"I'm aware of all the repairs needed but I can't afford them so they'll have to wait," Billy replied, "so if you're finished, I want to get back to what I was doing."
"I guess I didn't make myself clear," Jeremy said. "You don't have a choice about the chutes. I'm also the livestock and animal facility inspector and that's the law." When he ripped the form from the pad and thrust his hand out, the hackles on the Rottweiler's back went up, the dog curled his lips back and bared his teeth, and low growls rumbled in his throat.
Eyeing the dog with uncertainty, Jeremy said, "You might want to contain that dog. I don't think you want a citation for having a vicious dog not properly controlled."
"He's controlled," Billy said. "He won't attack unless I give the command. Besides, you're not the animal control officer."
"Wrong." Jeremy slipped another ID out of his billfold and flashed it in front of her. "I assume you have the dog licensed in Harney County. He's not wearing a tag."
"He's licensed but he lost his tag," Billy replied.
"Then you'll need proof of licensing or you'll have to buy another tag."
Looking at him, dubiously, Billy said, "I want to take a closer look at your IDs. It seems fishy that you could be that many inspectors. With cattle missing from a neighboring ranch, you could be sizing up my place to come take my stock too."
Jeremy was mildly amused at her attempt to negate things by pointing a finger him. Pulling his ID cards from his billfold he handed them to her, and while she was scanning them, he said, "Harney County doesn't have funds for three inspectors so they combine the jobs. I'm authentic. You have five days to tag the dog and come up with transportation certificates and ownership papers for your stock, and two weeks to complete the work on the chutes."
"What if I don't do any of that," Billy challenged.
"Then the place will be shut down and the animals impounded until it is done," Jeremy said. He indicated the man with the beard. "Is he your only ranch hand?"
Billy nodded. "He's all I can afford right now."
Jeremy took another look at the man. He was old and wiry, and in general looked pretty unfit for a ranch hand. Still, the repairs didn't require that much work. Returning his gaze to Billy, he said, "Those old bucking chutes are so weathered your man should be able to kick the boards loose, and replacing them with new boards shouldn't take more than a couple of days."
"I don't have materials for the chutes," Billy said. "As it is, I'm operating on a shoestring."
Jeremy couldn't dispute that. The only area in the whole place that didn't need repair was the bull pens and bucking arena, which were made up of standard tubular-steel livestock panels clamped together. Peering into a pair of hazel eyes that now looked desperate, he said, "Look, I don't make the rules. I only enforce them. You have to make the repairs on the chutes or the buckouts will be shut down until the repairs are made."
Billy looked down at the paper, which gave him a couple of minutes to study the woman. How he'd pegged her as a buckle bunny when he was there before was a mystery now. She was all cowgirl. The scuffs on her boots were there from down-in-the-dirt work, her chaps were worn from riding hard, her hands were calloused from work, and her bust-hugging shirt and sweat-dampened cleavage was… holding his attention.
Raising his gaze, he met a pair of eyes with dilated pupils. He also noted that her nostrils were flaring slightly, and her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, which made him wonder. She might be all spunk and spitfire, but that didn't mean she wasn't interested in him, a thought that was nagging at him, like riding the bull again. The fact was, his interest in both the woman and the bull was running neck-and-neck at the moment.
Then a frown drew her brows inward, and she said, "Can I still hold my regular Wednesday night buckouts for the next two weeks? I really need the income."
"I suppose, as long as you and your ranch hand are working to fix the chutes during that time." Jeremy looked toward Wild Card and felt a little spurt of adrenaline as the thought of riding him again took hold. "Will you be bucking all of the older bulls during the buckout?" he asked, while trying not to sound too hopeful, but he was itching to get back on that bull.
"All except Wild Card," Billy said, "but my Brahma-Mexican cross over there could give you a run for the money." She pointed to a black bull with white horns. "His name is Vortex, and if you want to know why I named him that, ride him on Wednesday and find out, if you haven't given up riding bulls for a cushier job."
"I'm still riding," Jeremy said. He eyed the black bull. It had the Brahma hump and powerful shoulders, but it was smaller than Wild Card, which didn't mean he couldn't buck and buck hard. Without all the weight to maneuver around he could be quicker too.
