Picking Up the Pieces Read online

  I smiled at Clay. “That’s okay. I’m almost finished, and it was a good wake wasn’t it. I can’t think of a single person in Broken Spur who didn’t turn up to say goodbye to Daddy.”

  “I don’t think Old Spinner was there,” said Clay. “Didn’t see his miserable face.”

  “Nope. You’re right. He wasn’t there. The only one.”

  “I didn’t see Linda Loudon there,” said Clay in a sympathetic voice. “I thought she might’ve showed up out of respect.”

  “Maybe she thought better of it,” I said and tried to put her out of my mind.

  “Who was that lady y’all were talking to while I was singing?”

  “Umm… Carson was her name. She gave me her card and it’s in my shirt pocket. Might have heaved it into the laundry basket.”

  “She was kind of pretty, in an older sort of way.”

  “How old do you think she was?”

  “Forty or more.”

  “Didn’t think she was that old,” I said.

  “Poor light in the roadhouse. She was too old for you.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of her in that way.”

  “What way, then?”

  “Like a business way. She helps business get cracking like when y’all are hopeless.”

  “Oh, yeah? Hopeless? We might need her,” said Clay.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  AFTER chores, I started the coffee and ran upstairs to see if I could find Carson’s card and yep, it was right there in the pocket of the shirt I’d thrown into the laundry hamper.

  I brought the little card downstairs and put it on the kitchen table in front of Clay. Jacky hadn’t graced us with his presence yet. He’d consumed a large quantity of free beer at Daddy’s wake and might not be moving at top speed.

  “There she is. Carson Wagoner. Business Consultant.

  “I can take your failing business and make it pay.”

  “We don’t have nothing failing, Logy. We have nothing doing nothing. How can she turn that around?”

  “When she comes, you can ask her.”

  “Is she coming here to our ranch?”

  “Said she was.”

  “I better take a shower.”

  “You haven’t had breakfast yet.”

  “You cook and I’ll take the first turn in the bathroom.”

  Jack had hauled himself out of bed by the time breakfast was ready and we sat around the kitchen table talking about our future.

  “I only know how to do one thing,” I said. “I’m thirty-one and that’s too old to compete anymore, so all I can do is pass along what I know to younger guys who want to make it on the rodeo circuit.”

  “Thirty-one ain’t that old,” said Jacky boy. “I know guys still on the circuit older than that.”

  “Thirty-one feels old to me.”

  “Will guys pay to learn from you?” asked Clay. “If they can’t pay for the lessons, we can’t keep our ranch.”

  “We need to figure out how much money we need each month to sneak by,” I said. “Add up the bills and food, and vet bills, and truck expenses, and like that.”

  “We’ve got Daddy’s three bulls,” said Jack. “We could train bull riders or use Presto, Thor and Crusher as studs to raise bulls for the rodeo.”

  “That’s an idea,” I said. “Great idea, Jacky. Why didn’t Daddy think of that?”

  “No idea,” said Clay. “Daddy used to ride back there to the pasture and talk to them every day, but that didn’t put too much cash in the bank.”

  My cell rang and I thought it might be Carson, the business woman, but I was wrong. “Yes, sir, this is Logan McKenna.”

  “Sorry about your father, Logan. This is Victor Wellington, your Daddy’s attorney and I’d like to discuss Ken’s will with you boys as soon as y’all can drive into Lubbock.”

  “Daddy had a will?”

  “Yep, he did, and it’s my duty to read it to y’all as soon as y’all can make it here to the office.”

  “We could come this afternoon. Lubbock ain’t that far away.”

  “Shouldn’t take y’all more than an hour or so. Why don’t we say three o’clock.”

  “Three o’clock. Can you give me an address, Mr. Wellington?” I jotted down the address in Lubbock. “Got it. We’ll be there at three. Thanks.”

  “Who wants to see us at three?” asked Jacky. He looked a trifle under the weather, but with a shower and a bit of luck, he might look better by three.

