by Kym Roberts
“There’s a reason why they call bull riding the most dangerous eight seconds in sports.”
Sly raised his arm and gave a thumbs-up to the crowd. It was returned by thunderous applause that grew louder a few moments later when he sat up.
“Why would anyone want to do this sport?” I asked.
Mateo laughed. “Because it’s the most dangerous sport in the world.”
I could tell I was missing something very important in that statement, especially when his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Are you telling me you’ve done bull riding?”
“I grew up on a ranch in Texas. What do you think?”
I wasn’t sure what to think of him. He didn’t wear cowboy boots or a hat, which had been standard uniform for the sheriff when I left Texas. Yet he was a true cowboy.
Sly stood up on his own two feet and looked fairly stable. He was holding his left arm close to his body, and his smile looked forced as he waved his cowboy hat at the crowd before disappearing into the exit chute.
The announcer introduced the next rider. “You can never keep a good cowboy down and when we say never die, we’re talking about the one, the only Dal-ton Hibbs!” His voice echoed through the arena as he dragged out Dalton’s name like we were attending a WWE wrestling match.
The crowd stood on its feet. “Dal-ton! Dal-ton! Dal-ton!” they cheered.
Mateo cupped his hand over my ear. “Are you ready?”
A glance at the chute told me I wasn’t. Dalton was easing one leg over the top of none other than Twisted Mister. I had to yell in order for Mateo to hear me. “I thought you stopped that?”
“No, I tried to stop that. The stock contractor says the bull was checked out after your incident and the bull was ready to ride. Their saying it’s a case of a naive fan getting too close.”
My back stiffened. The insult was far from the truth. “You don’t believe that, do you?”
“No, but the chute boss and the stock contractor both agreed the bull was good to go.”
I looked over at Dalton, who was rubbing his gloved hand up and down the bull rope as he heated up the rosin he’d applied to make it sticky. I couldn’t help but think it didn’t matter how hot he got that rope—he wasn’t going to be able to stay on Twisted Mister and he was going to get hurt a lot worse than Sly.
“What about Dalton’s safety?”
Mateo shrugged. “He was apprised of the situation and was more than happy to ride him.”
“But you have the evidence of Twisted Mister being drugged!”
“I have evidence that someone at some point drugged something.”
“But—”
“Charlie, I can’t force the evidence to fit. The lab will run it for prints and test the chemicals and the animal’s DNA. The CBR will take a sample of blood from the bull, but it will have to be sent off to the lab. These bulls are worth a lot of money; if someone is harming them, the stock contractors will be the first to want to prosecute the suspects. They are also the last people who want rumors about their bulls being doped.” He pointed to two animal control officers watching from the other side of the arena. “Animal Control has already responded and one of them is videotaping the bulls. From there, the CBR will have to ask all the stock contractors for DNA samples, or Animal Control will have to get a warrant for each bull present at the rodeo…if the judge believes there’s enough for a search warrant.”
“I saw them walk out with that bag.” I pointed to the bag in his hand, still encased in a rubber glove.
“You saw them walk out with a red bag.”
His qualifier got under my skin and irritated my common sense. “I saw, and experienced, the violence of that bull.”
“Was it any different than what Missile Tow did to Sly?”
I had no counter-argument. I’d gotten off easy during my encounter.
Dalton moved forward on the bull and signaled for the chute to open. Twisted Mister was out of pen in a flash. Head down, back legs fully extended, the bull spun in circles and gave Dalton the wildest ride I’d ever seen. The entire eight seconds I didn’t breathe. Even when it was over, my lungs wouldn’t inflate, because Dalton was still on the bull and Twisted Mister changed directions as Dalton threw himself off in the opposite direction.
The clowns moved in and earned their real title of bullfighter as Twisted Mister charged all three before finally disappearing through the exit chute. The crowd roared. They were stomping and whooping and completely in love with the cowboy who’d come back from the dead.
Chapter Twenty-One
I made Mateo stick around until after Travis qualified with the highest score of the night on Anger Management. I was surprised how vicious the desert sand-colored bull turned out to be. His whirlwind twirls may not have been as fast as Twisted Mister’s, but his ride was rough and violent. When the bell finally signaled that his eight seconds of danger were over, Travis dismounted with ease and showed off his agility by dodging the bull’s horns, not once but twice before he hopped up on the side rails and Anger Management was corralled into the exit.
The appreciation for Travis’s skill was evident in the crowd’s reaction, but it was obvious that Dalton, with his blond hair, blue eyes, and devil-may-care grin was the crowd favorite. Throughout the entire event, I discovered watching was a whole different ballgame when you actually knew the riders. I wasn’t sure I cared for the additional worry, nor was I sure that I wouldn’t have a heart attack if I had to watch it day in and day out. And when Travis blew a kiss in my direction, Mateo gave me a look.
I pretended I didn’t see either as we headed for the exit.
We made a quick run to Country Mart and I updated Mateo on what I’d learned about the publicity stunts Erik and Taylor were known to organize. He listened intently and asked a few questions, then once again made it clear that I was not to meddle in his case. I gave him my standard evasive promise and he eyed me suspiciously.
