Nodding, I rose from my chair and grabbed her plate, placing it into the dishwasher along with the other dirty dishes.
“You didn’t have to do that.” She frowned at me when I waved her off. After I’d finished putting away the last bit of leftovers, I grabbed her hand and led her outside.
If she wanted to see what I did for a living, I’d gladly show her.
Chapter twenty-one
Leather
Cheyenne
I’d just finished puttingCountry Road away from working her whencommotion over by the round pen drew my attention.
“She’s gonna kill you, Goodie.” Cash’s dad, Clint Mooney, stood before the pipe-stall round pen, resting his arms and one of his feet against the rails in a casual stance. His large sunglasses shielded his eyes, but a grin tugged on his lips. Cash stood beside him, in a similar stance, though not all of the usual Cash flare and energy was present. He was still worried about Maverick. I could tell.
But standing like that, next to his father, it was like taking a glimpse into Cash’s future. The two looked so incredibly similar.
I made my way over, the little girl in me nervous as all hell. Clint “Bad” Mooney was big here in Texas as a successful cattle rancher, but I’d grown up watching him bronc ride. He was a legend. A celebrity in my mind. And I was sort of, kind of sleeping with his nephew.
I bit back a giddy squeal. I didn’t want to interrupt, but who the hell would miss out on the opportunity to watch one of theirheroes work?
“Either shut up, or help me, dammit,” the man in the round pen, Goodie, Mister Mooney had called him, grumbled back, not daring to drag his eyes away from the red filly angrily circling him in the round pen.
The two looked similar, though the other was maybe a few years younger and more clean-cut. His alligator boots were too nice, his periwinkle paisley shirt looking more like something he’d wear beneath a nice sports coat than to ride in, and his belt buckle gleamed just a little too brightly. Like it didn’t get enough wear and tear. He was a businessman if I’d ever seen one.
Brothers, then.
“I told you not to go in there.” Mister Mooney chuckled as the filly rushed at his brother.
Goodie sidestepped the horse before shooting a curse out. Okay, so he wasn’tallbusinessman.I’d seen plenty of city slickers try their hand at riding horses. This guy knew what he was doing. Which made sense if he was brothers with the famous Bad Mooney.“I gotta get thisfuckin’ pig workin’, don’t I?”
Mister Mooney shrugged, a smile lighting up his face, making him look extra Cash-like. “Can’t get her workin’ if she kills you, dickhead.” Just then, Cash’s dad turned to me, and he nodded my way. “Come on over here, girl. I see you lurkin’.”
My heart hammered in my chest, excitement brewing like a storm. I’d not gotten to officially meet Mister Mooney. I mean…there was the one time Cash had given Charlie that horrible, but equally funny shirt—that she still proudly wore, might I add—but I’d never gotten to, like, actually talk to him.
“Sorry, sir,” I managed to squeak out as I came to his side.
He pulled down his sunglasses for a long moment, eyeing me with an intensity that made me want to fidget before turning back to the round pen. He didn’t speak for a long time. So long I thought he wasn’t going to say anything at all. ShouldIsay something? Should I tell him what a big fan I was of his? How I’d watched damn near every rodeo he’d competed in and had his whole final season recorded on tapes in a box somewhere that my daddy kept safe for me. No. That just made me sound like a crazy person.
Maybe just introduce myself, then?I looked to Cash, who still stood beside him, for something, anything, but he was more focused on the arena.
I opened my mouth to speak, but Mister Mooney stopped me with his gravelly voice. “So, your trailer burnt down?”
I opened my mouth, shut it, opened it again. It was so blunt and direct, and I wasn’t quite sure what I’d expected, but it hadn’t been that. “Yes, sir.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Cash says you been helpin’ Maverick?” He glanced between Cash and me.
I thought of last night. I could argue that he’d been the one to take care of me, but I nodded once more, another, “yes, sir,” falling from my lips.
He nodded just as Goodie’s growls of frustration echoed on the wind. “Speak of the devil, Where the hell’s Maverick?” Goodie railed. “He’s the only one can get anythin’ other than piss and vinegar out of this goddamn nag.”
“Maverick’s got his own babies to worry ‘bout.” Mister Mooney waved him off with a dismissive hand. “And this horse ain’t Maverick’s problem, she’s yours.”
“Yeah, well Maverick’s baby doesn’t have a burnin’ keg full of black powder for a fuckin’ brain.” The little red filly raced by, flailing out her hind leg as she tried to kick him for emphasis.