  “Daddy’s lawyer, that’s who. He wants to read us the will.”

  “There’s a will?” Clay’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t Daddy tell us?”

  “No idea. Maybe he saved it for a surprise.”

  A knock on the door set the hounds to barking and nobody made a move to answer the door but me.

  “Morning, Logan. Carson Wagoner, or were you too drunk at the roadhouse to remember me?”

  “Nope, not that drunk. Come in. We were kind of expecting you.”

  “Kind of?”

  “We didn’t know if you’d want to bother with us, seeing as how we have no business for you to turn around or nothing like that.”

  “I also can jump start a new business. It doesn’t say that on my card, but I have done it on occasion for a few special people.”

  “How special do you have to be?”

  “Only as special as you, Logan.” She smiled and I noticed the little lines around her eyes and mouth. She was older than I first thought but I couldn’t tell by how much.

  Clay rolled his eyes and I tried hard not to look at either one of my brothers. I pulled out the fourth chair at the kitchen table and offered her a seat. “We have hot coffee.”

  “Thanks, I’d love a cup.” She unzipped her briefcase and pulled out an armload of papers.

  “Wow, that looks like a lot of bother,” said Jack. “Why would anybody need that much paper?”

  “Legal issues.”

  “Uh huh. Don’t know much about those legal issues, although we are going to see Daddy’s attorney this afternoon.”

  “Did your father have a will?”

  “Seems he did, but he didn’t think to tell us ahead of time,” I said. “We don’t know what’s in the will.”

  “Maybe we should hold off our discussion until you boys see if you have any working capital,” said Carson.

  Right then I knew she wanted a lot of money to help us and I didn’t like her quite so much.

  “What’s working capital?” asked Clay.

  “That’s like startup money for your new business.”

  “We don’t have none.”

  “But maybe you’ll have some after the will is read.” Miss Carson had a funny look on her face now that we were talking about money.

  Made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “Don’t think so,” I said. “Daddy always went on about how broke we all was.”

  “Let’s not worry about the working capital for now,” said Carson. “For this morning we’ll focus on the idea for the business. Every business starts with something to sell.”

  The boys glanced at each other and back at me.

  “What have you boys got to sell to waiting buyers.”

  “All we got is three old bulls, and Logy’s rodeo skills that he could pass along to wanabees.”

  “Okay.” Carson started to write in her notebook. “McKenna Ranch, home of… the rodeo masters.”

  I shook my head thinking that was a load of crap. “Wouldn’t that be a lie, Miss Carson?”

  “Not if we hired some masters to do some teaching along with you, it wouldn’t.”

  “Maybe not. How much are these masters gonna cost us?” asked Clay. “And how we gonna pay them?”

  “The customers will pay for the teachers and a lot more. All we need are the customers who can’t wait to hand over their money for the lessons you guys are going to provide.”

  “Ain’t no rodeo customers in Broken Spur,” I said.

  “Course not. That’s why we
have to fix the house up too. They’ll have to sleep here while they learn.”

  “We have a bunk house, but we can’t afford hired help,” said Clay. “Not that much work to do around here anyway.”

  Carson jumped up so fast she almost spilled her coffee. “Bonus. Let’s take a look at the bunkhouse.”

  “I think it’s dusty and dirty as all get out.” I wasn’t liking her much anymore and wanted her to go to El Paso and take the job she said was waiting for her there.

  “We’ll hire somebody to clean it and get it ready for occupants.”

  “Occupants?” Jack raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”

  The four of us strolled to the barn with the dogs, Cadence and Rusty, running along ahead. Thinking that encouraging Carson to help us had been one of my worst ideas ever, I opened the door of the bunkhouse and brushed the cobwebs out of the way.

  “Nobody’s been in here since we played our last game of hide and seek,” said Clay. “That was a long time ago.”

  “No matter.” Carson buzzed around sizing the place up. “How many can we sleep here?”

  “Three sets of bunks.” I pointed. “Adds up to six at a time.”

