And Then You Dare (Crested Butte Cowboys Series Book 5)

by Heather A Buchman

  “Tristan, I spend most of my time listening to conversations about bull semen, and other equally disgusting rough stock minutiae. My girl talk is limited to making conversation with Caden and her dolls. Please, show me your work. I’m begging you.”

  “Remember these are preliminary.” Tristan set her sketchbook on the table in front of Liv, and then watched her slowly turn the pages.

  “Well?”

  Liv flipped back to the beginning. “I absolutely love the riding jackets. I don’t know if I can decide which one I like best. You’ll have to make them all, and in my size.”

  “Really? You like them?”

  “No. I love them. They’re beautiful. So colorful. What’s this?” Liv pointed to the detail on one of the jackets.

  “Turquoise inlay.”

  “Yes! That would work perfectly.” Liv flipped the page and asked more questions. “They’re magnificent. What are these?”

  Tristan had sketched out complementary riding pants as well as undergarments designed specifically for riding.

  “I didn’t realize Lost Cowboy was offering a new line.”

  “I haven’t broached the subject with my father yet. I’m not sure—”

  “Before you say another word, listen to me. You have to produce this line. There’s nothing else like it. Even if I never rode again in my life, I’d buy all of it. Every piece.”

  Tristan couldn’t contain her grin. Liv’s enthusiasm was authentic enough that she couldn’t question her reaction.

  “I wish I had one of your new jackets to wear to tonight’s dinner. It’s gonna be a serious shindig.”

  “I haven’t heard anything about it.”

  “I’m not surprised. The boys aren’t big on advance notice. I can tell you this much, Flying R rented out Tracker’s Bar at Mountaineer Square. And Ben’s band is playing after dinner. I hope you brought your dancing boots.”

  “Are you sure I’m invited?”

  “Of course you are. Everyone is. All the partners, and you’re a partner, plus all the riders. I warned Ben that putting that many cowboys and cowgirls together when his band is playing is risky.” Liv winked at Tristan.

  She’d been listening to CB Rice music since she left Crested Butte. Ben’s music was definitely sexy, especially the records the band had released since Ben married Liv.

  “You have heard that Flying R is sponsoring Bullet, right?”

  “Is that your way of warning me he’ll be there tonight?”

  “Yes. Are you okay with that?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? I mean, Bullet and I will likely cross paths often. I guess I didn’t tell you we made up before I left.”

  “You didn’t. What happened?”

  Tristan told Liv that she and Bullet talked before she left, and he had accepted her apology. “I’m sure he’ll be busy getting to know the barrel racers we invited to the meet and greet.”

  “Maybe. Then again, he did specifically ask if you were coming into town this week.”

  “He’s just interested in Lost Cowboy’s sponsorship.”

  Liv patted her hand. “You keep tellin’ yourself that Tristan.”

  ***

  “How’s this one look?”

  “God Bullet, would you stop changin’ your shirt? The last five you tried on looked fine.”

  “I’m goin’ for better than fine Lyric.”

  “Why’s that? Somebody gonna be at the dinner tonight you’re aimin’ to impress?”

  “Heard there’s a new batch of barrel racers gonna be there.” He was lying. He didn’t care about anyone invited other than Tristan.

  When he brought Grey over to play with Caden this morning, he asked Liv if Tristan was arriving in time to attend the dinner. She’d told him she was leaving in an hour to pick her up from the airport. If he hadn’t had so much work to do he would’ve offered to go in her place.

  “Tristan McCullough’s the reason you’re in such a state, and we both know it.”

  “Just tell me which shirt looks the best. This one or the green one?”

  “The blue one. It makes your eyes look bluer.” Lyric rolled her eyes at him. “You’re not wearin’ those boots are you?”

  “Yeah, what’s wrong with ’em?”

  “They could use a good polish for starters.”

  “Shit. I don’t have time to polish my boots now. Why didn’t you say somethin’ earlier?”

  “For goodness sake. Take ’em off. I’ll do it.”

