Age:
High School
Reading Level: 2.7
Chapter One: Busting a Gut For Real
Nick had worked at Shamrock Stables through February and March. He still had only half the money he needed to buy Trace.
He was working with Carlos one Saturday in April. Nick talked about his money problems while the cowboy fed and watered his landlord's horses.
"I've only got about three hundred and fifty bucks, man. I'll never be able to pay for Trace," Nick said.
"Sounds like you got my kind of cash flow problems," Carlos said.
Paco, Carlos's horse, nickered and paced nervously in his stall.
"What's his problem?" Nick asked.
"One of the mares out in the pasture is in heat. Did you notice how she's real jumpy and fussy?" Carlos asked.
"But I thought Paco was a gelding," Nick said. "Why would he notice a mare in heat?"
"He was already full grown, see, before he was gelded," Carlos said. "So he remembers what it was like and he's raising a ruckus. It isn't helping the mare."
They walked out to bring the mare back to her stall.
Carlos asked, "Couldn't you ask Corky to loan you the money you need? Maybe she could help."
"I don't wanna do that," Nick said.
Carlos stopped at the door to let the mare into her stall. "Well then, I don't know what to tell you," he said.
As the horse's hind quarters passed him, Carlos absently patted her on the rump. The mare ducked her head and kicked with both feet, catching him in the stomach. His feet came off the ground as he took the full impact in his gut.
Nick slammed the door shut on the mare and knelt next to his friend. Carlos was speechless, writhing in the sawdust and dirt. Finally, he started breathing again.
"You okay?" Nick asked.
Carlos couldn't answer at first.
"How can I help?" Nick asked.
"Get me to the trailer," Carlos groaned.
Nick carefully hitched Carlos's arm over his shoulder. He eased Carlos to his feet and staggered to the trailer.
"Can I get you anything?" Nick asked his friend.
Carlos lay curled in the fetal position on the couch. He shook his head and shut his eyes.
Nick felt Carlos's forehead. Clammy. He decided to wait around.
Twenty minutes later, Carlos tried to sit up. He screamed in pain. His t-shirt was stretched by his swollen stomach.
Internal bleeding, Nick thought.
"We better call an ambulance," he said out loud.
Carlos barely nodded.
Sunday afternoon, Nick's father took him to the hospital to visit Carlos.
"Que pasa?" the cowboy asked as they walked into the room.
"You look like a junior high science project," Nick teased, "all tubes and tape and blinking lights."
"Bet you never seen a guy who had major abdominal surgery before," Carlos said. "Ruptured intestine, that's what I had."
"Wow," Nick said. "I never realized a gentle mare could hurt you that much."
"But it wasn't her fault," Carlos explained. "I wasn't paying attention like I should've. Do you remember the last thing I did before she kicked me?"
"Nope," Nick said.
"I patted her on the rump. That's the signal a stallion uses to check and see if the mare is ready to be bred. He taps her with his muzzle," Carlos said. "If she isn't interested, she kicks. I guess she wasn't interested."
"Hey, son," Nick's father said. "I guess that's good advice around any female."
"How's that?" Nick asked.
"Don't put your hand on her unless you know she's interested," his father said.
Carlos laughed weakly, then apologized. "It hurts to laugh," he said.
"That's all right. That's what my kids say to all my jokes. At least you got a good excuse," Nick's father said. "I'm Tony Finazzo."
He gently squeezed Carlos's hand without the IV needles.
"Nice to meet you," Carlos said. "Nice kid you got. Nick's all right."
"When he's not bugging me, he's okay, I guess," Nick's father said, laughing.
"Did Nick tell you about the trip I'm supposed to take in a couple of weeks to pick up cows?" Carlos asked.
"No, he hasn't," Mr. Finazzo answered. "Tell me about it."
"We talked about Nick going down south with me over Easter break to pick up some cows and calves," Carlos said. "Before all this, it was just a nice idea. Now, I really need him."
Nick's father paused. "I don't know..." he said.
Carlos went on. "The doctors say I'll be getting around in about ten days, but I can't ride horses or work too hard. So I've been thinking I could drive the rig, but I need Nick to round up the cattle. What do you say, buddy?"
Thoughts raced through Nick's mind. I want to say yes, but what about my job and the money I won't be earning? I need every penny I can get to buy Trace.
"I could pay you three hundred dollars," Carlos offered. It was like he'd read Nick's mind.
"It's a deal," Nick said.
