The Bull Rider Wears Pink

by Jeanine McAdam

  “I love—” John started.

  “I get it,” Logan pointed at John as he interrupted him. “My sister is a good looking woman besides being a nice person.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “But there's something funny about you and I can't figure it out.” He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin.

  “He's not—” Cassidy started to tell her brother.

  “Cassidy doesn’t usually go for funny or strange,” Logan observed as he cut his sister off again. “Alpha male is your type,” he told her.

  “John really is—” Cassidy started to explain again.

  But John cut her off this time. “Let the man finish,” he suggested. He bowed his head toward Logan. “He's got something to say.” Now that John had a chance to save his investigation, he'd let Logan think of him however he wanted. Except funny wasn’t one he’d heard before.

  “Bringing funny into my house makes me uncomfortable,” Logan continued. He looked at Rachel. She nodded.

  Then again, maybe John didn’t like funny so much either. If it got in the way of him sleeping next to Cassidy, he’d fight funny. “Is there something I can do to make myself less funny?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Logan replied quickly. “No calling my wife names. Harlot and whore were particularity hurtful.” Then the cowboy with the sensitivity training shifted his shoulders and leaned in closer to John. “And, I don't want any of that Bible thumping stuff around here. We're good people but we're,” he turned to Rachel as he snapped his fingers beside his head, “what do you call it?”

  “Agnostic,” she said still eying John suspiciously. “We're spiritual but not religious,” she explained acknowledging the confused expression he was sure appeared on his face.

  “That's okay,” John told them. Then he nodded, probably too eagerly but he wanted to be accepted by these people and he wanted a room alone with Cassidy. “I believe God is in the flowers outside your door, the endless blue sky, and a red sunset.” He was pretty sure he sounded like a tree hugger but that was how he felt and it wasn’t just Preacher John talking.

  “We need to clarify a few things with you,” Cassidy started again. “John isn't who he says he is.” She put a hand on John's shoulder.

  Wait, hold up a moment. He thought she'd continued to play along. “Yes,” John said panic in his voice. “I am.” He loved Cassidy Cooper and he would totally fess up to being who he was, but not yet. He was so close to finding the kingpin if only he could get a little more time. Especially after he looked at that video and talked to Mrs. Goodwin.

  The more he thought about it, the more he hoped the registration lady wasn't involved in any of this. But, she did have a motive. She needed money and she had a sick husband at home. Plus, she had access to a number of different doctors during her travels willing to write prescriptions for a number of different narcotics.

  “No, you're not,” Cassidy said calmly. It was history repeating itself. Cassidy Cooper, the honest, by the book cop, blowing John Risk's cover, except John had done the right thing for Mary the Inn Keeper last night. This just wasn’t fair.

  “You can't do this to me, Cassidy,” John protested. “I need a few more days.”

  “No,” she replied. “Kevin is right. We can't lie to Logan and Rachel. They think such terrible things of both you and me.” She reached across the table and put her hand over John's. “I'm tired of people thinking bad things of me.” She squeezed John's thumb. “You can trust them.” Those dark brown eyes of hers shined golden as the afternoon sun light flowed in through the window.

  John shook his head but it didn't help. This woman he loved wasn't to be stopped and that was probably why he loved her so much. He may as well acknowledge that he was a goner.

  “What could be so bad?” Logan demanded to know. Logan looked John up and down. “You don't dress like a lady at night, do you?” He turned to Rachel. “What do you call that?” Fingers snapping next to his head again.

  “Transvestite,” she muttered.

  “Logan, stop it,” Cassidy spat. “He's an undercover cop.”

  “What?” Logan snorted. He glanced at John, then at Rachel and back at Cassidy. “He's not a preacher with issues concerning women.” Obviously Rachel and Logan had been talking.

  “No,” Cassidy moaned. “He's working on a drug case at the rodeo.”

  But she was only telling her brother half the story, John figured it was time for Cassidy Cooper to come clean too. “If I'm a perverted preacher what does that make you?” John asked Cassidy. Yes, he was challenging her but she'd just outed him. “Could you please tell your brother what you've been doing the last few years because it wasn't pornography or drug rehabilitation.”

