Rodeo Daddy

by B. J Daniels

  Chelsea winced, then jumped at the sound of a horn. The ride was over, but Jack seemed unable to get off the bull. She found herself with her hands over her mouth, watching in horror as the bull continued to buck.

  Two riders on horseback positioned themselves along each side of the bull. One of them reached over to jerk on the rope that still had Jack tied to Free Wheelin’. At what seemed like the very last moment, Jack jerked free, grabbed hold of one of the riders and swung from the bull to the ground.

  “That wasn’t much of a ride,” Sam said, rising to her feet. “He’ll be mad.”

  Not much of a ride? Chelsea staggered to her feet, her heart still pounding.

  “Seventy. That’s seven-oh for Jackson Robinson on Free Wheelin’,” the announcer said over the loudspeaker. “Disappointing ride for this cowboy, but let’s give him a big hand.”

  “He isn’t going to like that,” Sam said as she led the way from the grandstands. “He’s had a streak of bad luck. He even wore his lucky shirt today but it can’t help when you draw a bad bull.”

  Chelsea was still trying to take it all in. “What happens now?”

  Sam stopped abruptly, turned and squinted up at her. “We drive to the next rodeo.”

  “Oh. Where is the next rodeo?”

  “Dallas. Dad rides again tomorrow.”

  Dallas was at least a day’s drive. “He plans to drive there before he rides?”

  Sam was giving her that disbelieving look again. “We’ll drive all night tonight.”

  “Isn’t there a closer rodeo?” Chelsea asked.

  “Not with the purses Dad needs to make National Finals.” Sam studied her for a moment, then turned and headed for the chutes.

  Chelsea stood watching her go, not sure what to do next. Already, she was proving Jack right. She knew nothing about his world. Worse, she didn’t understand why Jack was doing this. Riding wild bulls. Risking life and limb when he had a young daughter who needed him. What was wrong with this man? What was wrong with her for thinking they had anything in common anymore?

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of him. He came out of the chute area, dusty, obviously disappointed but not defeated. No, not Jack. She watched him walk toward Sam, his head down, and felt a yank at her heart so strong it made her hurt inside.

  His head came up as he saw his daughter, a smile lifting his lips. He pulled Sam to him, and the two talked for a moment before he swung her up and onto his shoulders, Sam giggling like the nine-year-old she really was.

  Chelsea tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Their closeness reminded her of her relationship with her own father.

  As she turned, she came face-to-face with Ace Winters.

  “I heard you’ve been looking for me.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “I THOUGHT YOU LEFT,” she said, trying to mask her surprise.

  “Obviously not.” Ace Winters had blond boyish good looks that obviously got him what he wanted. He flashed a smile at Chelsea as if women came looking for him every day of the week.

  But Chelsea didn’t like him any more than she had ten years ago. She wasn’t sure what it was about Ace that put her off. It wasn’t just his arrogance. Lord knew, Jack had more than his share. But there was something slimy about Ace, and she didn’t trust him.

  Unfortunately, she needed something from him.

  “I wanted to ask you a few questions,” she said.

  “Sure, but you’ll have to ask while we walk. My plane is waiting and I’ve already filed my flight plan and can’t change it.” He must have seen her surprise. “I bought my own plane and try to fly to all the rodeos. Saves a lot of wear and tear on my body.” He gave her a broad smile. “I can get to where I’m going and relax a little before my next ride. Sure beats driving like in the old days….”

  She nodded and trotted along beside him, trying hard to figure out a way to broach the subject with more finesse than she had with Crocker.

  “I wanted to talk to you about the summer you worked on the Wishing Tree.”

  “Great,” he said, looking around. “Terri Lyn was supposed to give me a ride to the airport. Damn that girl. I don’t see her anywhere around.”

  She was probably with Jack. “I can give you a ride,” Chelsea suggested.

  “You don’t mind?” he asked, sounding not in the least surprised.

  “Not at all. My car’s right over here.” She motioned to the baby-blue Mercedes.

