Page 38 of For the Love of the Bull Rider

“It’s going fine, but I have a question I forgot to ask. Do you know Cindy Whipple and her little boy, Rocky?” Jeri was silent for a moment, and Tim heard a heavy sigh.

“I knowofher, son, but I never met her in person. Hear tell, Cindy has MS, but she was in remission. Now, it’s come back and she’s havin’ a hard time of it. She doesn’t want any help, though, or so some of the gossips are sayin’. Why?” Jeri’s comment made it sound like she definitely had her ear to the grapevine, and Tim wanted to laugh.

Tim filled Jeri in on what Ryan had told him and what the two of them were trying to do regarding the winter coat for young Rocky. Tim would explain the rest of the story to her another time because the coat was of immediate importance. “If you’re buyin’ the boy a winter coat, I’d get a size twelve. If I remember correctly, Rocky’s older and taller than Ryan, and Ryan wears an eight,” Jeri offered.

Tim chuckled. “Gramma,you haven’t been paying a lot of attention lately. I bought him some shirts and jeans, and they’re size ten. He’s getting Matt’s height, I’m sure. So, should I get a size twelve or a fourteen coat? I don’t want the kid to swim in it, but it might be good for it to be a little big so he can grow into it.”

“Crap! Let me call Miss Blankenship, Ryan’s teacher. She’d be the one to know. I’ll call ya back.” The line went dead.

Tim put the phone in his coat pocket and looked at the boy. “Gramma’s gonna call back. In the meantime, let’s go pay for your stuff. We’ll get the coat, I promise, but we need to wait until we hear from Gramma Jeri.”

He took Ryan’s hand and the two walked to the cashier. Tim paid for the clothes while Ryan looked at the Christmas decorations. After the bag was in hand, Ryan turned to Tim. “We need to get a tree and stuff. I wish Daddy was here.”

Tim quickly stooped down to stop the boy from getting upset right there in the store. “Now, don’t worry. We have plenty of time to get everything before Christmas. We also have plenty of time to go visit Santa. Your dad wants to be with you when you tell him what you want.”

“I don’t want nothin’ for me, Tim. It’s for Rocky and his momma. They need a lot of stuff I think, and I wanna use my Christmas wish for them.” Ryan had the most earnest look on his face that Tim’s heart squeezed in his chest.

Tim considered his words for a minute before he had another idea. “Okay, how about you run it past me while we have lunch, and we’ll make a plan for Santa another day when your dad can come with us? We have plenty of time to tell your wish to Santa before Christmas.”

Thankfully, Ryan’s tummy growled, so he acquiesced to the suggestion of lunch. Tim was grateful because he didn’t know how to put Ryan off his plans anymore, but he knew how important it would be for Matt to see the kindness and generosity his son showed at such a young age. It would melt the heart of someone as cold as Tim’s dead grandmother, Joanne Moran.

That evening, Ryan fell asleep in the back seat of Matt’s F-250 as Tim drove them home. They had the coat for the Whipple boy wrapped in plain, brown paper, and were planning to leave it on the porch without a note to save the mother any embarrassment.

Ryan was excited about their covert plans, so Tim was surprised he’d fallen asleep, but it had been a big, productive day. Tim was equally giddy at the prospect of the other plans he’d set in motion that day. It was going to be a wonderful holiday season.

On Saturday, Tim and Ryan cleaned the house to prepare for the pending arrival of the Christmas tree along with laundering Ryan’s new wardrobe. They called Matt that morning in El Paso,catching him just out of the shower, and Ryan explained the shopping trip to his dad before turning over the phone to Tim.

Matt seemed to be worried about the money spent on Ryan, but Tim quickly dismissed his concerns, telling Matt he loved him before they disconnected the call. Things were better discussed in person when Matt returned, Tim was sure.

Sunday morning found Tim standing in the hallway of a very large horse barn in Blacksburg, Virginia, looking at the most beautiful stallion he’d ever seen in person. He’d found the horse on the internet, and he was sure the huge animal was exactly what he wanted.

He’d explained it to Uncle Josh on Saturday night when he and Ryan stopped by the Katydid on their way home from Roanoke. Josh quickly volunteered to call the owner to set up a time for them to take a look at the beast the next day while Matt was still out of town.

The horse was an American Saddlebred. He was black, about sixteen-and-a-half hands tall, with a full black mane and tail. He had white socks on all four feet, and he was five years old. He was a gaited horse, which Uncle Josh said would give Matt a smooth ride, and from what Tim could tell, the stallion had a good temperament.

Uncle Josh and the seller, Stan Hanson, talked about registration, confirmation, sire and dam, stud services, and many other things Tim vaguely knew anything about, leaving the details to Uncle Josh while Tim took in the appearance and demeanor of the horse. “What’s his name?” Tim asked Mr. Hanson when there was a lull in the two men’s conversation.

Mr. Hanson was a tall man with large shoulders, arms, and a beer gut to match. He had a worn look about him as if he spent a lot of time outside without taking proper care to use sunscreen. Tim was grateful Aunt Katie dogged him and Uncle Josh aboutusing sunscreen to stave off skin cancer. Tim was sure Mr. Hanson was a good candidate for the disease.

Mr. Hanson glanced between Tim and Uncle Josh. “His papers say Ebony Prince Charles. He’s a Kentucky Saddler, as they call ‘em. I bought him a year ago from an Englishman who used to own the farm up the road. His wife passed, and he wanted to go back to England, so he sold me the horse. I got all the papers, and he’s broke to ride. I will say he’s not for the timid. He’s a V-8 model, but it’s like sittin’ in a rockin’ chair with jet engines on it when he goes into his fast trot. I know he pulls a buggy, but I ain’t got one. I seen him do it when Mr. Marsh lived here. You want me to saddle him up?”

Hells bells, Tim wouldn’t know how to judge a good horse from a bad one, but he only wanted the best for Matt. He turned to Uncle Josh. “Will you ride? I don’t think I could handle him, and I damn sure don’t want to ruin him.”

Uncle Josh turned to Mr. Hanson. “Can you give us a minute, Stan? I need to talk to Tim.”

The man nodded as he went to a tack room to grab a saddle.

“Tim, son, that horse is gonna cost a few thousand dollars. You think Matt wants to spend that much on apleasurehorse? He won’t be much good on a cattle ranch because he’s a show horse and a high-dollar, stud horse. I’d be happy to use him to breed some of my mares, but maybe somethin’ less highbrow would work for Matt to use around the ranch,” Uncle Josh suggested.

“Don’t worry about the cost of the horse, Uncle Josh. Matt deserves the best I can give him, okay? Please just ride the damn thing and help me get a fair price. I’ve got the money to pay for it, I promise.”

Josh gave him a look as if he thought Tim had lost his fucking mind, but he did as his nephew requested without argument. It was a first.

As Tim observed the stallion’s fluid gait in the large, indoor arena with Josh on his back, he determined it was like watching poetry in motion. The massive horse traveled fluidly… like an ocean liner coasting across a calm sea.

Tim could easily picture his bull rider, not on the back of a heaving beast of a bull, but on the back of the sleek stallion looking quite handsome.

The horse’s owner quoted a price, and Uncle Josh laughed before he walked away. Mr. Hanson followed Josh out and the pair returned to the barn a few minutes later where the barrel-chested man quoted Tim the final, negotiated price. Uncle Josh looked at him with a cocked eyebrow as Tim pulled his checkbook from the back pocket of his jeans and proceeded to scribble out a check.

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