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  RODEO RANCH

  BROKEN SPUR: BOOK THREE

  Carolina Mac

  Copyright © 2020 by Carolina Mac

  RODEO RANCH - 1st ed.

  ISBN 978-1-989827-05-5

  All rights reserved

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  To: All the kids who dream of being in the rodeo.

  Don’t squat with your spurs on.

  ―WILL ROGERS

  CHAPTER ONE

  Sunday, September 27th.

  McKenna Ranch.

  CLAY called from Austin while Jacky and I were eating breakfast and told us the good news. I put my phone on speaker so Jack could hear too.

  “I got great feedback from three different studios. They liked the CD and they’ll call me later in the week. I’m leaving Austin this morning and I’ll be home in time for dinner.”

  “We’ll go to the Spur to celebrate,” said Jack.

  “I’ve missed the Spur,” said Clay.

  “It’s only been four days,” said Jack with a chuckle. “I’m sure there are lots of bars in Austin you could have tried.”

  “No fun drinking without my brothers.”

  “That’s a fact,” said Jack.

  “Drive safely, Clay,” I said. “That’s a six hour drive. Stop a couple of times and take breaks.”

  “Yeah, I’ll stop for lunch and rest my eyes. Can’t wait to get home.”

  “He sounds homesick,” I said to Jack. “What’s going to happen if he has to go on tour or something like that?”

  Jack shrugged. “Cross that bridge when we come to it, I guess. He wants a music career and touring around with your record or your band goes with it.”

  I got up to refill my coffee mug and my cell rang. Not a number I recognized. “This is Logan McKenna.”

  “Hi Logan. I hope I’m not bothering you on a Sunday, but I’m calling to see if you have room for me in your training schedule.”

  “Umm… I’m just about filled up for the fall session and we’re starting tomorrow. What’s your name?”

  “Taylor Watts.”

  “Okay, Taylor, I’m putting you down, but you’re the last one in. You be here at nine in the morning with your horse and your gear.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll be there.”

  “Do you need directions?”

  “Nope. I’ll find your ranch. No problem.”

  Jack glanced up from spreading jam on the last piece of toast. “Another student?”

  “Last one I can take in this two-week session. Six at a time is all I can handle.”

  “Yep, you’re gonna be busy for the next two weeks. I hope the cows don’t start coming in. That would really cramp us up.”

  “I’ve got Doc Stiverson on call all this week. Once the first cows come in and we get a bit of experience we’ll have a better idea what we’re doing.”

  “Makes me nervous,” said Jack. “Wish Daddy were here.”

  “Me too. He’d be excited for this, but Clint’s good and he’ll help us. He’s got lots of experience with birthing foals.”

  “That ain’t the same as bulls.” Jack shook his dark head.

  “Close.”

  “Yeah, I guess it’s close.”

  “I’d better clean up the dishes and the kitchen and make an effort to clean up the rest of the house before Darla gets here.”

  Jack groaned. “Is today one of those wedding planning days when all the two of you talk about is wedding stuff?”

  “I don’t have too much to say about it, I mostly listen and nod my head. Her Daddy wants her to have a church wedding and I don’t mind. I do love Darla and want her for my wife.”

  “But do you have to go through all that fancy wedding crap to get her?”

  “I guess you could put it that way.”

  “I am saying it. I’m glad I’m not getting married. Maybe I never will.” Jack grinned. “I’ll go catch up on my workout at the gym in Preston. Never know I might meet some good looking babe who has muscles bigger than mine.”

  “That would be ugly, Jack.” I made a face picturing it in my head.

  He laughed and ran off leaving me with all the cleanup to do by myself.

  DARLA arrived right after lunch. My bride-to-be, was a gorgeous brunette with a perfect body and a drop-dead smile. I loved her like a crazy man and couldn’t wait to marry her.

  Our wedding was scheduled to happen on Thanksgiving weekend in November. It had seemed a safe distance in the future when we first set the date but it was creeping up on us at a rapid pace.

  Both my brothers were standing up with me because there was no way I could pick one over the other. They were both best men. Compared to a lot of splashier events, our wedding would be on the small side. Fifty people on the guest list—mostly Darla’s family—with our wedding ceremony at Darla’s church in Preston and then our reception at the roadhouse in Broken Spur.

  Miss Jane, the proprietress of the roadhouse was my almost Momma and she insisted we have our celebration at her establishment so she could watch over all the details. She loved Darla and she wanted everything to be perfect for us.

  Lost in wedding dread, I was startled when Cadence and Rusty, Daddy’s two hounds, began barking.

  They scrambled off the porch when Darla arrived and ran to meet her. I stepped through the screen door to greet her and she took my breath away as she walked up the steps onto the porch.

  Dressed in short denim cut offs and an off-the-shoulder top, her body was tanned from a summer of rodeos and her dark brown hair had picked up a couple of sun streaks. She was a perfect picture. At least, I thought so.