  “Oh, sweet,” Ace said as he climbed in the passenger side. “This is one fine car.” He ran his hands over the leather interior and eyed her as if she was suddenly more interesting.

  “Anyway, you remember that summer you worked for my family on the ranch?”

  “Your family? You’re going to have to refresh my memory,” he said as he gave her the directions to the airport, then lay back to enjoy the ride.

  “The Jensens. The Wishing Tree Ranch.”

  “How many years ago was that, anyway?”

  “Ten.”

  He let out a low whistle. “Well, you certainly have grown up,” he said, shooting her an assessing glance out of the corner of his eye. “Sorry to hear about your dad. That must be tough.”

  “Yes. About that summer…”

  “How’s your brother Cody? He still riding any?”

  “He’s fine. He gave up rodeoing after college.”

  “Too bad,” Ace said. “Rodeoing is like a religion to me.”

  Chelsea had to restrain from rolling her eyes. “That summer was the one we had that fire in the north forty, you probably remember,” she said, trying to refresh his memory.

  He frowned. “Can’t say I do. You’re sure that’s the year I worked your ranch?”

  “Positive. Jack was there and C. J. Crocker.”

  “Sorry,” he said as he told her to turn onto a small airstrip not far from the rodeo grounds. “You say Jack worked there? Jackson Robinson?”

  “He used to go by Shane. Jack Shane.” Was Ace putting her on or did he really not remember?

  He had her park next to his Cessna 185 and checked his watch as he opened his door to get out.

  “It was the summer Ray Dale Farnsworth was killed,” she blurted, afraid he’d have the same reaction C.J. had.

  “Ray Dale. I do remember,” Ace said suddenly. “He was a stocky kid, looked more like a prizefighter than a cowboy. Always picking fights and drinking too much.”

  Finally. “Well, what I—”

  “Hell, I remember this one night when Ray Dale and Jack got into it,” Ace said, cutting her off. “I do remember Jack working for your family that summer, now that I think about it. Oh, hell, yes.”

  “Jack and Ray Dale got into a fight?” she asked, scrambling after him as he exited the car and headed for his plane.

  “Chelsea, honey, I’m sorry, but I got to get going. I’d love to reminisce about the old days but I’ve got to get to Dallas and—Wait a minute, what are your plans? Why don’t you come with me and we can talk? I can have someone bring your car.”

  She blinked at him. He wasn’t serious? “You mean fly to Dallas now?”

  “Sure, you’re not afraid to fly, are you?”

  “No, but—”

  “Come on, then. It will be fun to have some company. We can talk all you want. Grab your bag and let’s go.” He climbed up onto the wing and slid into the plane, motioning for her to get moving.

  She stood staring at him for a moment. Damn him. He could take a few minutes and answer her questions, unless he was just putting her off. Thinking she wouldn’t do it.

  Flying to Dallas with Ace Winters was the last thing she wanted to do, but she would have a few hours to get answers and Ace wouldn’t have any way to get away from her.

  But then, she wouldn’t have any way to get away from him. It was a price she’d have to pay.

  * * *

  AFTER ALL THE YEARS Jack had spent looking for Chelsea’s face in the rodeo crowds, today was the one day he hadn’t expected
to see it.

  He thought Chelsea would be back in San Antonio by now. The last place she’d be was here—and with Ace Winters. The two of them walking toward Chelsea’s car.

  “She didn’t leave,” Sam said as Jack froze in midstep. “I can see that. Did she say what she was doing back here?” he asked Sam.

  “Said she just wanted to see the rodeo, but she doesn’t know anything about it.”

  He swore under his breath as he watched Chelsea and Ace drive away. What was she still doing here? Let alone taking off with Ace. She wasn’t just here for the rodeo. He’d bet money on that.

  “Dad,” Sam asked. “Can I go see Becky Harper until we have to leave?”

  Jack swung his daughter down from his shoulders and stood her in front of him. “Aren’t you grounded?”

  “No, you never got around to grounding me,” she admitted. “But you don’t need to. I learned my lesson,” she rushed on, her face a mask of innocence, her voice sugary sweet. “I’m not going to interfere in your personal life ever again.”