  “No, I’ll do it,” he grumbled. Damn, this woman had him rattled. He didn’t remember the last time he was this nervous. Maybe before the first time he got laid.

  He saw her as soon as he walked into the bar. Tristan was across the room, talking to a cowboy he recognized. Stormy was his name, and he’d been bragging earlier about nailing a Lost Cowboy sponsorship.

  She was looking mighty fine tonight with her Cowgirl Tuff jeans tucked into her deep red boots, her red and silver fringed shirt hugging her womanly curves. The other cowboys had to have noticed too.

  Something Stormy said made Tristan laugh, which burned a hole in Bullet’s gut. When he reached out and touched her hair, Tristan bristled, he was sure of it. It took Bullet all of five seconds to cross the room.

  “Hey asshole, I don’t think the lady wants you mawlin’ her.”

  “Bullet!” Tristan gasped, and then looked at Stormy. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize for me,” Bullet leaned in closer to her. “Don’t mind you talkin’ with other fellas while you’re waitin’ on me, but I draw the line at them touchin’ you.”

  “Waiting on you? Are you joking?” Tristan spun away from Bullet’s grasp on her arm, but Stormy had already walked away.

  “Hey darlin’, it sure is nice to see you.”

  “Give me a break Bullet. I told you once before I’m not your darlin’. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a conversation to finish with one of our new riders.”

  ***

  She shouldn’t have rubbed his nose in it like that, but he made her mad with his caveman antics.

  “Can I buy you a drink cowboy?” she approached Stormy, who was standing at the bar.

  “Open bar, ma’am, but I’ll take a rain check if you’re willin’.”

  “It would be my pleasure. I’m so sorry about Bullet. I don’t know—”

  “It’s okay Tristan. Bullet’s got a reputation for settin’ his sights on a pretty lady and not givin’ up until she’s his, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean, and I assure you, I’ll never be his.”

  “Glad to hear it. Uh, does Lost Cowboy have a rule against the boss lady dancin’ with a rider?”

  “Of course not, and if we did, my daddy is a long way from here, and would never know.”

  She danced with Stormy for two songs, and then excused herself. Had she really just told a cowboy that she’d bend the rules for him because her daddy would never know? What had gotten into her? It was Bullet dammit. She looked around the room and didn’t see him. Maybe he left after embarrassing himself. She looked around a second time, but still didn’t see him.

  When Tristan turned back to the bar, Bullet was standing next to her. “Who ya lookin’ for darlin’?”

  “No one,” she scowled. “Just seeing who else is here.”

  He held out his hand. “Dance with me?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Come on now, one dance won’t hurt any.”

  Bullet was using the same tone of voice he had the last time she saw him. The same one he used with the filly. Why was it sending chills up her spine?

  “You think you’re pretty smooth, don’t you?”

  “Nah, I’m not like that Tristan. You should know better.” He leaned in, close enough that she could hear him breathing. “Dance with me,” he whispered.

  “Um, maybe one song.” What was she doing? Getting closer to him was not a good idea. Why wasn’t she walking in the opposite direction? Ins
tead, she let him lead her to the dance floor.

  “That’s my girl,” he whispered as he drew her close. Much too close.

  ***

  1965

  “Calm down now, and start over. What happened?”

  Bill joined Clancy in the kitchen. When he did, Clancy shook his head. “Sure I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

  When he hung up the phone, he rested his hand on Bill’s shoulder. “Son,” he began, “there’s some trouble with your mama.”

  More bad news. Bill was beginning to think his family was cursed. Clancy made two more phone calls after the first. Bill went up to his bedroom because Clancy asked for privacy.

  “I’m goin’ alone this time,” he said after he asked Bill to come back downstairs.

  “Are you gonna tell me what it’s about?”

  “I’m not, and I need you to trust that I’m makin’ the right decision by not tellin’ you.”

  “Did he hurt her?” Bill caught Clancy’s wince.

  “No son, not in the way you think.”