  She kissed me on the porch and backed me into the screen door. She slipped her hands up under my shirt as she explored my mouth with her tongue.

  “Hey, what’s happening?” I asked the question in a whisper.

  “Anybody home?”

  “Nobody but me.”

  “Let’s go upstairs before we start working on the wedding.”

  “I’ve got time for that.” I took her hand and led her up the stairs to my room. “My bed isn’t made.”

  “All the better.” Darla whipped her shorts and top off in seconds leaving me to catch up.

  We rolled on the bed kissing and making out and I couldn’t remember ever feeling this good. Would I be this happy every day after we were married?

  “Come on, Logan. Give me the big gun.”

  With a growl, I mounted Darla and gave her my best effort. When we were finished, she lay underneath me with her eyes closed panting for breath.

  “Let’s rest for a minute before we get up.”

  That sounded like a great idea but somebody was pounding on the kitchen door downstairs. I pulled on my jeans, closed the bedroom door and hurried down to see who it was. br />
  Clint, one of our hired hand stood in the doorway. “Hey, boss, one of the cows is nearly ready. Want to call the vet?”

  “Yeah, I do. I want Doc Stiverson here for the first one or two. Thanks, Clint. I’ll call and tell him to come, then I’ll have a look for myself.”

  I ran upstairs for my phone and grabbed it off the dresser waking Darla up in the process.

  “Why are you running, sugar?”

  “One of our cows is almost ready to deliver and I have to call the vet.”

  “Ooh, I’m getting dressed. I don’t want to miss the first baby.”

  DARLA and I were both at the barn when Doctor Stiverson arrived. He came in and plopped his medical bag down and examined the cow.

  “Yep, won’t be long now. Another couple of hours.”

  “That long?” asked Darla. “I’d better make some iced tea for us all.”

  She took off for the house and Doc Stiverson and I waited, just staring at the cow in labor. My biggest worry was the sex of the newborn. We needed more bulls than cows from a business point of view, but did the cows know that? You get what you get.

  Darla came back with tumblers of sweet tea over ice and we were thankful. It had become hot and stuffy in the barn and I was feeling slightly dizzy for some reason.

  “Logan, are you feeling all right? You suddenly went pale. Too pale in fact.”

  “I’m a little dizzy.”

  Darla touched my arm. “Take a walk outside and get some fresh air.”

  I walked outside and took a few deep breaths and when I came back into the barn the dizzy feeling was gone.

  It was nothing. A passing thing.

  AN hour later, Clay arrived home from Austin and Jack wasn’t far behind him. We held our little reunion with Clay in the barn. All of us sitting beside the birthing stall.

  “This is exciting for my first minute home,” said Clay. “I didn’t know we were having a birth already.”

  “Doctor Stiverson thinks this cow might be a little ahead of her time, but we’re hoping the calf is healthy.”

  “Which one of the bulls is the daddy of this baby?” asked Jack.

  “This cow is out of Presto’s field,” I said. “That’s the next thing. We’ll need names for all the new arrivals.”

  “That’s the fun part,” said Darla. “Thinking up adorable names.”

  “They don’t have to be adorable,” I said, “and best if they aren’t. They should be more like… threatening… putting fear into the riders… like that.”

  “Threatening. Okay. I’ve seen a lot of the PBR bulls twist when they kick the riders off. How about Corkscrew?”

  Jack grinned. “That’s a good name, Darla. I’m keeping a list in the back of my notebook.”

  Doctor Stiverson got into the pen with the cow and a few minutes later the first McKenna bull was born. The Doc gave us a grin and said, “Corkscrew is here.”

  “Yahoo,” hollered Jack. “Time to celebrate our first baby bull at the Spur.”

  Broken Spur Roadhouse.

  MISS Janey O’Brien who owned the roadhouse was always glad to see us because she’d been in love with our Daddy and although she never made it to be our second Momma, she loved us like we were her own.

  “Clay, you’re back from Austin, sweetheart. Tell me all about the record business.”

  Clay chuckled. “I didn’t learn all I need to know in four days, but three different studios are interested in my music and I hope at least one of them calls me this week.”

  “Fantastic. We can launch your CD right here on our stage. It will be the best night ever.” Miss Jane flipped her auburn hair back and her green eyes sparkled. “I’ll sell tickets, just like they do in Austin. Dinner and the show for one special price. It will be fantastic.”

  Clay nodded. “I want to do that because I’m not nervous about singing here.”

  “You’ll get over being nervous soon enough,” said Miss Jane. “The crowds will get bigger and bigger and you’ll have your own tour bus by the spring.”

  Clay laughed. “Right now, I’d settle for a pitcher and a glass.” Clay pointed across the room. “I’m picking that table over there.”

  “I’ll send Ricki over as soon as I see her.”

  We settled into our booth and after our first pitcher I began to relax. There was so much going in our lives at the moment—the wedding, the students for my rodeo course and the birthing of the bulls starting—maybe that’s why I was dizzy in the barn.

