Page 12 of Dusty Spur Ranch Cowboys

“Too close,” Emmett mutters as he helps the rider sit up.

The kid’s shaken and sore, but nothing appears broken.

Lucky. A few inches in the wrong direction and we’d be loading him into an ambulance.

I pick up the damaged strap and turn it over in my hands.

My gut starts bothering me. The leather doesn’t look right. It’s worn, sure, but not enough for this.

Beau glances down at it. “Old gear gives out. Happens every season.”

Maybe. Except I know this gear.

Every saddle on this ranch gets checked before competition season starts. I go over them myself because I’ve seen what happens when people get lazy.

The break catches my attention. Leather that’s been weakening for years doesn’t usually fail like this.

“What do you think?” Emmett asks.

I hand him the strap.

He studies it for a few seconds before shrugging. “Could be wear and tear.”

“Could be.”

But I don’t sound convinced, because I’m not.

Emmett notices. “You think different?”

I look back toward the arena where Willy is arguing with Whiskey Riot like they’re in the middle of a divorce.

Most of the ranch carries on around us. Horses are getting worked. Riders are laughing. Nobody else seems concerned.

Maybe they’re right. Maybe it’s nothing.

The problem is I’ve spent too many years around rodeos to ignore the feeling crawling up the back of my neck.

I’ve learned that when a horse feels wrong, you pay attention.

When a rider feels wrong, you pay attention. And when a piece of equipment doesn’t fail the way it’s supposed to, you pay attention to that, too.

I take the strap back from Emmett. “Maybe I’m getting old.”

Emmett snorts. “Maybe?”

“Watch it.”

He grins.

I don’t return it.

Because while everybody else moves on, I keep looking at the broken leather in my hands, and the more I study it, the less I like what I’m seeing.

The rest of the day disappears into the less glamorous side of ranch ownership.

Nobody puts paperwork on rodeo posters. They don’t photograph you arguing with feed suppliers, reviewing invoices, or trying to figure out why a tractor repair somehow costs more than the tractor itself.

They definitely don’t mention the meetings. If they did, every kid dreaming about becoming a cowboy would pick a different career.