Rodeo Daddy

by B. J Daniels

  Lightning lit the dark sky as another spring thunderstorm moved in. The night was black and the storm clouds low, the air thick with the scent of rain as Jack rolled down his window, fear making him sweat.

  “It doesn’t make any sense for Ace to take Chelsea out to the ranch,” Cody said, as if thinking aloud.

  Jack couldn’t agree more. “Unless he’s planning some type of hostage-ransom situation. Maybe he’ll demand a plane to fly him out a million dollars.”

  Cody looked over at him, suspicion in his gaze as he barreled down the road toward the ranch. “You sound like you know the plan.”

  “You don’t still think I’m after your money and the ranch.” Jack shook his head in disgust.

  “I’m not sure what you want,” Cody said.

  “I want to ask Chelsea to marry me, but I don’t want to live on the Wishing Tree and always be the ranch hand who married the ranch owner. But how can I ask her to give up her home to marry me?”

  “She already gave it up,” Cody said.

  “She what?”

  “She insisted I buy her half of the ranch. I was to sign the papers tonight.”

  Chelsea would never give up the Wishing Tree. “Why would she do something like that?”

  Cody shot him a disbelieving look. “She’s in love with you and believes the ranch is the problem between the two of you.”

  Jack swore under his breath. He remembered his cruel words the night she showed up in Lubbock about her never having to give up anything she loved. What a fool he was. If anything happened to her, it would be his fault. His heart swelled with love for her—and terror that Ace might hurt her.

  “I don’t have to ask how you feel about having me in the family,” Jack said.

  “My sister falling in love with a damned fool? How do you think I feel?”

  Jack couldn’t argue that.

  Cody shot him another look as he turned down a narrow dirt road that came into the back end of the ranch. “I’m not worried about you ending up in the family. I just don’t think you have the good sense to ask her to marry you.”

  “You wouldn’t mind?” Jack’s voice betrayed his skepticism.

  “Hell, yes, I would mind. No man is good enough for my little sister. But if she loves you enough to give up the Wishing Tree, maybe you’ll grow on me.”

  Ahead, Jack spotted Chelsea’s Mercedes parked in front of the bunkhouse.

  * * *

  THE NIGHT AIR nearly crackled with electricity, the thunderstorm so close Chelsea could almost feel the first raindrops. Thunder boomed and lightning lit the sky behind Roberta, pitching the older woman into silhouette but picking up the gleam of the knife blade as she brought it down.

  Behind Roberta, a figure appeared, backlit by the lightning and shimmering as if a mirage.

  Chelsea shifted and felt the blade cut into her arm, then Roberta fell back as a strong arm forced her to the ground. Jack!

  As if in a dream, she watched Cody and Jack grab the knife from Roberta and use a piece of bailing twine to tie her up.

  Suddenly Chelsea was in Jack’s arms, and she could hear the sound of sirens in the distance.

  “You’re hurt,” Jack cried as he pulled off his jacket and ripped a piece of his white shirt to bind the wound on her arm. “Don’t worry, it’s not deep.”

  She couldn’t feel anything but his warm fingers as he wrapped the makeshift bandage around her arm. “She killed Ray Dale and Crocker and Tucker McCray. She killed them all. Even Ace.”

  He put his arms around her, holding her tight. “Are you all right? Really all right?”

  She nodded, tears flooding her eyes as he hugged her so tightly she couldn’t breathe.

  “Thank God,” he whispered against her hair. “Thank God.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHELSEA WOKE late the next morning in her own bed at the ranch to find Jack gone. She looked around the room, realizing that she didn’t belong there anymore. She belonged with Jack. And somehow she had to convince him of that.

  When she stumbled down to the kitchen, she found her brother sitting alone at the table. “Where’s Jack?”

  “He left you a message,” Cody said, pointing to a folded sheet of paper at the edge of the table.

  Chelsea felt her heart drop, remembering the last time he’d left her a note. Fingers shaking, she picked it up. Last night they hadn’t had a chance to talk. By the time the sheriff left and Doc Branson came over to stitch up her arm, they’d all been too exhausted.

