by Kym Roberts
I scrambled to my feet at the same time he gained his balance, and he caught me as I ran toward the side wall. The blow from his head somehow didn’t involve his massive horns, but I flew into the wall with so much force I could have sworn my body smashed through the enclosure.
No such luck.
Avoiding those stout and sturdy horns with blunt ends that could still pierce my chest, I began climbing and clawing toward the top just as he came at me a second time. Only this time, he wasn’t intent on just ramming me into the side of the stall. No, this time, he put his head down, bellowed at me, and lifted me up and over the wall. I landed on my back in the middle of a pile of hay.
I hadn’t done a flip in ten years. I certainly hadn’t been prepared to do one today, let alone two.
Once more I scrambled to my feet, expecting to confront whoever had knocked me into the bullpen. But the stall was just full of hay. No bovine. No scumbag willing to feed me to the animals. Just me and hay…until the door suddenly slid open.
Chapter Seventeen
I yelped. Remembering Mateo’s training, I prepared to block an oncoming assault.
“Ms. Warren, what are you doing here?” Travis Sinclair looked me up and down and then looked around the stall.
I’m afraid my next question was full of expletives for the man who’d thrown me over the top of the stall. By the time I was done, he’d tipped his hat back and crossed his arms.
“Hold on now, Ms. Warren. I was just walking through the barn when I heard you screaming.”
“I don’t scream,” I ground out.
“What would you call it?” He genuinely sounded perplexed.
“I’d call it yelling for help after some no-good piece of trash sent me to my death over the top of the stall where I got to meet Twisted Mister, face to face!”
Now that I was thinking about it, my butt hurt, my ribs were sore, and I was feeling a little woozy. I bent over and grabbed my ribs. Travis advanced and I reared back like a cornered animal: fists up, teeth bared, mouth sneering, with a possible growl to go along with it. I was a cornered animal and no one, I mean no one, was going to throw me in with that bull or any other bull ever again.
“Whoa.” Travis put his hands up in the air in the traditional signal of surrender. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just want to help.”
I still wasn’t taking any chances. “Then back away from the door and let me out.”
He did as I requested, and I limped out of the stall, but still didn’t feel any safer, since this was exactly where I’d started out.
“Now can I help?” he asked. His voice was soft and respectful, everything it wasn’t the previous night when he’d bad-mouthed Dalton and started a brawl at the memorial. The change made me trust him even less, but I really needed to sit down and inventory my injuries.
“Go get someone else. That’s how you can help.”
When he started to turn, I added one more qualifier on my request. “Make sure it’s someone from Hazel Rock.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His hand went to the brim of his hat in another gesture of respect right before he left, rounding the corner and disappearing from my sight. It was only then that I slumped against the wall and bumped my head against a paper towel dispenser
“Ow.” I was too tired and hurt too much to lift my arm and rub the back of my head. It was the least of my worries.
I slid down to sit on the concrete floor and winced. My backside hurt and as I looked down at the floor for a softer place to sit, I couldn’t help noticing that the floor looked clean. I knew it wasn’t. It must be covered with bacteria from animal excrement, and yet somehow I didn’t care. I leaned to one side so my tailbone didn’t feel any part of the concrete.
A grunt behind me told me that Twisted Mister wasn’t happy he’d missed out on the opportunity for dessert.
“Dessert is bad for your health,” I told the irritated bull.
He responded by slamming into the wall of the stall and scaring the bejeezus out of me. I decided to scoot down the aisle, thinking it was a good idea to keep him from smelling my fear any longer. It worked…sort of. The next bull bellowed and kicked the door. I looked up at the name plaque and recognized the championship name the cowboys had been whispering about. Anger Management kicked a second time, which Twisted Sister answered in kind. Only Twisted’s response was twice as angry as he began kicking the stall repeatedly. I guess that’s why the champ had the name he did; Anger Management could control his irritation better than most. I certainly hoped it didn’t focus on me.
Feeling somewhat safer sitting next to the champ, I started cataloging where I didn’t hurt. I had a headache, but I thought that was from my heart hammering my brain cells up against my skull. Otherwise, there were no bumps or bruises to my head or face. Hay, however, was sticking out of every inch of my hair.
Whatever.
I moved to my shoulders. My left shoulder was sore; I tweaked it when I tried to hang on to the wall of the stall. My right arm had a pretty good scrape going across the skin from the elbow to the shoulder.
I knew I should have worn sleeves.
It hurt like the dickens, but it really was the least of my worries. My chest was filthy with more abrasions decorating my skin. My ribs were beyond sore. Each breath felt like an exercise in pain endurance. My tailbone hurt, and I really, really wanted a donut to sit on.
The last straw, so to speak, was when I looked at my legs and saw fresh cow patty smeared across my knees. And once I saw it that triggered my ability to smell it.
My chin quivered.
“She’s right around the corner,” I heard Travis say, and I looked up as he rounded the corner with Cade. The Mayor of Hazel Rock. Attorney. GQ gorgeous and the man who ruined my love life. Cade Calloway took one look at me, ran to my side, and crouched down to put his hand on my cheek.
