Heart of a Champion: A Championship Drive Novel

2017

Anyone who has ever admonished that ‘winning isn’t everything’ must not know the sheer feeling of euphoria, the addictive taste of that first win in the ring. If they did, they wouldn’t mean it, at least not really.

Now then, we all know that winning, that nanosecond when we know we have won, isn’t near all that goes into it. Not even close. Playing to win, to make the championship drive, takes a lot of money, time, support of family and crew, the acceptance of friends, partners, and spouses, and a constant willingness to give your all and know you might still fail. Often. Spending countless hours getting one ready takes guts and a love of livestock that people who don’t know animals just cannot comprehend.

You see, it’s never truly easy to win, even for the experienced, even for those that we might perceive to have more money, more talent, or more ‘politics’ than we do. For everyone who raises ‘em and shows ‘em, I believe that the exact moment when the judge doffs his cowboy hat and extends a hand, or when a calf’s rump is slapped, or when we see the dramatic point in our direction, the sense of satisfaction is the same for all of us. When we get that nod, whether it is at the county fair or the National Western, we all feel it: excitement, joy, pride.

Winning, or at least the quest to win and to be your very best, takes heart.

The Heart of a Champion.

It was a move he’d done a million times. The tsk-tsk sound the blades made as he whisked them against the soft faded denim of his Wranglers. It was automatic, yet comforting, the way the blades signified a pause, a moment to reflect, a time to breath, to wipe the coarse red or white hairs away from the top of a shoulder, the center of her spine, or the curve of her belly. Wiping his shears meant he’d stepped back a beat and could think about what to do next. Problem was, last couple months, reflecting only hurt. Viscerally.

As the cow baled out of the head gate, he wiped cold sweat off his brow and feathered his hair off his forehead. Over the winter it had grown longish and hung just a bit on his collar now. His cobalt blue eyes squinted only slightly against the western mountains; the sun was already weak though it wasn’t yet evening. For late spring it was still chilly. He hated the cold this late in the year and wondered how these cowboys could stand living in such a beautiful but harsh place where baby calves could still get frosted ears in early June.

The man arched his back, stretching out the kinks, and then reached for the can of WD-40 he always had handy for his blades. Shearing cows dulled blades in a hurry; it was a nightly ritual to oil and sharpen them before the next day. A beer would have been nice, but he couldn’t risk letting the other guys on his crew start drinking before quitting time or they’d get too slow and start jacking around. Working as the boss of cow shearing team meant being paid by the head so he meant to punch as many cows through the chutes a day as possible. Letting his somewhat lackadaisical crew lose focus would mean a couple more days and no more money.

What’s holding the next cow up? He wondered irritably. Damn it, I’m getting too old for this. A job he’d never really liked he was now starting to hate.

But at this point, for the first time in his life, he really hated about everything, especially the nights in Montana. He was drinking too much but it was about the only thing that helped him fall asleep, though lately, even that extra whiskey by his bedside couldn’t coax sleep to stay. Instead, with the cold Montana moon for company, he’d lay in that hard bunkhouse bed looking out at the icy mountains and she would be there. At first he would just feel her presence and then she would appear, her face watery and cool against the night’s backdrop. Sometimes, he tried so hard to push her away that he got pissed and yelled out inadvertently, waking up one of the other crew, but she would just fill his mind and stay, unsmiling and beautiful, close yet out of reach. Then there were the nights when he gave in to the thoughts and tried desperately to harness again the beauty of her face, the grace of her collar bones as he lay beside her those few times, to will her to take his call, to call him, to ask somebody about where he was, but then, she’d simply seem to slip away. Like a ghost, like a cold breath of air, she’d evaporate and the room would be still. He’d be left awake and alone.

All this misery is my own damn fault.

He’d screwed it up and he knew it. Since January, there had been nothing. Nothing. He was beginning to fear that he was crazy or that he was in love with a woman that hadn’t even been real. But she had; Savannah Morgan had been so real and the feelings he had for her when he drove out of Denver that ill-fated day had only intensified since.

He had to get her back, had to prove to her that he was worthy of her love and forgiveness. She needed to believe he was sorry. So far calls, a couple of cards, and even flowers didn’t help. He wanted nothing so bad as to simply see her, but enough time had passed that he figured she wouldn’t want to see him and he just kept making excuses not to go. More than once he had almost quit the ranch and gotten in the truck to drive all night to Indiana, but he just hadn’t. He was too afraid of her rejection now and he knew it. Besides, right now he had nothing to offer. He was just another jerk shearing cattle somewhere in the West.

Especially after they way they’d left it, he couldn’t just walk back into her life and demand she accept him; she deserved more and he wanted to be more.

