Page 12 of Run For Your Honey

I hadn’t had to use it since getting on the horse.

The thought had me leaning forward in concentration as we caught up to the calf. For a few beats, I kept my rhythm, felt the measure of it, waited for the window, and let it go.

The lasso closed around its neck, and I screamed around the rope in my mouth, halting the horse to dismount and run to the dummy. It had a release that Wyatt had already undone, and when I reached it, I dropped it, pinned it with my knee and grabbed three of its legs before throwing two loops and a hooey around its ankles as fast as I could with the piggin string.

“Well, look at that. Toldja you’d get it,” Wyatt said, adjusting his sun-bleached cowboy hat with a look of pride on his face.

“Suck it, Duke,” I said to the felled calf, bowing my arms in the universal gesture for Come at me, bro.

“Easy there, killer. You’re gonna have a real animal under you at some point, so make sure you pin it right here,” he demonstrated, “otherwise it’ll get out from under you, and if it’s loose and your ass is on the ground, you’re gonna get hurt. Right here.” He jostled his knee. “See?”

“Yessir,” I said with a salute.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not bein’ timed or anything, not like rodeo rules. You just gotta get it roped and tied. Doesn’t even matter if the calf gets loose.”

My hands hung on my hips, my chest heaving from exertion. Sweat prickled my forehead under the brim of my cowboy hat, and I lifted the hat with the back of my wrist so I could swipe it dry.

Wyatt watched me for about a breath before saying, “You need a beer.”

“Yeah I do,” I agreed, taking the mare’s reins to lead her in the direction of the water trough.

When she was secure, I guzzled water out of my bottle so fast, it nearly spilled down the front of me.

“Nice ridin’, Poppy,” a deep, weathered voice said. When I lowered my bottle, I found Wyatt’s uncle Allen leaning on the fence, smiling sideways beneath a thick mustache peppered with gray.

“Thank ya, sir,” I said with a bow and the flick of my hat brim. “Next stop, hundred thousand.”

He laughed at my grand prize crack, fiddling with his empty shirt pocket, then looking in it, then sighing when he remembered it was empty.

“Tryin’ to quit?” I asked.

“Shoulda done it a long time ago, when I lost my brother from it.”

Wyatt nodded solemnly as he coiled rope and hung it.

“Better late than never,” I noted.

“Truer words.” A quiet laugh. “How are you doin’, Poppy June?”

“Aside from sucking at roping, terrible.”

“Duke’s fighting dirty.” He shook his head. “Ain’t fair to have you up against a junior rodeo champ.”

“Good thing I have a big boy rodeo champ teaching me.” I patted Wyatt’s shoulder, warm from the sun and damp from the heat.

“He’s right,” Wyatt echoed, reaching into a cooler for beers and passing them out. “Ain’t fair. But I’ll make sure you get it. Don’t worry, Pop.”

“It’ll only take every waking hour between now and then to make sure.” I twisted the top of my beer off with a hiss and took a long, luxurious pull.

Wyatt climbed up on the fence and opened his too. “I doubt Doug’ll make it. They’re giving y’all two shots at it, but I don’t think he’ll get close.”

“Well, that’s one I won’t have to worry about.” I turned my attention to Allen, not wanting to talk about Duke any more than I had to. “How long are you in town? It’s been forever since I’ve seen you.”

He nodded, forearms on the wooden beam and bottle hanging in his hands. “Been ten years. Sold the ranch in Abilene when Wyatt asked me to partner with him.”

I glanced at Wyatt, confused. As far as I knew, Wyatt’s cattle ranch had been very successful, even through the transition when his father died and left it to him. Wyatt just nodded.

“Well, congrats, boys.” I raised my bottle, and they tilted theirs in my direction. “Glad to have you back.”

“Glad to be back. Gettin’ old is weird, though. Don’t do it.”

“We’ll try not to,” Wyatt said.

“I remember bein’ a boy, climbin’ that tree over there when it was barely strong enough to hold my weight.” He nodded in the direction of an oak next to the barn. “Or bein’ a teenager and sneaking beers up to the lake back there with Wyatt’s daddy. Hell, your mama and daddy too.”

I laughed at the idea of my parents ever being young and sneaking beers anywhere.

“How’s she doin’? Your mama?”

“She’s good. Better than I thought she’d be with my sisters shacking up.”

“Ah, Dottie,” he said fondly, smile on his face. “Your daddy was lucky he snapped her up in junior high. Every boy in three counties was in love with her, but she only had eyes for him. Big, blue eyes, just like yours.”

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