“Princess, are you okay?” His eyes searched my face. His brows arched in concern and wrinkles appeared on his forehead. That was the first flaw I’d ever seen mar his good looks. If you’d call worrying about a friend an imperfection. He reached up and plucked some hay out of my hair, which didn’t help me get that quiver under control.
In all my life, I have never worn dung. Yes, I was “born in a barn” but it was a house and a store. We’d never housed cattle. Even as a kindergarten teacher when my students had accidents in my classroom, I had gloves to protect me. But this, this was just too gross. And as I tried to speak, I began to worry about it being other places on my body.
“I have cow poop on my legs.”
Cade looked down at my knees. “Yes, you do.”
“I have hay sticking out of my hair.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
“My arm hurts.”
He looked at my arm. “Is that the only place that hurts?”
I sniffed, refusing to cry as a crowd started to grow around us. “My ribs and… my…my backside.”
“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked.
“He tossed me over the side of the pen with Twisted Mister.” I pointed a shaky hand in Travis’s direction.
Cade’s eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched as he turned toward Travis. Travis was once again taking that innocent stance with his hands in the air.
“Whoa, Cade. Buddy, you know I wouldn’t do that to your girl.”
Cade turned back to me. “Are you sure he’s the one who did it?”
When I nodded, he asked, “You saw him before you were tossed over the side?”
“Well, no but he was here when I got out of the pen.”
“That’s because I heard you screaming—”
“I wasn’t screaming!” Even if I currently sounded a little screechy.
“I heard you yelling,” Travis said. “And came to find out what was going on. Before that, I was using the facilities.”
“Facilities?” I asked.
“The bathroom,” he clarified.
“I was with Travis before he came in to use the restroom. Are you sure there wasn’t someone else present?” Cade asked.
I wasn’t sure of anything, but I certainly didn’t want to admit that in front of the riders and cowhands staring down at me. I shook my head.
“Do you think you can stand?”
When I nodded, Cade grabbed my good elbow and helped me to my feet. The pain in my side stabbed me with an intensity I wasn’t prepared for, and I made an animal sound I’ve never heard escape my lips before.
“Why don’t we take you over to the medical office and get you checked out?”
“Maybe I should just go home.” But holy crap, I wasn’t sure how I was going to sit in the truck let alone drive it.
“The doc’s at the urgent care in The Ranch. She’s scheduled to be there all day just for this type of emergency. Do you want me to carry you?”
“Good God, no.”
Cade’s brow smoothed a bit with my reaction, so I figured he wasn’t insulted. I wasn’t sure if that should bother me, or not.
“I’ll just help. How’s that?” he asked as he put his arm gently around my waist.
“As long as you don’t touch my ribs, that’s good.”
“I promise. Scout’s honor.”
That’s one thing I could always rely on when it came to Cade: his honor.
After having my scrapes cleaned and bandaged, and having several X-rays taken, the doctor announced, “It’s a case of bruised ribs and a bruised tailbone. I’ll give you some Naproxen for the pain and swelling. You’re going to be sore for a while, though. I recommend getting a donut to sit on. They have them at Country Mart.”
“Country Mart will be my first stop. How much do I owe you?” I really didn’t want to see that bill. Medical insurance for the self-employed ate a chunk out of my salary that made me thankful I didn’t have to pay rent.
“The mayor is handling my fees during the rodeo.”
“All of them?”
“Every last one.” The doctor smiled and began writing out a prescription.
It seemed I was always owing Cade money and it did nothing for my self-esteem. Granted, he was rich. The old money kind of rich that seemed in endless supply, but Cade had also played in the NFL and he owned half the town. Literally. There were only a couple shops he didn’t collect rent on.
She helped me off the table and I hobbled out the door on my own two feet. The lobby for the doctor’s office was at the front of the house but it had a secondary entrance from the residence to allow cowboys who didn’t live at the Ranch to seek medical assistance without disturbing the residents. It had a very rustic charm with tile that looked like hand-scraped wood and beige walls. One wall, was textured heavily with a burnt umber paint, and then antiqued. Photos of the great rodeo stars who had graced The Cowboy Ranch with their presence were hung neatly on the walls. The chairs looked like soft, worn leather and the tables were definitely antiques. A large picture window overlooked the packed parking lot and equally crowded field. On a normal day, the view of the field would be typical of North Texas, with wild grasses and native flowers in shades of purple, blue, orange, yellow, and white that some people called weeds. Wild Oak trees grew sporadically, their gnarled trunks twisting as their branches grew out, instead of up. After living in Colorado, I suspected some Northerners would consider them the size of bushes, but they held the charm of Texas—tough and willing to work hard to make something beautiful out of nothing. The entire room, and its view, gave the impression of the cozy Old West lifestyle.
Cade was waiting for me with a woman I didn’t recognize. When they heard the door open, they stood in unison; signaling that they were waiting for me…as a couple.