  “Six at a time, plus meals, plus the cost of the teachers.” Cason paced back and forth as she figured it out. “How many horses do you have?”

  “Four. One each plus Daddy’s mare.”

  “Would rodeo people bring their own horses?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Most boys on the circuit have one or two horses of their own, specially trained for the events they compete in.”

  “I’m lacking in rodeo knowledge, but that doesn’t matter. It’s my other talents you boys will be paying me for.”

  “We got nothing to pay you with, Miss Carson.”

  “Don’t say that until you go to the will reading. Your Daddy might have left you enough to get McKenna Ranch, Home of the Rodeo Masters, off the ground.”

  After another hour of Carson Wagoner telling us how successful we were gonna be if we hired her, she finally left.

  “I’m glad she’s gone.” I poured myself another coffee and blew out a big breath.

  “You were the one who invited her here,” said Clay.

  “I changed my mind. Okay? I don’t want her trying to run our lives and us paying her to do it.”

  “She was a might pushy,” said Jacky boy. “I like the sweet, quiet type.”

  “You like any type, Jacky, as long as they’re women. Tell the truth.”

  The Will.

  AROUND two-thirty I drove into Lubbock with Clay riding shotgun and Jack slouched down and dozing in the back seat. “Help me find the office, Clay.” I tossed the crumpled piece of paper over the console to him.

  “Too bad we don’t have GPS.”

  “Yeah, too bad we have no money to buy one.”

  “We might have to do this the old-fashioned way,” said Clay. “We might have to pull into a service center and ask somebody.”

  I agreed. “Let’s do that before we drive around and waste all our gas.”

  “What did you think of Miss Carson? Do you think she can get us up and running”

  “Don’t see how.” I said. “We’ve got no money to start, and we don’t have a cent to pay her with. And besides, once she went into her pushy mode, I didn’t like her anymore.”

  “Wonder how much people pay her?”

  “No idea. This morning, she didn’t mention how much money she was expecting us to fork over, but I got the feeling it was way more than what we were thinking.”

  I flicked on the truck blinker and pulled into a gas station. “Clay, Run in there and get us pointed in the right direction.”

  Clay sauntered out with a Coke in his hand and jumped in. “We ain’t that far off. Keep going for another six blocks, then take a right on Tennessee Street.”

  “Okay, you watch for the street.”

  Clay rode with his head stuck out the window. “There. Crank a right.”

  I turned kind of sudden like and Jack rolled against the door handle in the back seat and woke up. “Are we there?”

  “Yep. Parking now. You woke up just in time.”

  “Let’s go in and see how rich we are.”

  “We ain’t rich,” I said. “Daddy would’ve told us.”

  Lawyer’s Office.

  VICTOR Wellington shuffled into the waiting room and hollered at us boys to come into his office. The receptionist was on her three o’clock break and Mr. Wellington was doing the meet and greet on his own.

  “Grab a chair boys and get comfortable. How was your drive into the big city?”

  “It was good, Mr. Wellington,” I said. “Very pleasant. Your call kind of surprised us. We didn’t know Daddy had a will.”

  “Everybody needs a will, son. Even if your property ain’t worth more than two cents, you still need a will.”

  I’m not asking him why.

  “I’ll tell you why.” The next fifteen minutes we got the list of ten reasons people need wills. When that was over, Mr. Wellington pulled out Daddy’s will and cleared his throat. “Let’s get started.”

  Clay and Jack fidgeted in their chairs and I realized I’d have to do the listening for them. Trying hard to concentrate, I heard Mr. Wellington say all the regular stuff that you hear on TV.

  “This is the last will and testament of Kenneth Lincoln McKenna, blah, blah, blah. I leave my ranch and all my worldly goods to my three sons, Logan, Clayton, and Jack McKenna.”

  Mr. Wellington stopped for a sip of water before he continued. “There is a list here of everything your Daddy owned at the time of the drawing up of the will, and I’ll read y’all the list.”

  I figured I knew what was coming. On the list would be a ranch, an old pickup, three bulls, a horse, and two hound dogs.