  She opened the note and read the words written in Jack’s neat script. “There is so much I want to say to you. Please come to the rodeo this afternoon. I thought afterward we could have that talk we planned last night. Until then… Love, Jack.”

  Love, Jack. “He’s gone to the rodeo.”

  “I guess he’s not ready to give it up and settle down just yet,” Cody said. “I think last night scared him. You almost getting killed, finding out that you’d give up the Wishing Tree—”

  “You told him?”

  “Sorry, sis, but I thought the guy ought to know.”

  She felt tears rush her eyes. “It’s all right. I planned to tell him last night myself.” She still felt shaky when she thought about how close she’d come to dying. But Roberta was now in jail. Lloyd was beside himself, never suspecting that the money he’d used to start his stock business had come from rustling cattle. Or that his wife could kill.

  The sheriff had searched the bunkhouse and the ranch and found no negatives. Whether or not any photos had ever existed, it appeared they’d never know.

  “Are you going to the rodeo?” Cody asked.

  The thought of watching Jack ride made her sick inside. “I can’t ask him to give up something he loves so much.”

  “You gave up something you loved for him,” Cody said. “I think you’d better tell him how you feel.”

  At one time she’d thought she could follow him on the circuit, that she could support his career as a bull rider and learn to live with the fear. But the last thing she wanted to do was see him ride again. She couldn’t bear the thought that something would happen to him this time. Or the next.

  She glanced at her watch. She had to talk to Jack, though, and right away. If she hurried she could catch him before he rode.

  * * *

  SEBASTIAN COOPER passed Chelsea on the highway into San Antonio. Chelsea didn’t see him. She seemed lost in her own world. He’d read all about her abduction in the morning papers. It didn’t surprise him about Roberta Crandell. He’d always admired her. Everyone knew Lloyd wouldn’t have a pot to pee in if it hadn’t been for Roberta. Too bad she got caught, though. Now she’d spend the rest of her life in prison—just like J. B. Crowe, if Sebastian had anything to do with it.

  He put Chelsea and Roberta out of his mind. He had bigger things to concern himself with—like finding his wife.

  But he finally had a lead. He’d searched Julie’s files on the computer and found the article she’d done on Hattie Devereaux, the Louisiana midwife.

  He’d read the column twice, feeling more certain each time. Hattie had come to San Antonio for a few months in 1998 to help train midwives in the Mexican community. While there, she’d been featured in one of Julie’s columns.

  Back in Louisiana, the woman lived in an old cabin with one room and no indoor plumbing. Even more interesting, she had several small cabins on the property for expectant mothers with nowhere to go.

  A black midwife do-gooder—just the kind of person Julie might run to. He knew the type. And he knew his wife. All he had to do now was get one of his men to find this Hattie Devereaux and do whatever it took to make her tell them where Julie was.

  * * *

  “I MISSED YOU this morning,” Chelsea said when she found Jack by the chutes.

  “I had some business I had to take care of,” he said. “How’s your arm?”

  “Fine.”

  He seemed nervous, unsure. “Cody told me about you selling your ha
lf of the Wishing Tree to him,” he said after a moment. “Chelsea, I can’t believe you’d do that.”

  “Jack,” she said, her voice softening. “When are you going to realize that you mean more to me than anything else on this earth? You and Sam.”

  “Chelsea, do you realize what you’re getting yourself into with me? I have so little to offer you compared to what you’ve always had. I can’t afford a ranch house like the one you’ve been living in all your life or—”

  “Jack.” She silenced him with her finger on his lips. “The only thing keeping us apart is your pride. And this need you have to prove something to yourself. You don’t have to prove anything to me. Or to Sam. We love you.”

  “Why do I feel like there is a ‘but’ coming?” he asked.

  “I can’t watch you ride. It’s too hard, knowing this might be the time you get gored or stomped to death. I’m sorry, Jack.”

  “You’re up, Jack,” one of the cowboys yelled from the chutes.

  “Good luck with your ride.” She turned and walked away, refusing to look back, praying Jack didn’t end up killing himself. But she wouldn’t be there to watch. It seemed he couldn’t let go of this need to compete, and not just in the arena, but with her money, her family, her ranch.