Drat the man. It shouldn’t bother me, but it did.
The woman’s long brown hair fell over one shoulder and glistened, but it was her only outstanding feature. Everything else about her was unremarkable. As if she was self-conscious about her appearance, she wore her cowboy hat low on her forehead, hiding her features completely.
“O.M.W. What happened to you?” The woman tilted her hat back and if the acronym didn’t tell me who she was, the facial features certainly did. Scarlet had changed her hair color, and for the first time since I knew her in high school, she wore shapeless clothes. Her T-shirt was a man’s box-cut style, which completely hid her curves. I could still tell she was well-endowed, but I couldn’t tell she had an hourglass figure. Her shorts looked more like mom shorts. She’d cut off a pair of her jeans and rolled up the hem to just above the knees. To top the outfit off, she had on nursing-style tennis shoes with bobby socks. She looked nothing like my stylish best friend.
She ran over and hugged me. I would have returned it, except it hurt too badly. Instead, I moaned.
“Sorry, did I hurt you?” She stood back and took inventory of my injuries, from the rat’s nest in my hair, to the wrap on my arm and smaller Band-Aids on my chest. She took in my wobble and the way I held my uninjured arm close to my side.
I smiled, because having her there meant the world to me. “I had a date with a bull,” I replied.
“That’s not funny, Charli. You could have been killed!”
It felt kind of like a dramatic thing to say, considering we were in a nursing home for bull riders who risked life and limb in the name of the sport time and time again. And all I’d done was spend a few moments in the company of just one bull.
“It wasn’t that bad,” I said, but Scarlet was having none of it.
“Wasn’t that bad? One look at your hair and the way you’re walking and I can tell you’re talking as if you and the truth aren’t related.”
Cade cut in. “Mateo’s sending a deputy over to get a report from you. He didn’t sound very happy.”
That was probably because he thought I’d broken my word to not get involved. But I honestly hadn’t. In fact, I hadn’t even had the chance to break the spirit of the agreement, unless of course, he counted me accusing Travis Sinclair of attacking me.
Scarlet started messing with my hair, pulling pieces of hay out and dropping them in Cade’s hands. I let her. Who was I to push away the help of a born perfectionist who’d worked miracles with my hair in the past?
“I’m supposed to work the ticket booth when the bull riding starts, but look at me.” The cow patty was no longer present on my legs, but I could still smell it. My shirt and shorts were dirty, and my boots looked like they’d been worn to the dust bowl.
“Cade called and asked me to bring you a change of clothes. We both knew you’d insist on staying, but looking at you…Girlfriend, you’re not staying.”
“I have to buy a donut.”
“A donut? Why don’t I just get you a funnel cake here?” Cade asked.
“I need a donut to sit on,” I explained.
Cade’s eyebrows shot up but he didn’t say a word.
“I’ll take you to buy a donut and then take you home,” Scarlet offered.
“I have the truck here.”
“Cade and I will bring it by the bookstore this afternoon.”
“What about my shift?”
“I’ll work your shift.” She had an answer for everything.
“Scarlet—”
“No one recognized me. Not even you.”
“I did when you tilted your hat. How do you expect everyone in town not to recognize you?”
Scarlet tilted her hat back down and spoke in a Boson accent. I had to admit that it worked; I would have thought she was a transplant looking for milder winters, not a seventh-generation Texan who’d never left the state for more than a couple weeks at a time.
“O.M.W. Girlfriend, even you would look right past me with this accent.” She grinned that sly smile that was all Scarlet. It was truly nice to see, after everything she’d been through.
“Not if you say O.M.W. I seriously doubt there are a lot of other women in the state of Texas, let alone Boston, that use that acronym.’
”
“Noted.” Her face turned serious. “I need to be around people. Even if they have no clue who I am. I need this.”
Despite her pleading, I still wasn’t convinced. “What are you going to do if someone does recognize you?”
Cade put his arm around Scarlet’s shoulder and drew her close. It seemed he did that with everyone woman he ever met—except me.
“She’s going to call me and I will get her out of here.”
Cade released Scarlet with a final squeeze. “Then it’s settled. Scarlet will take you to get your donut, and then take you home. We’ll drive the truck over later this afternoon.”
I had no doubt that donut was going to be the butt of many jokes to come, once he felt safe enough to let the first one fly.
“What’s that noise?” Scarlet asked.
We turned toward the growing noise out front. Through the big picture window in the front lobby, we observed one of the riders heading toward The Ranch. Reporters were running from every direction trying to get his picture.
The cowboy opened the door to the medical office. “It’s going to be a show you’ll never forget,” he promised the assembled crowd of reporters.
Scarlet began shaking. Cade’s jaw dropped. And I was beginning to believe the zombie apocalypse was real. Because Dalton Hibbs was back from the dead.
Chapter Eighteen
Scarlet didn’t hesitate. She ran to Dalton, threw her arms around his neck, and began kissing him in front of God and all the cameras aimed in their direction. It was a like a scene from a romance movie. The kind I never went to.
