly because he was always on the road and Willa was too prickly and mean to let anyone get too close to her.

“Hey, Willa. What’s up?” he asked, knowing it couldn’t be good. His cousin was all of five feet two inches high and had a squarish build, with blond curly hair and intense blue eyes. The kid was three or four inches taller than his mother with light brown hair and those same blue eyes peering at him from behind horn rim glasses. He smiled at Matt with a hint of apology that sent red flags popping up—then ambled a few feet away and pulled a phone out of his pocket.

Willa dove straight into her request. “I got a job working on a dude ranch up north and I need a favor.”

Yep. Bad news. “What kind of favor?”

“Crag needs a place to hang for a while.”

Crag? He’d thought the kid’s name was Craig. “Why with me?”

“Because you owe me,” she said in a low voice so that her son wouldn’t hear.

“I don’t owe you enough to be a babysitter,” Matt hissed back.

“Yeah, you do.” Willa stated it as fact, and he grudgingly had to admit she had a point. Willa had been the one who’d called him in San Antonio and warned him that a lot of his property seemed to be disappearing shortly after he and Trena had officially separated. She’d seen someone driving the old Studebaker pickup he’d bought to restore and had looked into the matter since, close or not, Matt was her cousin. He just wished she’d noticed before Beckett had been sold.

But... Matt eyed the boy, who candidly stared back...he knew nothing about kids.

“Like I said, Crag needs a place to stay and he needs something to keep him busy. Sorry about the short notice, but—” Willa shrugged “—not much I can do about it. I’m supposed to be there tomorrow.”

“What’s the rush?”

“One of their wranglers got hurt and this is a big opportunity for me. If I can get on full-time, I’ll get regular living quarters and then Crag can come live with me, but I have a probationary period.”

No. No. No.

“Willa...”

“He won’t stay here the entire time,” Willa said. “I’m making other arrangements. I just hit a snag and I have to get up there ASAP—”

“I get it.” Matt didn’t want to ask how long she wanted him to keep the boy, not with the kid standing there, but he needed some idea, since he didn’t plan to be there for much longer than six weeks himself.

“Please?” She practically mouthed the word, she said it so quietly.

“What are we talking here time-wise?” Matt asked. “I have some plans for later in the month. And a doctor’s appointment in Bozeman tomorrow.”

“One week, tops.” Willa scuffed the toe of her dusty work boot on the deck in a way that made him wonder if she was being totally honest. “That’s when my friend will be back from visiting her boyfriend in Seattle and she said Crag can stay with her. I can’t let this opportunity pass.” There was a note of desperation in her normally no-nonsense voice.

“I get you.” Matt wasn’t happy, but he did understand. Willa had a college degree in animal science, which had exactly zero job potential. Working as a horse wrangler on a dude ranch was a golden opportunity.

“All right.” Matt attempted to smile at the kid, who didn’t appear to be fooled by the lukewarm effort. He didn’t appear to be insulted, either. Just...accepting.

“Great. Thanks!” Willa turned to her son. “Go get your suitcase. I think you’ll like staying here.”

“No doubt,” the kid said flatly before getting to his feet and heading back to the beat-up truck.

Willa turned instantly back to Matt. “If he tries to go stay with his friend Benny don’t let him,” she said as soon as her son was out of earshot. “The kid’s not bad, but there are six other kids in the family and the mother never knows what any of them are doing. I think she’s on tranquilizers.”

“I would be,” Matt said. “Anything else I should know?”

“Nope. I think you two will get along great. I’ll email and call when I can, and here’s my cell number—” she handed him a card that read Willa Montoya, Horse Specialist “—so you can get hold of me if you have any questions. But other than Benny’s family situation, I can’t think of anything you need to know.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out some folded bills. “I have a hundred bucks I can give you for food.”

Matt shook his head. “No need.”

“Do you have any idea how much an adolescent eats?”

“If he eats too much we can settle up later.” He didn’t feel right taking money from a woman so desperate to get a job—even if she was putting him in a position here.

Willa smiled and pushed the money back into her pocket. “Thanks, Matt. For everything.”

“No problem,” Matt said, hoping it sounded at least a little sincere.

A few minutes later, after Willa had said a few words to her son and then hugged him goodbye, she waved to both of them and then drove away.

Matt and Crag stood awkwardly next to one another, watching Willa escape to her new opportunity, and then Matt let out a long, silent breath.

This day was not turning out at all well.

The kid glanced over at him. “You know, if you don’t want me around, that’s okay.”

No, it wasn’t. Matt did not take commitment lightly and he’d just made one.

