Asked out.
“There you are,” Alana said when the two met halfway between Bren and Trent. “I was just wondering if you were here.”
A date.
“You okay?” Alana had goodness shining from her eyes and she couldn’t help but respond.
“Not really.” She peeked back to where Bren had been. He hadn’t followed. He’d been waylaid by someone, the two deep in conversation, hands gesturing, his friend, an older man with a thick white mustache, listening intently. “I get a little stressed out when Kyle rides.”
Alana’s face cleared. “I know how you feel.”
She would bet she did. She couldn’t imagine being married to a man who rode fifteen-hundred-pound animals for a living.
“When I was pregnant, I swore I wouldn’t watch Trent. Too much stress. I worried I might lose the baby.”
She had no idea why the words took her by surprise, but they did. “Did you watch him, though?”
“Every ride.” She turned so that she half faced her husband and Lauren admired how pretty she was with her dark hair loose down her shoulders and blue eyes sparkling. “When I married him, I knew what I was getting into. Sounds like you were kind of thrown into this whole deal.”
“That’s an understatement.”
Alana smiled. “You’re a good mom to be so supportive.”
She snorted. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”
She laughed a little. “Well, Kyle’s in good hands with Bren teaching him.”
Yes. She had to admit that. The man was a saint when it came to dealing with her son. “How long have you known him?”
“Not as long as Trent.” She glanced back at her husband. “Those two go way back. Bren helped Trent learn how to ride. When Bren quit, Trent kept going with it.”
She felt her interest spike. “Why did he quit riding? Do you know? I’ve been wondering.”
Alana frowned for a moment. “I do.” She waited, hoping she’d share it with her. Alana studied her for briefly and whatever she saw must have reassured her. “It got away from him.”
“What did?”
“This.” She waved toward where Trent stood with the crowd of kids and now adults. “This whole thing. This crazy life.”
It took her a moment to understand what she meant. “You mean he couldn’t deal with fame?”
She turned to face her fully, her eyes suddenly serious. “In a way, I guess. Twenty years ago the sport was just going public. Bren was right on the cusp of it all. Television coverage. Big-time sponsors. Huge money. The girls were all crazy for Bren. It was a whole new world.”
She glanced past Alana to Bren, still trying to comprehend. “He got cocky.”
“No. Not according to my husband. It was the parties and the money and the lifestyle that got to him.”
At last she finally understood.
“Trent was just starting out when Bren was—” she scrunched her brow as she thought about it for a moment “—early twenties, I guess. Anyway, Trent said Bren was like a rock star, drinking all the time, girls, fans, you name it. One night they were in Vegas celebrating some big win or something and Bren and a bunch of his buddies decided to ride some horses down Las Vegas Boulevard.”
Bren? The town sheriff?
“Worst part is, the horses weren’t theirs. They stole them from some riding stable near one of the casinos. Caused a big wreck. People went to the hospital. One of the horses almost died. Bad scene.”
It was such a different image of Bren than what she had now. Unreal.
“Then next morning when he sobered up, Trent told me he quit. Just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “He joined the Army, worked his way through the ranks, and when he got out, he settled here.”
“Wow.”
“You gotta respect a man that recognizes when something is bad for him, even if it’s something he loves.”
“Mom, Trent’s going to help me get ready for steer riding.”
She had to pull her thoughts back to the present to focus on her son and the man who stood behind him—Trent. Bren still hadn’t followed and she wondered what he and the older gentleman were discussing so intently.
“That’s great, honey.”
She smiled a greeting at Trent, who’d gone up to his wife and planted a kiss on her cheek, and for a second she felt such a keen sense of longing it almost made her sick.
You gotta respect a man that recognizes when something is bad for him.
She’d been the opposite. She’d stuck it out with Paul even when his bouts of anger grew more obvious. She’d always shielded Kyle from it, and in some ways, that enabled the bad behavior. His insults had grown worse and worse and she’d just stood there and let him tear her down, let him convince her that she was stupid and incapable of doing anything with her life and impossible to love.
“You want to go up to the grandstands and watch?” Alana asked.
“Sure.”
Alana led the way. Lauren glanced toward Bren, catching his eye, her heart quickening.
You’re afraid he’ll feel the same way about you. That he’ll get to know you better and find out what a loser you are.
But she wasn’t a loser. She’d proven to herself that she could work her way through school. That she could raise a son. That she could support herself. She wasn’t stupid or useless or any of the other things Paul had called her. She deserved to be happy. Or at least have a shot at happiness. Heck, maybe she might even find someone to share her life with down the road, but that would happen only if she put her big-girl panties on and went out on a date with someone.
Someone like Bren.
Chapter Eleven
She was up there somewhere, Bren thought, scanning the grandstands in hopes of spotting Lauren. No doubt sitting on the edge of her seat.
“Brings back memories, eh?” Trent said, standing next to him. They stood over the wooden chutes and watched as the steer Kyle would ride in a just a few short minutes kicked the side in its eagerness to be released.
“It always does,” he admitted.
