“I was fixin’ to do that today.”
Sure, and she was flying to Paris for lunch and a little afternoon shopping.
“I’ll save you the trouble. He’s failing calculus, a class he needs to graduate. But let’s say he passes. If he doesn’t pull up the rest of his grades, too, he could lose his scholarship. Then going to college is out, and what kind of a future will he have? Not only that, but Reese says Dylan, the kid he’s spending so much time with, has developed quite a reputation, and not in a good way.”
“There’s only so much I can do.” Her dad dug the toe of his dusty, worn cowboy boot into the hay. “It’s the old I can lead that horse to water, but I can’t make him drink. I guess if he doesn’t graduate, he’ll have to find whatever job he can.”
Carly stared at her father. Her fisted hands clenched so tight her nails bit into her palms. “Talk to him again, and this time tell him if he doesn’t quit cutting class and get his grades up, he’ll lose his truck.”
“I don’t know. What if that makes matters worse? Maybe I should talk to the counselor at school for suggestions and pointers first.”
Her dad loved stall tactics and diversions. Any excuse to avoid dealing with an unpleasant task or confrontation. “Then call the counselor now so you can talk to Ryder when he gets home. Mom would expect us to do everything possible to keep Ryder from throwing away his future.”
“You’re right, Carly Jean. I’ll do my best to turn Ryder around. You can count on it.” He dug his cell from his pocket, called the school, and asked to speak with Ryder’s counselor. A minute later he had an appointment for late that afternoon.
She rushed forward and hugged her father. He was a good man. A little absent-minded, but he had a good heart.
The palomino behind them whinnied, reminding Carly of the other issue she needed to deal with.
She stepped away. One battle down. One to go. But the awful twisting in her gut insisted this would be tougher to win.
She waved the receipt. “Now, about this horse. You promised you wouldn’t make any big purchases without checking with me to make sure you could afford it.”
Her father shoved his hands in his pocket and refused to meet her gaze. She’d hoped she’d been wrong. That he’d believed he could afford the mare because he’d sold a horse or two and forgot to inform her.
“Don’t be too mad at me, Carly Jean. I know I agreed to check with you, but this mare was too good to pass up. She’s exactly what I’ve been looking for. If I hadn’t dropped everything and gone to see her when Charlie called, I’d have missed out.” He ran his hand over the animal’s back and down her flanks, his eyes gleaming with admiration and clouded with illusions.
That was part of the problem she faced reining in her father’s spending. Old rodeo buddies like Charlie worked against her. One of them was constantly calling him about the perfect horse for whatever trait topped her father’s current must-have list.
“Look at her! Can you believe the deal I got? I may not be good with bookkeeping, but I can negotiate with the best of ’em.”
Carly bit her lip to keep from laughing. What made her father’s comment sad was the confidence and pride shining in his eyes.Dad, you’re a regular J.R. Ewing, with negotiating skills as real as the fictionalDallascharacter.
“I talked the seller down a good bit from his asking price. Not an easy task, considering there were three other breeders on their way to see this girl. But I snatched her right out from under their noses.”
If an owner hinted at another interested buyer, her father signed on the dotted line before the engine of his 1985 rattle trap Chevy truck cooled off from the drive over.
She tuned out her father’s chatter knowing he wouldn’t listen to anything she said until he’d talked himself out on his latest purchase, and she could recite the speech by heart anyway. He swore this horse was the animal who’d take his stock from average to competing with the big-league rodeo horse breeders. The only part of the tale that changed was what qualities he believed the horse would add to his stock. With eyes shining like a kid on Christmas, color rushed into his face, making her dad look younger than his sixty plus years as he spoke of his plans. Nothing else made him come alive this way. Certainly not being around his children. Had her mother ever made him look this way? As if he cared? As if she mattered?
“This girl could help us compete with the top tier of breeders for sales. I feel it in my trick knee.”
If she had a dollar for every time his sure winners panned out, she could buy lunch at a fast-food drive-thru, provided she bought a kiddie meal. “This mare may well make a difference, but unfortunately it’ll be years before you can sell any foal she has.”
She wanted to add he would need more than one impressive horse to improve the ranch’s reputation, but why bother? Her father never let obstacles like facts and reality get in his way. All she’d accomplish was making him launch into his every-big-ranch-started-where-I-am speech, and she couldn’t stomach that right now.
Carly’s hand tensed, and the paper she held crinkled. Time for an Economics 101 refresher course. “You’re not selling enough horses to afford new breeding stock. Your income should exceed your expenses, and that includes living expenses. You know, things like utilities, gas for the trucks, and food. And I mean people food, not just feed and hay for the horses.”
“It’ll work out. It always does,” her father said. “Carly girl, you need to dream more. Lately all you see are the problems, and not the possibilities if you take a risk.”
Her hands trembled, and she folded her arms around her waist to keep her father from seeing how his words affected her. Did he believe living in the house she grew up in with her father and brother at thirty-three was all she wanted? That she didn’t have ambition to match his?
“My feet may be anchored to the ground, but where would this family be if I’d had my head in the clouds too? Someone had to be realistic.”
The force in her voice rattled the rafters, causing the horses in nearby stalls to snort and fidget. Anger pulsed through Carly, a living being, taking control, unleashing the pent-up frustration she’d held in too long. Unable to stop the words now that she’d unleashed them, she continued. “Tell me how this will work. How you’ll find the money to pay for the mare.” Chin raised, her gaze leveled on him, she waited for an answer. A minute passed. Then another. Just as she thought. Not a single concrete strategy. “You can’t sell off more land because all that’s left is what the house and barn sit on and one pasture.”
Her father rubbed the back of his neck. “Lord knows I haven’t been the greatest father, but I always did what I thought was best for you and Ryder. I’m not smart like your mother. That’s why she handled the finances. Thank the good Lord you and Ryder got her brains. All I know is the rodeo and horses, and that hasn’t given you kids the easiest lives. I’m sorry for that.”
Carly sighed. “My suggestion is you call the man you bought the mare from. Explain that finances are tighter than you realized and ask him to buy her back.”