“I have a friend I could stay with—”

“Benny?”

“Mom got to you, eh?”

“Listen, Crag—”

“Call me Craig. Please.” The kid rolled his eyes as he said the last word. “I mean, come on. If your name was Wilhelmina, would you name your kid something as dumb as Crag?”

Matt felt like smiling. “No. I wouldn’t do that,” he agreed.

“Me, either. I just ask people to call me Craig and hope that the majority of them think my mom has an accent or something.”

This time Matt did smile. “Good plan.” He gestured at the duffel. “Let’s go inside. I have a spare room with a bed, but it’s not fancy.”

“It wasn’t like you knew I was coming.”

Amen to that. Matt held the door open and let Craig walk in ahead of him. The kid seemed okay. Not prickly like his mother.

Only a week. He could do it.

He hoped.

* * *

“SO YOU’RE COMING to watch practice tonight, right?” Dr. Andrea Ballentine reached for the check the server had just set on the edge of the table and Liv took hold at the same time. Liv gave a tug. They’d just finalized arrangements and Liv would start seeing patients next week, so she was technically employed and could technically pick up the tab.

“Only if you’ll come to drill practice tonight,” Andie said as she let go of the ticket.

“I’ll come.” Even though Liv had concerns about joining a mounted drill team that had a reputation for speed. She and Beckett had belonged to a sedate parade team in Billings comprised of ten women who drilled at a jog. It was pattern work, but slow pattern work. Flying around an arena at high speed in intricate patterns with eleven other riders? Liv wasn’t so sure about that.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t a decent horsewoman. In fact, she was quite comfortable on horseback, but while her stepsiblings, Brant and the wildly popular Shae, had both been members of the high school rodeo team, Liv had never joined. Why? Because she’d been shy and self-conscious and didn’t like people watching her. She wasn’t a huge fan of speed, either. According to Andie, the Rhinestone Rough Riders had only one speed and that was as fast as they could go. Intimidating, to say the least, but Liv needed to do something to build a social life now that she was back in town and she was determined to explore new horizons—something she’d wanted to do but hadn’t for the first twenty-some years of her life.

“Promise?” her friend asked as she counted out dollar bills for the tip. Andie had always fancied herself the guardian of Liv’s social life, which was kind of funny, since Liv’s social life had always been practically nonexistent—especially in high school. Andie, on the other hand, had somehow straddled the line between being popular and walking amongst the common folk. She always included Liv in everything, even if Liv had been practically invisible in most social situations. She’d been so afraid of screwing up, saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing...afraid to let her true self show.

“Yes. I promise I’ll come to practice tonight. Eight o’clock, right?”

“Seven-thirty, but we don’t start riding until eight. You might want to come a little early, meet the other riders. You’re going to love it.”

Liv hoped so. She had a ton she could be doing on the ranch to get the place back together before she established her practice, but since Tim bristled whenever she suggested that she do some real work, like, say, painting the house, she had free time that was driving her crazy. In a way she sympathized with her father. All he wanted was to be left alone while he pretended nothing was wrong, and Liv had ruined that by moving home. Maybe a few evenings to himself during the week would help.

“So what’s up?” Andie asked as she closed her purse and set it on the table.

“Up?”

“Yeah,” Andie said, picking up her coffee cup. Apparently lunch was not yet over. “As in distracting you. We’ve hammered out a deal, gossiped and ate the best cheesecake ever, but your mind is somewhere else.” Her eyes narrowed suddenly. “Greg hasn’t been in contact again?”

Liv snorted. “No.”

The last time Greg had attempted to contact her, Liv had told him in no uncertain terms what she would do. A few of her threats had involved law enforcement. One had been more directly aimed at his private parts. That had shocked him. Quiet, cooperative Liv threatening violence. And she’d been serious.

“Then what?”

“I’m worried about Dad.”

“With good cause,” Andie said. “Keep working on him. Try to wear him down.”

“It’s like trying to wear down granite with a toothbrush,” Liv muttered. “But what’s really bugging me is that Matt Montoya stopped by the house.”

Liv hadn’t intended to talk about the situation with Matt and Beckett because she was halfway hoping it would resolve itself; that once Matt had time to think, he’d realize that legally he didn’t have a leg to stand on and that Liv meant it when she said she wasn’t selling. But deep down she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Matt was nothing if not persistent. She’d seen it when he came to her twelve years ago, determined to pull substandard grades up not just to passing, but to As, and she’d also seen it in his rodeo career. Not that she was following it.

No. This probably wasn’t going away.

Andie’s face darkened. She was one of the few people who knew what had happened to Beckett. “No kidding. Why?”

