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It had been easier when it was only about the riding, but LeAnn figured this was part of leveling up. She tried to force all that to the back of her mind. She had to concentrate on barrel racing right now. And if she could make Debbi Peterson eat her dust, that would be a bonus.
Chapter Fourteen
Dylan’s body was still humming from the heat of LeAnn’s kisses this morning, but the sensation quickly faded as he filled out his reports on the bulls for Mr. Hickory on a brand-new tablet that he barely understood how to use. He saw that LeAnn’s sister, Reba, was also in the pens with the bulls and he walked up to her as she was examining an animal named Terminal.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“Just doing a routine pre-ride exam,” she said. She shied away from him and gave him a nervous look. Dylan wasn’t sure why Reba seemed skittish around him, but he read her body language and backed off a few steps.
“Are you working for Mr. Hickory too?” He wondered if she was still upset with him for “letting” LeAnn ride the bull in the rodeo’s season opener.
“No, the WPRC hired me for the next few rodeos to collect data on the bulls.” Her face smoothed over as she took another step away from him. It seemed she was more comfortable with him at a distance. Dylan tried not to take it personally.
“What type of data?” he asked.
“We’re looking to compare the stock between all of the breeders. I’ll be running tests on your uncle’s bulls too.”
“So the WPRC is looking to get bulls from breeders other than Hickory Livestock?”
Reba shrugged. “I’m not a part of those decisions. But why put all your eggs in one basket?”
That made sense and his uncle would be pleased to hear it.
“We also want to see if they’re the right type of animal athletes we’re looking for.”
“Mr. Hickory wouldn’t offer substandard bulls,” Dylan said.
“No one is suggesting he is,” Reba said. “But with any new event or challenge, it’s good to have all the data and see if there are ways of cutting costs without sacrificing quality. Or on the other hand, if it’s worth it to invest in stock that has higher potential.”
That didn’t sound good. It sounded to him like the WPRC was looking for wilder bulls. “Do you need any help?”
“No thank you,” she said politely, typing something into her own tablet.
Leaving her to do her job, Dylan continued on with his reports. When it was time for him to get Lola prepped for their tie-down roping event, he tossed his tablet into the glove compartment of his truck and spent a few minutes stretching. After gathering up his gear, he went to the barn to collect Lola.
After saddling her up and riding her over to the roping arena, something felt off to him, but Dylan couldn’t put his finger on it. They lined up by the pen with the other single-rider ropers. The group roping was just finishing up and the crowd was worked up.
The first prize was seven thousand, six hundred dollars and Dylan wanted that purse.
Getting his rope prepared, Dylan noticed that Lola was dancing around more than normal. He chalked that up to excess energy. When it was their turn in the start area, Dylan secured the rope that was going to tie the calf’s legs between his teeth. The other lasso was in his hands, ready to loop around the calf’s head. When the calf’s gate opened, Lola broke through the tape while Dylan twirled the rope over his head. The calf was fast, but he roped him around the neck on his first toss. Leaping off of Lola, Dylan followed the rope down to the calf. Picking up the calf, he turned him on his back and secured the legs—6.86.
With a big grin, Dylan leapt back on top of Lola in victory—and felt her leg buckle.
Shit.
He jumped back off and led her out of the arena. He didn’t even think about the cheering crowd or his number-one score.
“I need a vet,” he said to one of the crew. “Get me Reba Keller. She’s by the bulls.”
*
By the time that Reba was finished with her examination of Lola, Dylan was a nervous wreck. He was only vaguely aware that he had won the $7,600.00. Good. He was going to need it for vet bills.
“How is she?” he asked, when Reba came out of the stall with the portable ultrasound machine the WPRC owned.
“She’s fine,” Reba said, patting the horse’s neck affectionately. “I’ve started her on cold therapy and wrapped the leg to reduce swelling. Tonight, you should rub on some anti-inflammatories. Keep her in the stall until it’s time to put her in the trailer.”
“Thanks,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face.