"Deal, nothing," Nick's father said, jumping in. "Carlos, before this goes any further, I got to know more about it."
"Yeah, sure," Carlos agreed. "Tell you what. I get out in a couple days. I'll come by to talk some more. All right?"
In the car on the way home, Nick's father cross-examined him.
"Who is this guy? How do you know him? Can we trust him?" he asked. "This is real dangerous work. Look what happened to Carlos, and he knows his way around horses."
They rode in silence while Nick prepared his argument.
"Pop," he said, "I can do this. I'm not afraid. Besides, I need the money if I'm ever going to buy my own horse."
"Buy a horse!" Nick's father roared. "Where did you get that idea? As if I don't have enough mouths to feed around here. You want to add another one?"
"I can handle it," Nick said. "I'll keep working at Corky's. I won't bother you."
"Sure, you won't," his father said. "What happens when the horse gets sick? You gotta be there, right? That means I gotta take you there, right? Your horse means one more living thing I gotta be responsible for."
"I won't bother you, I promise," Nick said.
"And what about college? How you gonna save extra for college if you're busy turning everything you earn into horse manure? Tell me that," his father said.
Nick gave his answer carefully. "College is a long way off. And anyhow, I'm not sure I want to go to college," he said.
"Don't talk stupid, Nicky. You want to end up like me?" his father asked.
"There's nothing wrong with you," Nick said. He watched his father. "I'm proud of what you do. Besides, you're not the only one who's good at what he does. Part of me really knows what I'm doing when I'm around horses, the way you are around wood."
Nick's father nodded in understanding.
Nick was gaining ground. He pressed his argument. "I'm learning things all the time. I'm trying new things. And this trip with Carlos is a chance that I may never have again," he said.
Nick's father said nothing. The silence stretched the rest of the way home.
"We'll see," Nick's father said, as he turned off the car.
The defense rests, Nick said to himself.
When he burrowed into his couch-bed later that evening, Nick's parents were already deep in discussion.
"You mean he's planning to run all over Tennessee and Kentucky with some guy we hardly know?" his mother asked. "For a week?"
Nick wondered if they cared if he was listening, or if they counted on it.
"Carlos seems okay," his father said. "And Nick needs to do it while he's young."
Go, Dad! Nick cheered silently.
"Chase cows on people's ranches? What does he know about catching cows?" Nick's mother asked. "Tony, he just got over a broken leg."
"I think he should do it," his father said.
"Why?" his mother asked.
Yeah, what are you going to tell her, Dad? Nick wondered.
"It's hard to explain," his father said. "But I think he's good with horses. He's got it in him. And I think we should encourage that."
Nick heard a swallow, then the soft thunk of a cup on a table.
"Besides, you can't wrap him in cellophane. He's gotta try new things," his father said.
"You believe that?" Nick's mother asked.
"Yeah," his father said. "I believe that."
"Well, what about me, then?" his mother asked.
"You? We're talking about the kid," his father said.
"We're talking about growing, doing what you're good at," his mother said.
"Nina, you're good — geez, you're great — at being a mother for all these kids," Nick's father said. "You run this house beautiful as far as I'm concerned. And I swear, I never look at another woman. You're all I—"
"Tony," Nick's mother interrupted in her soft, serious voice, "I want to do more."
"Here we go again," his father said. "Back to this college business."
Nick heard a cup bang on the table and a chair scrape back. He shut his eyes as his mother brushed the couch on the way to her bedroom.
He recognized the choking, swallowing sound of crying. He had never heard it before from his mother.
Despite the echoing silence, he found it hard to fall asleep. His feelings pinballed from excitement about his upcoming trip to sympathy for his mother. He wished he could help her.
Chapter Two: Diablo and Mandy
On Easter Sunday evening, Nick was bouncing up and down in Carlos's truck on the other side of Cincinnati. Mojo had her head in his lap. The CD was blaring country and western songs. They were cruising with a full load of Michigan hay.
He was finally on the road with Carlos, but it hadn't been easy.
Shortly after he was released from the hospital, Carlos came to visit the Finazzo family. He was pale and hunched, barely able to stand on his feet. Even though he looked rough, he managed to convince Nick's parents that he was responsible and trustworthy.
"I'll take care of your son," he had said. "I won't make him do anything dangerous. And if something unexpected comes up, I'll get in touch with you."
Carlos rolled down his window and flicked his cigarette into the night. "We'll stop in a bit," he shouted over the sudden roar of wind, engine, and tires.