Liv folded her napkin and set it next to her plate. “Apparently Trena sold the horse to me without Matt’s permission.”

“Of course she did. To save the animal.”

“He wants Beckett back.”

Andie set down her cup with a thunk. “You’re kidding. After what he did? What are you going to do?”

Liv shrugged as casually as she could. “Nothing. Beckett was community property, so Trena had a right to sell, and I’m not letting him go.”

“How’d he take it?”

“I don’t know, and that’s what’s bothering me. I have a hard time believing that he took no for an answer so easily.”

“Doesn’t sound like Matt,” Andie agreed.

“He’s tenacious.” And confident, which had ended up biting him in the butt in high school, when he’d been overly confident in his ability to miss a huge amount of school due to rodeo and stay current in his studies. After being placed on academic probation, he’d asked Liv for help catching up on his studies.

She was smart. She lived close by. She had a wild crush on him. Three things that made the situation perfect for Matt. She would have done anything for him. Liv didn’t know if Matt had been aware of the crush, but looking back, she didn’t know how he couldn’t have been. She could barely finish a sentence when he was around, unless that sentence involved derivatives or vectors.

When he’d asked her for help, she’d thought she’d died and gone to heaven. Spending her evenings with Matt Montoya! Maybe he’d come to see her as a person. Maybe they’d become friends...and more.

“More” had been a big part of her plan, but it hadn’t worked out. Once he was caught up and his grades were back where they belonged, he’d smiled and thanked her with a kiss on the cheek, followed by a bouquet of thank-you flowers delivered to the school. Liv had waited breathlessly for him to ask her out, now that they were no longer “professionally” involved.

Less than a week later, he’d asked Shae to go to Rodeo Prom.

Even now it made her cringe. Shae had known about Liv’s wild crush on Matt and she’d said yes to him anyway. To Shae it had been a matter of being realistic. If Matt had been interested in Liv, he would have asked her out. He didn’t and therefore he was fair game.

They’d dated for all of two months and then Shae had dumped him and moved on. Shae was hell on men. Liv kind of wished she could be the same way.

“Well, you know,” Andie said, “if you have any problems all you have to do is call.”

Which was another reason she hadn’t said anything. Andie was wildly protective. Liv didn’t need protecting. Not anymore.

“I won’t have any problems,” she said.

“Are you sure?” Andie asked with a slight frown.

“Yes.” Liv tilted her chin up. “I’ll handle this on my own.” She’d handle everything on her own—her dad, Matt, anyone else who might want to tangle with her—and not by using her old strategy of trying to negotiate peace and keep everyone happy, except for maybe herself.

* * *

WHEN LIV ARRIVED at the drill team practice that evening, there was a variety of horse trailers parked in the lot—fancy trailers with living quarters, small two-horse trailers and a long aluminum stock trailer that looked as if something had tried to fight its way out from the inside.

She parked her truck in the last space, next to the stock trailer, and pocketed the keys as she walked over to where Andie was saddling her horse, Mike. Liv felt awkward and out of place, and was nervous, even though she wouldn’t be riding tonight—all in all, she was feeling way too much like the old Liv.

Those first months after she’d walked out on Greg had been sheer hell as she fought to let herself be less than perfect. She was better, much better, but still had her moments...like when she was faced with the unknown.

“Glad you came,” Andie said as she set the saddle on the bay quarter horse’s back. “Gretchen isn’t going to make it and we need someone to shoot video. Linda’s husband does a terrible job.”

“I can do that.” Liv had never filmed anything in her life other than a few minutes of phone video here and there, but, realistically, how hard could it be? And how perfect did she need to be? Not perfect at all.

She needed to remember that.

Andie finished cinching up, then slipped the halter around the horse’s neck and eased the bridle onto his head. “I’ll introduce you to the group.”

The group consisted of ten women besides Andie. Liv knew some of them—Susie Barnes, who’d graduated the same year as she and Andie; Ronnie and Melody Churchwell, twins who’d been a few years behind her—and others she didn’t. At least four of the women were well into their fifties and Liv instantly lost track of names. She took note of what each one looked like so that she could quiz Andie later.

“Well, ladies,” a smallish woman on a big buckskin horse said in a commanding voice, “it’s time to ride!” She moved her horse forward, saying to Liv as she passed, “You’re going to film for us, right?”

“Yes,” Liv replied.

A bald man instantly held out a video camera with an expression of relief. “I never do this to Linda’s liking,” he confided as the group rode in the arena.