  Yeah, right. Until the next time.

  He knew he should stick to his guns and punish her, but he also knew he was too hard on Sam sometimes, expecting too much of her. Life on the circuit was difficult for all of them, especially her. He should cut her more slack.

  He also wanted to be alone for a while so he could fuss and cuss. “All right. But we pull out in forty-five minutes. Set your watch and be back by then.”

  “I promise,” Sam said, all smiles. She gave him a kiss on his cheek and a quick hug.

  He held her tight for a moment, marveling at this child of his and wondering what he’d have done without her. Then he watched as she took off at a dead run toward the Harpers’ trailer.

  Hard to imagine that when he’d found her on his doorstep, he’d thought having a baby was the worst thing that could happen to him. At the time, it had seemed that way.

  But the moment he’d looked at her face, he felt as if he’d been sucker punched. He was hooked, and somehow he and Sam had gotten this far.

  Now Chelsea had turned up to remind him of the past, the mistakes he’d made and everything he could never have.

  He turned and stalked over to the motor home, telling himself he had to get moving. He still had to drive to Dallas tonight. But he knew nothing was going to help his bad mood.

  He’d felt like hell all day. After a sleepless, troubled night, he’d woken up tired, grouchy and definitely down. He’d spent his day doing chores and helping Sam with her homework, leaving enough time to go to the zoo before he had to ride. Sam loved zoos and he tried to take her whenever the opportunity arose.

  Terri Lyn had come by this morning to apologize for last night and try to make up. He liked her and didn’t want there to be any animosity between them, but he wanted to cool it for a while. And it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why. Chelsea. She’d always spoiled him for other women.

  “It’s that…woman,” Terri Lyn had said.

  “No, it’s me. I’m not ready for a relationship.”

  “A relationship?” Terri Lyn had laughed. “Darlin’, I’m just looking to have a little fun. You do remember fun, don’t you, Jack?”

  Sam had interrupted them, thank goodness, and Terri Lyn had left with a wink and a grin.

  Just when he’d thought the day couldn’t get any worse, he’d drawn a bull that he knew wouldn’t give him the score he needed—and it hadn’t. Then, to add to his misery, he’d seen Chelsea—with Ace.

  He knew what was bothering him. He regretted what he’d said to Chelsea and mentally kicked himself for saying it. At the time, he’d thought he was doing them both a favor.

  They were just too different. She was too rich, and he was too poor and too proud. But it was deeper than that. She could never accept life on his terms. And there was no part in her life for him. Her future was at the Wishing Tree Ranch, a place he would never be welcomed again. And he sure as hell couldn’t see her settling for less.

  They had no future together. Never had.

  Last night he thought she’d hightail it back to San Antonio and the ranch.

  Instead, she hadn’t left, and now was on her way somewhere with Ace. Of all people. Jack swore as he disconnected the sewer hose and went to work on the jacks and blocks under the motor home. Wasn’t it bad enough that Ace had gotten a better score than he had riding slack today?

  The two of them had been neck and neck heading to the finals. And now… Well, all Jack could do was hope for a good ride in Dallas. Once he got there.

  Chelsea and Ace. Damn.

  At this rate, he would never make the National Finals, and now he had to drive all night to Dallas for his next rodeo.

  As he finished loading up for the trip, he told himself if Chelsea wanted to hang out with Ace, it was her choice and none of his business.

  But he couldn’t help worrying about her. Chelsea was no match for a man like Ace Winters.

  * * *

  THE FLIGHT with Ace was blessedly short and definitely not sweet.

  “Rustling?” he had asked. “I don’t know why you think I’d know anything about it. As if Ray Dale had been smart enough to pull off rustling cattle. No, I think you’ve got your facts wrong. You should ask your…friend Jack why he was so mad at Ray Dale that time.”

  “You think they were fighting about rustling?”

  Ace shrugged. “All I know is that Jack was furious. I thought he was going to kill Ray Dale. But the next day, I heard Jack apologize and they seemed fine again. In fact, they were thick as thieves after that. And Jack is smart enough to be a damned good rustler.”