Nick felt comfortable with Carlos. He was a big brother without all the hassle that comes with being brothers.
In a restaurant next to their motel, Carlos explained the coming week. Nick dug into the meatloaf-and-mashed-potato special.
"Tomorrow we go to the stockyards in Louisville for the list of small ranchers," Carlos said. "Then for the next few days we load up their beef."
"That's where we chase around rounding up cattle," Nick said. He was excited.
"Well, most of the ranchers already have their cows in loading pens, see? So it's a pretty fast turnaround," Carlos said.
"So when do we get to play cowboy?" Nick asked.
"Well, some of the ranches have cows all over their land," Carlos said. "That's when you'll get a chance to ride."
"I like that!" Nick said.
"Then on Friday, we go to the ranch outside Evansville to pick up the cows and calves I bought last November," Carlos said. "Once we got 'em loaded, though, we gotta drive home nonstop."
"Why's that?" Nick asked.
"Being in the trailer stresses the cows," Carlos said. "So we want to keep that time as short as we can. We're looking at twelve, maybe fifteen hours of driving. You could go faster in a car. But we have to drive real careful. See? No jerky stops or starts."
Nick nodded as he ate a mouthful of his blueberry pie.
Carlos was restricted to soft foods for the rest of the week. He loudly sucked the last of his milkshake before going on.
"And we gotta stop every so often to make sure no cows are down," he said.
"What's that about?" Nick asked.
"If a cow falls down, or even just lies down, the others will trample it. Before you know it, you got a dead cow. So we have to stop and check," Carlos said. He fixed Nick with a steady look that was rare for his quick, blackbird eyes. "These cows are my bread and butter and I want them back in my pasture safe and sound."
The motel windows rattled with each passing truck. It made Nick's exciting first day on the road last well into the night.
Some of the excitement of the job began to wear off after the first few shipments. Nick and Carlos would show up at a ranch. The cows would be in their pens. Carlos would back the rig up to a loading chute. Mojo and Nick would herd a dozen cows up into the trailer. Then they would all speed back to the stockyard, drop off the cows, and start all over again.
They made four hauls on Monday and two long ones on Tuesday. Wednesday was more of the same. It wasn't as thrilling as Nick had imagined. But he was never bored.
Around every curve, the road held up a new picture to the windshield. Nick saw a giant fiberglass catfish mounted on a pole next to a railroad crossing. A shack with a hand-lettered sign that said "boiled peanuts." Bear Wallow trout ponds. A frightened deer jumping across a tangled mountain road in the spring rain.
On Thursday, one of the smaller ranchers needed help rounding up his cows. As Carlos's rig drove in, Nick could see an old-fashioned, two-story farmhouse peeking through a wall of pine trees. Past the trees stood a barn, two outbuildings, and a cattle pen. They could see fifteen cows in the near pasture. Nick wondered if there were more in the woods to the rear.
A door slammed as Carlos and Nick climbed down from the truck. A man wearing a tan Stetson hat, dark blue jeans, and suede walking boots walked toward them. Nick guessed he was about as old as Nick's father.
The rancher put his head to one side, holding a toothpick in the left side of his mouth. "How're you doing there, fellas?" he asked. He threw away the toothpick and offered his hand. "Jake Whitaker. I'm glad you boys are here, got to get this beef to market."
"Carlos Cardenas," Carlos said. "This here's my buddy, Nick Finazzo."
"What about the dog? Is he a lap dog or a workin' dog?" Jake asked.
Everyone looked toward the house. Mojo was lying on her back. A girl around Nick's age was scratching her belly.
"Mojo? Hey, she's a working dog," Carlos said proudly. "She never gets treated like that at home, no wonder she likes it. Dang, man. Who wouldn't?"
"No need to get worked up," Jake said. "I asked about the dog because I don't want no dog nipping at my cattle and bruising 'em up."
"Mojo doesn't bite," Nick promised. "She just barks when she herds."
The girl looked up. Nick's chest filled until it hurt, like the first drop in a roller coaster.
She was beautiful. Curly black hair, perfect skin, blue eyes.
"Mandy, go saddle up Buttercup, hear?" Jake said.
Mandy. Mandy Whitaker.
"Sure, Daddy," Mandy said. She jumped up and walked toward the barn.