Kyle stood next to him, the littlest steer rider, wearing the mandatory helmet on his head. He stared down at the animal he would climb aboard like a man would a mountain he planned to scale. It was such an adult look on such a little boy face that once again Bren found himself thinking he might just go all the way.
“Glad Alana convinced Lauren to sit with her up in the stands.”
Yes, but she was probably digging her nails into her aluminum seat. Alana had all but dragged Lauren off, claiming she would only make her son more nervous by hovering, and so she’d left without a backward glance. He supposed that was her answer to his “go out with me on a date” question. Clearly she didn’t feel the same way about him as he did about her.
It bummed him out.
That was the only way he could describe how he felt. She didn’t want to go out with him. Like a high school kid who’d just been told his pick for prom was going with someone else, it had ruined his day.
“You ready to rock and roll?” Trent asked Kyle, interrupting the kid’s near-trancelike stare.
All Kyle did was nod. That was the thing with him. He was a thinker. He didn’t get all pumped up. Didn’t jump around. Didn’t act like a out-of-control idiot, all full of adrenaline. He tackled bull riding like he would a math problem.
“Okay, kids. Go ahead and get ready.”
The rodeo official who spoke caught a glimpse of Trent standing there, his eyes widening for a moment before he came forward with his hand outstretched. It’d been like that all morning.
“Good to see you here, Mr. Anderson.”
“Thanks,” his friend said, helping Kyle over the rail while smiling at the man. Bren picked up the bull rope, dangling it
over the side of the animal. Kyle helped guide it around while Trent used a wire rod to fish it out from beneath the steer’s belly. It was a move they’d practiced and something that was important to get right. If you did it too fast, you might upset the animal. Everything had to be done gently and easily. The last thing they needed was the steer going crazy in the chute and potentially injuring Kyle.
“Got it?” Trent asked Kyle, who once again nodded.
There was fear on his face, Bren realized. But there was determination, too. He had the single-eyed focus of a military sniper.
“Sit down slow and easy,” he told Kyle.
The kid did as he was told, pulling his bull rope as he went along. The steer danced around beneath him, but Kyle remained poised over his back, his feet standing on the bottom board of the chutes. He would be one of the first to go out. Bren glanced around and determined that the kid before him was settled all the way down on the steer’s back.
“Looks like we’ve got our first contestant ready to ride!” the announcer said from above them. “This is Tate Briker from nearby San Luis Obispo.”
The chute door opened and out jumped a steer. The poor kid never stood a chance. Half a jump and he was already off.
“Ready?” Trent asked.
Kyle nodded, sitting all the way down on the steer. He pulled his rope tight, wrapping it around his hand just as Bren had shown him. Not too tight. Not too loose. Above them the announcer asked the crowd to cheer for the fallen rider. It would take a moment to get the steer out of the arena, and with each second that passed, Bren’s heart rate increased. He knew Lauren had to be suffering up in the stands. He wished he were next to her, but she would only rebuff his attention.
The rodeo staff closed the gate on the previous steer, and Bren slapped Kyle on top of the helmet.
“Ride hard.”
Quick nod this time, and it was all the latch man needed to see. The gate swung wide. Kyle’s body rocked backward as the steer reared up, but damned if he didn’t stick with it.
“Hang on!” Trent yelled.
One jump, and then two; Kyle hung with the steer each time. All the hard work, all the time spent in the saddle, it paid off. The difference in his riding this week from last was night and day, and Bren felt his chest swell with pride.
“That’s it,” he heard himself say.
At this rate the boy might cover.
The steer spun right. Kyle almost lost it. But with strength and a healthy dose of grim tenacity he stayed on. Three jumps, four. Any second now the horn would blow. The steer turned right. Then right again. And again. Kyle leaned into the well, the fringe on his chaps sticking straight out, and Bren’s heart stopped for a few seconds, but then the horn sounded and he let out a yell that must have deafened Trent.
Kyle couldn’t get off.
Not safely. Bren’s excitement faded as he realized the predicament the kid was in. The steer still turned in circles, centrifugal force keeping Kyle toward the middle. He let go of the bull rope, thrust himself to the left. The rear of the steer caught him as he tried to fling himself off, launching Kyle ten feet in the air.
“Kyle!” he cried, already on the move before the boy landed. He nearly fell to his knees when his boots hit arena dirt. The steer ran off. Kyle hadn’t moved.
“Kyle!” he yelled again. He reached him at the same time the rodeo clown ducked down by his side.
“You okay, kid?”
Kyle didn’t answer. Bren’s heart raced so fast words sounded like they came from a distance. “Kyle?” he called gently, touching the boy’s shoulder.
“We need a medic,” the clown shouted, waving.
“No.”
They both heard the word. Trent had rushed over and knelt next to Kyle, too. So did another rodeo official.
Kyle’s eyes opened. “No medic.”
“Did you hit your head?” the bullfighter asked.
“My leg,” Kyle moaned.
“Can you get up?” Trent asked because he could see nothing beneath the boy’s chaps.
Kyle nodded, but when he went to move, he gasped in pain. Bren knew it had to hurt. Kyle was a tough kid.
