Page 80 of Rough Stock
“Mind?” Mr.Coopman asked and pointed to an empty chair.
“Not at all. Help yourself,” Jensen answered and took another bite of his sandwich.
“Thank you.” Settling into the vinyl, Mr.Coopman smiled. “First off, let me tell you how sorry I am for everything that’s happened to both of you. The board had no idea what was going on or we would’ve stepped in. Regardless what they and everyone else thought, the USPCA wasnotowned by Gresham and Fuller. It’s a non-profit organization and, as such, it’s governed by a board of directors, of which I’m the chairman. They conveniently left us out of the loop about a lot of things. It appears one of those things was an illegal contract they were being pressured to sign with Zesser Pharmaceuticals to make them the exclusive pharma provider for our association. That would’ve left a lot of people without medicines for their animals while they were at our events. The board wouldneverhave approved.” He hesitated, then said, “And it’s come to our attention that the contract was just a front for illegal drug activity being perpetrated by MaxBarlow and a pharmaceuticals rep from Zesser. Apparently the company knew about the contract and encouraged it, but they didn’t know about the stolen drugs being sold by Max and JimmyFuller at the events. Well, technically, Jimmy didn’t sell them. He just took a cut of the money,” Mr.Coopman said, shaking his head.
“And you know all of this how?” Jensen asked.
“Well, oddly enough, JimmyFuller was found bound in duct tape in Gresham’s trailer, and he told the cops all about Barlow and this WallaceBergman character. And somebody called in a tip to the cops to let them know that Barlow and Bergman were tied up in a motel room with a couple hundred boxes of illegal drugs.” Jensen tried to hide a grin when he heard Shyanna choke across the room. “And by the way, MissOwens,” Mr.Coopman added, “they said you held them at gunpoint, but AmosHartley said they were lying and it was him. So you’re off the hook for that and, under the circumstances, no charges are being brought against Hartley either.”
“Appreciate that, Mr.Coopman,” Shyanna said with a nod.
“Also, MaxBarlow admitted to injecting your horse with cocaine. Seems they found some in the motel room, and he swears he wasn’t dealing it, just using it for that purpose. Which is no less despicable, but at least he hasn’t hurt countless other people with it.” Mr.Coopman pulled out a bandana and wiped his brow. “My, my, my, that sumbitch was a busy motherfucker. Oh, sorry, MissOwens,” he said, blushing.
“No problem. Hewasa busy motherfucker, Mr.Coopman. If he’d been using all that energy for good, just think of all the great things he could’ve done,” she said with the appropriate amount of snark.
Mr.Coopman nodded, then turned his attention to Jensen. “No shit. So, anyway, I wanted to come and tell you all that, but there’s something else I need to talk to you about.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Our association is going to need a new president.”
“Yes, sir, I suppose so. I’d say StagHendricks, but he’s leaving. Gonna get married and have a baby, so he won’t be with us anymore,” Jensen said. “And there’s Amos, but he’s a little young. Oh, yeah, CalvinWaters would be a good choice,or RichardAdams, or BrianCollins. Or there’s this other guy, I think his name is?”
“Stop, Mr.Strader,” Mr.Coopman said, holding up a hand. “The board’s discussed it. They want you.”
Jensen thought he’d heard wrong. “Me? Did you say me?”
“Yes, sir. I did. You’re honest and dependable. You stood up for MissOwens when others wouldn’t, and we like that. We need more members, and if word gets out that women are welcome in our association, we’ll get more. Hell, some husband and wife teams would be great. Plus you have a Master’s degree and you were well-respected in the academic community, which could help us attract collegiate athletes. So whaddya say? You up to it?”
Jensen sat there, stunned. “I, um, I haven’t, uh, can I?”
“Take some time to think about it. You can let me know in two days. Until then, I hope you’ll consider it.” Mr.Coopman stood. “You’re a fine cowboy and a fine man. We’d be lucky to have you at the helm, to carry our traditions and to help make some new ones. Take care of yourself and get the hell out of here. Hospitals kill people,” he said with a laugh.
Jensen was so stunned that he couldn’t even manage a smile. “Yes, sir. I want to. Get out of here, that is. Thank you, sir, and I’ll think about it, I promise.”
“Good. Good day to you, and to you too, MissOwens,” he said, nodding to Shyanna before he set his Stetson back on his head and moseyed out of the room.
“Holy hell, Jensen, they want you as the association president!” Shyanna cooed.
He sat there for a couple of minutes, thinking about it. That would mean he couldn’t compete anymore, and he loved competing, but he’d still be around all the cowboys, horses, and cattle. It would mean paperwork, but that paperwork wouldn’t be nearly as hard as making up tests and grading papers, andhe’d done that while he taught at the university. His mind was racing when Shyanna said, “Jensen?”
“Yeah?”
She took one of his hands and held it in both of hers. “Listen, I really think you should consider this. I mean, we’re not old, but you’re no kid either, and rodeo is hard on our bodies. Maybe this is your out. Maybe this is the way you can do what you love without all the risks.”
“So you think I should take it?” he asked, and she nodded. Sitting there for a few more seconds, he got an idea. “Okay. I’ll do it, but only under three conditions.”
She frowned as her brow dropped. “Okay. Name ’em.”
“One, you marry me.” Shyanna’s mouth dropped open. “Two, you ride one more season and you quit.”
“But Jensen?” she started, but he cut her off.
“Because, three, I wanna have kids and we’re not gonna be able to do that much longer. Now’s the time. If you want me to walk away from rough stock, I want you to walk away from it too, but for a good reason.”
“But Jensen?”
“But what, Shy?” he groused.