Nick focused on her like a video camera recording in slow motion, zooming in on a hundred details. Her crinkly black hair fanned out from a turquoise barrette. She wore a faded plaid shirt with cut-off sleeves. The top of her arm was smooth and graceful. Her earlobe showed the silver flash of an earring. The tail of her shirt draped around work gloves stuffed in her back pocket. A triangle flap of denim folded back behind her thigh, revealing a patch of skin.
She bent to pick up a bale of hay that was blocking the door, easily throwing it to one side. She seemed to have a warm, golden light about her. When she went into the barn it stayed behind, like an afterburn on the screen of his memory.
Nick wanted her back. To rewind. Replay.
"So what's your trailer hold?" Jake asked.
"A dozen or so of those cows out there," Carlos said.
"Well, there's another six or seven in the woods out back. I want to get those critters to market, too," Jake said.
"No problem," Carlos said. "Looks like two loads should do it. Hey, Mojo!" he called. "Bring 'em in, girl."
The three men watched the dog run off. She was a blur close to the ground, circling the cows in the pasture.
"Mo-ho... funny name for a dog," Jake said.
"No worse than Buttercup for a horse," Carlos said.
"I reckon you're right," Jake agreed.
Fifteen minutes later, the cows were loaded in the trailer.
Carlos called to Nick, "Take Mojo and go after the stragglers in the woods. I should be back around 1:00."
As soon as the rig pulled out, Nick looked to the barn door in time to watch Mandy backing out. She was gently tugging a slow, old mare. The horse looked like she would be happier at the head of a hay wagon than chasing cows.
"She's kinda slow," Mandy said, giving Nick a shy look. "But it beats walking."
He wished he had more time. Time to study her close up, in action, to play back later so he wouldn't forget. But he had so little time. Two hours at most before Carlos came back, and most of that would be spent working. He had to make the most of every second with her.
Nick took his time patting Buttercup's brown-and-white chest. "Whoa, easy now," he said in a deep, low voice, the way Carlos and Mack had taught him. "You look a lot like Rhody. Ever meet the old girl? You two could be sisters."
"Who's Rhody?" Mandy asked.
"Just one of the string I used to ride up north in Michigan," Nick said.
"Oh," Mandy said. She seemed impressed.
"Yeah, I rode for a camp and did some Speed and Action competition," Nick bragged.
Her blue eyes were teasing. "I like your accent. It's cute," she said.
"I don't have an accent, you do," Nick said.
They laughed and locked eyes for a moment.
Nick gathered the reins and swung smoothly into the saddle. "Hey! Mojo," he called. "Let's find those cows."
As he rode through the woodlot in the far corner of the pasture, Nick saw a cow or a steer disappearing like north woods deer. He missed Trace. Trace would know how to cut off a cow.
But he didn't have Trace, the sports car. He had Buttercup, the tractor. She would have to help him drive half-wild cattle out of the woods and into the loading pen next to the barn.
The fence ended in a swampy, low spot at the edge of the property. Nick had an idea.
"Come here, Mojo!" he called. He knelt on the ground, rubbing the dog's head and neck while he told her his plan. "Let's start back outside the woods," he said. "I'll keep the fence on my left while you work through the rest of the woods. Let's try driving one cow at a time into the corner. Maybe it will be boggy enough to slow her down some, enough to slip a rope on her and lead her out."
Mojo must have understood. She swept the woods in a semicircle as Nick followed the fence line.
His plan worked. There in the bog stood a full-grown steer, sunk to his knees in muck. He swung dangerous horns from side to side. He glared first at Nick, then at Mojo with angry red eyes. He looked like a devil, panting loudly and slobbering drool.
Nick was afraid until he realized that the steer couldn't move. He slid out of the saddle and threw back his shoulders like a proud matador.
"Aya, Toro, aya!" he yelled.
The devil steer glared back. El Diablo.
Mojo lay down at the edge of the bog, facing the steer. Her tail twitched.
Now what do I do? Nick wondered. Maybe if I rope Diablo around the head, Buttercup can pull him out. And then once he's out, I can lead him through the woods to the pen.
Nick shook out the noose from his lariat. He flipped it over the steer's head and uncoiled twenty feet of rope before tying two loops around the saddle horn.
He climbed on, pointed the horse away from the steer, and said, "Okay Buttercup, do what you're good at. Pull!"
Buttercup pushed forward. Nick looked back to study his plan in action. The steer's head stretched forward as the rope tightened. Would he strangle or break his neck before he freed himself?