  Nothing like a backhanded compliment. But she couldn’t discount the bunkhouse fight. If there really had been a fight, it might mean that Jack had known about the rustling, or at least suspected something. Then why hadn’t he come to her?

  She tried a different approach. “When I talked to C. J. Crocker—”

  “You talked to Crocker?” Ace appeared surprised by that. “What did he say?”

  “Not much.” How about nothing at all? “But he made it sound as if Jack wasn’t involved.” A small fib.

  Ace shot her a look. “You can’t believe anything Crocker tells you. He’s a clown, for hell’s sake.” Ace laughed and changed the subject, but he seemed edgy after that.

  For the remainder of the flight, Chelsea only half listened to Ace’s stories of his daring bull rides and his climb to success.

  Lloyd and Roberta were right. Finding out who’d been rustling that summer seemed an impossible task. But she still had a couple more cowboys to talk to if Dylan could find them. Someone knew the truth.

  The moment they landed, Chelsea called for a rental car, then dialed Dylan’s number. He answered on the second ring.

  “It’s Chelsea,” she said, watching Ace unload his gear from the plane into another cowboy’s pickup.

  “Where are you?” Dylan asked, sounding worried.

  “In Dallas. In a phone booth beside a small airstrip.”

  “So you’re headed home?”

  She watched Ace and his buddy drive away. Ace was leaning back, his hat pulled low, but his gaze held hers until the pickup disappeared around the corner of the building. She shivered, although it must have been 110 degrees in the booth. “Not exactly. Did you find either Tucker or Lance?”

  “Tucker McCray owns a small ranch outside of Oklahoma City,” Dylan said, sounding hesitant about telling her.

  Oklahoma City? Wasn’t it on the rodeo schedule she’d printed up? She pulled it out of her purse. Ace and Jack would be riding there in a few days. And C. J. Crocker was one of the bull riding clowns.

  “Chelsea?”

  “Sorry, what did you say?”

  “Lance Prescott is not far from where you are now. You sure you want to continue this?”

  It did feel like a fool’s errand. Especially after all the things Jack had said to her last night. But she feared some of them were true and she wasn’t ab
out to let this go now. “Where can I find Lance?”

  “He works at a carnival called Extravaganza, and it’s in Fort Worth right now,” Dylan said. “He operates one of the rides. Chelsea, listen. Be careful. This guy has done time for assault.”

  “Thanks for warning me.”

  “I put together some information on all of your cowhands that summer, some of which might convince you to drop this,” Dylan said. “Is there someplace I could fax it to you?”

  She knew of a hotel in town where she’d stayed during a business conference and gave him the name and number from the phone book hanging in the booth.

  She hated to ask. “Anything more on Jack?”

  “Not yet. I’m still digging.”

  Relieved, she hung up. Dylan wasn’t going to find anything suspicious about Jack. She knew it.

  She looked at her watch as her rental car arrived. Too late to go to the carnival. All she could do was drive to the hotel, get something to eat and see what Dylan had faxed her.

  It was at least a seven-hour drive from Lubbock to Dallas. That meant she wouldn’t get her Mercedes until morning. Jack wouldn’t be getting in until after midnight.

  As antsy as she was, she would have to wait until morning to ask him about the fight with Ray Dale. Maybe she’d try to talk to C. J. Crocker again. One thing was clear, she’d be traveling with the rodeo at least as far as Oklahoma City. Wasn’t Jack going to love that. The thought gave her the only satisfaction she’d had all day.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JACK WAS SITTING beside the motor home in his lawn chair, drinking a cup of coffee in the warm sun and hoping his luck was going to change.

  But when Chelsea drove up in her fancy sports car, got out and headed toward him with a look in her eye he definitely didn’t like, he knew neither his luck nor his mood was about to improve soon.

  “I want to take you up on your offer,” she said, haughty as you please. It appeared at least one of them had gotten her beauty sleep last night.

  His offer? He rubbed one aching temple as he tried to remember anything she might have taken as an “offer.”

  “One week in your world.”