“What do you do at the ranch?”
“Mel works the cattle. I teach kids to ride.” A wistful smile lit Lacie’s blue eyes.
“Do you and Mel have children?”
The smile tilted downward. “I’ve always put it off—afraid something might happen to Mel, and I’d end up alone—with a baby to raise.”
“Is he ill?”
“No. That man’s as strong as a Clydesdale.”
“Then what could happen?” Rayna figured they were only in their mid to late twenties.
The music stopped.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Stockyard’s Championship Rodeo,” the announcer’s voice boomed.
Rayna jumped.
The tractor roared to life then lumbered to the end of the arena where Clay and Mel had disappeared in a mass of Stetson-clad heads. A gate opened and the tractor exited.
“God Bless the USA” began playing over the speakers, and a girl dressed in blue sequins holding an American flag rode into the arena on a white horse. Slowly, she rounded the arena until the song built to a climax, and the horse ran faster and faster. By the time the horse and rider exited, Rayna was misty-eyed. Her vision blurred even more as the announcer prayed.
He introduced a dark-haired cowgirl who walked to the middle of the arena and sang “The Star Spangled Banner.”
As the closing notes faded away and the singer exited, the announcer gave a short history of Cowtown Coliseum and introduced three clowns. Loud, thumping music began playing. A rock song at a rodeo?
“For our first event of the evening: bull riding.”
“My least favorite event.” Lacie clenched her teeth and pointed to their left. “Those are the bucking chutes.”
Something slammed against metal. Rayna jumped. Bulls rammed into tiny pens. Cowboys clustered around one chute as a rider stood on the fence, hovering over the bull. Rayna shivered.
“Those are the roping chutes.” Lacie pointed to their right where calves waited in corrals.
“What do they do with the calves?”
“Calf roping—my second least favorite event.” Lacie sighed. “The guys ride horses. When they turn the calves loose, the guys rope them. Then they throw them down and tie three of their legs together.”
Rayna winced. “Do Clay and Mel do that?”
Blond waves danced with an emphatic shake of Lacie’s head. “They used to, but I complained about the inhumanity of it until they quit.”
“Good. Doesn’t sound like something I’ll enjoy watching.”
“Mel and Clay are in the second round. Let’s go get something to wet our whistles, and I’ll introduce you around.”
Going against the flow of traffic, they picked their way through the crowd then maneuvered to the short line at the concession booth. A group of women gathered to one side.
“None of the girls like the calf roping. We usually hang out in the lobby till it’s over. I’ll introduce you, and you can visit while I get our drinks. What do you want?”
“Bottled water.”
“You sure? The sweet tea’s really good.”
“Maybe next time.” What was she saying? There wouldn’t be a next time. Surely one rodeo would give her all the experience she needed for the campaign.
Lacie stopped at the fringe of the gathering of women. “Girls, this is Rayna. Make her feel welcome.”
“Clay’s girl?” A tall woman raised one brow.
Rayna didn’t want to admit how much she liked the sound of it.
“I’ll leave you to tackle that one.” Lacie turned away.
“No. I’m an advertising executive, hired by Mr. Warren’s publicist. I’m here to work.”
Raising her camera for all to see, Rayna caught the glare of pure dislike from a raven-haired woman. Pouty lips curled into a forced smile like a mask slipping into place. The woman sashayed over with an exaggerated twist of her hips and extended her hand. “I’m Natalie.” Her fuchsia nails dug into Rayna’s palm. “This is Christy, Gloria. . .”
As the list went on, Rayna pulled her hand away. Fire swept through her veins. She knew exactly what Natalie’s problem was.
“Ready?” Lacie handed Rayna her water. “Sounds like the first round of bulls and calf roping’s over.”
“Nice meeting y’all.” Rayna turned toward her new friend. Numerous “see you laters” followed but none offered by Natalie.
Again, they went against the flow of traffic back to their box seats. “Clay will be riding soon, and this’ll be a great spot for pictures.”