Finally Diablo's hooves lifted, sucking out of the mud. On solid ground, he shook his head and caught his breath.
Nick patted Buttercup on the shoulder. "We did it. We got him out. No problem," he said.
Diablo bellowed behind him. Mojo barked excitedly. Nick saw a red blur the moment before the rope stretched tight and the horse stepped sideways.
He hadn't expected that the tug-of-war could go both ways. Buttercup recovered, facing the steer along the stretched rope. Now what?
Nick prayed for inspiration.
Let's see what happens if I move the horse ahead and make some slack, he thought.
He eased Buttercup forward three steps. Diablo cut to the side. When the steer took up the slack he kept running, in a circle now, around a tree and under the horse's nose. They were back at a standoff, this time with a tree in the middle of the tugging contest.
Nick was desperate. Something had to give. He couldn't take the rope off the steer. That left untying the rope from the saddle. But then what? He couldn't hang on to it. The only choice was to untie the rope from the saddle horn and hope to catch the steer in the open.
Once freed, Diablo walked through the woods with Mojo barking nearby. When the steer finally broke into the pasture, Mojo kept him in one place.
Nick picked up the rope. He twisted it around the saddle horn and started towing 1200 pounds of stubborn beef to the loading pen.
Carlos was back.
Mandy was standing on the fence rail as Nick came to the pen. "I'm surprised you caught him," she called. "He's wild and mean."
Nick shrugged his shoulders.
Carlos was not as impressed. Leaning up against the truck, he smoked in hard, jerky motions. "Hey, hot shot," he called sarcastically. "Where's the rest of 'em? Is that all you got to show for two hours' work?"
"They're wild and fast," Nick answered angrily. "And the woods are real thick."
But Carlos waved him away disgustedly. He slouched back against the trailer, finishing his smoke.
Nick jumped off Buttercup and stormed up to Carlos. "I'd like to see you do better," he snarled, pointing his finger at his boss.
He wanted to shout, I don't know how to do any of this. I had to figure it out all by myself. And I did it without your help. And don't put me down in front of Mandy. But he didn't shout, after all. He kicked a tire on the trailer instead.
"Look," Carlos said. "I don't have time for you to throw a fit. I don't feel real good. And we got to get the rest of those cows out of the woods and in the trailer. We got to be on the road by 3:30 if we want to get them to the stockyards before closing. That gives us an hour and a half. Let's organize this." He called to Mandy, "Can you ask your daddy and brother and sister to help?"
"Sure," she answered. She hopped down from the fence.
When the Whitakers showed up, Carlos explained his plan.
"Okay, here's how we'll do this," he said. "I want everyone except Nick to go to the back of the woods, by the swamp. Then start walking toward the pasture. We'll make a lot of noise, clapping and shouting. We'll chase the cows out into the open. Nick, your job is to keep them from heading back into the woods."
His plan worked. On the first drive, they chased out three cows. It took two more drives to get the last two. They finished loading at 3:45.
After he slammed the loading chute closed, Carlos swayed against the carrier. He was pale and sweating.
"You okay?" Nick asked.
"No, I don't feel so good," Carlos said. "I overdid it with all that walking and running. Light me a cigarette, would you?"
After a couple of drags, Carlos said, "Sorry I yelled at you, earlier. But we got to move this load or we lose a whole day."
The Whitaker family gathered around. "You don't look so good," Jake said.
"Is there a clinic around here?" Carlos asked.
"Yeah," Jake said. "It's right on the way to the interstate from the stockyards. Big red cross. What do they call it, again?"
"Urgicenter, Daddy," Mandy said. She put Buttercup's saddle on the fence rail before walking the old mare to the barn.
"Yeah, that's it. Can't miss it," Jake said.
Nick started after Mandy.
"C'mon, Nick," Carlos yelled, annoyed.
"I'll be right back," Nick said. He had to get her address, at least, before they left.
He found her grooming the old mare. Nick stood on the other side of Buttercup. He was thinking through ways to say he was interested in Mandy without sounding crude or pushy or sentimental.
The truck horn blared.
"Maybe we could keep in touch," he blurted out.
"That would be nice," Mandy said. She drawled the last word in three syllables.
"I don't have anything to write your address on," Nick said, patting his shirt pocket.
"It's easy to remember. It's just 2200 County Road 22. Just remember 22," she said. She smiled at him.
He knew he would never forget that address.
"I'll write to you first," he said.