  Ricki flew over to our table with menus in her hand. She was a girl I’d gone to high school with and she’d always had a crush on me. The feeling wasn’t mutual, but I was polite by nature and didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

  “What’s the special, Ricki?” I asked with a smile.

  “Chicken burritos with salad and a side of fries.”

  “That sounds good to me. I’ll have that. What about you, Darla?”

  “Sure, I like burritos.”

  Clay and Jack nodded and it was unanimous.

  After dinner, Darla and I danced a little to the recorded tunes blasting out of the sound system. Even without a live band, Darla was into dancing whenever she got the chance.

  “I love dancing with you, Logan. We should pick the song for the first dance at our wedding.”

  “Do people do that? Have a special song?”

  “They do, and we’re going to do it too. Do you know what would be more special?”

  “I think you’re going to tell me.”

  “After our wedding dinner, Clay gets up on the stage and sings our wedding song and we get up for the first dance.”

  I stopped in the middle of the dance floor and pictured it. “Yes, I agree with that. Best idea yet. Let’s go ask him.”

  Darla smiled at me. She was always pleased when I agreed with one of her wedding ideas. There were so many in any given day, I couldn’t help but agree with one or two.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Monday, September 28th.

  McKenna Ranch.

  THINGS had been quiet in Preston lately and Jack hadn’t made too many arrests. Nothing like the world record he set the first week he started. Sheriff Tucker still talked about it and Deputy Jack McKenna was definitely the fair haired boy in the County Sheriff’s Office. Everybody in Preston County knew Jack was the bomb.

  “What day does Swain’s trial start?” I asked as I dished up fried eggs and ham onto plates for my brothers.

  “Wednesday,” I think,” said Jack. “I don’t know what day I’m down for testifying. I’ll have to find out from the DA’s office.”

  “Do I have to testify?” asked Clay.

  “Did you get a notification?” asked Jack.

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Then you don’t. Probably me and Bonnie Sue and the Sheriff and that’ll do it.”

  “I’m coming to watch the trial,” I said. “Micky Swain burned our barn down and stole our bull. I’m coming to watch him fry.”

  “Y’all better come early in the morning. The courtroom will be full,” said Jack. “Swain’s got a bad rep all around this part of Texas. Lots of people hate him even more than us.”

  “Don’t think so,” I said. “Not as much as us McKennas. We’ve never been known as haters, but I’m making an exception for Micky Swain and his family of wild relatives.”

  “Now that his wife is dead we don’t have to contend with her any longer,” said Jack. “Carson Wagoner was a nasty piece of work.”

  “She got what was coming to her. Bonnie Sue made sure of it.”

  “Did Bonnie Sue get cleared of the internal investigation?” I asked Clay.

  “Yep, all the killings were ruled as justified.”

  Jack shook his head. “Never saw anybody gun down people so fast. Don’t think I’ll ever be greased lightning like Bonnie Sue.”

  “Maybe you won’t ever need to be.” Did I sound too hopeful?

  Jack stood up and picked up his phone and his keys. “I’d better get going
. I can’t stand it when Ivan checks his watch every morning to see if I’m on time.”

  “He’s not your boss,” I said. “Don’t let him bother you.”

  Sheriff’s Office. Preston.

  THE call came into the office shortly after Jack got to work. Sheriff Tucker took the call from Mrs. Graham, then hollered for Jack to come into his office.

  “You want me, Sheriff?”

  “Somebody killed your neighbor, Jack. Old Jessup Spinner is dead.”

  “No. That can’t be true. I just saw him yesterday.”

  The sheriff kept talking. “Mike from the mill found him when he delivered the feed order this morning.”

  “Who would kill Mr. Spinner? I can’t believe it. We’d better get out there, Sheriff.”

  “We’re going, Jacky. I had to make calls first to send the medical examiner and the lab people. I wish we had our own lab people, but we can’t afford it on our stingy county budget.”

  Sheriff Tucker was a big guy. Close to two hundred and fifty pounds and he was a slow mover. His hair had gone a little grayer since Jack had known him, but he was an okay boss as long as you didn’t disagree with him and you did most of his work for him.

  Spinner Ranch.

  OLD Jessup Spinner was sitting in his rocking chair on the porch, his unlit pipe in his mouth, exactly the way he’d been sitting the last time Jack had seen him.

  “Damn it, Sheriff. He’s my neighbor.”

  Sheriff Tucker moved the rocking chair a little so he could see the back of Jessup’s head. “Whoever did this walked right up behind him and pulled the trigger. This was an execution.”

  “Mr. Spinner was a little hard of hearing,” said Jack, “or maybe he was sleeping when it happened. He slept on the porch a lot.” Jack peered from that exact spot and looked down the lane. “He could see his horses from here.”

  “Uh huh.” The sheriff didn’t bother looking at the horses. Sheriff Tucker looked through the screen door into the kitchen instead. “Place has been ransacked, Jack. Looks like a robbery.”