  “I was an undercover cop too,” Cassidy said firmly.

  Jesus, John thought she would hem and haw a bit. The woman certainly needed to get that off her chest. John was glad for her. The way her eyes lit up and her face got shiny, he knew it was the right thing for her. That Bible quote about knowing the truth and being set free by it came to mind.

  “We worked together in L.A.,” Cassidy explained while Logan and Rachel lifted their jaws off the table. “We had a falling out and John followed me to the rodeo to try and patch things up.”

  “No,” John corrected. “I came here to tell her I loved her.” He really wished Cassidy would get his motives right.

  Logan scratched his head. “So you weren't a porn star, drug addict, or prostitute?” He glanced at Rachel. She looked a little pale.

  “No,” Cassidy shook her head firmly. “For three years I was deep undercover in a motorcycle club portraying John's wife.” She looked down at her hands clasped on the table. A few of her knuckles were white. “They were dealing drugs, had set up an adult film studio, and the occasional prostitute hung around the club house.” She shrugged. “A lot of the time, the wives were thought of that way and I didn't do anything to change that perception because I was undercover.”

  Logan rubbed his hand down his face and took a deep breath. Then he tugged on his ear. When he tried to open his mouth to speak, no words came out. Instead he blinked a few times.

  “I'm sorry,” Cassidy said reaching for Logan's forearm. “I know those things upset you.”

  “Were you safe?” he finally asked after he composed himself. “Riding a bull is dangerous but at least you know who your enemy is.” He waved his hand in a circle. “It's all out in the open in the ring. I'm sure you didn't know who you could trust in that club.”

  “We trusted each other,” John said. He never thought Logan would worry about his sister so much. Jesus, the man was even pushing a tear out of the corner of his eye. “We looked after each other,” he added trying to reassure Logan but the cowboy continued to cry.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Stop,” John said to Kevin as he studied the boy’s computer screen. He tapped his finger against the picture. There was a blond buckle bunny with very deep cleavage in the foreground while Mike Shannon, dressed as a rodeo clown and Mrs. Goodwin stood in the background. “Is she passing him something?” John asked the kid. He leaned closer to the screen.

  Kevin shrugged. “I wasn't taking the video of him.” He pointed at the buckle bunny, the tip of his finger on her breasts. “I was taking it of her.”

  “Looks like one of those white pharmacy bags.” Cassidy commented ignoring Kevin. John was relieved she was holding back her mothering instincts and not commenting on the inappropriateness of the kid taking video of a woman's cleavage. John planned on telling her later that her son wasn't the first thirteen year old to revere a perfect pair of knockers.

  “Can you enlarge the picture?” John asked. “Cut that buckle bunny out,” he told Kevin. “We don't need her.” He could feel Cassidy breathe a sigh of relief next to him.

  As Kevin pressed some buttons on his computer. John watched the two figures, standing at the end of a hallway, in a nameless hotel come into focus. “Fuckin’ A,” John said. “She is giving him a bag.” H
e tapped the screen with his finger. “It looks like something is written on it?” He leaned in closer, nose almost against the computer. “Frontier Pharmacy,” he read after Kevin enlarged the video again. The kid was good at this stuff.

  They spent the next hour going through footage. Most of the time it was Kevin filming a buckle bunny's rear end or chest, but occasionally there'd be a shot of Mike Shannon and Mrs. Goodwin exchanging something in a bag.

  In a way John didn't want to recognize the elderly woman. The worst thing about being a cop was finding out bad things about people he liked. Maybe like was too strong of a word to describe his relationship with Mrs. Goodwin, but he did tolerate her righteousness and she returned the favor by coming to his services, which he appreciated.

  But wait, if Mrs. Goodwin was so virtuous why was she spending time with a known drug dealer? Then again John had seen this before, the most honorable and decent were sometimes even more corrupt and immoral than everyone else. Except John had never seen a lady who wore orthopedic shoes running the enterprise and foiling him for over a year. The woman was a formidable opponent.

