“Yes, sir.” He’d grabbed the little Yeti cooler from his truck, and he held it up. It had six bottles of water, some cheese and grapes, and two Dr Pepper Zeros.
Charles peered out the window as if he was making sure the car was here, which it was. It had arrived early this morningand had been parked out there ever since. “Ready then?” Charles gave him a smile. “Don’t forget your hat.”
“No, sir. I don’t go anywhere without one.” He had a dove gray felt 10X that made him feel amazing.
“I’d assumed as much. Lock up, please.” Charles put a coat over one arm and picked up his briefcase, then made his way out to the car.
He made sure he had his book, grabbed his shirts, the cooler, and his bag, then locked the door. This wasn’t hard work, and he could easily get used to being at the house—there was plenty to do with minor repairs, futzing around to make things nice.
Now he’d figure this part out.
He had music playing softly in his one earbud. It made it easy to hear his phone notifications and not bother Mister Charlie.
They climbed into the wide, cushy backseat of a black sedan and Charles got comfortable. “Good morning, Alan. This is Ryder, my new assistant.”
Alan gave him a quiet nod in the rearview. “Straight to the apartment, sir?”
“I think so. Do we need to stop anywhere, Ryder?”
“No, sir.” Where would they stop? He’d been to New York City once, when he’d thought he’d be a big-time bull rider. It hadn’t lasted.
At all.
He remembered landing at the airport, waking up in the hospital, and Roper coming to fetch him home after the brain swelling had gone down. All in all, he’d lost ten days.
“Straight to the apartment then, Alan. Thank you.”
“Yes, sir.” The car was warm and cozy and the ride was smooth as they headed down the winding mountain road.
“I bought the lake house a couple of years before I met Tad. He loved this drive. He’d point out the same things along the way, things that he liked such as this big tree coming up withhuge winding branches—that one right there.” Charles pointed as they drove by. “And there is a house up here with these ridiculous statues out front.”
Ryder thought they were kind of cool—not as cool as a huge iron buffalo but cool nonetheless.
Charles glanced at him, and he realized that the small talk about the statues was just a way of getting the conversation started. “I understand if you don’t wish to talk about it, so please don’t hesitate to tell me if I’m overstepping, but I’m so curious about your riding career. Did you ride for a long time?”
He turned to face Charles and smiled. This was part of the job he understood. “I did, especially for a roughstock guy. I started at fifteen, got my card at eighteen, and rode for ten years.”
“Your card is for a professional membership? Or a license?”
“It’s the PRCA card—Professional Rodeo Cowboy Association. You pay your dues in, and you’re a member, then you can ride in sanctioned rodeos.” He remembered saving for that first set of cards—him and Roper had worked all summer, heads down, doing anything and everything to pay their dues.
“Ten years seems like a long time for such a dangerous sport. So you’re retired now?” Charles was asking questions kindly and seemed to be genuinely curious.
“Yes, sir. I had a career-ending injury.” He remembered when Roper told him.
Bubba, it’s over. You cain’t jostle your brain no more. Doc says so.
“Oh, I’m sorry. That must have been difficult to swallow.”
“It’s the nature of the beast.” And he wasn’t going to whine about it, but he’d lost more than anyone except Roper might understand. Still, that wasn’t none of Mister Charlie’s. Not at all. “It’s a young man’s game.”
“Mm. I know a little something about that.” Charles pointed to his silvery hair. “Although yours doesn’t seem to have anything to do with age.”
“No, sir. We started going gray at sixteen, and we’re all the way gone by the time we graduated high school.”
“We?” Charles looked confused. “Oh. Sister? Brother?”
“My brother. Roper.” His best friend. The son of a bitch who made him angrier than anyone. His twin.