“Take it easy,” the rodeo official said, tipping his straw hat back. “You don’t need to move.”
“Wanna get up.”
Kyle’s eyes were wide with something close to fear. His gaze snagged on Bren’s, and the way he looked at him, as if he sought comfort or reassurance, it made Bren’s throat close up.
“We should get a medic in here.”
“No,” Kyle said, thrusting himself up.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he warned, trying to keep the boy down, but the kid wouldn’t have it. Beneath the cage of his steer-riding helmet, Kyle’s face went pale, but by gum, if he didn’t manage to climb to his feet. Trent helped him. So did the bullfighter. Bren stood up, too, feeling such a sense of helplessness as Kyle hobbled out of the arena it nearly made him sick.
Lauren.
He turned toward the grandstands. He knew Lauren was up there. No doubt she was already on her way to the chutes.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” said the announcer, “give Kyle Danners a round of applause, would you? And wait, check out his score. Man, this is going to be tough to beat—eighty-eight for his ride on Exterminator.”
Kyle should have been jumping up and down for joy, but when they got behind the chutes, he could see tears in the kid’s eyes. “It hurts,” he said to him, not to Trent—his hero—but to him.
“Let’s take a look at it, then,” he said, kneeling down in front of him and unzipping his chaps.
Kyle propped himself up against the back of the steer pen. Trent helped to lift his jeans above his boots.
“Stepped on,” Trent pronounced.
Sure enough, they could see the double lines of a hoof mark on Kyle’s shin. “Gonna need to get that x-rayed.”
“Will I be okay?” Kyle asked Bren.
“Of course you will be.” He forced a smile on his face. “Been stepped on more times than I can count.”
“Congratulations,” said one of the boy’s competitors. “That was a great ride.”
“Thanks,” Kyle said.
“I’ll go get my rental car,” Trent said. “Be easier to get in and out of than a truck.”
Bren nodded, helping the boy to remove his helmet. Kyle’s hair was sticking up with sweat and he had a scared-little-boy look on face. Bren wanted to hug him. He wanted to wrap him in his arms and hold him tight. He wanted to tell him to never ride steers again. The emotions coursing through him were feelings he’d never felt before and it baffled the hell out of him.
“Kyle!” Lauren cried. “Are you okay?”
She must have run all the way down from the stands. She pressed herself up against the boards of the chutes.
“Got stepped on, Mom.”
He saw Lauren’s eyes close for a moment and he knew she tried to gather her emotions. “You shouldn’t move. We need to immobilize it immediately. Somebody get a stretcher.”
“Mom. Relax. I’m okay.”
“You don’t know that. You came off hard.”
For the first time Bren realized her stress about Kyle riding came from a whole other direction than most moms’. She’d spent years in college studying all the horrible things that could go wrong. No wonder she was a stress mess.
“You should probably have it x-rayed,” Bren said. “Just in case.”
Alana had come up next to her and placed a comforting hand on Lauren’s shoulder. “He’ll be okay. He’s tough.”
He was. Bren had to admit, the kid held himself together, more stoic now that he was in front of his mother. He didn’t cry. Didn’t moan. Didn’t whine about the pain. He just gave his mom a nod and in as grown-up a voice as Bren had ever
heard said, “Let’s go get it x-rayed, if you want, but I’m sure it’s okay.”
Attaboy, he silently told him when their eyes connected. Kyle tried to smile, but Bren could tell it was false, and in that moment he realized the truth.
He loved the kid.
He didn’t know how it’d happened in such a short amount of time, but the surge of emotion he felt as he stared down into the brave boy’s eyes must be what fathers felt for their own children.
It nearly brought him to tears.
* * *
“MS. DANNERS.”
Lauren shot up from the seat where she’d been sitting next to Kyle as he lay on a paper-coated gurney in one of six partitioned “rooms” in the Norco emergency ward. “Looks like we’re in the clear. There’s no break.”
Lauren wanted to fall back into her chair. Or pass out. She didn’t know which.
“You mean I’m okay?” Kyle asked.
“Yup.” The doctor took in the rest of their entourage: Bren, Jax, Trent and Alana. “And good job with the brace, Ms. Danners. If Kyle’s leg had been broken, it could have really saved him from damaging it further. So often I see these cowboy types come in all full of bluster and ‘I’m all rights’ and they just mess themselves up more. Good to see someone can be a voice of reason.”
She glanced around the room to see how the comment was taken because she had a feeling Jax and Trent and Bren had just been insulted. “Thank you.”
“One of the PAs said you’re studying to be a nurse?”
The doctor stared at her so intently she felt herself blush. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he was flirting. “I’m actually graduating this fall.”
“Oh, yeah? What college?”
“Can I go home now?”
They all froze, Kyle clearly at the end of his patience, her son looking tiny in the big bed, his body covered by a thin blue blanket, eyes wide with...was it disgruntlement?
“Of course.”
She released Kyle’s hand and held it out to the doctor. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled at Kyle, barely glancing in everyone else’s direction. “Maybe we’ll see you again one day.”
Her Cowboy Lawman Page 10
