“Our dad? Our nose-to-the-grindstone Pa?”
Duke gave a little snort. “That was my reaction. Pop and Sierra’s aunt Jordan, who lives with her now, are old friends or something. I’ve seen them huddled together in a booth talking up a storm.”
“Dad’s got a girlfriend? Cool.” Beau wiped his lips after downing the last of his cola, and added money to the stack Duke had left. The men put on their hats and moseyed to the door. Beau tipped his hat to Sierra as the two almost collided. She skidded to a stop and muttered an apology. He stepped out of her path, but not before he poured as much charm as possible into his smile.
“I don’t know what to think of how Pop’s carrying on, Beau,” Duke said. “Miss Jordan is blind. Not that it’s anything to hold against her, but instead of tying himself down, I think Pop should get out and have a good time. He’s been tied to the ranch since Mom died.”
“Do you think things are that serious between them? Maybe I’ll get him to come here for breakfast tomorrow and see what I can find out.” His eyes tracked Sierra as he ran into his brother’s back.
“You should, Beau. Pop communicates better with you than with me.”
Beau clamped a hand on Duke’s shoulder. “As a kid, you spent so much time in a shell. Dad thought ignoring your speech problem was the way to help you get over it.”
“Angie’s son has the same problem I struggled with.”
“Ah, that explains your involvement, then. Hey, my truck is back at the arena. I see you parked at your office. See you tomorrow.” Beau loped off and Duke shot daggers at his back. Why didn’t Beau get that he was interested in Angie Barrington as a woman?
Because he felt slightly miffed at his twin, Duke went into the office and phoned her. “Hi,” he said, his irritation melting away the minute she spoke. “I’m on duty until midnight, but I wanted to call and see if Luke’s come down from the clouds yet.”
She laughed her tinkling-bell laugh that sent fingers of desire shooting through Duke’s stomach. “He hasn’t let go of that trophy even to eat,” she said. “I hope it’s made of sturdy material, because I’m pretty sure he plans to sleep with it.”
“As all boys I know did with our initial junior-rodeo buckles. I slept with mine under my pillow until I won a second event, so I knew it wasn’t a fluke.”
“Now you must have a drawer full. Sarah spoke about how many events you guys have all won. But if you’ve won so many times, why keep competing?”
“You’re forgetting the tidy sum that accompanies a win.”
“I suppose. But I met plenty of cowboys who spent every dime they earned on entry fees and gas to get to the next rodeo. A shiftless life, if you ask me.”
Her tone told Duke she hadn’t softened toward his sport. “Listen, I need to run home and collect Zorro. I called to ask if I can buy you and Luke supper in town after the rodeo winds down tomorrow. The special at the diner is beef potpie.”
“I don’t know if we’ll stick around that long, Dylan.”
“I hope you will. Bull riding is the last event of the day.”
“Oh. Then I suppose we can join you for supper.”
Duke felt her tension rising, so he quickly said it was a date and hung up.
* * *
SATURDAY WAS THE MOST attended day at the rodeo. The stands filled up fast, and the arena hummed with activity as old friends met and picked their favorites to win.
Duke, like most cowboy contestants, pitched in to help with the various events. Sarah, Flynn and Leah, minus her kids today, had taken their seats. Duke kept watch for Angie and Luke’s arrival.
He relaxed when he saw them wander in, clutching bags of popcorn and soft drinks.
Austin’s bareback event was slated first thing after the parade led by the rodeo queen and her court. Luke’s nose was level with the rail and he didn’t move a muscle while trick riders and ropers performed in the parade. Duke thought Angie cracked her first smile at a spotted dog that rode in and did flips on the back of a Shetland pony.
Austin turned in a fair ride. It remained to be seen if his times held up and let him advance to where he could win money.
Ace and Beau stepped inside the arena and came to stand beside Duke during Colt’s bronc-riding event.