At the store, watching how the other customers reacted to us, I quickly learned how the rest of the county felt toward Mateo—they loved the man. The men admired him, and the women ogled him. I was beginning to believe that being Mateo Espinosa was a good gig for a guy.
I ended up purchasing one donut and several different covers when I found out I could accessorize the pillow. Instead of being stuck with the standard Pepto-Bismol pink plastic pillow, I was able to choose fun and exciting designs with bright bold colors and patterns, so I didn’t have to look like I was suffering from the worst case of hemorrhoids. I chose a feminine pink cover, of course, as well as one with a blue ocean wave and another with a green forest.
Mateo carried my package for me and before we got to the car, he blew up the donut, tugged the pink cover over it, and placed it in the passenger seat. I was in hog heaven, or at least as close to hog heaven as I ever wanted to get, when I finally sat down. At The Barn, he helped me up the stairs to my apartment and said he would stop in and talk to my dad. I’d literally forgotten about my dad in all the hubbub and hoped he didn’t get upset over me not telling him about what had happened. Then I laughed at myself. My daddy didn’t get upset over anything.
I gave him a quick call and declined his dinner invitation, telling him I had a date with Travis before I went and soaked in the tub for over an hour. Again, I fell in love my new donut. Exhausted and shriveled like a prune, I went to the living room in my towel and somehow fell asleep on the couch.
Scarlet called to check on me and I told her I was fine. I also lied and said my injuries were nothing a few days’ rest couldn’t cure. She hung up relieved and giggling. I didn’t have to guess why she was so happy. She’d been distracted by something, or someone, the entire conversation, and as she rung off, a masculine growl echoed through the phone.
It was hard for me to reconcile the public Dalton with the private Dalton; I didn’t know which one was real or which was fake. I hoped Scarlet could recognize if he was worth keeping, or if he needed to be se
t at the curb the next morning.
I chose my outfit because it was easy to put on: an elastic navy skirt with a button down white sleeveless blouse and navy and white striped flats. I’d removed the bandages on my chest and buttoned the blouse up high to cover the abrasions. There was nothing I could do about my arm; that bandage had to stay. I fixed my hair and applied minimal makeup before I heard a knock on my door.
As I went out into the living room, I saw Travis through the window. His attention was directed toward his feet, where he was addressing someone. I had a very good idea who that someone might be. I opened the door and Travis looked up slowly, taking in my toes all the way to the top of my head.
He whistled, and it may have been the first whistle I’ve ever found attractive.
“Princess, I don’t believe I have ever been in the company of two more beautiful women in my life.”
Princess sat up and twitched her nose in his direction, a slow smile spreading across her face. I had to give him credit; bad boy Travis knew how to pour on the charm. Even my armadillo was transfixed.
“Travis, you are everything they say you are.”
The wrinkles on his forehead proved he wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or an insult, and I decided to keep him guessing.
“I just need to grab my third wheel.” I held up my bright pink donut.
A boyish grin spread across his face. “By all means, the more the merrier.”
“Would you mind if we just walked down to the diner? I’m not really up to another car ride today.”
“I have yet to experience the local cuisine. It would be my pleasure.”
“Are you always this formal?”
“Only when in the presence of royalty.”
“I’ll have to remember that.”
We made our way to the diner, where the dinner crowd was larger than usual with all the fans and locals enjoying the festive nature the rodeo brought to town. I saw Perter Kroft and his cameraman waiting for a table like everyone else, and was thankful there was no camera in sight. Several people approached Travis for his autograph and after asking for my permission, he obliged the fans. He surprised me a few minutes later when he turned to a man sitting on a bench outside.
“Excuse me, sir, my girl had a close encounter with Twisted Mister today. Would you mind giving her your seat while we wait for a table?”
The man immediately relinquished his seat, and Travis helped me get comfortable on my bright pink donut. When Scarlet and Dalton strolled up a few minutes later, the crush of people got worse. I wasn’t sure who was more surprised, me or Scarlet when she saw me sitting on the bench. With the media hounding her the way they had been, I never expected her to venture out in a crowd. I hoped it was a sign the media had changed their focus after Dalton was resurrected.
Scarlet excused herself from her date and came to stand next to me as Dalton became surrounded with autograph seekers.
“Why aren’t you at home resting?”
“Why are you out in front of the cameras?”
“The fridge in my trailer doesn’t hold enough food to feed that man. We thought it’d be safer to eat here than anywhere else.”
We sat back and watched Travis and Dalton enjoy their fame. They really did look like two boys who’d reached for their dreams and were surprised that they’d actually caught them. They also looked like they could be friends—behind the scenes. “What would you think of sharing a table?” I asked.
Scarlet grinned. “I’m in.” Scarlet, never one to mince words, lasted about three minutes before she asked, “What in tarnation are you doing with Travis? What about Cade?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me about Cade? The man hasn’t asked me out. Am I supposed to sit at home waiting for him to call?”