Taking on the challenge, he said, "I'll see you on Wednesday, and I just might give that bull a run for his money too."
Billy gave him an ironic smile. "Good luck then, cowboy. Just a little word of advice. You might want to be a little better prepared this time."
Jeremy clamped his jaws shut. Yeah, he'd be prepared, if it meant double-wrapping his hand in the bull rope. More than that, he wouldn't let himself to be distracted by a woman's looks just before the ride. Shoving that thought aside, he said, "In the meantime I'll be checking brands, so you might want to be prepared too."
That made her pupils dilate again, but in a different way, like she was on the verge of panic. What bothered him now was that he already suspected the brand had been altered. If so, he'd be obligated to report it, and if it proved true, Miss Billy Bree Fitzsimmons would be looking at a Class A Misdemeanor. He sincerely hoped it wouldn't come to that because he had other plans for both Wild Card and his mistress, and having her arrested didn't fit into those plans.
CHAPTER 2
Billy stared at the rooster tail of dust left behind by Jeremy Hansen's truck as it went barreling off into the distance. The man set her on edge. Not only was he demanding papers she didn't have, and would be checking a brand that had been altered, but he set her on edge in other ways. It bothered her that she found him attractive, and being around him made her heart skitter. He was a typical, full-of-himself, champion bull rider with a following of buckle bunnies, along with a bunny warren on the back of his rig in the form of a camper, and that wasn't the kind of man she wanted, if having a man in her life was even an option now…
"Who was that and what did he want?" Bill asked, as he approached from the direction of the stock barn.
Billy let out an unladylike snort. "Jeremy Hansen, the guy who rode Wild Card at Crane Butte. He's also the county brand inspector, animal control officer, and livestock facility inspector. Cattle are missing from the Riddle Rim Ranch and he wants to see papers for all the livestock."
She pressed her lips together in disgust. She could read between the lines. Jeremy Hansen didn't just want papers. He wanted another chance at Wild Card, which he wouldn't get on her watch. Even though he messed up at Crane Butte, he managed to stay on Wild Card for almost four seconds, which was three seconds longer than any other rider, so she knew he was one of only a few bull riders with the potential to ride him. But she was aiming for a 100% buckoff record by the time Wild Card made his way up the ranks to the National Finals, which meant, Jeremy Hansen could try all he wanted to get a practice ride, but the only way he'd get back on Wild Card would be with a lucky draw at a rodeo...
"That's a lot of inspectors in one man," Billy's father said. "It sounds a little suspicious. Did he show you his IDs?"
Billy nodded. "They looked official. He wants to see transportation certificates for the livestock as well as ownership papers, and we don't have either."
"Then I'll contact Moretti," Bill said. "How long do we have to get them?"
"Five days," Billy replied. "How did Mario Moretti he mess up on this?"
"Oversight," Bill replied. "Moving livestock isn't his area."
"There's another problem," Billy said. "Jeremy Hansen's in rodeo and knows bucking bulls. After checking Wild Card
's brand he could connect the dots." She waved the paper in her hand. "We also have two weeks to rebuild the bucking chutes or we'll be shut down, and the only lumber around here is rotten. But even if we did have the wood, all my power tools are stashed in a warehouse somewhere with the rest of our stuff and it could be months before they get here. Can Mario Moretti get us money to hire it done?"
Bill shook his head. "He made that clear when he advanced the money for the stock pens, but next time he comes with the transportation certificates you can take it up with him."
Billy drew in an extended breath as she watched Jeremy Hansen's truck disappear in a haze of dust. In a perfect world she might want to know the man better, but this wasn't a perfect world. It was a world fabricated by Mario Moretti, and she was weary of the lies. All her relations and interactions with people were based on the carefully constructed cover story Mario Moretti had worked out for them, and the bottom line was: follow the program and you live; break the rules and you die.
***
Jeremy pulled his truck to a halt in the lineup of rigs parked in the field for the Wednesday evening buckout at Billy's place, and when he was climbing out he saw his twin, Josh, heading toward him. As Josh approached, he said, "Where's your camper and what's with all the lumber?"