Angie had scooted far back in her seat, causing Duke to chew the inside of his mouth. Colt never wore spurs, but some other bronc riders did. Duke sensed Angie’s growing agitation, and then he remembered Luke’s father was a champion in this field, which could account for her seeming displeasure.
Colt turned in an awesome ride. The family stood up and cheered. Luke bounced around, but Angie remained seated.
“Hey, Beau, I’m going out for a soda. Anyone want one?” Duke asked.
The others passed him cash and asked him to buy a six-pack of cola. Really he’d wanted a word with Angie. He went to visit her first.
Luke glanced up and spied Duke working his way toward them. “Duke, Duke, did Colt win? Will he get a trophy? When do we get to watch the bulls?”
Duke ruffled the boy’s hair. “It sounds as if you’re enjoying your first rodeo. What about your mom?” Duke asked, his eyes seeking Angie.
“Mom hates the guys who wear sharp things on their boots,” Luke confided.
“Spurs. Yeah, well, fewer and fewer riders wear them,” Duke told the boy.
“Too many still do,” Angie shot back. “Why hasn’t the practice been banned?”
Duke shrugged. He didn’t know. “I’m off to the concession stand to buy sodas.” He glanced at his watch. “Bulldogging is next, then calf roping. There will be a break after that to let people visit the restroom and resettle before handlers bring the bulls to the chutes.” He pointed to chutes quite near where they sat. “Remember I said you two would get an up-close-and-personal view of my ride.”
“What’s your bull’s name?” Luke asked.
“Tabasco. My brother’s bull is Nitroglycerin. He rides before me.”
“Those are funny names,” Luke said, screwing up his face.
Angie frowned, so Duke beat a hasty retreat after accepting good wishes for him and Beau from all of the women except Angie.
He carried the cold drinks back into the arena. The men of Thunder Ranch huddled together watching other events and tabulating scores. Each had friends to root for.
Finally, after the break, the bulls were driven in. Duke rolled a second cold cola can over his forehead and winced because Tabasco gave his handlers a hard time. Beau nudged Duke and scowled. “Nitro is docile as Mary’s little lamb. I don’t want a rocking-chair ride, you know.”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“The announcer reiterated that I ride fifth and you, seventh,” Beau noted, turning back from watching the first bull up being shoved into his chute.
The rider, an out-of-towner, lasted less than two seconds on War Paint.
The next three didn’t fare much better.
Beau’s docile bull did not want to go into a chute. Handlers popped him on the backside, and Duke, Ace and Colt fanned their hats to herd him in even as Beau straddled the chute looking calm in the face of it all. He rode without a helmet or body vest in deference to the home crowd. Buckle bunnies lined up outside the fence giving him wolf whistles.
Beau gave a little bow and Duke rolled his eyes. He was continually amazed to think they shared a womb. Beau oozed charisma while Duke considered himself the no-nonsense sibling. Although, he’d observed a change in
Beau this past year. He didn’t party as much, he did more leatherwork and talked about something besides bull riding.
His bull turned out to be what was known in the business as a sleeper. Belatedly Nitroglycerin exploded out of the chute, went into the air and came down stiff-legged. He bucked in close to the fence forcing bystanders to leap back.
Duke heard Beau’s leg slam into the wooden rails a split second before he lost his hold on the rope and was ejected into the air. Clowns moved in fast, but the bull managed to get his nose up under Beau’s ribs and threw him a good ten feet back into the arena.
The men of Thunder Ranch dropped into the dusty arena and raced to help Beau escape even as handlers roped Nitroglycerin and manhandled him out the far gate.
Ace shoved his shoulder under Beau’s good arm, literally half carrying him out. “What was my time?” Beau demanded through clenched teeth.
Duke, who’d seen Angie stand up, cover her mouth and then drop back into her seat, snapped at his brother. “Six-point-two seconds, but who gives a damn? Is your leg broke? Your shirt’s ripped and your left arm is dripping blood all over from your ‘rocking-chair ride.’ ”
They heard a howl go up from the stands and knew rider number six had taken a spill.