I wasn’t fooling Scarlet. She heard the irritation in my voice and knew that I really had been sitting at home waiting for him to call. But I was done with that. Besides, accepting Travis’s invitation to dinner meant getting more information that would keep the media off Scarlet’s back. And as much as she wanted to believe they’d lost their focus, I’d just watched my favorite cameraman get his camera out of their van. Aiden was on the prowl.
Then Liza Twaine and Aubrey pulled up in Aubrey’s Volkswagen and I knew things were about to get busy. I started thinking we should cancel dinner when a hostess called out, “Sinclair and Hibbs, party of four.”
Scarlet popped up, but I waited for Travis. I was not above accepting a man’s help when I’d felt like I’d gone through ten rounds with a bull.
“How do you do this every day?” I asked.
Travis grabbed my donut, not the least bit embarrassed to carry it for me. That alone made him rise a notch higher on my approval meter.
“I wouldn’t know anything else. I’ve been riding for as long as I can remember. But I do tend to avoid getting trapped in a pen with a bull.”
There was nothing to say to that, without sounding really bad, so I kept my mouth shut. The four of us got a seat at a prime table. I suspected it was planned by the manager of the diner and Taylor, who was seated at the bar with Cade.
Drat the man. He didn’t even notice our arrival.
We sat down in the horseshoe booth with Scarlet and me sitting in the middle with the two guys on the outside; it made it easier when people wanted selfies and autographs. We ordered our food and made small talk while we waited. I was surprised to see Dalton and Travis getting along, and once again wondered if they actually did like each other. Then Dalton intertwined his fingers with Scarlet’s and it seemed like everyone in the restaurant noticed. Everything was so comfy and cozy, and I began to worry it wouldn’t last.
It was only when Travis brought up the topic of the two graves that the mood became somber.
“I knew it wasn’t you in that grave,” he insisted to Dalton.
“It would have been nice if you’d convinced my family and Scarlet.”
“I really thought that Erik would have contacted your parents to let them know the truth. Scarlet, I can only apologize for not knowing that you two were serious. I’m sorry.”
Scarlet took a drink of her sweet tea and avoided eye-contact with Travis. I suddenly felt that hammer coming down on a night that was too good to be true.
“It’s okay,” was all she said.
“How can I make it up to you?”
“There’s nothing to make up.”
“Scarlet, please—”
“I said, it’s okay. Drop it.” The edge in her voice held so much emotion I knew this wasn’t just about her thinking Dalton had died. There was guilt in it as well, and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine, Princess.”
That was all I needed to hear. Scarlet did not call me Princess unless her mind was totally preoccupied. I ran the whole scenario through my head. The graves. The phone. The buckles. Dalton’s return. Wyatt’s continued missing status and the talk that the bodies were probably animals. People didn’t know about the clothing or the belt buckles—
Dalton didn’t know about the buckles. Fuzz buckets.
I looked at Scarlet as the guys talked about the standings and when she finally met my gaze, the guilt was there plain as day. As far as Dalton knew, his brother had no ties to that grave at Enchanted Rock.
Oh, Scarlet. That was one thing she should have never held back from him. If he found out about the belt buckles, he was never going to forgive her. He was sitting here celebrating, believing the only reason everyone thought it was the two Hibbs brothers buried in the ground was because they had both gone missing. Yet there was more evidence. Wyatt’s remains were being identified by the coroner as we sat waiting for our Rocker Burgers.
Scarlet squeezed my knee under the table and I knew she was pleading with me to keep my mouth shut. I would, but I didn’t think it was right.
The waitress brought our food, and Dalt
on and Travis couldn’t say enough good things about the thick juicy patties smothered with cheese and bacon and fried skinny onion rings.
It was only when Cade stood up across the diner that I knew for a fact our dinner was not going to end well. Unfolding his tall body with an ease that most men his size didn’t have, Cade glanced in our direction. His body was anything but relaxed, as he met Mateo at the front door with two deputies.
And that too-good-to-be-real feeling was definitely correct. Mateo glanced our direction and our eyes met over the top of Dalton’s head. A small, almost imperceptible head shake told me he didn’t want me to say a word. That one little shake said so much and made the burger in my stomach feel way too big for the space. He made his way across the diner with Cade at his side, his deputies going down the opposite aisle. Dalton was the first to see the two deputies approaching. The smile on his face grew, the closer they got.
But his smile wasn’t returned. In fact, the deputies looked ready to draw on Dalton if he made a wrong move. Dalton, finally sensing the danger, put down his burger and wiped his mouth with his napkin before setting the cloth square down on the table. Mateo was right behind him, face tight, voice deep and dangerous.
“Keep your hands on the table, Dalton.” The crowd at the door began to lean forward. People at nearby tables stopped eating and what had been a constant din of chatter throughout the restaurant, seemed to disappear completely.
Dalton kept his hands palm down on the table, his gaze never leaving the deputies staring him down.
“I need you to stand up, nice and slow, and put your hands on top of your head,” Mateo ordered.
Cell phones were being brought out; videos were being recorded. My favorite camera crews, Aiden and Aubrey, made their way in through the front door. The lights on their cameras glaring throughout the restaurant. Our table was more than the center of attention; it was the only thing that existed for everyone in the restaurant.
