One Texas Night

CHAPTER 7

Clouds blocked any sunrise, but Rowdy was up and dressed by the time the first watery light managed to show along the horizon. He’d cleaned the cabin up enough to make it livable but the place was still depressing. Despite the chill of rain, he opened the doors and welcomed the damp air.

Today he would compete in steer roping. Dan O’Brien would try for his only event, calf roping. Both had agreed to help the other. His lead in saddle bronc riding from the first night had held two days and his second place from last night’s event had a good chance of making it. The best all-around cowboy didn’t have to win every event. When all the events were over, each man competing for best all-around got three points for first, two for second, and one for third. It was possible for a rider not to place in one round and still win best overall. No man’s ranking was safe until the last entry rode.

Rowdy worked with Cinnamon all morning. He swore the horse was so smart Cinnamon would be teaching him soon.

Around noon he noticed a basket sitting on his front porch. Laurel was nowhere in sight, but he knew she’d brought it. By the time he brushed the horse down and made it to the porch he saw Dan riding up.

“Join me for lunch,” Rowdy offered, knowing Laurel would have packed more than he could eat.

Dan smiled and moved into the shade.

Rowdy set out fried chicken, mashed potatoes and corn on the cob. Dan’s eyes were bulging. The quart of buttermilk made his mouth drop open.

Rowdy offered him the best plate he had and one of the two forks he owned.

Dan frowned. “Either you were raised in the kitchen and travel with a coop of chickens and a cow, or you didn’t make all this.” He looked around. “I don’t see any fire going.”

“I didn’t make this.” Rowdy laughed. “I can’t roast a rabbit fit to eat.” He took a bite and smiled. “And,” he added when he could speak, “I’m not telling you where it came from. So eat, not knowing, or watch me. It’s up to you.”

“I’ll eat.” Dan dove into the food.

Rowdy had a feeling the man hadn’t eaten all morning. They devoured the food. When they found an apple pie at the bottom of the basket, they split it in half.

Finally, Dan leaned back on the porch and stretched his long legs. “I ain’t asking no questions,” he yawned, “but if food like this falls from heaven again, would you invite me over?”

Rowdy laughed. “Sure.” He liked the big man. Dan didn’t ask too many questions.

They spent the afternoon practicing and then rode into town. Dan’s calf roping came first. His one event. His chance to win fifty dollars. Tonight was the last ride for this event because the organizers needed time to hand out awards tomorrow.

Dan was the next to the last to ride. Rain had been splattering the dirt for several minutes when they shot out after the calf. Rowdy did his part and Dan had the calf tossed and tied with smooth skill. A few minutes later, the last contestant failed to loop the calf.

Rowdy smiled, knowing he’d just moved to third place and Dan had won first. He looked for Laurel but the rain curtained the other end of the arena from sight.

Fifteen minutes later, he roped a steer almost by the time he cleared the gate and rolled in the mud to twist the horns until the animal tumbled, splattering water and dirt all over him.

Rowdy stood, waved his hat and walked to the gate knowing he’d just taken the lead in steer roping. He stepped behind the pens looking for Dan but the rain was driving so hard he couldn’t see more than the dark outline of the barn. He guessed most of the hands sleeping around chuck wagons would be in the dry hay tonight.

Slashing through the mud, he headed toward the barn hoping to find Dan and congratulate him. When he stepped out of the rain at the side of the corral, he heard someone coming up fast behind him.

He swung around expecting Dan, but a fist caught him so hard in the stomach he folded over. All he saw were three men in oil slickers, boots and dark rain-drenched hats. The next blow knocked him against the side of the barn and he thought he heard the chime of silver spurs.

Rowdy shook his ringing head and came up fighting. He knew he hit one man hard enough on the jaw to knock him down and felt another’s nose crack beneath his knuckles, but their fists rained down worse than the storm. Finally, when he twisted to avoid one blow, a man behind him hit him hard in the back of the head with what felt like an anvil.

Rowdy crumbled and the dark night turned black. Vaguely, from far away, he thought he felt a few kicks to his ribs and then nothing.