"You know," she said, "maybe when I'm older, I just might go to college in Michigan."
Chapter Three: Barreling Along in First Gear
"Man, why didn't you wake me up earlier?" Carlos scolded as his truck barreled toward Evansville.
"You were pretty sick last night," Nick said. "By the time we downloaded the beef, got you to the clinic for antibiotics, and got to a motel room, I thought you needed your rest."
"That's all well and good, but now by the time we get my cattle it will be late afternoon," Carlos said. "That means driving all through the night. I wanted to drive in the daylight as much as possible."
On and on he complained, even after they loaded his ten momma cows with their calves. But Nick wasn't even listening as they drove north into the night. He lay back in the seat and stared at the black highway, replaying Mandy movies over and over. Sweet and sad. He had never met anyone like her.
Compared to Mandy, Allison reminded him of a statue in a museum. Beautiful to look at, but not real. Not someone who liked you back.
Nick fell asleep. He was jolted awake when the truck drove onto the shoulder of a side road.
"What's up?" Nick asked.
The dashboard clock read 3:30.
"I gotta rest. I don't feel good," Carlos groaned. "We're about fifteen miles this side of Fort Wayne. If I can rest a couple of hours, we can do the last three or four hours when it gets light."
"Sure," Nick said. "Let me just check the stock."
He grabbed the flashlight from the dash on his way out the door. One look told him they had a problem.
"Hey, Carlos, wake up," he called, shaking his partner. Carlos was slumped over the steering wheel. "We've got a calf down!"
Carlos could only groan. "Find a fenced pasture," he said.
That was the answer. Somehow Nick had to find a fenced field and unload the stock. Hopefully in the morning Carlos would be better.
Nick ran to the passenger side. He reached in and pulled Carlos onto the seat. Next he went to the driver's side and sat behind the wheel.
He fastened his seat belt and asked, "Now what do I do?"
He had never driven a car before, certainly not a diesel truck. He forced himself to remember what Carlos did. He studied the shift pattern on the gear shift lever.
Nick leaned out the window to check for traffic. He felt foolish when he reminded himself that they were on a two-lane country road in the middle of the night. No one would be coming at that hour.
He held his breath and depressed the clutch. He slid the lever into first gear and let up the clutch. The truck jerked and jumped. He shoved the clutch back down.
Nick heard the cows scrambling and bawling behind him. He thought of the little calf under their feet. He had to get it right or the calf would get trampled.
But if I can't even get it out of first, he thought, how can I get it into second or third? Wait, I don't have to get out of first gear, he reminded himself. I just need to get to the next fenced-in pasture. So creep along in first, dummy. Just give it more gas.
Nick got the rig rolling in first gear. It seemed to take forever until up ahead on the right, he spotted a metal gate leading into a field. He crept along at five miles per hour until he guessed that the loading chute was even with the gate. He eased to a gentle stop. Carlos slept soundly.
"C'mon Mojo," Nick said. "It's up to us to get those cows on solid ground."
Nick opened the gate toward the road, securing it to the far corner of the trailer. From the other fence post he strung a length of rope to the near side of the carrier to form a chute for the cows. Then he lowered the ramp. One by one, the cows and calves walked out. To his relief, the downed calf jumped to its feet and followed its mother into the field.
Nick closed the gate and told Mojo, "Keep an eye on them, okay?"
He woke to knocking at the window.
"Did you have a problem last night?" a man asked through the steamed-up glass.
"Yeah," Nick answered as he rolled down the window. "Is this your land?"
"Yep. Sure is," the man said.
"We had a calf lay down about 3:00 in the morning and had to stop," Nick said. "Hope you don't mind."
"Naw, glad I could help. Need a hand getting them back in?" the man asked.
By this time Carlos was awake and paying attention. He must have been feeling better because he said, "Naw, we can handle it. Thanks anyway. We'll be on our way in no time."
On the outskirts of the Motor City, Carlos said, "As soon as I cash the checks I got, I'll pay you the $300 I owe you. Maybe even throw in a bonus for last night. You did good, kid."
"No problem," Nick answered proudly.
Carlos's birdlike twitches and jerks were back in full force. "I was really out of it. I think those antibiotics finally kicked in, feeling better now," he said.
For the rest of the ride, Nick thought about Trace. He found it hard to believe that he finally had enough money to buy his own horse. He thought about their first ride together. He remembered all the moves that the horse had taught him.
Just think, he imagined. Speed shows, showings, and rodeos.