“I probably won’t, either,” Liv said, again ignoring a twinge of performance anxiety. She reached out and took the camera, turning it over in her hands. “How does it work?”

The man gave Liv a brief rundown of the camera operation, then said, “You need to go up to the announcer’s booth and when the music starts, you film. Don’t forget to turn the camera on.” Then with a quick, tight smile, he headed for a truck parked next to the stands, walking quickly as if afraid that Liv was going to relinquish her responsibilities to him if he didn’t get away.

Liv climbed the rickety steps up into the arena announcer’s stand and for the next hour watched as the women rode, stopped, argued, discussed, rode again, turning the camera on and off. On and off. She only forgot to turn it on once, and she was fairly certain that with the miles of film she’d recorded, no one would notice.

By the end of the practice, she had a good idea of the dynamics of the drills. Whether she and Beckett could do them was another matter. At one point she’d caught her breath when it appeared as though the riders were going to run smack into each other, only to have the horses weave together in a long serpentine pattern. There was a lot of splitting and joining, rollbacks and spins—all at high speed.

“So what do you think?” Andie asked after Liv had joined her at her trailer. She pulled the saddle off her horse and lugged it to the tack compartment. Liv automatically picked up a brush and started working on the bay’s sweaty back while Andie unbridled the horse.

“I think it looks challenging.”

“We all screw up out there, you know.”

“Yes. I know. I have it on film,” Liv said.

“Did you get the flaming argument between Linda and Margo?”

“I tried for close-ups,” Liv said with a straight face.

Andie laughed and leaned against the trailer. “So?”

“I can’t wait to get started,” Liv lied. She was intimidated as hell, but determined to try new things, face new challenges. And give her poor father an evening or two to himself.

* * *

MATT HAD NOT in any way, shape or form, ever expected to become a babysitter—which was exactly what he was, even if the kid was fourteen.

Craig seemed a lot more comfortable being in a strange place than Matt was having him there, which made him wonder how many times the kid had been dumped into someone else’s care...and why none of those someones were available this time.

“I’m kind of curious as to why your mom is having you stay here,” Matt finally said after setting a grilled cheese sandwich in front of the kid at dinnertime. “Surely she has other friends in the area?”

“She tried a bunch of them, but there were problems. Vacations, visitations. One of her friends, Gloria, had just gotten back from rehab—”

“I get it.”

Craig peeled back the edge of the sandwich to inspect the cheese. “This is a good opportunity for my mom. It’s hard to get horse jobs, which is probably why she has to cut hair on the side.” He spoke so earnestly that Matt hoped Craig didn’t think he was trying to get rid of him.

“Do you like horses?” Matt asked as he sat at the table. They’d spent a long, silent afternoon together as he’d worked on his quarterly tax report and Craig had played games on his phone. Matt had needed that time to get his bearings, get used to the idea of sharing his house with a teenager, but the silence was getting old. And uncomfortable.

Craig made a face before he bit into his sandwich. “Horses? No,” he said with his mouth full.

“Roping? Rodeo?”

“Uh-uh,” Craig answered through another mouthful of sandwich.

“Oh.” Well, that squelched talking about roping techniques with the kid. “What do you like?”

“I read a lot and there’s some TV shows I like. Have you ever seen Star Crusher?”

“I don’t watch a lot of TV.”

“But you do have satellite, right?” Something akin to panic lit the kid’s eyes.

“Yes. So...what else do you like?”

“The video games my mom allows, which aren’t many,” he said with a disgusted twist of his lips. “No exploding heads.”

“Can’t blame her there.”

“And I think old trucks are kind of cool.”

Score. Maybe they could talk. “I had a Studebaker truck once that I was going to rebuild.” And it still stung that he didn’t have it.

“I know,” Craig said excitedly. “I’ve seen it. That was what clued Mom in about your ex selling your stuff. Kirby Danson driving your old truck around.”

“You know all about that?”

“Well, Mom and her friends talk a lot.”

“And you listen.” Great.

“Well, she and I talk a lot, too. It’s just, like, the two of us, you know? That was bogus what your wife did to you.”

And not something he wanted to discuss with a fourteen-year-old, not even one whose eyes were now ablaze with indignation on Matt’s behalf.

“What are you going to do while you’re here?” Matt asked. “Besides play on your phone.”

Craig shrugged. “Whatever, I guess.”

Matt finished his sandwich and sat back in his chair. He would have liked to have had a beer with his meal, but didn’t know if that was allowable with an impressionable houseguest under his roof.

“If you have any work or anything that needs to be done around the place, well, I could do that.”

“Work?”

“Mom thought it would be a good idea. Keep me busy.”