Page 15 of Lucky Cowboy

“And what’s the horse’s name?”

He laughed again. Only Val would prioritize the horse over the man.

“Prudence, I believe. Must not have been much of a racehorse.” He waited for her response, and when she didn’t give him one, added, “Don’t you want to know who the founder of the town is? The actual reason they made a statue in the first place?”

“I guess,” she asked, her tone sounding flippant even if he felt sure she was playing.

“Perkins Jethro. It was said that despite his considerable wealth, he wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty and helped drive cattle right alongside the other cowboys he’d hired. He supported the earliest version of the Red Cross and other outreach programs of the time, too. The Red Cross even had a post here. It helped start the community off on our best foot.”

Mark had always liked knowing that. That the town’s founder had been such an upstanding and generous person. And it was nice to be able to pass that knowledge down to upcoming generations by memorializing him in such a way.

“And Prudence? Did he take care of her?”

Mark grinned to himself. “I’m sure he did. Why?”

“Because how people treat animals says a lot about them. I once caught Biggs shouting at Maybelline when she was in her stall for no reason. It riled her up so bad she kicked over her water bucket. His stupid behavior had her jumpy for hours. I couldn’t even practice with her because she was so upset.”

His grin dropped off his face. He’d already understood that the man was a real piece of work, and this additional tidbit didn’t help Biggs’ case any. Again, Mark kicked himself for not arresting him. Even if he’d been released, any difficulty Mark could cause for such a pitiful excuse of a human being would be deserved.

Mark swallowed before continuing. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Good thing it wasn’t a rodeo day, or I might not have been able to ride her. Not that he wouldn’t have blamed that on me.”

“He could hardly pin such a thing on you. Not rightfully,” he growled out, feeling like a timber wolf. Maybe leaving Biggs out in the middle of Yellowstone somewhere way off the trail would’ve been a better solution than arresting him. Serve the scumbag up a dish of his own medicine where he wasn’t the apex predator.

“Maybe not.” Yet, she didn’t sound so sure. “But he had a talent for insinuating that anything that didn’t go to plan was on me.”

Reading between the lines told Mark that Biggs made her feel like everythinghedid was somehow her fault. That pile of manure had been manipulating how she felt as well as stealing from her. Acid flew through his veins, and Mark knew he needed to occupy himself or he might blow his top.

“Had any other issues with fake cancellations?”

“Not since filing that protective order. That was solid advice. Thank you. What’s it like to be a sheriff, anyway? Is it dangerous?”

“Not often,” he replied, used to downplaying the truth because of his mom and sister. Not that it mattered. No one knew better than his mother and Blair about the hazardous nature of policing. “You’ve got a pretty dangerous profession yourself based on some of those moves I’ve seen you make.”

“You’ve watched me perform?”

“Of course. I watch the rodeo every time it comes. Once upon a time, I was even a participant.”

“Really?” Her tone brightened with interest. “What role did you play?”

“I roped calves.”

“Were you any good?”

He laughed out loud at that one. Val hadn’t pulled her punch in the least. “Won first place in my division for my age group, which was fifteen- to eighteen-year-olds back then.”

“Wow, that’s fantastic. Why’d you quit? The lure of the badge to entrancing to resist?”

He considered sidestepping her questions. Saying something vague and offhanded. Yet instead, he decided candor was the way to go. “My dad had been the sheriff until he was killed in a hit and run. Playing cowboy was no longer an option after that.”

Not that he meant to belittle anyone who took such a path. If it’d been about money or a love for performing, he could’ve traveled that road, as well. But it hadn’t been about that for Mark. For him, it had been about honoring his father in whatever meager manner he could. And dealing with the responsibilities laid at his feet.

He braced himself for her apology, for the same condolences that everyone else gave him. But Val, as was her custom, surprised Mark.

“Do you ever still ride?”

“Seldom. Don’t have much time for such things.” And he hadn’t roped any calves since the night of his dad’s death.

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