Chapter 22

CHAPTER

TWENTY-TWO

C ash Young heard the bell, lifted his spurs from the horse’s sides, and took a quick moment to free his hand from the restraint on the saddle. He jumped from the bucking bronco’s back, hit the dirt hard, and stumble-ran away from it.

The flanking cowboys rode in on the sides of the horse, keeping it away from Cash, who clapped his gloved hands together and looked up to the scoreboard. He’d made the time, so he’d get a score, though this was a practice session.

He’d felt good about the ride. His movements had matched the bucking of the horse, and he’d drawn a good steed. Of course, in practice, all the horses knew how to come out of the chute, and they didn’t turn in tight circles, and the rides were far easier than what Cash had encountered in actual competition.

An eighty-four flashed up on the screen with his name next to it, and Cash whooped. Clapped his hands again. Grinned as he jogged through the dirt in the arena to the fence.

“Way to go,” another cowboy said, a man named Chester. “Great score.”

“Thanks.” Cash high-fived him when he made it to the top of the fence. He watched the next ride, expecting his trainer to come get him once all of his guys had ridden. Cash worked with a great trainer at a fantastic facility just south of Jackson Hole. He could train as much as he wanted, and he entered the amateur rodeos all over the Mountain West, including Utah, Idaho, Nevada, Wyoming, and Colorado.

Living this close to Coral Canyon allowed him to go home easily too, and Cash needed to do that soon. He hadn’t been back since Bryce’s wedding, and that had been a couple of months now.

His daddy and step-mom were about to have another baby too, so Cash had assumed he’d likely go when he got the text from one of his uncles that the infant had been born.

Part of him felt awkward and weird that he was twenty-two years old, and his daddy was having a baby. Of course, all of Cash’s half-siblings were far younger than him. He’d been a month shy of turning sixteen when Daddy and Faith had had their first baby, a girl named Grace.

She was six now, with Celeste right behind her at five, and then a big gap until Tyrone, who’d just turned two years old last Thanksgiving. And now this new baby.

He clapped for the next cowboy, who didn’t quite make the bell. The summer sun shone down on the men as they sat on the fence, most leaned forward to watch their friends ride. A lot could be learned by someone else’s go-round too, and Cash had been toying with turning pro for a couple of years now.

Probably should’ve done it last year, he thought, not for the first time. Daddy would’ve had time to travel with him then, and Cash wasn’t sure he could go into the PRCA alone. He’d done the traveling for the amateur circuits with his trainer and manager, and he knew how to pick up and go at the drop of a hat.

He competed in the saddle bronc riding, bull riding, and tie-down roping, and he was good. Cash knew he was good, but every night when he knelt down to pray, he thanked God for his body, his health, and his talents. He only wanted to give glory to God, and he hoped others around him would feel the spirit of the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ through Cash’s treatment of them. Through his very presence in their lives.

He didn’t go around preaching, but he hoped to influence people simply through how he lived his life.

No drinking. No partying. No women.

Cash’s face heated at the thought of a pretty barrel racer he’d met several months ago, but Lisha Turner lived in Idaho, and he hadn’t seen her in a couple of months. They were supposed to be at an upcoming event in Utah this summer together, though, so…maybe.

Cash seemed to live his whole life with the word maybe stuck in there somewhere.

Maybe he’d go home this weekend. Maybe he’d turn pro. Maybe he’d ask Lisha out to dinner. He had her phone number, but he hadn’t made a single move with the woman.

“Cash,” a man called, and he turned toward Lewis, his trainer.

“Yep.” He jumped down from the fence and headed toward the tall, skinny cowboy. He had to be close to Daddy’s age—close to fifty—and Cash liked him a whole lot. He gave good notes on every individual ride; he praised in public; he reproved in private.

Once James and Billy had joined them, Lewis turned and led them out of the sun and into the tent. “Got some notes for each of ya.” He handed out single sheets of paper, and Cash took his and looked at it.

Excellent mark out.

Great spur movement.

Keep that hand up on the downward motion. Don’t lean left like you’re wont to do. Balance, balance, balance.

Cash had seen all of that before. He had some parts of the saddle bronc ride down to perfection. Other parts varied with every ride he did, though he tended to lean left all the time, as noted.

His right side was his dominant side, so his left wasn’t as strong. He worked out with weights—more on the left than the right. He did balance exercises to strengthen his lower back and abs, but there was always more to be done.

His sheet also said: Great score.

And one more thing that made Cash’s breath catch in his throat.

When are you going to turn pro? I think you’re ready .

Cash ripped his eyes up from the page to find Lewis’s. He was going over something with James, and Cash’s pulse hammered at him, almost shouting at him to interrupt. But Cash’s personality wouldn’t allow him to do that, and he shifted his feet left and right as he waited.

“Okay, Cash has ants in his boots,” Lewis said, grinning at James. “I want you in the gym for an extra hour this week.”

“Yes, sir,” James said, and Lewis turned his attention to Cash.

He thrust his paper toward the trainer. “Do you mean this?”

Lewis didn’t even look at the paper. He’d written it, after all. “Cash, you should’ve turned pro last summer.”

He looked at the paper again, something settling right in his chest. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I’m finally feeling ready.”

“I know your daddy can help you with the application, but let me know if you need anything.”

Cash met his eyes again. “You won’t come with me.”

Lewis grinned, but it wasn’t a super happy gesture. “I train amateur cowboys, Cash.”