  “Really?” Cassidy asked John. “You think the registration lady is the Walter White of the rodeo?” She shook her head. “That can't be.”

  “Doesn't matter if I'm right or wrong,” he told her. “It needs to be checked out.” He studied the pictures some more. Kevin had done something in which he pulled each out of the video and lined them up on the screen. Damn the kid was talented.

  “Maybe Mrs. Goodwin was giving Mike Shannon homemade chocolate chip cookies or a parking pass in those paper bags,” Cassidy suggested.

  “I don't think so,” Kevin said. He enlarged another picture. Another bag appeared on the screen.

  “Western Pharmacy,” John read as he leaned in closer. He tapped his finger on the table. “Both those businesses need to be checked out.”

  “She's the kingpin, isn't she?” Kevin asked. His face flushed with excitement. Then he got pensive for a moment. “It's strange,” he started slowly. “Mike Shannon has been your red herring throughout this investigation but the true antagonist in your story is Mrs. Goodwin.” Kevin rubbed his chin. “I wonder what her motivation is.”

  “Her husband is sick,” Cassidy supplied. “She's probably trying to pay his medical bills,” she added. “Even in the direst of times,” she told Kevin, “never turn to crime to solve a problem. It doesn’t pay.” She squeezed her son’s shoulder after that impromptu parenting session.

  “Your mother's right,” John told the boy, feeling the need to put his stamp on the advice given. “Most of the time crime is motivated by money. Financial ruin can make people do some pretty nasty things.” He pulled out his phone. He intended to call information and get the number for the closest police station but he didn't have service. For Christ’s sake that was annoying.

  “Couldn't she have just asked for help?” Kevin inquired. “I'm sure Bret Bodner would have paid her more.”

  Cassidy and John stared at him for a moment. He was right. If Bret paid the woman more and provided health insurance maybe all of this wouldn't have happened. Even at thirty-two years old and after all he'd seen in the world John was still struck by how thoughtless people could be toward each other.

  “All Bret Bodner cares about is himself and his money,” Cassidy commented.

  “You're an observant man,” John told the boy putting a hand on Kevin's shoulder, “to see the fundamental problem that caused this alleged crime.” He sighed trying to find a way to explain why people did the things they did. But he couldn’t.

  Instead he needed to figure out how he was going to get the pictures to the proper authorities, since email was out of the question the boy could help him again. “Can you hook this computer up to Logan's printer?” John asked. “We need a hard copy of these pictures before we go into town and pay a visit to the local constable.”

  After Kevin left with his computer cradled in his arms John turned to Cassidy. “He's a good kid,” he said pulling her out of her seat and onto his lap.

  “I know,” she replied wrapping her arms around his neck. “Thanks for including him in this and not just confiscating the computer.” She kissed him on the cheek. Even wearing her glasses and with her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, she looked pretty. No, John didn't get a chance to sleep with her last night because he ended up on the couch. But that was okay, at least he wasn’t in the barn.

  John lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “No problem. But your son should consider becoming a cop rather than a screen writer someday.” He was starting to like that idea more than he should, but before he made suggestions concerning Kevin's future he needed to commit to the boy's mother.

  “Well,” she climbed off his lap and poured fresh cups of coffee for both of them. Then she added a little bit of milk to his, no sugar, exactly the way he liked it. “He's got lots of time to figure it out.” She returned to the chair next to him, tucking her legs under her seat.

  “Yes, he does,” John agreed quietly. He knew, before he wrapped up this investigation he needed to get some promises from Cassidy concerning their future. John decided to jump in feet first. He'd always been a direct sort of guy before he became Pastor John. “I saw some feminine hygiene wrappers in the trash this morning.” He tried to hide the disappointment in his voice but it was hard. He had been hoping for a child and yes his motives for wanting to get her pregnant were probably wrong.