Jeremy opened his pocket knife and started slicing through the twine holding several stacks of 2x12s that were angled between the truck bed and the top of the cab, while saying, "My camper's at the ranch behind the bunkhouse, and the wood's to repair the bucking chutes."
Josh smiled in wry amusement. "It seems you've given up buckle bunnies then. When did this transition take place?"
"It hasn't yet," Jeremy said. "I gave Billy Fitzsimmons a citation for work that needs to be done here and she doesn't have the money to do it, and I want to ride bulls, and if the chutes aren't fixed I'll have to shut the place down until they are fixed, so this is my solution. Grab the other end of this stack of boards and make yourself useful. We're setting these over by the chutes, just outside the arena."
Josh hefted several boards out from the truck bed while Jeremy lifted the opposite ends from the cab, and as they were walking with the boards on their shoulders, Josh mused, "And the fact that Billy Fitzsimmons eclipses all the buckle bunnies around is a little added incentive for you to be her unpaid ranch hand. I get the picture."
"I'm not interested in Billy Fitzsimmons," Jeremy said, while marching in long strides toward the chutes. "I'm interested in her bulls. She's got a Brahma-Mexican cross that could be a challenge and I'm here to ride him."
Josh let out a short, ironic laugh. "If he's anything like the bulls you rode here before, you won't get much more than a few bounces."
Jeremy lowered his end of the boards to the ground. "Yeah, but if he's anything like the bull I rode at Crane Butte I'll be in for a helluva ride, but this time I'll be ready so I won't make an ass of myself."
"No one's saying you made an ass of yourself at Crane Butte, at least not in those exact words," Josh said, but with a hint of amusement in his tone.
Jeremy eyed Josh with a blend of curiosity and annoyance. "What exactly are they saying?"
Josh let out a little ironic guffaw. "That the great Jeremy Hansen drew a wild card and was routed by a rookie bull."
Jeremy clamped his jaws, more determined than ever to ride Wild Card and ride him at the National Finals. But there was another question about the bull. "I'm not sure Wild Card's a rookie," he said, while heading back to the truck for more boards. "When I checked his brand it looked altered, and Billy Fitzsimmons made excuses for not producing papers. I haven't had a chance to research the brand yet, but I will later this week."
The subject was dropped for the moment while Jeremy and Josh retrieved the rest of the boards, but as they were crossing the grounds toward the truck after carrying the last stack of lumber to the chutes, Billy came rushing up with them, also from the direction of the chutes, and said to Jeremy, "Why are you unloading lumber here?"
Jeremy scanned her torso before catching himself, a habit he'd have to break if he wanted to get anywhere with this woman, but the image of a bust-hugging shirt and a tiny waist remained. Determined to focus on her face, which he also found distracting, he said, "It's to repair the chutes. The wood was laying around our place unused and I figured it would do more good here."
"It's new lumber," Billy pointed out. "There are bar codes stapled to the ends of each board."
"Okay then, it's my donation to the cause," Jeremy said. "You have bucking bulls, and I'm addicted to riding bulls, and I don't want to have to shut this place down, so the lumber's to fix the chutes. You might be gracious enough to thank me though."
Billy eyed him with suspicion. "If you're thinking you can ride more than bulls around here, think again, cowboy. I'm not available."
"I figured that out the last time I was here for a buckout and asked you to join me at the pub for a beer and you told me to take a hike," Jeremy replied. "Now, do you want the lumber or do you want me and my brother Josh to load it back in the truck? It's your call."
Billy folded her arms. "What's the catch?"
Jeremy found himself focusing on the feminine curves above her folded arms, and when he caught himself again, and looked up, the expression on Billy's face reminded him of her dog when he'd bared his teeth. "No catch," he said. "I assume you have a crowbar to take the chutes apart and power tools for your ranch hand to do the job."
Billy looked off to where the old wrangler stood checking in riders and assigning bulls, and said, "We don't have any power tools, and my ranch hand hurt his wrist a couple of weeks ago and can't do any heavy work right now."