And if Cash turned pro, he wouldn’t be an amateur anymore.

“I’ll get you a list of trainers for new pros,” he said as he moved over to Billy to go over his notes and give him tips to improve. “Though I’m sure your daddy has some of those too.”

“Yeah,” Cash said, though he hadn’t done what everyone assumed he had: Talk to his daddy about going pro. He turned away from the others as they started their consultation, sure his father was just waiting for Cash’s phone call.

Daddy was very much like that. He didn’t push Cash into corners or conversations, but he always made himself available when Cash was ready to talk.

He still had two more rides in saddle bronc today, and then he had three practice rides on bulls, but Cash jogged to the end of the fence and pulled his phone from his front pocket. Daddy’s name sat right at the top of his contact list, because he talked to him the most out of any human being on the planet.

Daddy’s phone only rang a couple of times before he said, “Cash, son, hey.”

“Are you busy?”

“No, sir,” Daddy drawled. “Jem just came over with the baby, and we’re getting ready to take the kids down to the stream.”

Cash could just see the slow, lazy summer afternoon in Coral Canyon. “That sounds magical.”

“Where you at?” Daddy asked.

“The arena,” Cash said. “I just had a great practice ride for saddle bronc.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Cash nodded as if his father could see him. For some reason, he didn’t know how to say what he wanted to say. What had been teeming in his mind for months now. He’d never been good with talking about things, and he’d barely made it through high school. Maybe he wasn’t ready for the rodeo.

He’d seen his father’s videos online, and Daddy had to give interviews. He had to converse with other cowboys, trainers, lots of people. He’d have to manage a lot more than he did now if he turned pro, and so many doubts streamed through his mind.

“Say what’s on your mind, son.” Daddy’s gentle command prompted Cash to come back to the present.

“Lewis thinks I’m ready to turn pro.”

“Mm hm.”

“ I think I’m ready to turn pro,” Cash amended, and that opened the dam of words stuffed down inside his throat. “And I need help with knowing what to do, and how to get the paperwork done, and which circuit you think is best.” He took a quick breath. “And a new trainer, and I don’t even know if I can stay here in Jackson and train.”

“Okay,” Daddy said. “Slow down, Cash.”

He took in another breath, then another. “What do you think?”

“I think you’ll be brilliant as a professional rodeo cowboy,” Daddy said, quiet conviction in his voice. Of course, Cash had spoken with his father about going into the rodeo. He’d seen his father’s bodily injuries, been there for the back surgeries and the subsequent recoveries. They’d talk about all of that, with mostly Daddy telling him that Cash had to be as smart and as safe as possible if he was really going to go into the rodeo.

Thus, Cash rode in the saddle bronc event, not the bareback riding. One had a saddle with more support; the other didn’t.

“Thank you, Dad.”

“I can get you the paperwork, and I’ll poke around and see who’s taking on pros in your events.”

“I need a trainer, right?”

“In the beginning, you need someone who can help you navigate the pro circuit, schedule your training time, get you in the gym, yes.”

Cash nodded, some part of him settling. “I’ve heard of some guys who have managers.”

“Yes,” Daddy said. “We can get you one of those too. It depends on how well you’re doing, but I think you’ll do great.”

“You think so?” Cash didn’t like how pitched-up his voice became.

“Son, you could’ve won the RNCFR last year. Hands down. Won it.”

That was a pro rodeo circuit that included events from Idaho, Utah, and Nevada, where Cash did compete in amateur events. “Maybe,” he said, to which Daddy started to laugh.

“Okay,” he said among the chuckles. “Well, let’s see how you do in the National Circuit Finals this year then. When do you want to file?”

“Is there a good time? A better time than others?”

“The season starts on October first,” Daddy said. “We’ll want to file before then, I’d guess. Then, all your events this year will earn you points on your permit that’ll get you to full membership faster.”

“Okay,” Cash said.

“When are you coming home again?” Daddy asked.

“I was honestly going to wait until you and Faith have the baby.”

“She’s not due for another month and a half,” Daddy said. “I can come to you.” Something slammed on his end of the line, and behind him, Cash heard them call for the second-round practice rides.

He turned that way and started heading back. “I have to do another ride,” he said.

“Let me talk to Momma, and I’ll text you.”

“Okay,” Cash said. “I can honestly come this weekend.”

“We’ll find a time,” Daddy said. “I love you, Cash. Okay? You hearing me?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Cash nodded to the cowboy checking people in to their rides, and he made a check-mark on his clipboard. “I love you too.”

He grinned like he’d just won a major event in the PRCA and added, “Tell the kids I love them too, and ask Faith if she’ll make me some doughnuts if I come home this weekend.”

Daddy laughed and said, “Son, she’ll rope the world for you, you know that.”

Cash’s chest squeezed tight, because yes, Faith loved Cash like that. “Okay,” he said. “I’m coming home this weekend, then. You don’t need to check your schedule or arrange anything. It’s easier for me to come to you. ”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’ll see you Friday night,” he said.

“I’ll make sure we have all the maple flavoring and huge slabs of bacon for the doughnuts.”

Cash tipped his head back and laughed, feeling lighter than he had in months. The call ended, and Cash stuffed his phone away and faced the group of cowboys also waiting for their turn in the chute.

He wasn’t sure why he’d needed Lewis’s permission to turn pro, but Cash felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders and his soul, and he couldn’t wait to get home this weekend to see his parents and start the process of taking the next step in his career—and in his life.