Rodeo Nights

by Patricia McLinn

  He was stunned. By her pain. By his stupidity.

  That bull tossed you in the air like you were a rag doll. He’d heard her say the words tonight, but he hadn’t stopped to argue with them. Because the bull hadn’t tossed him. He’d already dismounted and started to back up, to clear out of the clowns’ way, when the crafty Brahman gave a feint, then twisted his massive head to catch Walker a slashing blow with his horn.

  But Cory had been tossed like that the night he died.

  And that’s what his Kalli saw in her mind every time she thought about him going up on a bull.

  He should have known. Hell, she’d even said something about Cory during the trip to the hospital.

  God, he hadn’t even come close to it when he said her imaginings were worse than the real thing. Cory’s death was the worst thing he’d seen in nearly twenty years of rodeoing. He’d heard old-timers who’d said the same thing, only doubling the years. If that’s what she thought every time he rode...

  He took her in his arms. The tears still falling, she resisted a moment, then leaned into him. Letting him hold her, letting him rock her. He felt powerful and invincible. And humbled.

  “It’s all right, Kalli.” He kissed the top of her head and smoothed her hair back. The stream of tears wetted his fingertips. “Aw, Kalli. Kalli, honey. It’s all right. It’s all right.”

  He kept murmuring assurances, until the tears slowed. She took in a deep, cleansing breath and released it in the only sob he’d heard since she’d started crying. Then she took another breath and expelled it slowly.

  That’s when he kissed her, feeling the wetness on her mouth, tasting the saltiness that had tracked her lips. She responded. When they were both breathless, he followed the salty path over her chin, down her soft throat, past her collarbone. Opening and pushing aside her button-front sleep shirt, he found a tiny pool of droplets between her breasts. He licked it dry, then kissed the spot, anointing it with a new wetness.

  “I want you, Kalli. I want to make love with you.”

  He needed her now. The need might eat at him when she was gone, but for now, she was still here.

  “Your leg... No...”

  But she helped his questing hands, shrugging out of her sleep shirt, reaching for him. He’d heard the need in her voice. The same kind of need he’d felt that day in the office, after she’d walked away from him. And he realized a little more just how scared she’d been.

  “My leg will be fine.”

  “Walker,” she protested again. But by then they were both naked. And their skimming, stroking, dipping touches showed they were both ready.

  “It’ll be fine.” He put on the condom with hands not entirely steady. “You’re going to make love to me.”

  He positioned her astride him, and plunged into her before she could voice another protest. He watched as her own needs took control. Her need to prove how real, how alive he was under her. He understood that need, and met it.

  He watched her face as she rose above him, concentrating to hold back his own release until hers was complete. Caressing her breasts, he gripped her hips, arching up into her in movements that tormented him and drove her nearer to where she needed to be. Where he needed to take her.

  “Walker? Walker!”

  “I’m here. Right here.”

  * * *

  THE BRIGHTNESS OF the clock’s electric numbers was beginning to fade against the coming daylight when she shifted in his arms and found him awake and watching her. She said the words weighing on her heart.

  “I don’t want you getting hurt, or worse.”

  He moved his head so they were looking straight into each other’s eyes.

  And she saw again what she’d seen earlier— He wasn’t convinced that she wasn’t leaving for good.

  “And I don’t want you walking out of my life.”

  He kissed her, and she answered. A deep, lasting kiss. But in it, she tasted the knowledge they’d both acquired over the past ten years: you don’t always get what you want.

  * * *

  HE DROVE HER to the airport, grinning at her fussing about his driving with that gash in his leg.

  “At least I don’t have to be a witness to your competing tonight,” she grumbled. “It’s probably just as well I’m leaving.”

  That wiped out his grin, and suddenly she felt nervous and awkward about the whole situation. About being here.

  About being with him. About leaving him.