  “You keep going in this direction, you’re going to miss Jack’s ride,” Rowdy said, catching up to her.

  “I’m leaving,” she said, and kept walking. “There’s nothing more I can do or say to talk him out of it.”

  The cowboy fell in step beside her. “I don’t blame you. The guy’s spent years convincing himself of all the reasons the two of you are wrong for each other. A guy like Jackson isn’t afraid to get on two-ton bulls day after day, but he’s scared to death of loving a woman like you.”

  She stopped walking and turned to look at him.

  “What’s one more rodeo?” Rowdy asked.

  * * *

  JACK CLIMBED UP the side of the chute as the Widow Maker slammed around inside. But he paid little attention to the movements of the bull. It was something he’d long become accustomed to. He tried to clear his mind. Everything hinged on his ride here today. He was on the edge that would put him in the running for the National Finals Rodeo. He’d worked so hard this year to get there and he couldn’t afford to let anything keep him from it.

  Why couldn’t Chelsea understand that? He needed this purse. And the next one and the next one in order to buy the ranch next to the Wishing Tree. He was doing this for her. And Sam. He was ready to quit the rodeo. He didn’t have that many more years he could ride, and Chelsea was right. It was time to settle down and give Sam a home.

  She’d sold her share of the Wishing Tree. Cody had signed the papers that morning. It was inconceivable. She’d also almost gotten herself killed trying to clear his name. He felt sick inside, overwhelmed by her love—just as he’d been by her money.

  Chelsea had proved she could survive in his world. But she’d turned that world upside down. She had him questioning the last ten years of his life. Wondering what he was doing perched on top of this chute, about to drop down on the back of this rank bull.

  “Fool woman,” he muttered to himself as he straddled the bull and leaned down to work the rope around his gloved hand.

  “Here,” Rowdy said, bending over the edge of the chute to tighten the rope for him.

  Jack looked up at his friend. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me, I think you’re the dumbest cowboy I’ve ever met.”

  “Why aren’t you in the announcing booth where you belong?” Jack asked.

  “Got someone to fill in for me so I could come down here and try to talk some sense into your hard head,” Rowdy said.

  “If this is about Chelsea, I don’t want to hear it.”

  “I’m sure you don’t.” Rowdy tightened the rope around Jack’s gloved hand. “But I’m your best friend so I guess it’s up to me to say it. You’ve had a chip on your shoulder for years, Jack. You’ve had some hard knocks—no one is arguing that. But you know what your problem is?”

  “I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “You don’t think you’re good enough for her and you’re wrong. You’re the best damned man I’ve ever known. Don’t be a fool. You let her go this time, Jack, and you’ll regret it as long as you live. Except this time, you’ll have only yourself to blame.”

  “Are you finished?” he snapped. “You might not have noticed, but I’ve got a bull to ride.”

  “Yeah, I can see that,” Rowdy said. “And riding this bull means everything to you, doesn’t it? I hope it’s worth it. By the way, this bull likes fences and stomping cowboys. Have a good ride, bud.” He moved away.

  Jack settled down on the bull, telling himself Rowdy didn’t know a damned thing about women—or bulls.

  * * *

  CHELSEA WATCHED Jack and Rowdy by the chutes, wondering why she’d let Rowdy talk her into this. Did Rowdy really think her staying could change anything? She’d done all she could do. It was up to Jack now. And as she watched him get ready for his ride, she knew this would be her last rodeo. Even if—no, when—Jack made it to the National Finals, she wouldn’t be there. Nor would she watch on television.

  Once she left here, she’d be starting a new life. She wouldn’t be going back to the Wishing Tree. As much as she loved the ranch, she knew it would never feel like home again. Not after this week with Jack and Sam.

  That would be the hard part. Forgetting.

  She glanced over in surprise as Sam slid in next to her.

  “Hi,” the girl said. Her face was still blotchy from crying, her hat pulled low, her expression sad.

  “What’s wrong?” Chelsea asked in concern.

