Picking Up The Pieces

Jack and Clay have always looked to their older brother, Logan, to get them through the hard times. Now that their father has been taken from them, they turn to Logan for answers. Can a once-champion rodeo rider pull his family together and show them the way to turn their ranch into a productive piece of land that will support all three of them? Not without Presto--one of the most famous PBR bulls of all time. Presto is the key to developing the breeding herd of bulls that was their father's dream. Using the grit and determination that was part of the McKenna heritage, the boys aren't giving up.

Sunday, April 5th.

Broken Spur Funeral Home. Broken Spur. Texas.

MY name is Logan McKenna and today I’m burying my father. Figured it was my responsibility being the oldest and the most sensible of the three of us. My two younger brothers, Clayton and Jack, tend to be a little on the lazy and self-indulgent side if left to their own devices for too long a period of time.

Our mother died years ago, and Daddy raised us up best he could for an old crippled up bull rider. Not many jobs came his way the shape he was in and me and my brothers had to pitch in to make a living off our thousand—starved for water—acres.

Now Daddy is gone, and it’s up to us—mostly me.

I checked my look in the bathroom mirror and figured I looked decent. My dark hair was a little long and I didn’t have much of a tan, being only April, but it was the best I could do. 

“I can’t tie my tie proper,” hollered Jack. He was our baby brother at twenty-three and it took a lot of effort keeping him on the straight and narrow. A few close calls with wild girls, too much beer, and lately, the law, and me and Clay clamped down on Jack. We reeled him in and read him the set of McKenna ranch rules.

He’d been trying hard and sticking close to home the entire time Daddy was fighting his last battle with liver cancer, but me and Clay were worried that his best efforts might not last now that Daddy was no longer with us.

“I’ll fix it, Jacky boy,” I said, and spun him around in front of the bathroom sink. I stood all six feet of him in front of the mirror and showed him. “Here’s how you do it.”

“If I had gone to church more, I’d know how to tie my tie,” said Jack in his repentant voice. A voice we’d heard a lot lately. 

“Uh huh. Don’t beat yourself up, Jacky boy. Daddy won’t care if your tie ain’t tied right. He’ll only care that you’re in the front row of the church sitting right in front of his casket.”

Jack made a face. “Can’t think about it, Logy. Makes me sick to think about Daddy being dead and us trying to run this ranch and make it on our own.”

“Tomorrow we’ll sit down at the kitchen table and make a budget and a plan, but not today. Today’s for Daddy. All his old buddies from the rodeo circuit will be coming to the funeral and the wake. Daddy was a rodeo legend in his time and there are still a few people around who remember what a great bull rider he was.”

“Wish I’d seen him when he was winning every event,” said Jack.

“Yeah, well we were too young to remember much, but Momma told us some good stories.” I retied Jack’s tie, straightened his unruly dark hair with my hand and sent him to wait on the porch. “Clay, you about ready? We have to leave in five minutes to make it to the church on time.”

I heard Clay’s boots clunking down the hall towards me and I hesitated to look up and see what he was wearing to our father’s funeral. 

Clay was one of those free spirits who did whatever struck him at the moment. Auburn haired and blue-eyed like Momma, Clay was blessed with a stellar singing voice and a gift for playing the guitar. Girls flocked to him like bears to honey and most of the time he never even noticed they were swarming around him.

Jack and I noticed, but none of them ever came our way, not even as a poor second choice. With the hard road ahead of us trying to make a living off our dried up ranch, we wouldn’t have time to worry about the opposite sex. At least I wouldn’t. I’d learned that hard lesson a long time ago.