  The rest of the short drive was made in silence. In the tiny waiting room, the conversation consisted of her last-second listings of rodeo details he should handle or remind Roberta to see to and her urging him to call New York if anything came up, and his stolid assurances.

  When the agent called her flight and the other passengers started through security, they looked at each other, glanced away and stood.

  Two steps from where the agent checked boarding passes and ID, Walker’s hand on Kalli’s arm turned her toward him. Without preamble, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, sliding his tongue into her mouth with deep, slow thrusts that brought memories of their lovemaking to an immediate blaze in her body.

  He released her mouth, but still held her against him, their bodies fully prepared to complete the union their mouths had intimated.

  Under the brim of his hat, his eyes showed blue around desire-dilated pupils.

  “Come back to me, Kalli.”

  Then he let her go and strode away. Like an automaton, she handed her ticket to the goggle-eyed agent and followed the routine. But all she saw was Walker’s face, and all she heard was his voice.

  Come back to me, Kalli.

  * * *

  TWO DAYS.

  Two days, she’d said. Thursday at the latest.

  She’d left Monday at first light. Now it was Thursday night. No, make that Friday—by the clock and soon by the sun.

  Walker stood on his porch, leaning against the post, looking down at a house where no light showed in the last room on the north wing and calling himself every kind of fool.

  He shouldn’t have let her go. If he’d kept her here—somehow—he could have fought her fear. But now the fear had a clear field again. The same fear that had kept her away ten years.

  Not learning from your mistakes in rodeo was a sure path to failure, and a possible route to getting killed.

  Seemed like loving Kalli could be just as deadly.

  * * *

  THE BLARING CAR horn didn’t make her jump as it had her first day back in the city. She glared at the driver who’d expressed his outrage at being denied an opportunity to run a red light by pedestrians daring to cross with the green.

  So, her New York skills had not all disappeared. She’d begun to wonder since arriving three days ago.

  The sounds had seemed louder, the lights harsher, the buildings grayer, the air denser, the sky farther. Even her own apartment seemed alien and severe.

  Not that she’d spent much time there, she thought with a wry smile as she entered a restaurant. The maitre d’ seemed slightly taken aback, then returned her smile and led her through the maze of tables.

  Jerry Salk had plunged her into a whirlwind of activity, finagling her into dealing with two other clients in addition to Lou Loben “as long as you’re here.” From power lunches to tense conferences to late strategy sessions to breakfast negotiations to—finally—this celebratory late-night drink, where she would join Jerry and Lou in self-congratulatory toasts, every minute had been full. But work hadn’t kept any demons away this time, because every moment had also been empty.

  Empty without Walker.

  She missed him. Missed him with an ache and loneliness that surpassed even what she’d felt when she first came to this city ten years ago, a refugee from her own fear. Perhaps she missed him more now because she missed the real Walker, the man he’d become. The man she loved.

  ‘‘Kalli!’’

  She barely heard Jerry’s exultant greeting. She sat hard in the cha
ir the maitre d’ held for her because her knees had stopped holding her up.

  She missed the man she loved.

  She loved him. Absolutely. Unreservedly. Loved him more than anything else in this life.

  This time with a love stronger than fear.

  To protect herself from worrying day by day, she’d lost the chance to love him and be loved in return hour by hour, minute by minute, and in the end, she’d lost years.

  No, they’d lost years. Because he’d had his fears, too. To protect himself from wondering second by second if she might leave, he’d presumed she would walk away again.

  I don’t want you getting hurt, or worse.

  And I don’t want you walking out of my life.

  Their fears had almost led to what they feared most—losing each other.

  “Are you okay, Kalli?”

  Her surroundings came into focus. Lou watched her with puzzlement and faint concern, Jerry was talking—as always—and she had a half-empty glass of champagne in her hand she didn’t remember accepting, much less drinking from.

  “Okay? She’s riding high. And now that this deal’s wrapped up, you can talk to Arliss Rand tomorrow. He’s got questions on that hardware store chain.”

