Page 12 of Lucky Cowboy

Mitzi keptVal’s schedule true to form by having them do a series of rodeos all the way down in Georgia before bouncing back up like a boomerang to Montana. Despite it being only May, the summer had arrived early there, along with some hefty humidity that made everything feel heavy, more like July or August. But Val was used to such things. Except for the indoor arenas, rodeos tended to be an outdoor sport.

Sometimes, you just had to work with what Mother Nature gave you.

On the way to Gainesville, there had been this massive field of tulips that had taken her breath away. It’d been like pictures she’d seen of Holland, thick bands of pink, yellow, red, purple, and orange stretching across. She’d snapped several shots of that field as they’d driven by, wishing they could stop and wander through it dragging her fingers against those silky cup-like petals.

It reminded her that whatever might be negative out there, there was still plenty of beauty in the world.

They’d just made it to Bozeman after she’d checked in with her father. Bozeman was about two and a half hours from where their ranch was, so if she needed to get to him quickly, she could. She’d just disconnected from their call when her phone rang again. Thinking he’d forgotten something, she almost answered without looking at the screen, then detected an unfamiliar number with the recognizable 406 Montana area code.

She debated letting it go to voicemail, but one thing she’d learned about managing her own career was that sometimes the rodeo venues would contact participants of something unpredictable came up. So, she answered.

“Ms. Bernard,” the crackling tone of an older lady’s voice echoed from the speaker. “This is Eunice Carber with the Gallatin County Fairgrounds. I’ve had the paperwork for you to participate at our show this evening for a while now, but I just received notification that you needed to cancel through the website.”

Huh?

“I don’t plan to cancel, Ms. Carber. There must be some mistake.”

“See, I wondered about that. I sent them an email confirmation, but it was never verified, and it doesn’t match the original one in your file. That’s why I wanted to contact you directly.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” Val said, but confusion swamped her thoughts. Had Mitzi unintentionally sent something? “Can you hold one moment while I discuss this with my assistant?”

“Of course.”

But a brief text with Mitzi showed that her friend and employee hadn’t done anything of the sort.

Mitzi: It wasn’t me. Maybe someone else needed to cancel, and it got mixed up with your name somehow.

Val: Maybe.

Mitzi: It’s awfully last minute for such a thing. That’s for sure.

Val: I agree. Thanks.

She took her phone off hold. “Ms. Carber, is there any other information in the message you received?”

“Let me see…” Val could hear the tapping of fingers on computer keys. “Oh, yes. As I scroll down further on the email, there’s a signature. It’s from Fred Bernard.”

To quote her favorite bedtime story, this was getting curiouser and curiouser.

“Fred Bernard is my father and former manager, but he hasn’t held that position for years now.” Val heard a phone ring in the background. It sounded like an old-fashioned landline. “I can assure you that we’re here in Bozeman with every intention of performing.”

“Okay, dear. Just wanted to check.”

“Thanks for letting me clarify.”

Val disconnected the call, peering out at the mountainous horizon. Right now, the skies were the deep violet blue of late afternoon, and a collection of clouds were turning golden along the horizon. She’d be going on in less than an hour and a half and had already done a few practice runs with Maybelline to warm up.

She’d begun to apply her show makeup when her phone rang, and the screen displayed Ms. Carber’s number again. She instantly picked up.

“Ms. Bernard, I apologize for bothering you again, but I just received another message claiming you were cancelling tonight. This time it’s a voicemail.”

What the… “When?”

“Right after we hung up. It was a male voice stating he was your manager.”

Val had been wrong about certain choices in her career before, but one thing she felt sure of was that her dad could not have been the one to call those fairgrounds.

“Did you save the recording?” she asked the Carber lady.

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