“What’s with Natalie?”
“She’s after Clay.” Lacie smirked.
“I thought it was something like that.” She swallowed hard. “Is he interested?”
“No way. She’s tried to sink her talons into him for years.” Lacie held both hands up like claws. “Her folks live next door to his. She’s been after him since high school, probably even before that.”
“Why hasn’t he taken the bait?”
“First of all, she’s not a Christian and has no interest in becoming one. Secondly, she’s rather promiscuous.”
A gate at the side of the arena opened and numerous children ran to the center, where the three clowns joined them. “What’s going on?”
Lacie giggled. “Now this is my favorite. The calf scramble. They tie a ribbon to its tail and turn it loose. The kids have to try to get the ribbon.”
A chute opened to their right and a calf ran into the arena. The mass of kids chased after it. The calf made loops and spins, staying out of range. Just as it appeared the scramble might last all night, one boy made his move and held up the ribbon. The exit gate at the left of the arena opened, and the calf escaped.
“Looks like we’ve got a winner. You can get your prize in the lobby.”
The children cleared the arena.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, and now for a real treat—team roping.”
“Oh great.” Lacie slapped her knee.
To their right, cows with horns waited in gated corrals. “Do Clay and Mel do this?”
“I’ve tried to dissuade them, but they insist it doesn’t hurt the steers.”
Cowboys, including Clay and Mel, lined up to the left of the chutes.
“They don’t throw those things down, do they?”
“No. Clay’s the header and Mel’s the heeler.”
“The what?”
“Clay ropes the horns and Mel ropes the hind feet.” Patience resonated in Lacie’s tone.
“Then what?”
“They stretch the poor critter out between them until it can’t go anywhere. Trust me. It’s better than roping a calf and wrestling it to the ground.”
Rayna cringed. “Is there anything happening tonight that I might want to watch?”
“I like the barrel racing. The broncs are okay. They don’t make me too nervous, but I hate the bulls.” Lacie trembled.
Rayna stiffened.
Though she felt sorry for the steers, the precision with which the two cowboys lassoed horns and heels fascinated her. Dust flew as hoofbeats narrowed in on the hapless creatures.
“How do they decide who wins?”
“Each team gets five- and ten-second penalties if they only get one heel or break the barrier and stuff like that. Whoever gets the fastest time wins.”
“What’s the barrier?”
“It’s complicated, but it’s sort of like a head start for the steer. If they cross the laser line too soon, they get penalized.” Lacie let out a whoop. “Here’s Mel and Clay.”
Rayna raised her camera, snapped numerous shots, and instinctively knew several were perfect. Though she concentrated mainly on Clay, since it was a team event, she took some of Mel as well.
“Clay Warren and Mel Gentry handily win the com-petition,” the announcer boomed. “These two rough riders set the bar high.”
Rayna and Lacie jumped to their feet to applaud. What was she doing? Clapping because two men picked on a cow?
Thro
ughout the evening, the barrel clown joked back and forth with the announcer, lightening some intense moments. Loud music—everything from country to rock—played during each event. Between events the sparkling girl on the white horse rode around the arena with various flags bearing logos of the rodeo’s sponsors.
For the sheep scramble, kids once again invaded the arena. A gate from the roping chutes opened and the sheep ran straight to the exit gate on the other end, stood, and waited for it to open. A boy easily grabbed the ribbon from the woolly back.
“That was one cooperative sheep,” the announcer chuckled. “Next up, barrel racing.”
Rayna enjoyed the event, even when Natalie, decked out in hot pink and sequins, raced her horse around the arena. She did well but didn’t win. A few minutes later, Rayna spotted her. With her hands balled into fists, she stomped toward the lobby.
Rayna stifled a grin.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, hold on to your hats. It’s time for bareback bronc riding. First up, two-time CBR World Champ, Claaaaay Warrrrrrren.”
The crowd erupted in whistles and cheers.