  Bill didn’t like it one bit that Clancy was keeping something from him, especially since it was about his mother and sister. It really wasn’t any of Clancy’s business. Maybe it was time for him to start looking for another job, one where his employer understood that he was a man capable of handling his own problems.

  “I don’t like it.”

  “I know you don’t.” Clancy put his hand on Bill’s shoulder. “As I said before, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

  Bill nodded his head that he could. If he didn’t say the words out loud, then maybe it wasn’t as much of a lie.

  Chapter 9

  The spring schedule was set. Bullet would be moving broncs from the Crested Butte operation to Patterson Ranch in Black Forest later in the month. Next month he’d move more broncs to Black Forest from Jace Rice’s place in Montana.

  Doing it now would give him time to evaluate the stock and determine which horses he and Bill would take to each of the events before the rodeo season kicked into high gear.

  “You sure about this?” Bullet asked Bill when the bronc meeting broke up.

  “About what specifically?”

  “All of it.”

  Bill smiled at Dottie, who had been in the meeting with the rest of the Flying R partners. “Been a long time since my girl and I traveled the rodeo circuit. We made a lot of friends over the years, some we haven’t seen since Billy retired from ridin’.”

  Bullet shook his head. “I don’t get it. Billy tells me you aren’t keen on what you call modern rodeo, yet your son was a national saddle bronc champion. Where’s the disconnect?”

  Before Bill could answer, Dottie rested her hand on his arm. “It’s the timed events Bill has a harder time with.”

  “But aren’t those events closest to what happens in a cattle operation every day?”

  “No son,” answered Bill. “At least not in the same way. Sure, we rope. But it’s different when you’re tryin’ to do it in a number of seconds.”

  “What’s your stand on ranch rodeos?”

  “I have to admit I prefer them, what about you Dottie?”

  “The Working Ranch Cowboys Association is goin’ on twenty years in operation. We’ve participated in their Ride for the Brand cattle drive in Colorado Springs for ten years.”

  “I think it’s been longer than that, but you’re right. I’m much more ‘keen’ on ranch rodeo events than I am on the Professional Rodeo Cowboy Association’s events, for example.”

  Bullet needed to compete in enough PRCA sanctioned events to qualify for the Super Bowl of rodeo, the National Finals Rodeo held in Las Vegas in December. But Professional Bull Riders was the organization Bullet wanted most to ride with. Initially he hoped to ride for the Touring Pro Division, considered the minor league of the PBR. As a Touring Pro rider, Bullet could compete in PBR-sanctioned events and start moving up in earnings to qualify for the bigger events.

  Neither of those organizations had anything to do with ranch rodeos. Bullet couldn’t travel solely to ranch rodeos and compete in other events. He’d need to be in two places at the same time. Why had he even brought it up?

  “You got a problem now, don’t ya son?”

  Bill and Dottie were good to him, and putting his desire to be a professional bull rider in front of what they were doing didn’t sit right with him. At the end of the day, he needed a steady paycheck, and a home for Grey. He didn’t need the thrill associated with covering a bull for eight seconds, he just wanted it.

  “Nah. No problems. Only opportunities,” he smiled.

  Bill rested his hand on Bullet’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll work it out. The Flying R partners aren’t gonna be satisfied with ranch rodeos alone.”

  Bullet needed to go for a walk. He felt his dream slipping further out of his reach, and he didn’t want Bill and Dottie to sense his frustration. He used the excuse that he was going to check on the filly he’d been working with the last time he was in Crested Butte.

  ***

  “I get the prize for biggest mouth, that’s for damn sure,” Tristan overheard Bullet say to the horse. “Why in hell I can’t learn to keep it shut I just don’t know.”

  The horse reared, probably because of the tone Bullet was using. The filly could sense Bullet’s anger and frustration just as well as she could.

  Tristan sat on the fence and studied him. In a few minutes the Lost Cowboy sponsorship meeting would begin. She’d gone outside to stretch her legs, and feel the sun on her face. The back-to-back meetings all day were wearing on her. The next one was her meeting, and that made all the difference. She was equal parts nervous and excited about signing new team members. In years past they hadn’t signed five competitors in a year. Today they were signing twenty. And Bullet wasn’t one of them.