  “No. I stayed an extra day and a half, but—”

  “A day? What’s that matter when it’s a team like us?”

  “No, Jerry.”

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “I mean, no, I can’t talk to Arliss Rand because I am leaving in the morning.”

  “Leaving?” he repeated blankly. Lou began to smile.

  “I’m going back to Wyoming and—”

  “Going back? For what? A couple days, that’s all. Then you’re back here. You might as well stay, save yourself all that flying.”

  “There won’t be much flying, because I’m going back to Wyoming for good.”

  His mouth opened, closed, then reopened immediately “So you go back a few days, okay, finish up what you want, then you come back. I’m not an ogre. You finish up that rodeo, then you come on back. Arliss Rand will wait.”

  “He’ll have to wait a long time, because I am not coming back, Jerry. I have another month of vacation time, so consider that your notice. I officially resign.”

  “Resign? What are you talking about, resign? We can work this out. We won’t talk about it now. Tomorrow—”

  “Tomorrow I’ll be on a flight to Wyoming.” She made the next words as solid as a few square miles of the Rocky Mountains. “That decision is final.”

  “I don’t understand,” Jerry said plaintively.

  Lou leaned back, his smile full-blown. “You know, Jerry, there’s an old country song I think wraps up what Kalli’s trying to tell you.”

  Jerry looked as if he wanted to pull his hair out. Or perhaps Lou’s and hers. “A song? What song?”

  “It’s called, ‘Take This Job and Shove It.’ ” Lou lifted his glass to her in a toast.

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  Ignoring Jerry, she grinned back at Lou.

  “I didn’t know you liked country music.”

  “How could you not like a sentiment like that?”

  “Wyoming!” Jerry bleated. “You’ll come back, just you wait and see. You’ll miss the excitement, you’ll miss the deals, you’ll miss the life. You’ll be back, begging me.”

  “You should come to Wyoming, Lou,” Kalli said, enjoying herself. “I’d invite Jerry, too, but he doesn’t seem interested. But please, come out and see the rodeo.”

  Even as Lou said he’d love to and Jerry muttered himself into silence, she considered her final words and made a slight adjustment.

  “Come out and see our rodeo.”

  * * *

  ONE FLIGHT CANCELED. Another caught by thunderstorms over Chicago and diverted to Detroit for an hour’s wait, and more pacing. A missed connection. By the time she caught the commuter flight from Denver to Park, Kalli thought the pioneers might have had an easier time in covered wagons.

  When she finally landed, it was at a time when everyone would be hip-deep in running the Friday-evening rodeo—the second-to-last of the season. She tried the ranch, but got no answer; they were probably all at the rodeo. She rented a car, ignoring a tiny, practical voice nagging about that extravagance for someone soon to be unemployed. If she waited a few hours, someone on the rodeo staff could pick her up.

  She wasn’t waiting any more hours.

  She wasn’t missing this rodeo.

  Still, when she got to the rodeo grounds, events were in full swing.

  She went straight to Walker’s camper.

  It was empty.

  She stood in the doorway, numbed for a moment. She’d been so sure she would find him here. She would explain what she’d realized these past few days, and then tell him she loved him, too. But he wasn’t here. Which probably meant he’d gone to the bull chutes to wait, among the other competitors, to ride. Not exactly the most romantic spot for telling a man you loved him and wanted to marry him—again.

  The powerful arena lights streamed through the open door over her shoulder and glinted on something metallic on the bunk. Walker’s championship buckle. Left where she’d dropped it five nights ago.

  Staring at it, her mind began to function again.

  Maybe the bull chutes provided exactly the right spot for this declaration of love.

  Smiling, she pulled off her belt and threaded the heavy leather of Walker’s championship belt through her jeans’ loops. The buckle felt cumbersome, but she could almost imagine a warmth emanating from the metal. Positioning the buckle at the front of her waist, she wrapped the leftover leather far to the side, well beyond the last hole.