A gate flew open and a horse careened into the arena bucking and twisting. On its back, Clay hung on for dear life.
“What’s it doing?” Rayna forced herself to aim the camera.
“Trying to buck him off.”
“But why?”
“They’re bred to buck.”
“But what if he falls?” The horse jolted Clay, and Rayna wanted to hide her eyes.
“That’s the point. To stay on.”
“Hold on, Clay!” she yelled. “Use both hands.”
The buzzer sounded as Lacie giggled.
“What?”
Lacie tried to stifle a smile. “It’s against the rules to hang on with both hands.”
Clay leaped from the back of the horse and sauntered out of the arena unfazed.
“That was a really good ride.” Lacie put her thumb and finger between her lips and delivered an earsplitting whistle worthy of any man.
“A fine ride and a fine score of eighty-six by Claaaayyy Warrennnnn.”
Several horses managed to buck other riders off before the buzzer sounded. However, each walked away. Even when they fell, her heart didn’t pound the way it had when her cowboy was in jeopardy.
My cowboy?
“How do they decide who wins?”
“They have to stay on for eight seconds, without flopping around. They get deductions if they touch the bronc with their free hand, and added points the more the bronc bucks and twists. Things like that. Right now Clay’s still in the lead.” Lacie pointed to the chute. “Oh, here’s Mel.”
Though nothing like during Clay’s ride, Rayna’s concern intensified until Mel’s eight seconds ended. As he dismounted, Lacie jumped to her feet to cheer her husband on.
Rayna followed suit. “Was that good?”
Lacie pointed to the scoreboard. “He beat Clay’s score.”
“Does that bother them? I mean, when they beat each other?”
“No, they’re just happy for each other. Okay, it’s bull-riding time. Cross all your fingers and toes.”
Bulls crammed in chutes, butting and hurling themselves into the gates. Clay planned to ride one of those things? Was he insane?
“And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, for the final event of the evening. It’s time to separate the men from the boys. Bulllll ridddinnng.” The announcer’s voice echoed through the coliseum. “And first up, once again, two-time CBR World Champ, Clayyyyy Warrrrennnnn.”
Rayna got a glimpse of Clay hovering above a bull in one of the chutes. She closed her eyes.
“Now, the rules are a lot like the broncs.” Lacie leaned forward. “The more the bull jumps, spins, and bucks, the more points each rider gets. They get points for style, kinda like if they can stay in rhythm with the bull and not flop around. Again, their free hand can’t touch the bull, and they have to stay on for eight seconds.”
Lacie pointed across the arena. “That clown over there—he’s a bullfighter. He’ll help the cowboy get out of the arena in one piece. Sometimes, they cheer the bull on so the rider gets more points. And over there, the barrel clown distracts the bull. He can hide in his barrel, if needed, until the pick-up man”—she pointed to a cowboy on horseback—“helps the bull rider to safety or gets the bull out of the arena. They’re the heroes of the rodeo.”
Clay burst forth from the gate astride a massive ivory beast. The frenzied crowd cheered and chanted. Rayna focused enough to snap several shots. The bull kicked its heels so high she thought it would surely topple over onto its back and crush Clay. His leather chaps flapped with each jolt. A pain stabbed her chest, constricting her breathing. If not for the noise, she could have sworn she was wheezing.
“Are you all right?” Lacie’s voice came from far away. Her blue eyes reflected worry. “Rayna, what’s wrong?”
She couldn’t answer, struggling for breath as the bull twisted then threw its head back. If Clay slid forward the tiniest bit, he’d be gored.
five
Lacie grasped Rayna’s arm.
Rayna couldn’t move, transfixed by the scene but no longer capable of capturing any of it on film.
A buzzer sounded. Clay jumped from the bull’s back and the enormous creature charged. The bullfighter distracted the beast while Clay climbed the fence.
Rayna dug her inhaler from her purse and took two puffs.
“Calm down, hon. Take deep breaths.”
The pain in her chest eased, and her airflow increased.
