Playing With Fire (Tangled in Texas, #2)(47)
Hank left the sidelines and approached Jake as he reached Cowboy and the colt. “You sure you want to do this, son?” Hank grinned wide. “A smart man doesn’t step in the same pile of shit twice.”
“Have to earn back my money somehow, right?” Jake held up a fifty dollar bill.
His uncle wasted no time in snatching the money from his hand, but sighed warily. “And here I pegged you smarter than this.”
Jake grinned at the challenge. “We’ll see, old man. You just be sure to cough up my dough, and yours, when I win this bet.”
Hank shook his head as he returned to his seat in the green plastic chair. “I’ve told that boy a hundred times,” he muttered as he sat down, “the fastest way to double your money is to fold it and shove it back in your wallet. He just don’t listen.” Then he grinned smugly. “The dipshit.”
I grinned, mostly because I agreed with him, but didn’t say anything. That Hank was a smart man.
“Okay,” Cowboy said, addressing all the boys. “The rules are simple. One shot, no redos.”
Jake didn’t waste any time. He stepped into the stirrup and swung his leg over, mounting the horse. The animal tossed his head and side-stepped a little, but Cowboy held tight to his halter until Jake readied himself in the saddle. At his nod, Cowboy let go and stepped out of the way while Jake braced himself.
But the horse just stood there.
“Give him a little kick,” Hank said, grinning.
Jake did, but the colt still didn’t move. “What the hell’s wrong with this dumbass horse? Why’s he just standing here?”
“Must be those superb handling skills you claim to have.” Cowboy gave him a teasing grin. “Almost makes me wonder why you have so many problems controlling your woman.”
“Controlling his woman?” Emily passed Lily carefully to Floss and headed for the pasture. “Is that what you’ve been telling them, Jake? That you’re trying to control me?”
Jake glared at Cowboy. “Of course I didn’t say that. You misunderstood what he meant.”
Emily stopped a few yards away from the fence and crossed her arms. “Is that what you were ‘kidding around with the guys’ about in the barn? Because if so, I don’t think it’s very funny!”
“Damn it, Emily, stop yelling before you spook the—”
Suddenly Ruckus came alive under Jake, lurching and rearing up onto its hind quarters. When the horse came down, his back legs kicked out frantically, bucking wildly until Jake rolled off backward and hit the dirt hard. The palomino bucked a few more times before finally settling down about ten feet away.
Emily’s eyes widened and we both gasped, but no one else seemed overly concerned that Jake had landed flat on his back and wasn’t moving. He lay there, as if struggling to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him, although a deep, whiny moan came from his throat.
Cowboy ran over and peered down at Jake. “Hey, Darth Vader, get up.” He chuckled to himself as Jake closed his eyes and winced. “Oh, come on. Time to wake up, sleepyhead.”
When Jake managed to get his breath back, he glared at Cowboy. “Don’t you have a mute button?” Then he reached for the hand his friend offered and pulled himself to his feet. After dusting himself off, Jake bent backward to stretch out his back, which must’ve been sore after the fall he’d endured. “One day, I’m going to kick that f*cking horse’s head smooth off his body.”
As Jake’s temper flared, Cowboy grinned and glanced to the other boys. “Who’s next?”
As Emily checked her husband’s back for bruises, Judd mounted up. Cowboy held the ornery colt until he received a nod from the new rider, then he let go once again. Maybe it was Judd’s heavier frame that caused the horse to panic, but the colt bolted immediately and ran for the back pasture with Judd clinging tightly to the reins. The horse headed straight for the barbed wire fence and didn’t look to be slowing down any.
“Shit. He’s gonna get snagged on the fence if he gets thrown,” Cowboy said, concern lacing his voice. “Jump off, Judd! Jump!”
Judd did. Face-first into the side of a large mesquite tree.
Cowboy took off running toward him, and without thinking, I raced out behind him to make sure Judd was okay. Ruckus came to a dead stop at the edge of the property near the fence line and grazed on the thick weeds.
Judd was sitting on the ground with a dazed expression when we made it out to him. He had a cut above his swelling left eye and deep scrapes embedded into his cheek. His entire face leaked blood, which dribbled down onto his white T-shirt.
As we stopped in front of him, Judd said, “Cowboy? Is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me, you idiot.”
Judd shook his head, as if to clear his vision. “I think the horse kicked me in the face.”
“Nah. You just got bitch-slapped by a tree.” Cowboy grinned at him, though I wasn’t entirely sure Judd could even see it. “Just a couple of scratches. Nothing that can’t be fixed. A little ice and some first aid and you’ll be good as new. Come on, I’ll help you up.”
Couple of scratches? Judd didn’t need an ice pack and Band-Aids. He needed a trauma team and a CT scan. Apparently, I was the only one who even considered seeking professional medical attention, though. Because as we walked him slowly back to the house, I spotted Floss waiting for us with a first aid kit in hand.