All the horses did well, although, so far, none scored higher than Rosco’s 216 of the previous day. Not that that signified anything, since this was another day and a fresh scoresheet. But it told Dalton that if Rosco could score that high once, he might be able to do it again.
The second herd was a little tougher, with three horses out of twelve scoring over 210, although none higher than 216. But there were still thirty-six horses left and a lot could happen, including Rosco making a miss or having a poor ride.
While arena tenders drove out the cows in the second herd and brought in the ones for the third go-round, Dalton and Alejandro went up to the observation area above and behind the arena wall where the cows were being bunched, and studied them carefully.
They were a good group, and it took the handlers a while to settle them down and get them grouped against the wall. There were several standouts—cows that would offer a challenge rather than an easy ride.
“Ahí.” Alejandro pointed to a heifer with a pink nose and a white ring around her left eye. “There is the money cow.”
Dalton studied her for a moment and nodded. The man trying to settle the herd was having the most trouble keeping her bunched with the rest.
“I like that Angus with the white-tipped tail, too,” Dalton said. “And that smaller Hereford. She likes hiding in the middle of the herd. She’ll be harder to bring out.”
It was important to find stock that would be the least cooperative. A risk, but if successful, it might bring a higher score. After selecting several alternative prospects, in case the first rider picked the cows Dalton wanted, he and Alejandro returned to the holding area just as the tenders finished raking the arena. A few minutes later, the announcer listed the “up next, on deck, and in-the-hole” riders for the third go. It was now or never. Dalton and Alejandro mounted up and moved their horses into second position at the in gate.
Showtime.
* * *
Knowing she would be staying in Lubbock until tomorrow, Raney slept late the morning after her drive and went by a nearby bookstore before going to the hospital. Timmy was awake and eating an early lunch when she stepped into his room.
“Hi, Raney!” he called when he saw her. “Did Dalton come, too?”
“Maybe next time. How are you feeling?”
“Okay. My arm broke. See?” He held up his bandaged arm. “And my side hurts. And my head hurts. The doctor said I was brave. He said I could go back to my group home tomorrow. But I have to eat my lunch now.”
“Why don’t you do that while I talk to your mother?”
“Yeah. Okay. I have applesauce. See?”
Mrs. Cardwell looked a little better than she had the previous night, but it was clear sleeping on a bench, even if it was padded, was hard on her. “Did you get any rest?” Raney asked her.
“As much as I usually do. Dad’s gone to the cafeteria downstairs. It’s not bad, if you’re hungry.”
Raney wasn’t and suggested Mrs. Cardwell go have lunch with her husband while she stayed with Timmy. “How is he today?”
“Better. Had a bit of a rough night, but they’ve given him something for the sore ribs. Are you sure I can’t get you anything while I’m downstairs?”
“No thanks. Take your time.”
Raney and Timmy chatted about the group home and his friend George until Timmy finished his meal, then Raney gave him the flash cards she’d bought that showed how to make change. He did well but tired easily and was ready for a nap when his parents came back from lunch.
At about the same time Dalton was heading to the arena for his semifinal go, the doctor came in and told them Timmy could go home the following day.
After the Cardwells assured Raney that she didn’t need to accompany them to Plainview, Raney told them that after Timmy was discharged in the morning, she would head back to Fort Worth, in case Dalton and Rosco made it into the finals.
Raney was glad she wasn’t at the arena. The waiting was taking its toll on her, and with every passing hour, the knot in her stomach grew tighter.
Her phone buzzed fifteen minutes after four. Raney saw it was Dalton and stepped out of Timmy’s room into the hall. She took a deep breath, let it out, and punched ACCEPT.
“214.5.”
His voice sounded tense, but not depressed. Or maybe that was wishful thinking on her part. “That’s wonderful!”
“Not wonderful, but maybe good enough. He had a slight misstep on the second cow, but corrected and finished strong.”
“How are the other horses doing?”
“Pretty good. We’re about halfway through, but Rosco’s score is holding in the top third.”
“You’ll make it. I’m sure of it.”
He let go a deep breath that rustled through the phone. “This waiting is killing me. I wish you were here. I always feel better when you’re around.”
“Me, too. It’s like I’m missing a foot or something.”
“A foot? That’s the best you can do?”
Smiling, she added, “Okay, I miss your muscles, too. I would elaborate but I’m in the hall at the hospital and wouldn’t want to rile up the patients.”
He chuckled and some of the tension faded.
“When do you think the finals’ list will be posted?” she asked.
“Nine tonight. If we’re in, I’ll get my draw then, too. I’ll call as soon as I know.” There was a pause, the muffled sound of other voices, then Dalton said, “Better go. Press just walked up. Later, babe.”
“Fingers crossed. And tell Press ‘hi’ for me.”
Nine? How was she going to fill five more hours without losing her mind?
With Raney there to keep an eye