Something had to change. He was seriously loosing it in all the space of the Big Sky of Montana and her long, chilly nights. Maybe there was an option for something different - either a way to forget her or change his life so she would forgive him. There was a letter sitting on his bedside table in the bunkhouse that he hadn’t yet answered. When he quit the Bow String Ranch in January, he’d sworn off working for rich guys and fitting their show stock, but he didn’t have any other skills and if he didn’t do something different, he was going to go insane from loneliness. He just wasn’t sure he could look out at that vast horizon another day while her face just kept taunting him, rising like mist of the mountains and shimmering in the prairie grass.

Cade Champion decided to take the offer in California.

Central Indiana, Late Summer 2000

‘T radition. Excellence. Quality. Those are the words that embody the Pedrocelli Ranch.’

That’s real original, grumbled Savannah Morgan aloud as she rubbed her eyes and set down her new laptop. She was sitting in the shade of the porch on a pleasant-for-July afternoon working on her latest writing project, an article for a cattle breed magazine about a beautiful old ranch. She was grateful to be doing the freelance writing project and the calls with one of the ranch’s owners had been enjoyable, but it was hard to find something interesting to say about a place she’d never been and a lifestyle she could only imagine.

It was late afternoon, about the time one started to ponder a cold beer and heading out to start chores anyway when the phone rang. Right on cue the noise gave her pause. Ever since spring whenever the house phone rang she would stop in her tracks….

I need to just cut the cord on that thing and use only my cell. Savannah mused aloud, recovering herself. I wonder if it will ever come to that?

Savannah grabbed the phone anyway, knowing she had to stop being afraid to hear it ring. The caller ID displayed Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.

I have got the surprise of a lifetime for you, Savannah! You are going to be soooooo excited! her friend Macy Rawlings, a fashionable and wealthy Oklahoma oilman’s daughter, gushed into the receiver. She loved Macy, but every time she called it was always something exciting. Savannah wasn’t excited about much these days.

"In a TOTAL coincidence, Stetson told me he is trying to get the owner of Kingsley Estate Winery in Napa into the Angus cattle business and it just so happens that said owner is literally the sister of the woman you’ve been interviewing for that article on the Pedrocelli Ranch! Macy exclaimed, barely pausing for a breath. How cool is that? Total coincidence, huh?" she added again for emphasis.

That was quite a coincidence, Savannah mused. Monica Pedrocelli had mentioned that she and her sister co-owned the ranch, but that was about it. Still, Savannah couldn’t exactly match up the relationship.

Okay, hold on. So, why would a winery lady want to get into Angus and how did Stetson figure out that her sister with Herefords is working with me? Savannah asked, though she knew Stetson could sniff out a rich investor better than anyone in the seedstock industry.

Oh, you know my honey, Savvy, he’s the best at finding out who’s got money burning a whole in their pockets.

Savannah smiled to herself and opened the fridge while Macy prattled on. I guess something about the fact that she has a fellow winery friend out there that has Angus – her name is Francesca Kingsley, by the way - and so anyway this Francesca lady found out about Stetson. Apparently, she thought it would be a good idea to get into the show cattle business. Well, you know, I ‘spose she gets it and all since she did grow up on a ranch. Besides, then she told Stetson she wants her boys to know more about showing cattle like she did when she was a kid.

It was starting to add up. Yeah, okay. But, still, what does that have to do with me?

"Oh! That’s where me being the best buddy you’ll ever have comes in! So, she tells Stetson about the ranch she owns and Stetson is like ‘isn’t that the ranch Savvy is doing a story about’ and I say ‘yeah’. So, he gets me on the phone with her and I told her about you doing the article and we figure out you are working with her sister and she said –and you just gotta love the way these rich people talk – ‘Well, Darling Monica didn’t mention it, but an article is a lovely idea’ – and then she was all like, ‘bring your friend out when you visit.’ Can you believe that?" Macy finished, clearly proud of the offer.

Wow! That would be neat to see the wine country, but I couldn’t get away for something like that-

Macy had already anticipated her objections. "It’s going to be paid for, Savvy. They have a guesthouse in the vineyard! And, you love wine! This will be so awesome!"

I mean, it sounds so fun, Macy, and seeing the ranch would really help the piece, but I really can’t think about getting away this summer, Savannah could hear Macy pouting through the phone. I would love to, I really would, but I can’t possibly go. Who would take care of things?

I thought you had a partner and an investor now, Savannah? Macy was incredulous. You’ve got men working for you now, girl, not the other way around!

Savannah considered it with a little smile. It was true she had offered her old friend and neighbor, Eddie Quiggly, a percentage of the sales back in the spring and since then he had been working a lot harder than his previous level of effort. Clint Cascade, a friend she had made in Denver, had bought into her pen heifers and though he lived on the East Coast, he continued to drop by from time to time. His money was certainly helping out with the bills, especially once she sold him half interest in her Denver Champion, Tiara. At mid five-figures, the amount was definitely enough to keep the wolf away from the door for a while. Despite winning Grand Champion and selling her stock high, the Denver show back in January had been a disastrous, heart breaking experience. Coupling that with coming home to clean up her personal life and finances, she still felt as if she were barely catching her breath. She couldn’t just pick up and leave. But, putting Macy off with a practical consideration wasn’t ever useful.