  After thirty seconds of rooting in a drawer in the kitchenette, she found a roll of tape. With an awkward but effective wrapping motion, she secured the leather and bit off the tape, tucking in the end.

  Then she went in search of Walker Riley.

  * * *

  THE ROUTINE DIDN’T offer solace or ease the pain, but it did provide the comfort of familiarity.

  He’d taped up. Put on his chaps. Strapped up the bull he’d drawn. Checked his rig. Now he waited. Until the moment came when he would lower himself, working his glove into the strap, getting it just right, flexing his hand to check it, tightening his hold, retesting it. Then giving the signal to open the chute. To let two thousand pounds of bull free to try its damnedest to rid itself of his relatively inconsequential weight.

  He could feel the adrenaline, familiar, welcome and necessary. But he could also feel the drag of his heart.

  God, he loved her.

  But she couldn’t love him, at least not this part of him, not when she let her fear stand between them. And though he knew—and accepted—that the moments like this were dwindling, it was still a part of him. It would never lose its hold on him. Even when he no longer competed.

  A chute opened down the line, the crowd roared and a rider held on for dear life. One more to go before his turn.

  He didn’t even try to still the thoughts, though he knew the danger of letting anything intrude between him and this moment. He couldn’t stop thinking of Kalli any more than he could have stopped loving her from the time she first smiled at him, all those years ago.

  “Walker?”

  Gulch’s voice sounded odd, is if he knew Walker’s mind wasn’t where it was supposed o be. Walker didn’t bother answering. Last thing he needed was a lecture.

  “Walker!’’

  He growled a curse without looking up from where he flexed his hand in the skintight glove. “What?”

  Gulch punched his arm. “Lookit. Look over there, you sorry son-of-a-gun idiot.”

  Walker did look up because it almost sounded as if Gulch was grinning.

  He was. As wide and as bright as he could manage. Walker gaped at him but Gulch didn’t pay any attention; he was looking over Walker’s shoulder.

  Walker started to turn in the same direction, but a
pparently not fast enough to suit Gulch, because the older man cuffed him on the shoulder to hurry up the process. “Lookit, will ya?”

  Walker looked.

  It was the prettiest sight he’d ever seen.

  Kalli Evans was standing not four feet away. Smiling at him. A little tentatively and with a tear slipping down her right cheek, but smiling at him. And wearing his championship buckle.

  The symbol of his rodeo success, also a symbol of their years apart.

  Now she wore it, linking past and future.

  He started toward her on an instinct bred as deep as the need to breathe, and the urge to ride, but Gulch caught his arm.

  “You’re up next, boy. And by the looks of it, she’ll still be here when you’re done.”

  Kalli must have heard, because she gave a nod and her eyes promised she would be there when his ride ended. This ride, and the last ride. She said something, but the only words he caught over the announcement of the preceding rider’s scores were “good ride.” Then she backed up a couple of paces, leaving him to do what he had to do.

  He looked at her a moment longer. “I will. I love you, Kalli.”

  He made no effort to make the words loud enough for her to hear over the noise of the crowd. They were words to be felt more than heard, anyhow. And by her eyes, he knew she’d felt them.

  Then he turned all his attention to the bull.

  Centering. Clearing. Setting. Nodding his head and giving the terse, “Ready.”

  * * *

  IN EIGHT SECONDS and the time it took to sprint across the arena, he came over the fence grinning, looped his arms around her waist and spun her off her feet before she could react.

  Then he kissed her, there in front of his fellow competitors, the inordinate number of employees who happened to find an errand in that vicinity right then, the spectators milling in front of the concession stand and anyone who happened to look over the rail from the Buzzards’ Roost.

  He released her mouth, but didn’t loosen his arms. The light in his eyes had turned serious.

  “Are you back to stay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you going to help me take some of the load for Mary and Jeff next season?”