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“Speaking of Winnie Sutton, have you seen her ride?”
He nods. “She’s our highest requested trail ride leader. An absolute natural in the saddle.”
“Not like that. Have you seen her barrel race?”
He perks up. Nothing gets to my dad like rodeo talk. “I didn’t know she raced.”
“That’s because she doesn’t. Not technically. She doesn’t own a horse or anything. I don’t even think she’s ever taken lessons. Like you said, she’s a natural.” My idea is gathering steam, and I plow ahead. “But Camilla has her working out Queen Mab every Friday afternoon, and I’ve never seen anything like it. Her times are insane. Like she could easily go from our arena to the main event and walk away with top prize.”
“What’s she doing here, then?”
“Right?” I say enthusiastically because rodeo talk happens to get me going, too. It’s maybe the only thing Junior and I have in common. “I asked the same thing. Apparently, no horse, no saddle, no entry fees… I’m not sure, but she’s practically raising her two siblings. I think money is super tight.”
“If that’s why you were saying she needs a raise, Case, I’m sorry, but I can’t give her higher wages because she has it tough at home. I have other employees, and we pay fair wages.”
I scoff. “First of all, you could. You’re the boss; you can do whatever the hell you want. But that’s not what I was thinking. What if you sponsored her, through the ranch? It’d be great marketing, wouldn’t it?”
My dad looks doubtful. “That’s a massive investment.”
“Dad. Just come and see her one Friday. Talk to Camilla. If you don’t think she’s got it, fine, but I promise she and Mab’ll blow your mind. I’ve never seen anything like it in all my years at rodeos.”
Case Jr. rubs his lips with his hand, in that way he does when he’s thinking. “I’ll see if John can meet with the distributors this week or next, and I’ll come by. But no guarantees. I’m not looking to throw money at some girl because you’ve taken a shine to her.”
My breath catches in my throat, and I will the heat away from my face. “That’s not… I wasn’t…”
My dad points at my face, victorious. “That. That look. That’s what you’ve been missing.” He turns on his heel. “I need to get back in my office for a phone call. I’ll see what I can do about Friday.”
With that, he’s gone. I’m still standing there five minutes later when Elvis nudges the back of my head, knocking off my hat and dropping it to the concrete floor.
“What do you want?” I ask under my breath, turning and petting his nose. Mab nickers from the stall next to us and demands her own pets.
“Yeah, yeah,” I tell her, reaching for her soft nose. “I know. She’d be pissed if she knew. This stays between you and me for now, all right? I’ll worry about my part, and you worry about yours.”
The next time I see Pax, we decide to skip the party scene. It’s still pretty weird and stilted between us, but I can’t spend the rest of my life hanging out with Walker’s ghost. And I’m pretty sure Winnie would laugh in my face if I invited her to do anything outside of work. That’s twice now I’ve tried to get her to go on a ride with me, and she’s turned me down. If I go for a third, I’m gonna have to hire her for a trail ride.
Besides, I like Pax. He’s impossible not to like. When he showed up the afternoon of my birthday, two 12-gauge shotgunslooped under his arm, and pointed toward the sky, I grabbed my old work boots and the keys to a pair of matching four-wheelers.
I haven’t hunted for small game in years. I’m doubtful I could manage to hit the broad side of a barn at this point, but we’ve never really hunted to shoot anything, anyway. It’s always been about the experience: the excuse to mud up our tires and walk in the woods. Best of all, this is something I never did with Walker. He couldn’t get into it. It was too slow, too quiet, and there was no way he’d ever be able to aim at something as cute as a rabbit.
Which is good. I need a fucking break from feeling things. Between the list and puking my guts out at the rodeo and my dad giving me shit for not drinking it off like a real man and Winnie’s family stuff that isn’t really my problem but also somehow is… I think I might be losing it.
I’m also nineteen today. Walker died a week shy of his eighteenth birthday, and now I’m two years past that. And I’ll keep getting older. Every year, I’ll pull a little further from him, and it’s fucking with my head.
So this, today, is untainted territory. I’m not looking for his ghost, and I know with complete and utter certainty he’s not going to show up. Which is better than I thought things would go on my first birthday without Walker around.
We drive the four-wheelers out to the back wooded acres and park near the edge of the trees. I toss Pax an orange vest and slip on my own, despite the fact no one else is around. People have been shot for dumber reasons.
It’s blustery for April, but not cold. The air is dry, and the sky is cloudless. I suck in a lungful of breath and hold it before letting it out slowly, my head feeling clearer. Pax and I start loudly stomping over dried leaves and packed earth.
Have I mentioned we’re not any good at hunting?
“How’s Madi?” I ask after a few minutes.
Pax scrunches the side of his face and shrugs one shoulder. “Hell if I know. Probably fine? I guess? She got mad because she found out I was hanging out with Lexie Aldean while she was up at Oklahoma State visiting her friends for a girls’ weekend.”
I don’t know where to begin with that statement.
“Were youjusthanging out?”