  Cassidy rolled her eyes. “Always the detective,” she said to him. Then she took a sip of her coffee. “Yes,” she told him, “I got my period.” She shrugged.

  “That's too bad,” he said. Now he knew he'd have to go about it the old fashion way and ask her to marry him. John was worried she'd say no since there wasn't any reason for them to be together. Then again, he was pretty sure she loved him.

  “So,” he asked. He nudged her thigh with his knee. “What are you going to do now?” He smiled but she didn't smile back. “Return to the bull riding?” He nudged her again. He was hoping to get a reaction out of her but she wasn't taking the bait.

  “I've got to get my son well,” she told him. “So I'll probably stay here for a while and let Logan drive me absolutely nuts.” She shook her head. “Then if there is time before the end of the summer I'll ride in a few more rodeos. If not, I'll stay and get Kevin ready to go to school.” She shrugged. “I've never done back to school shopping and the kids jeans are up around his ankles.”

  * * * *

  For a moment, when John was asking Cassidy about her plans, she wondered if he was going to suggest marriage. When he didn’t, she felt a little sad. On the other hand she was glad she wasn't pregnant and wasn’t on the receiving end of one of those take responsibility for my actions proposals. If she married John because there was a baby on the way, she would have wondered for the rest of her life, if his proposal was true.

  John stood up. He rubbed his head. “I need to talk to you about something—” he started again with that serious tone. Maybe a marriage proposal was back on the table. Too bad he got interrupted when Rachel and Logan came into the kitchen.

  “Coffee,” Logan moaned while Rachel stumbled to the stove and turned on the kettle. It seemed baby Storm had been up most of the night. “Every two hours,” Logan told them as he sat down and Cassidy poured him a cup. “I'd just get to sleep and then it’d be waaahhh, waaahhh.” Through narrow eyes, he asked, “When does it stop, and why are you two up so early?” Putting his hand on the side of his cheek and letting his head fall, he muttered, “It’s ludicrous when you don’t have to be.”

  John explained the video of Mike Shannon and Mrs. Goodwin. Then he talked about his suspicions concerning the drug ring. He finished the story by asking, “Where's the rodeo this week?”

  Logan replied, “Casper.” He blinked a few times as he pulled his head up. “What are you going to do?” Rachel sat down at the other end of the table, her brow wasn’t furrowed this morning.

  �
��I'm going to send the pictures to the Casper Police Department and have them bring Mrs. Goodwin in for questioning. Then I'm going to follow up with the authorities holding Mike Shannon to ensure they don’t let the idiot go.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “There’re more charges coming his way and I don't want anyone to post bail for the guy.” He looked at the screen and shoved it back into his pocket angrily. “You really need to get some damn service out here,” he told Logan. “What if there’s an accident or something.”

  “I don't think you should be swearing at me,” Logan replied. Cassidy was surprised he had the energy to get his back up. “You're still a man of the cloth in some circles,” Logan continued. Then he folded his elbow and cradled his chin in the crook.

  “But not here,” John countered pointing a finger at Logan’s head. “Remember Kevin wanted full disclosure last night.” He pounded his knuckles on the wood table next to Logan’s ear.

  “Enough,” Rachel moaned. “Logan,” she told her husband, “back off.” She turned to John. “Don't you have to be in Casper for the arrest of Mrs. Goodwin?” She smiled at the man who’d been her archenemy for over a year. “And, would you like a cup of tea?” she offered.

  “No thanks,” John replied looking a little surprised. “Unless I want to high-five the local law enforcement I don't have to be in Casper,” he explained to her. “All the evidence on my end is gathered.” He pointed at Kevin who had reentered the kitchen, photos in hand. “Thanks to this super sleuth.” Then he put an arm around the boy. “Plus, I'd rather stay here under quarantine and help Cassidy care for the kid.”

  “I'm fine,” Kevin moaned stepping out of John’s embrace. “Let’s go into town and send theses photos to whoever you need to send them to.” He held up a tiny disk. “I’ve got them on this flash drive. It will be much easier and quicker to email them.”