Leroy Watches Jr. & the Badass Bull (Bloodsong Series) Read Online Free PDF Page A

pick as many horses as he wanted, just for training them.
    As they got off the phone, Leroy asked, “How’d you get a name like Reason Jimson?”
    “It’s a family name. How’d you end up with Leroy Watches Jr.?”
    “It’s a family name. My daddy’s Senior.”
    “See, that’s family. We’re lucky we didn’t get named Dirty Socks Junebug. See you Tuesday before the Rodeo.”
     
    He didn’t see them Tuesday, he saw them Wednesday morning on account of the camper’s truck taking every opportunity it could to quit. Between Leroy Sr.’s mechanical skills and Leroy Jr.’s spiritual skills, they limped into the Jimson Ranch on Wednesday morning. Leroy was plenty worried about the horses––would there be any good enough? He also wondered if he could get them trained in time.
    Jimson greeted them, “I was getting worried about you two.”
    “So was we,” Leroy Sr. said.
    “Let’s get to work,” said Jr.
     
    Reason’s ranch was pretty nice. Pipe corrals with shelters and automatic waterers. Big arena with roping chutes. Reason’s trailer house looked big enough for a family. The place was dry though; just gray dirt and sand, cacti instead of trees. Leroy appreciated the lush forest at their place, and the green pastures irrigated from their own springs. But Las Vegas was a desert, never mind the golf courses all over, depleting the ground water.
    “This is what I got, Leroy. These are wild horses that we caught on our own land, not BLM horses.” Jimson lead him to a series of dry lots, big corrals with no grass growing in them. Thirty horses stood placidly. Reason said, “I’d take that palomino mare. She’s been ridden some. Got a good head on her. Doesn’t buck.”
    Leroy looked at the mare. Maybe. Was she enough horse to do what he wanted? This was going to be a hard few days for a herd animal. On the other side of her corral was an enclosure with one occupant. Leroy whistled when he saw him.
    A black and white pinto, he was big enough to pack Leroy. He had everything else he wanted, too. The tendons in his legs looked like steel cable. He was short backed. His hindquarters could match a top Quarter Horse’s. He’d have speed and stamina. He was muscled up even in that pen, pacing back and forth the way we was. Yelling.
    That set Leroy back. “That horse a stud?”
    “Not any more.”
    “How long since you cut him?”
    “Two weeks.”
    “How old is this horse?”
    “Five years.”
    That was a problem. All the stallions Leroy knew kept their studly behavior after being gelded. The hormones were gone, but the horse’s brain had not given up thinking of himself as the master of the universe. That meant all sorts of trouble. Biting, kicking, fighting to dominate the rider. Refusing to obey. Attempting to breed every mare in heat.
    Leroy had found it took one month per year of the animal’s life for him to forget that he was once God’s gift to all mares that existed. This horse would be ready ride in four and a half months.
    Leroy looked over all the stock. The palomino mare and shrieking new gelding were the two best bets. He’d train both of them.
     
    An hour later, the entire Nation stood around Reason’s arena. Word had gotten out who Leroy was. Everyone knew of Grandfather. A bunch of people were going to the Meeting that Sunday and wanted to meet Grandfather’s grandson. They bellied-up outside the arena’s rails.
    Folks stopping by the Nation’s tobacco store to get some good, cheap smokes saw the crowd and wandered over to see what was going on. Some of the tobacco shoppers were cowboys, come to the Thompson & Mack for the Golden Olden Days Rodeo.
    “Holy shit!” one said. “Look at that.”
    Might have been Leroy training the horse that he was talking about. Might have been Leroy. He got hot working the mare and took off his shirt. He was every inch of that six foot eight and a half he claimed. Leroy worked hard on a ranch. He was muscled up better than a guy who spent his