Page 73 of Slow Burn

I enlisted Nash to help Beck train. Beck wasn’t making as much progress with Austin. We’ve been out here doing this nearly every afternoon for the last week, ever since I found the insurance policy we went hunting for.

Wade had in fact remembered to renew the insurance, which took Beck by surprise. But what he failed to account for was the changing climate, and the policy didn’t include flood damage, or any water damage that was caused by factors outside of the buildings on the property.

The water damage to the barn is going to run Beck a lot more than whatever savings I’ve been able to find elsewhere in the budget. I was clear that the benefits to the ranch wouldn’t be seen immediately. That the biggest changes would come next year.

In the meantime, we still have to figure out how to pay for all of this. The rodeo is Beck’s best option at the moment, but it’s not a sure bet. He still has to win. And right now? The prospect of even placing feels out of reach.

The afternoon sun beats down, beads of sweat forming on my neck.

I can tell his shoulder has been causing him grief, and I watch him stretch it out and Willow into position for another run.

Nash has been coaching Beck from inside the ring, shouting pointers at him after every run, small tweaks and corrections to improve his time. Austin and I have been watching from the sidelines. My brother has both forearms resting on the fence, and I’m sitting on the top rail next to him.

Every so often he makes a tsk sound with his tongue, before anything has even happened, at least from what I can tell. It seems Austin knows when it will be a bad run before Beck has even thrown the rope.

As the afternoon wears on, frustration mounts in the ring as each run seems to be worse than the last. Nash corrals the young steer in the pen beside Beck and Willow, gearing up for another run.

Tate let Beck borrow the animal for practice, and it’s been handy having him here, although I’m not sure I want to give him back after this. I’ve started to really like the little guy, and I hop down off the fence and pick up my bucket of apple slices to give him a treat.

His eyes look wild when I near him, but he seems to calm down as I hold out the apple slices, and he happily takes them from my hand.

“In all my days, I’ve never seen a steer get treats after an event,” Beck says.

“This one does,” I say, shading my eyes with one hand from the setting sun as I look up at Beck, sitting on top of Willow. “Are you sure this doesn’t hurt him?”

“It doesn’t hurt him,” Beck answers. “Trust me, Trouble, no rancher ever wants to hurt their animals. It’s not practical if you want to make a profit. And he jumps back up as soon as I pull the rope off him.”

I nod, and bend down to plant a kiss on his head before Nash gives Beck a nod to see if he’s ready. Beck nods back, and he lets the steer go. Willow takes off after him, lining herself up behind his shoulder.

I hold my breath as Beck lifts his roping arm, but something is wrong.

Where Beck normally wears a smile on his face while he’s roping, his expression twists into a grimace. He steels himself, and tries to throw the lasso, but his arm drops, and he cries out.

“Fuck!”

The rope lands in the dirt next to the steer, a near repeat of the disaster at the Sage Valley rodeo. And now the stakes are higher. Not just for the ranch, but the rodeo he’s competing at this time is bigger than the one in this sleepy town. There will be more competitors, and stronger, more experienced cowboys.

He can’t afford to miss like this. But there’s no time to think about what this means for the rodeo or the ranch.

Worry washes over me, everything moving in slow motion as Beck brings Willow to a stop and climbs off her, barely able to get himself down to the ground without falling since he can only use one arm.

“What the fuck happened?” Nash reaches him first, but Austin and I are close behind him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Beck says, but his eyes give him away. They’re distant, his focus is elsewhere, and he’s slid his walls back into place. “Take her back to the pasture.”

Beck takes off toward the house, his gait steady, but I can tell he’s bracing his arm. I glance around at Nash and Austin, trying to decide if I should go after him, if it will give us away. I have no reason to care about Beck like this, and Austin knows it.

But the concern for him outweighs my ability to care what Austin thinks. I don’t want Beck shutting down like this, closing himself off to everyone, to me. I know the pressure he puts on himself, and that he’ll take this as a personal failure.

My surly, grumpy cowboy had just started opening up to me, had started letting me see the soft side of him that no one else does. It kills me to think that he could ever lock that part of himself up again.

I run after him, only catching up when he’s halfway through the yard.

“Go home, Trouble,” he growls when I fall into step beside him. “I just need some space.”

“No, Beck,” I argue. “You don’t want space, you want to shut yourself down. You want to hide in your house and shove down everything you’re feeling.”

He grumbles under his breath as I follow him into the house. He turns to face me once we’re inside, out of eyesight from Austin and Nash.