  But I was wrong.

  The Hickory Pit.

  AFTER the shock of the will hit us hard, the boys and I drove straight to the closest barbeque and ordered a round.

  “Now what are we gonna do, Logy?” asked Jacky.

  “Damned if I know. I never had to worry about money before.”

  “We only had to worry about not having money,” said Jack. “Now we’ve got a whole new problem.”

  Clay wore a pensive look. “We don’t have to start up a new business now. We can get by on what Daddy left us.”

  I picked up my Lone Star draft and sipped it. “But wouldn’t it be nice to turn the ranch into something in Daddy’s memory? I’m thinking we should breed bulls for the rodeo. McKenna’s bulls could be famous on the circuit. We could make Daddy proud.”

  “Damn.” Jack’s face lit up. “Let’s do it, Logy. We’ll get us some dandy stock, renovate the barn a bit and hire us a hand or two.”

  “I’m in,” said Clay.

  “Do you think we need Miss Carson to get us going?” asked Jack.

  “Why pay her when we can do this ourselves? There’s a lot of work to do before we start, but I say we try it ourselves first, and if we need her later, we can call for help.”

  “I agree with you, Logy,” said Clay. “We try it on our own and if we crap out, we call her later.”

  “Yep,” said Jacky boy. He lifted his glass and clinked with ours.

  I ordered another pitcher of Lone Star and we drank to our new business. It was settled. The McKenna boys were raising champion rodeo bulls.

  Daddy would be proud.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Tuesday, April 7th.

  The New Plan.

  AFTER breakfast, the three of us sat at the kitchen table and hammered out a new plan for our ranch and for our lives. Things might be looking up for the McKenna brothers after all.

  “First things first,” I said. “Where should we start?”

  We drank a whole pot of coffee before that question got an answer. And it was Jack who came up with it.

  “We should go to the barn and see what we’d need for birthing the bulls. Not all of them will drop in good weather and if the young bul
ls are going to be our bread and butter, we should be prepared to do this thing the right way.”

  “All in favor of starting with the barn?” I put up my hand and smiled as my two brothers shot theirs into the air.

  The Barn.

  OUR barn was old. The whole ranch was old and so was the house. “The barn is big enough.” I looked around. “But I don’t know what we need. We should go visit a bull-raising outfit and see how they do it.”

  “Any of those outfits near us?” asked Clay.

  “Jack can Google it on his phone.”

  “I can do that.” Jack plopped down on a bale of hay and fiddled for a couple of minutes before he came up with a bull-raising enterprise. “Here’s one in Blackbird Creek. Ain’t that far. Maybe fifty or sixty miles.”

  “Phone those people up, Jacky and see if we can come on over and see their setup.”

  “Maybe they don’t want competition eye-balling their setup,” said Clay. “Ever think of that, Logy?”

  “Sure did. But it’s a fifty-fifty shot, Clay. I also thought maybe they’d be nice and want to help us out.”

  Jack stepped outside the barn door and made the call. He came back in smiling and nodded his head. “We can come over tomorrow and take a look-see. No problem at all. The lady was keen to know about our stock.”

  “Did you tell her we don’t have any?”

  “Not exactly,” said Jack. “I’ll let you do the talking tomorrow, but she sounded nice. And she sounded pretty.”

  “How can you sound pretty?” asked Clay.

  “You know—sexy voice—like that.”

  “I ain’t had a date for so long, I forget what a sexy voice sounds like,” I said. “If we can’t see the setup until tomorrow, we should do the bank today. Mr. Wellington said we had to go sign stuff so we could use the accounts while we were waiting for probate.”

  “Yep,” said Clay. “If we do the banking, maybe we’ll be able to withdraw enough for groceries. There’s no food in the house.”

  “I think Mr. Wellington already arranged something for us. Us being in dire straits like we are.”

  “Nice that somebody cares if we eat or not,” said Jacky. “I’m still a might tickered that Daddy never told us we were golden all this time.”