Ace tapped Duke’s arm. “I’ll get him to the first-aid station. You suit up. Wear padding and a face mask and helmet, for God’s sake. Don’t be a show-off idiot like your brother.”
Beau made a rude gesture at Ace then tested his bad leg. “This paltry injury will get me gobs of sympathy, cousin.”
Duke knew his brother tended to sound tough when he was in pain. He pretended to live on the edge. On the edge of sanity, Duke thought, tightening his chaps and donning all of the gear Ace recommended.
The first thing Tabasco did was try to crawl out over the top of the gate with both front legs. It was a good way for a bull to break a leg. Duke, who balanced gingerly atop the chute, spared a glance toward Angie. He thought she looked really sour. Luke, though, was a bundle of energy as he swung on the railing, taking in everything.
Handlers slapped Tabasco’s nose until he dropped back into the chute. About the time Duke tried to settle on him, he bucked wildly. Handlers had to bring in two-by-fours to set across the top slats in order to force the angry bull down. Still, he banged around making it impossible for Duke to take his seat without smacking his legs on the chute sides before they even cleared the gate.
Suddenly as if tiring of the game, Tabasco quieted. He gave a little snort, tossed his head and closed his eyes as if he’d decided to take a nap. Indeed it seemed so to Duke, who wrapped his hand securely in the bull rope and gripped his knees against the bull’s hot sides. He signaled and the gate swung open. Tabasco continued to stand like a statue. Handlers removed the two-by-fours and shouted at the bull and flapped their arms.
Duke heard the announcer remark that the bull was taking his sweet time coming out. He flashed another glance toward Angie and Luke, and saw her lean forward, bracing her elbows on her knees. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a new handler arrive carrying a long, pointed stick. The kid suddenly and deliberately jabbed the stick in Tabasco’s hindquarters. The bull bellowed and catapulted out of the chute.
Duke had time to see Angie jump up, grab Luke and begin dragging her son to the exit. Luke hung back, a deadweight on his mom’s arm. But that was Duke’s last glimpse. Then he had to focus all he could to hang on for the ride of his life.
True to Beau’s warning, Tabasco twisted right, then left, then right, and each time he kicked high sending Duke sliding toward his neck and horns—that, while sawed off, could do major damage to a man’s groin if a horn hooked him just right.
Duke felt his head snap backward and forward, and he thanked his lucky stars his face mask had a mouth guard or he probably would have cracked some teeth. Even though his heart sank when Angie marched out, his mind was in it to win it, and he kept his right arm circling high.
It was close, but he heard the buzzer an instant before he went flying over the bull’s shaggy head. He felt the earth shake as Tabasco charged him. Duke’s brain was rattled, and he wasn’t sure which direction he needed to scramble to escape the snorting animal. Furious, the bull struck. Both of his front feet pinned Duke to the arena floor by the fringe of his chaps. Clowns and his friends moved in, waving their arms and shouting to distract the enraged bull. The slobbering animal pawed the ground long enough to allow Duke to crab walk out from under his big red belly that had already dislodged its clanging cowbell.
Colt and Austin reached down from the fence adjacent to the chute and hauled Duke unceremoniously up and out of harm’s way.
His buddies all talked at once, shouting what a great ride he’d put in.
Ripping off his headgear and face mask, Duke stormed off to find the handler who still held the sharp stick. “That was totally uncalled for,” Duke shouted, shoving the guy into the boards until Ace restrained him. “That bull’s hindquarter is bleeding. He’s so mad he could’ve killed me.”
The stock contractor who owned Tabasco ran up. Duke stabbed a finger at the lamebrained handler. “I want him fired, or I’ll report you all to the rodeo commissioner.”
The contractor started to make excuses, but Ace, who stood between Duke and the stupid kid, held up a warning hand. “Raymond, no excuses! Your bull has a hole in his shank muscle. I’ll give you some salve to use on it twice a day. But I’m taking him off the rodeo roster for at least two weeks. Your vet needs to certify he’s fit to buck after that.”