I don’t even know what people wear in California! She exclaimed, trying a different approach.

"It’s not like its L.A. or something weird like that, Savvy. It’s wine country, Macy said, drawing out the phrase in her Oklahoma twang. Wear something Napa Valley cool," she finished, as if that explained it.

Napa Valley Cool. Really? Macy, I do not know what that means and I literally have nothing to wear!

Girl, we are leaving in two weeks so it’s time to get ready, I’ll bring plenty of cute dresses to share, though they will hang off your narrow ass!

Macy! I would still have to shop and get feed and talk with Eddie about things and I just am not-

Did I mention they are flying us in a private yet?

Okay, maybe I’ll think about it.

Savannah approached the barn and breathed in the pungent scent of freshly stacked hay. The third cutting had just been put up the evening before, something evidenced by the scrapes and rashes on her wrists since she’d forgotten to wear a long sleeve when she bucked bales, but it was a gratifying feeling to know there was enough put up in squares for winter hand feeding around the showbarn.

The early evening light pitched off of the slats of barn wood and the chaff tinkered down slowly from the loft in the hazy light. It was probably going to rain tonight or by early morning, so she’d need to shut the loft doors. Hopefully the hay had cured enough in a day and a half not to be dangerous. She’d known far too many people with barn fires from hay that wasn’t cured before they locked the barn up tight.

You riding with me to watch the Grand Drive tonight? Savannah asked as Eddie strolled up, interrupting her reflection.

Eddie Quiggly removed his grubby ball cap and itched his bald head while he employed his tee shirt to wipe his sweaty lip. Savannah looked away; Eddie’s belly exposed was not a pretty sight. Nah, I, uh, think I’d better drive myself, he said shifting a bit and acting funny.

When Savannah raised a brow at him he continued. Well, you know, I might want to run down to that bar over there and might stay later than you would want, so, I-

Savannah cut him off. No problem, Eddie, just offering. She continued on.

Who’s gonna win it this year? I ‘spose the Gleasons will be in the hunt anyway, Savannah answered her own question by referencing the local family that had dominated the county steer show for a decade.

Yeah, I expect. It’s a county fair; same stuff, different year.

Savannah nodded.

Hey, uh, since we don’t have anything in the showbarn, you don’t mind if I head out now do ya? Eddie asked.

Savannah waved goodbye to her old friend and turned to start feeding. It was strange not to have anything in the showbarn. Eddie was right; it did really lighten the workload in the summer and fall since there were no new calves to start breaking. She and Eddie had decided that any calves that weren’t show quality were being shipped or saved back for replacement heifers. Despite his shortcomings – mostly in terms of being grouchy and not an early riser - Savannah was extremely grateful to Eddie for his help. Their alliance had kept things going around Morgan Cattle Co. as Savannah sorted through the mess of her Dad’s passing, her finances, and worst of all, her failed romantic relationships. Eddie had made some mistakes, but without him Savannah might not have held it together. Now, it was good just to have someone to talk through the decisions she was making, especially the tough choice to market most of the spring calf crop over the scales.

Worried as she was, out at the county fair earlier that day, watching the Hereford steer classes had convinced her that she had made the right move. Savannah had winced when she saw a couple of the steers her dad had sold neighbors the fall before. It wasn’t that the families weren’t trying hard, most were, but it was just that the quality wasn’t there. They weren’t the kind of stock she wanted to raise and from now on she wasn’t going to keep calves back that weren’t good enough. Not that she didn’t want county fair-level customers - she did - youth programs were the life blood of the seedstock and club calf industries, but it was more about quality and pride. With Harlan Morgan gone nine months she was beginning to see things clearly and changes she wanted to make emerged every day. The steers he had sold should have just been marketed for freezer beef or across the scales. Quality and attention to the winner’s circle were going to be her hallmarks - the hallmarks of Morgan Cattle Co.- going forward!

It was especially odd to think she wouldn’t be showing at Kansas City or Louisville in the fall. The fall shows just weren’t feasible with the stock they had and it didn’t make sense to show ‘just to show’. The last year had forced Savannah to grow up in many ways. She had come to consider herself a serious breeder and wanted to be seen as such. She would take stock out when they looked right!

It was just as well she wasn’t going. The last show she attended had just about killed her! Well, she hadn’t died, but her heart had been broken which had to feel worse than death. Savannah had sworn off cowboys and their showing antics.

The man at fault was Cade Champion, a man she didn’t intend to see ever