Again Jeremy wondered at the operation. It was more than odd that any ranch, no matter how small, would not have power tools, and having a ranch hand who couldn't work didn't make too damn much sense either. "Then who does all the work around here?" he asked.
"Me," Billy replied.
Jeremy eyed her with skepticism. "You're telling me you manage the bulls and the rest of the livestock by yourself?"
Billy braced her hands on her hips. "You think ranch work's just reserved for men?"
Jeremy couldn't help smiling because she reminded him of a banty rooster. Small in size, but aggressive and feisty. "I'm not questioning your ability to work," he said, "only your strength to handle bulls."
"I can handle bulls," Billy said. "I wouldn't be in this business if I couldn't."
Jeremy glanced around, and taking in the shabbiness of the place, began to understand why it was in the shape the way it was, with only Billy to keep it up. But that didn't explain the old man. "What about your ranch hand? Doesn't he help with the bulls at all?" he asked.
"Like I said, he hurt his wrist," Billy replied. "Right now he does the domestic things around here."
"Then he lives in the house with you?" Jeremy asked.
Billy nodded. "I'm pretty much his family and he has no other place to live."
"Oh, man," Jeremy said, more to himself than to her. It seemed she'd taken in the old guy out of compassion. "Okay then, I'll fix the chutes," he conceded, while thinking maybe that wouldn't be so bad. The place was in need of a lot of repairs, but having Billy Fitzsimmons around to look at while he did them could make the job a whole lot easier.
"If you're thinking you'll get to practice on Wild Card by doing some work around here then think again," Billy said. "The only rider that will be on his back outside of rodeos will be an electronic dummy, but you can ride my other bulls in exchange for the lumber, and I'll figure out a way to fix the chutes myself."
"Without power tools?" Jeremy asked.
"I have a hammer and hand saw," Billy replied. "I'm not new to fixing things."
Jeremy glanced toward the stack of lumber. It would take her a week to cut through all those 2x12s with a handsaw, and he wanted a reason to hang around. "I told you I was helping out so I wouldn't have to shut this place down, so I'll fix the chutes. No strings attached," he said,
even though he still intended to ride Wild Card outside of rodeos. It would take some diplomacy to pull it off though, and he was out of practice with the kind of woman that wasn't star struck by championship buckles. Buckle bunnies were a dime a dozen, ready to get something going about the time a bull rider was walking out of the arena, and they guaranteed a night of hot sex, no strings attached. On the other hand, Billy Fitzsimmons guaranteed no sex, except if he did manage to pull that off there would be strings. But she was the first woman he'd met that made him want to stick his neck in a noose.
"Okay then as long as we understand each other," Billy said. "But you'll get a good ride on Vortex, guaranteed." She looked at Josh. "You here to ride or watch?"
"Neither," Josh replied. "I'm here to bullfight."
"Good, I could use you right now so go sign up and I'll see you cowboys at the chutes."
As she walked off, Josh said with a snicker, "Vortex?"
Jeremy laughed. "Yeah, it kinda makes me think I might get a good ride out of him. You said you're here to bullfight. Is it okay with Genie or did you slip out unnoticed?"
"Genie and I don't operate that way," Josh said. "She knows I'm here, but she's not worried about these bulls. Meanwhile, I'd better go get geared up. See you in the arena."
Jeremy returned to the truck to put on his protective vest, and after rubbing rosin on his bull rope, he looped it into a coil, grabbed his gloves, and headed for the bucking arena.
Standing with a line-up of other bull riders, his boot propped on the tubular steel rung of a livestock panel and his arms folded across the top, he watched the riders as they came out of the chutes. One of the bulls was a bull he'd ridden when he was there at the buckout before, but the bull seemed to buck harder now, like he'd been worked some. The other bulls, some brought in by a couple of ranchers in the area, were pretty good buckers too, but none bucked like Wild Card. As for the Mexican bull, so far only one rider had come out on him and the bull spun so fast the rider was off in less than two seconds. Since no other riders tried to ride him after that, he assumed the bull was above their skill level, or the riders shied away from Mexican bulls in general because of their reputation for being just plain mean.
Bucking The Odds (Dancing Moon Ranch Book 9) Page 2