“You okay?”
She nodded, trying to make light of the situation. “Probably something in the air triggered an attack.”
“Scared me. You sure you’re okay?”
“Fine. Could you not tell Clay? He doesn’t know about my asthma. It’s kind of embarrassing.”
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Lacie patted her shoulder.
“He’ll think I can’t handle this job.”
“Whatever you think, hon.”
“Maybe I got some good pictures anyway.” She mustered up a weak smile.
❧
What had happened back there? She hadn’t had an attack in months. In fact, she’d almost taken her inhaler out of her purse.
Rayna prayed Clay couldn’t tell how unnerved she was. His dusty chaps swished with each step as they walked through the cowboy-crowded rear exit. True to her word, Lacie hadn’t told on her. Cool night air hit her in the face. Rayna gulped deep breaths.
“You okay?”
“Fresh air is nice.”
“I hope you’re not claustrophobic.”
Only when bulls are around.
He gestured to the back of Old West buildings next to the coliseum. “These are original. I’d love to give you a tour someday. There’s the Cowboy Hall of Fame, Cowboy Museum, even an art gallery. Probably not your kind of museum or gallery, but come spring, we could ride the train.” Clay tucked her hand in his elbow.
A slow train ride? With Clay? No thanks.
He opened the truck door for her then hurried around and started the engine. “What’d you think of your first rodeo?”
“It was different than anything I’ve ever experienced.” Slight understatement.
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Parts of it.”
“What parts?”
“I liked the barrel race.”
“Nothing that involved me, huh?” He sounded hurt.
“The steer roping was interesting, but those poor cows.”
Clay laughed as he merged into the traffic.
“What?”
“A steer is a neutered bull.”
“Oh.” At least the darkness hid her blush. “Anyway, you’re very good at what you do.”
“But it didn’t do it for you.”
“The whole thing seemed dangerous.” Another understatement.
“It can be. But we wear gear.” He pounded his chest gorilla style. “I had on a v
est stronger than steel to protect against internal injuries.”
“What about a helmet?”
“I tried it a few times, but it threw my balance and vision off.”
“Have you ever been seriously hurt?”
“I missed the Cinch finale last year with a broken collar-bone.” Clay massaged his shoulder as if it still hurt.
“I’m not even going to ask how it happened.”
“Actually, it was my own fault. I dismounted wrong. But now, my dad, he’s the king of bull-riding injuries.”
“Does your dad still rodeo?” Shock echoed in her tone. Did lack of common sense run in the family?
“Not anymore. He retired from the circuit when I was a teenager. After his last surgery. Torn rotator cuff.”
“What’s a rotator cuff?”
“It’s in your shoulder.” He turned into the parking lot of her condo, found a space, and walked around to her side.
Rayna accepted the hand he offered and hopped down from the truck. “How many surgeries has he had?”
“I’ve lost count. Fifteen, maybe sixteen.”
She pushed down the unknown shadows that threatened to invade her soul and concentrated on the moon instead—full and marshmallow-soft tonight.
“What in the world made you want to follow in his footsteps?” She slid her hands into her pockets.
“I guess it’s in my blood. And then I found the dude ranch. Fell in love with it and knew that’s what I wanted.” Clay’s eyes sparkled in the moonlight. “To allow kids who didn’t have the advantage of growing up on a farm like I did to learn to ride horses. To provide city folk a chance to get away from it all and experience the beauty of the country.”
Growing up on a farm an advantage? He made it sound worth envying.
“What does the rodeo have to do with that? It takes you away from the place you love.”
“Yes, but it helps pay for the ranch.”
“But aren’t you afraid you’ll get hurt?”
He shrugged. “I’ve spent hours watching tapes with my dad. Hours and hours of him and every other cowboy in the world. We analyze every time one of them falls and figure out what went wrong. Then I do my best to avoid the same mistakes. Last year’s injury was the first I ever had.”
Rodeo Dust Page 5
