Jeannie Watt - Once a Champion

Except that Matt was pretty damned certain that his mom knew nothing about Ryan. It was a total fluke that he’d found out, and only because he hadn’t been where he was supposed to be on that fateful trip to Butte fifteen years ago.

Whatever the deal was, he and Craig would be having Sunday dinner on the ranch. Craig seemed okay with it, but then the kid seemed okay—no, he seemed beyond okay—with just about everything thrown his way. Dishes, housework, living with a cousin he barely knew—nothing seemed to bother him.

Matt wished he possessed that ability, but that wasn’t how he was wired. He had issues that needed resolving and he wanted them resolved now. His knee, his career, his horse. He had goals to meet, rodeos to win.

After dealing with the doctor, he was going to have to make another move in the horse game. He’d consulted with his lawyer and legally he didn’t have a leg to stand on, but morally Liv was in no better shape.

Maybe she hadn’t been aware of what Trena had been doing when she bought Beckett, but now that she did know...well, if their positions were reversed, Matt would like to think that he’d sell the horse back to Liv.

His knee was throbbing by the time he got out of the truck in Bozeman. He idly rubbed the sore area along the side, wondering if he was going to be in a brace permanently, or only for a while. A brace would slow him down, but it beat blowing his knee out altogether. The guy he was seeing was supposed to be good and was replacing Matt’s former doctor, who’d recently retired. Matt had fully expected the new doctor to warn him against using his knee too much, as the old doctor had, but he hadn’t expected him to be so utterly adamant about it.

“If you plan to continue roping, then plan on getting another doctor.” Dr. Fletcher pulled his pen out of his pocket after examining the knee and clicked it.

“That’s a bit rash, wouldn’t you say?” Matt shifted a little, making the paper covering the examination table rip beneath him. Damn but he hated doctor’s offices.

“I just did say it,” the doctor said after making a few notes and then closing the folder. “And I meant it. If you put this knee under undue stress and strain, you risk destroying the joint.”

“What about physical therapy?”

“I’m prescribing PT, but that doesn’t mean your knee is going to ever get good enough to throw a calf.”

It wasn’t the answer Matt wanted. More than that, it wasn’t an answer he was going to accept.

“Listen to me,” the doctor said with a quiet intensity that broke into Matt’s stubborn thoughts. “I know this isn’t easy to swallow, but facts are facts. Your knee won’t last if you continue roping. You’re too young for a knee replacement, but if I did end up replacing the joint because of stupid behavior, you still won’t be able to rope because the joint won’t stand up to lateral pressure.

“I’d like to see you again in two weeks,” he said as he handed him the chart to take back to the reception desk where he’d settle his account.

“Right,” Matt said. But he didn’t plan on coming back. There were other doctors. Knee specialists. Alternative medicine. Doctors with more open minds.

Matt settled his hat on his head as he left the office ten minutes later and several hundred dollars poorer. He’d seen some of his rodeo compadres come back from rugged injuries not only to compete, but also to win.

He had every intention of doing the same.

Matt ran a few errands, then started the long drive home, keeping his thoughts as positive as possible. He was going to rope again. He was going to finish out the rodeo season. He was going to get his horse back.

The rodeo arena parking lot was full when he pulled off the freeway in Dillon and Matt slowed, then drove in. It’d been over a year since he’d stopped by the Tuesday night roping to talk with the guys he’d grown up with, rodeoed and partied with. He used to hit the roping every time he was in town, but when Trena had turned his life upside down, he’d stopped going. Then, when he’d failed to qualify for the finals for the first time in seven years...well, he just hadn’t felt like socializing after that. He’d stayed home and trained, then headed to Texas to start what had been a golden season right up until his foot had hung up in the stirrup in Austin.

He parked and felt a stir of anticipation as he watched a steer leave the chute at a dead run and the horses and riders charge after it a few seconds later. The pickups and trailers parked next to the fence blocked his view, but he could see the cowboys’ loops swinging.

Okay, maybe this had been a mistake. All it did was remind him of what he couldn’t yet do. Maybe in a week, two at the most, he’d be roping from horseback, but for right now he was stuck on the ground roping the dummy for hours on end.

He needed to get out of here. He’d meet up with his friends at another time, another place. Just before he turned the key in the ignition, he was startled by a knock on the passenger window. Wes Warner waved at him through the glass and Matt put the window down.

“Should you be here?” Wes asked with a smile that barely showed under his thick mustache.

“I was just discussing that with myself,” Matt said. Wes, a former bronc rider whose career had been cut short by a car accident, was no stranger to injury or the disappointment of losing a promising career.

“Want a beer while you carry on your conversation?”

“Sure.” Craig had assured him that all was well when he’d called the house half an hour ago so one beer wouldn’t hurt.

Wes gestured with his head and Matt got out of the pickup and followed him to the tailgate of his truck, which faced away from the arena.

“Did you find your horse?” Wes asked as he pulled a longneck out of the cooler and handed it to Matt. “I heard he was on the Bailey Ranch.”

“He is,” Matt said, twisting off the top.

“Why does Tim have a horse?” Wes opened his own bottle, which foamed over the top and onto his pants before he took a long pull.

“Not Tim. Liv.”

“Liv has your horse?” Wes wiped the back of his hand across his mustache, clearing it of foam. “Quiet Liv Bailey? I didn’t even know she rode.”

“She rides,” Matt muttered. Shae had once told him that Liv was actually an accomplished rider, but lacked the drive to be a real competitor. Funny words from a girl who was mainly interested in competing in the queen contests and not in the events.

Wes leaned back against the side of the truck. “How’d she end up with your animal? Isn’t she living in Billings?”

“She’s on the ranch right now, and I have no idea how she ended up with him.”

Wes scratched the side of his head. “She and Trena weren’t friends or anything, were they?”

Matt snorted. “As far as I know they weren’t.” Trena and Liv had traveled in different circles. Way different circles. Almost to the point of being on different planets.

Trena had moved to Dillon at the beginning of their senior year, a California transplant. Blonde. Beautiful. Not a rural bone in her body. She’d arrived with the kind of splash that would have sent shy Liv running for cover, instantly making the girls jealous and the guys pant. It’d taken her almost a nanosecond to hook up with the king of the football team, Russell Marshall.

Matt had been doing his damnedest to pass his classes and stay on the rodeo team, thus the tutoring sessions with Liv, and hadn’t made a play for her back then. He’d been more focused on his own kind—rodeo girls such as Liv’s stepsister, Shae—and that had remained his focus until his early twenties when he and Trena had run into each other again when he’d come back to Dillon during the hiatus after the NFR. They’d clicked in a big way, and the next thing he knew, they were married. Happily. For a while.