  He hadn’t brought it up last night either. She’d expected him to, particularly after the run-in with Stormy. Instead, he danced with her. Tristan lost count of how many times. After the first two songs, Bullet went to the bar and got them both a drink while Tristan talked to Lyric about today’s meetings. Before she could get too deep into business mode, he whisked her back to the dance floor.

  Bullet was a good dancer. That hadn’t been a surprise. His graciousness, and their conversations were unexpected.

  Tristan was beginning to think she’d been wrong in her initial assessment of Bullet. Maybe he was more talk than action. Last night Lyric told her about his late wife’s struggles with bipolar disorder, and how hard Bullet had tried to make their marriage work.

  “You talkin’ to yourself or horses this afternoon?” she shouted out to him. Bullet waved, slapped the horse’s hindquarters, and walked over to her.

  “Needed some time outdoors. Bein’ inside all day was gettin’ to me. I’m not one for sittin’ in meetings.”

  “Me too.” Tristan looked up at the mountains surrounding the ranch. The sky, set against the green of the trees, was so blue. No photo could capture its intensity.

  “Beautiful here, isn’t it?”

  Tristan opened her eyes. Bullet stood right next to her. “It’s the same in Black Forest. Sometimes Grey and I lie right down on the grass and watch the clouds move across the sky.”

  “Mmm, that sounds wonderful.”

  Bullet hopped the fence, and pulled her by the hand. “Come on, we got a few minutes before you gotta get back inside.” He didn’t let go of her hand until he’d pulled her down on the grass with him. She expected it to be damp and cold. Instead it was warm from the sun.

  “Look there,” Bullet pointed to a cloud. “Looks a lot like the filly when she reared up on me a bit ago.”

  Tristan put her hand across her brow to shade the sun’s glare. “It does.”

  “Reminded me of you.”

  “What?” Tristan started to sit up, but saw Bullet’s grin and laid back down.

  “Dada!” Grey came running across the lawn and jumped on Bullet’s stomach.

&nb
sp; “Sorry,” said Liv, chasing after him. “He saw you out here and was through the front door before I could stop him.”

  Bullet lifted the little boy up in the air and spun him around until he giggled. “How’s my big boy?”

  Tristan couldn’t understand any of what Grey said in response, but it seemed as though Bullet did. Watching him with his son made her think again that she had misjudged him. Perhaps she should invite him to the sponsorship meeting. If they could sponsor twenty, they could certainly sponsor twenty-one.

  Bullet set Grey on his bottom on the grass and pulled his ringing phone out of his pocket.

  “Yeah,” he answered. “’Bout damn time.” Pause. “Sure, I can meet ya. Just give me a couple days to make arrangements.”

  When he hung up he picked Grey up again. “You ready to see sissy?”

  Grey squealed and let forth another slew of unintelligible words.

  “Sissy?”

  “My daughter. Her mama finally agreed to let her come visit. Been too damn long, hasn’t it Grey?” He set Grey down again, who laid down in the grass next to Tristan.

  Her head was spinning with questions. Daughter? Mama? Bullet had another child? Had he been married before? Why hadn’t Lyric told her that part of the story?

  “Pearl is goin’ on four,” he said, as though that was all the explanation necessary.

  “Time for my meeting,” she stood and walked toward the house.

  “Tristan?” he asked after her.

  “What Bullet?”

  He was on his feet, striding toward her. “What’s goin’ through your head?”

  “Nothing, why?”

  He reached out and rubbed her shoulders. “You were relaxed for a minute. Now you’re all tensed up again. What happened?”

  “Break’s over. Back to business.” She turned away from him, and was almost up the porch steps when he caught up to her again.

  “You got somethin’ against kids?”

  She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “Kids? As in your two children? Or as in you Bullet? I have no problem with the former, it’s the latter that makes me shake my head.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Never mind. None of my business. See you later Bullet.” Tristan closed the front door behind her, leaving him standing on the porch.