Page 41 of Knox

He looked back at her. “Yes. Absolutely. It’s behind me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. Sighed. “I was thinking…maybe we should think about renting out the land.” She leaned back. “Hardwin’s looking to expand his herd and could use more grazing land.”

“We need our grazing land for our herd.”

“The herd is half of what is was when your father—”

“That’s because we’re breeders now, Ma. Of champion bucking bulls.”

He didn’t mean to raise his voice, especially when she tightened her mouth. “Knox. I know you mean well. And I do trust you. You have your father’s instincts, and more. You took a gamble with Gordo and it paid off. But my family has run cattle just as long as the Marshall family has, and I know a few things about ranching. And I know we don’t need all this land for twelve hundred head of cattle, even if we keep one section fallow and one section for fescue and one for alfalfa. One cow calf only needs two acres of forage land a year. That’s less than three thousand acres. We can afford to lease one section—”

“Okay!”

She recoiled.

Oh, he hadn’t meant for his voice to emerge with so much edge. “I’m sorry, Ma.” He ran his hand over his jaw—he needed to shave. “I’m just…yeah, you’re probably right… It’s just that Dad never had to lease the land and…”

Now he sounded pitiful and thirteen. He took a sip of coffee, unable to look at his mother.

“Knox. You are not a failure. Not by a long shot. Your father would be so proud—”

He met her eyes, and she drew in a breath.

“You need to stop wondering if you were the right one to take over the ranch,” his mother said quietly.

“It doesn’t matter. We didn’t really have a choice, did we? I gotta check on Daisy. She’s about to birth.” He finished his coffee. Got up. “Thanks for the coffee.”

She nodded, her mouth a tight line, and she wore the same look she had when Reuben told her he was leaving.

He might not be a failure, but if he’d stuck around, then Dad wouldn’t be gone, would he?

Just another person he’d let down.

He pulled on a lined flannel shirt and his work boots, then exited the house and followed the trail to the barn. He’d spent three summers re-siding the barn, installing pens for the bulls, and creating a corral where he might train them. It wasn’t a science—the breeding or training—as most bucking bulls simply possessed the genes to throw off a cowboy. But he could add to their Pavlovian response by training them to buck when they felt the pressure of a dummy.

More of a remote-controlled box than the form of a rider, the twenty-or-so-pound dummy was harnessed to the youngster bull. When the bull bucked especially hard or jumped high, Knox released the dummy. The practice wasn’t widely heralded, but he’d used it on Hot Pete…

Knox drew in a breath at the stab. Swallowed down the memory of him singing to the animal that last night in the stock barns.

And of course, Kelsey’s voice sneaked in beside his.

He’d found her album online, downloaded it, and even sang along to a couple songs.

Cowboy, don’t lie—Take me away and make me fly.

Once, he’d turned it on in the barn when he was mucking out a pen with his hired man. Fell into the memory of her at the concert when her lonely ballad came up.

But you don’t know if you don’t start

So wait…for one true heart…one true heart…

He eased open the door and flicked on the overhead light to the barn. Gordo glanced over at Knox with big brown eyes, his big white leathery Brahma bull body shifting in his pen.

“Hey there, Buck,” he said. Gordo turned, shoving his bony snout between the bars of the gate. Knox reached into his pocket and pulled out a baggie of old apple slices, now browned. Opened the bag and pulled out one, feeding it into Gordo’s mouth.

Gordo’s long tongue drew it in, chomping it, and Knox ran his hand between his eyes. Scrubbed his nose. “You’re going to have to give me a few more champions, buddy.”

He fed the bull another slice, then headed down to where Daisy stood, heavy with calf. He checked her udder, found it to be swelling, the same for her birth canal. Her pelvic bones had started to loosen, but so far she hadn’t seemed uncomfortable. He ran his hand over her face, those long-lashed eyes blinking at him. “Hey, sweetheart. Give me a good bull, okay?”