“Yes, sir,” the contractor mumbled. Ace was well-known, well liked and spoke with authority when it came to the health of rodeo animals.
“Thanks, Ace.” Duke calmed only marginally. “Uh, Angie saw the incident where the bull got stuck, and she took off. I only caught a flash of her face. She’s gonna be pissed. I need to see if I can catch her and explain that stuff never happens. I mean, it did happen, but it’s once in a blue moon, and we...you dealt with the matter.”
Ace eyed his cousin. “Go on. I’ll listen for your stats while I grab a tube of salve for Raymond.”
Chapter Twelve
Colt, Austin and a bandaged, limping Beau intercepted Duke as he charged toward the exit. “You stuck it out,” Austin crowed. “I’m betting your time is a solid win. If you have a halfway decent ride tomorrow you’ll be fully qualified for the finals.”
Whooping, Colt tossed his hat in the air. Beau reached out to halt his twin. “You don’t look as pleased as somebody in your boots ought to be about this news.”
“You didn’t see the handler who literally stabbed my bull and sent him into a frenzy?” Duke shook off Beau’s hand. “Angie took off like she was on fire. She already has it in for our sport because she believes rodeo animals are abused. What that jerk did was prove her right. I’ll see you later, I need to find her and tell her it was a fluke.”
Looking irritated, Beau called after his retreating brother. “Forget her, Duke. She wants to believe the worst, so she will. You need to look over the field and pick a good bull for tomorrow. I recommend Bushwhacker.” Beau’s words flowed over Duke’s back without checking his momentum.
Duke saw Dinah exit the arena. “Have you seen Angie?”
“I thought maybe her son had to go to the restroom at an inopportune time.” As Duke started to jog away from her, she raised her voice. “I’m outta here for a week. Text me if anything comes up I need to know about.”
D
uke tossed a wave over his shoulder, but plowed on.
Sarah Hart bustled through the turnstile that led to the parking lot, as Duke was frantically eyeing the vehicles in hopes of spotting Angie. “Dinah, there you are,” Sarah said. “I was afraid I had missed you. Will you run an eye over the grassy fields on either side of the highway between here and Billings? Midnight may be stashed right under our noses. What better spot to hide a horse than in a herd still feeding on summer grass?”
“I will, Mom. You take care, okay? Worry won’t bring Midnight back.”
Sarah nodded. “Duke, I didn’t see you there. Fabulous ride. It’s a crying shame Angie left early.”
“Did she leave the arena?”
Sarah pointed to the parking area. “I saw her and Luke drive off when I went to look for Dinah. You seem anxious. Is everything okay with her and Luke?”
Duke unhooked his chaps on one side and dug out his cell phone. “Didn’t you see that asinine handler jab my bull with a sharp stick?”
“The owner needs to reprimand him.”
“He needs to be fired. Aunt Sarah, you know how Angie feels about mistreated rodeo stock. She was sitting near enough to see the blood running down the bull’s leg. I’m afraid that’s why she tore out acting mad.” He had programmed her number into his cell and punched it now.
“Heavenly days, Duke, she wouldn’t be mad at you. You weren’t to blame. Surely she understands you were on the receiving end of an angry bull.”
Duke heard Angie’s phone ring and ring. Suddenly it stopped. He guessed she’d seen his name on the caller ID and had shut the instrument off. Damn!
He rubbed at his neck which was already stiffening up from his hard plunge to earth.
“She’ll come around,” Sarah soothed. “You had a rough landing, Duke. Let Angie be for now. You go get a hot shower and a massage.”
From the area Duke recently left, Beau whistled shrilly. He motioned to Duke with his uninjured arm. Austin signaled with both hands to indicate they needed Duke to come back into the arena. “I’d better go, Aunt Sarah. See you later.”
Harts Of The Rodeo 3 - Duke - Deputy Cowboy Page 18