  “Dad said we’re leaving for El Paso tonight,” the girl said. “And you aren’t coming with us, are you?”

  Chelsea shook her head.

  “Dad said he has to make it to the National Finals or we can’t get the ranch he wants.”

  “But once you have a ranch, you can get that horse—your own Sam’s Star.” Her voice broke at the realization she wouldn’t be there the first time Sam rode her very own horse.

  “I don’t want to go without you.” Tears filled the girl’s eyes. “I want us to be a family. I want—” a sob escaped “—I want you to be my mother.”

  “Oh, Sam.” Chelsea pulled the girl into her arms. “That’s what I want to be, too.”

  “And now in chute three, Texas-born and raised Jackson Robinson on the Widow Maker!”

  “If Dad gets a good score, we’ll be going to the National Finals Rodeo,” she said, but Chelsea could hear the change in her voice. The magic had gone out of her words, out of the dream.

  * * *

  JACK SAID a little prayer and looked up to where Sam always sat, hoping she would be there, needing her there more than ever before.

  He spotted her western hat and caught a glimpse of her face. Then his throat tightened as he saw Chelsea sitting next to her. He’d just assumed Chelsea was miles down the road by now.

  He lifted his left hand and nodded to the gatekeeper.

  The Widow Maker was known for high kicks and then turning back hard, trying to hook his riders. Jack didn’t know where Rowdy got the idea that the bull had taken to fences.

  The snorting creature came out of the chute in one explosive jump and began to buck.

  “Did ya’ll see that one?” the announcer hollered. “Birds could have built a nest in that cowboy’s hat, that bull bucked so high.”

  But suddenly, instead of kicking and twisting and trying to drop him in the well, the Widow Maker headed for the fence at a dead run.

  Jack could see what the bull had in mind but couldn’t move quickly enough to prevent it.

  The Widow Maker sideswiped the fence, slamming Jack into it. The right side of his chest hit the wooden post, knocking the breath out of him. Then the bull began to buck and jump and twist and turn, but it was too late.

  “Looks like Jack Shane
is going to get a reride,” the announcer said.

  Jack held on until the pickup boys came alongside, then grabbed one of the riders and pulled himself off the angry bull. But before his feet touched earth, he knew he was hurt.

  * * *

  CHELSEA SAW the way Jack grabbed his ribs. She looked over at Sam, who was watching Jack closely.

  “I’m going to go talk to your father,” Chelsea said, starting to get to her feet.

  “It won’t do any good,” Sam said quietly. “You’ll just make him mad, make him ride again even if he hadn’t planned to.” It seemed Sam knew her father. “Anyway, he’s ridden hurt before. A lot of bull riders ride hurt.”

  Chelsea sat back down, thinking she would never understand men and their constant drive to prove themselves. She had actually come to understand Jack’s need to ride bulls. He had a talent for it and he’d found something he could excel at. She knew he needed that after her father had hurt him.

  But how many world championships did he have to win? How much money did he have to earn before he bought that ranch he’d always dreamed of? The ranch his daughter wanted so desperately.

  But she knew the answer to that. He wanted a ranch larger than the Wishing Tree. Had she done this to Jack? Or was it just his damned pride?

  She feared Sam was right. If she went down in the chutes, she would only make matters worse. It wasn’t as if this was the last bull Jack planned to ride.

  “Yep, the judges say they’re going to give Jackson a reride,” the announcer was saying. “Let’s give him a big hand, because he’s going to be coming back out on a bull called Dead Eye Joe. Friends, this bull has got a forty-thousand dollar bounty on him because he has yet to be ridden! But if anyone can do it, it’s Jackson Robinson!”

  She closed her eyes and reached over to take Sam’s hand.

  Sam squeezed back. “Dad can do it. He can do anything he sets his mind to.”

  Chelsea opened her eyes and smiled over at the girl. She prayed Sam was right.

  * * *

  JACK CLIMBED the metal chute and looked down on the bull. Dead Eye Joe. He’d wanted to ride this bull for a very long time. It wasn’t just the bounty on this beast. No man had ridden him, and Jack wanted to be the first.