Page 31 of Adam's Rising

“The muckboy rides his mustang bareback like some wild savage.”

That’s all he’d ever be to men like them.

And here Adam was… still mucking out stalls. And having the nerve to think he could take the man’s daughter to the movies. But hey, Claire had asked this muckboy out. He’d handle Boyd later — he’d never liked him. Right now, he needed to get on Rusty’s good side, let him know he wasn’t one of the…punks.

“I don’t think that way, Rusty,” Adam said quietly. “I’m just a lowly muckboy, at least that’s all I’ve heard.”

Rusty smirked. “True. Ain’t we all? Even Brett, with his high-and-mighty brow. He’ll see. She ain’t interested in him. Not really.”

Adam didn’t know whoshewas. He remembered Brett’s direct command to Lala and cringed. He certainly hoped he wasn’t messing with Lala. Eighteen or not, she was still way too young.

Instead of questioning Rusty’s comment, Adam simply nodded, letting him know they were on the same side.

He leaned toward Rusty, lowering his voice. “Claire and I, we went to school together. I would never hurt her, but she did ask a favor of me, and I’d like to ask a favor of you.”

Rusty’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah?”

“She wants to see the end of the movie.” Adam shrugged. “Don’t laugh, please, but I want to see the movie, too.”

Rusty let out a snort. “You uh… a disco fan or something a little fruitier?”

Adam caught the smirk, the raised brow, the loaded tone. It wasn’t the first time he’d been teased. When his mother got all out of sorts, his father would remind her, “It’s just boys being boys. It’s how you know you’re part of the team.”

Adam had taken those words to heart. Letting Rusty know he got his drift, he shot back, “Hey, man. You were there, too.”

Rusty smacked his arm. “The first flick was Bruce Lee. Had to balance it out, ya know. Can’t let folks get the wrong idea.”

“Definitely not,” Adam agreed, then repeated his request. “Like I said… I’ve known Claire since kindergarten. Do you mind? Can I take her tonight?”

Rusty pursed his lips, then nodded. “You’re okay, kid. Sure. I’ll cover for ya if Clara Mae starts asking where you’re at.” He aimed a finger at him like a gun. “But no funny stuff, yeah?”

Adam raised his right hand. “Scout’s honor. I promise I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

“Oh!” Rusty said, pointing to the back of the barn, then hooking his thumb over his shoulder. “Bring in the horses. Buttercup’s in back. Snowball and a few others are in the ring.” He walked backward toward the doors. “Great job today, Muckboy! You’ve earned a night with Princess Buttercup.”

Adam glared at Rusty as he turned and walked off — rather, drifted off. The man swaggered as if he were dancing to a beat only he heard.Maybe he really did like disco.

* * *

After bringingin all the horses, Adam headed back to the radio.

Now that all the owners and hands were gone, he cranked up the volume. Even though everyone had left, and he was exhausted, he still had work to do.

He headed back to the tack room to pick up the rope George had tossed over the partition wall.

Adam’s father had repeatedly preached about taking care of gear. “Whether it’s equestrian tack or climbing gear,the integrity of your gear matters.A rope tossed aside might get a snag;that snag could fray,then break when you need it most.”

When Adam scooped up the rope, he uncovered a cigarette butt. He reached for it, then realized as bad as the idea of someone tossing a butt, it was worse. He picked it up and sniffed. A joint.

Frank? Had to be Frank. The man walked around like one of the zombies out ofNight of the Living Dead. That stoner could burn down the barn — kill Bolt. Buttercup. All the horses.

He had to say something. But who would he tell? Brett was Frank’s cousin. And it was only Adam’s second day. Would Clara Mae believe him? Call him a troublemaker? Or would she agree?

Adam pocketed the joint and proceeded to the cabinet to accomplish what he’d stayed behind to do. He wanted to check the vitamins and feed. After finding rough patchy skin on more horses than just Bolt, he wanted to find out what Clara Mae was ordering.

Since he would be training and responsible for the horses’ care, she’d given him a key.

He unlocked the cabinet, noticing right away that the stock was low. Maybe she received fresh stock at the beginning of the month. Maybe that’s what she or Brett had been doing today. Though that didn’t seem likely on a Sunday.

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