The thought of what might happen on Friday makes a cold sweat break out on my neck. “I’m hoping for the best. For the judge to see we’re maxed out already. For him to accept the verbal agreement I had with Allison before she decided she was out forblood.”
I glare at the giant file folder on the corner of my desk that has copies of everything we gave to our attorney, more than a little resentful I have to drag my family’s private business through court because of mymistakes.
“Can I ask a dumbquestion?”
I’m learning that Tori never asks dumb questions. “You can always ask meanything.”
“Do you guys ever compete inthese?”
She reaches into the trash and, like a magnifying glass straight to my heart, pulls out a flyer for the Triple Crown Futurity, which is the premier cutting horse competition that takes place each year in FortWorth.
“Nope.” That’s the easy answer. The other answer pains me too much tovoice.
Logan stalks off the couch and snatches the flyer out of her hand. “You’d think with the four-million-dollar purse, we’d consider it,right?”
“You know that’s divided up a hundred ways for different events. One person doesn’t win allthat.”
“But one person could win a big chunk,bro.”
“Why don’t y’all compete? I’m assuming your horses are at the top of their game, right?” She looks between me and mybrother.
I scratch the stubble on my chin. “Yeah, they’re well trained. Some of our riderscompete.”
“But… you don’t?” sheasks.
Now that she’s redirected her attention from Logan’s dating to my lackluster life goals, I’m not as eager to see where thisgoes.
I stand, needing some space, and slide her off mylap.
Logan answers in my silence. “He used to. That’s how he’s licensed to train cutters now, and Dad thought Ethan would compete after college. That was the plan, atleast.”
“Plans go to shit. Dad died. Allison got pregnant. We couldn’t afford to send you to college.” I don’t mean to bark at him, but I’m tired of revisiting these oldwounds.
“Don’t take that on too,” he argues. “I didn’t want to go to college. Not my scene. And to answer your question, Tori, if we want to stay competitive in this business, weshouldbe entering theFuturity.”
A bitter laugh bursts out of me. “Yeah? With what time? I’m already busting my ass from dusk till dawn. Sure, we might win some money, but who’s gonna pay for all that travel? For the number of cattle we need to increase the training? For the new trailer we’d need to haul our asses all the way to Fort Worth? For the entry fees? They’re a goddamnfortune.”
“Why do you need more cattle?” Tori asks, propping herself on my desk like she owns the place, which, despite my irritation, I kindalike.
I rub my face, wishing she hadn’t brought up this topic, which only reminds me of all the ways I’m letting down myfather.
Fortunately, Logan answers again. “We use cattle from a neighboring ranch to train our horses, but to compete on a bigger scale, we’d need a larger lot of animals because, after a while, those cows get used to the horses and stop responding the way they will in the arena. They get sour and don’t wannaplay.”
She laughs and picks up the flyer again. “It’s funny to think of cowsplaying.”
“I don’t know if they enjoy it,” I add with a chuckle. “They just wanna get away from the big bossy horse in front of them, but the horses are definitely playing. The good ones, the ones who have cutting in their blood, they’re playing from the minute they enter the pen. You can feel it in the saddle and the way they move. They loveit.”
“But the cows don’t get hurt, right?” The look of concern on Tori makes me want to kissher.
“No, honey. They don’t get hurt. Cutting ain’t like the shit you see at some rodeos. No one is tying down any animals. There’s no steer wrestling or calf roping or chute dogging. In fact, some of the horses we train are used to help injured cattle. Say you have an animal that gets hurt in the middle of a herd. How do you get her away from the others? A ranch hand can’t wander in there, but a cutting horse can get the animal maneuvered away from the others quickly so she can see the vet. Competitions are just extensions of those sameskills.”
Logan nods. “All packed into the best two and a half minutes of yourlife.”
“Then you’re not doing something right on your Saturday nights.” I can’t help but bust his balls. “You of all people know there’s at least one thing better than competing.” I eye Tori appreciatively in her cutoffs and tank top, and her eyes ignite under my perusal. “And I sure as hell hopethattakes longer than two and a halfminutes.”
He slaps me on the back with a hearty laugh. “I forgot what you were like when you had a sense ofhumor.”
“Fuck off. I’m plentyhumorous.”
