by Claire Adams
I was still bruised up from the other day, but there was no way that guy could beat me on the bull. He didn’t even have it on the most difficult setting, I noted as I walked closer to the padded area. This was going to be a piece of cake.
The man’s eyes lit up as he looked over at me. “I see you there, hotshot,” he said, pointing to me. “You think you got what it takes to beat me? Well, come on up. That’s right, strut up here with that hat and boots. Show off for the ladies, cowpoke. They won’t be so impressed when you get knocked on your ass.”
I rolled my eyes at how over the top he was. The guy was like a carnival barker trying to draw a crowd. I had to give him credit, though. I wasn’t bored anymore.
“What was your time?” I asked him.
“He made it 7.5 seconds!” someone else called from over to my left.
I snorted. “I could beat that. Easy.”
The man raised an eyebrow at me. “Well now, that’s what I like to hear! How much you want to bet you can beat me?”
I hadn’t realized he wanted to bet on the winner. But having money on the line always made a man ride better, didn’t it? “A hundred bucks,” I said as my bravado swelled within me.
Mike grinned. “A hundred bucks, sure,” he said, reaching out to shake my hand. His palm was slick with sweat, and I fought not to make a face. He was still gawking at me. “You ever ridden this thing before? Haven’t seen you on it.”
“A couple times,” I said evenly, not wanting to admit that a couple times was literally all the bull riding I’d done.
He laughed, brimming with confidence. “A couple of times? And you think you’re ready for the big leagues? It’s your funeral. You want to go first, or should I?”
“You go first and show me how it’s done.” I was letting him go before me so I knew what time I had to beat before I got on the bull, but I wasn’t about to say that.
Mike snorted but clambered back on the bull, giving a nod toward Mickey. “Let’s go, man,” he said.
The bull rocked and spun. He clung to its back with both hands. People cheered him on as it became clear that he was about to beat his previous time. The bull lurched and threw him off. He landed in a roll and sprang to his feet nimbly like a circus performer. He’d beat his earlier time, but not by much. Still, it was enough to have me nervous about it.
Eyes on the prize, I reminded myself, stepping forward amidst both cheers and jeers from the crowd. I waved a hand, acknowledging everyone. I hoped their cheers would help me pull through this and keep me motivated. I climbed up on the bull and steadied myself. I was as ready as I was gonna be. I nodded at Mickey to start her up.
The mechanical bull lurched between my legs, and I nearly fell off in the first couple of seconds.
My hands slipped on the leather. I had to clench my knees together and make a quick grab to avoid sailing off. Embarrassment turned my face red, but I forced myself to focus and to find that rhythm. It was different from riding the bull at full speed. I felt like I could anticipate the bull better when it was moving faster. Like this, I had to be a bit more patient. But I started to get into it.
I grinned, drinking in the cheers from the audience that gathered around me. I had to be doing well. More and more people were coming over to watch. There was part of me that screamed to get the fuck off while I was ahead — but reason never rested with me too long.
Mickey kicked up the intensity a notch, and I moved with it, easily keeping my seat. When he kicked it up one more notch, I lost the rhythm and ended up getting tossed. Unlike the other night, I was able to roll through the fall. My bruises flared with pain as I tumbled over the mat, but when I got to my feet, I was beaming with pride. I had absolutely destroyed Mike’s time.
“That might be a record for an amateur here in the Roasted Bison,” Mickey told me, clapping me on the back. “Nicely done.”
“Thanks,” I said, grinning at him. I looked around for Mike, who had a sour look on his face. “Better luck next time, buddy,” I said. Then, I held out my hand. “Pay up.”
Mike spat off to the side. “You know we were just joking. There was never any money at stake.”
“Bullshit,” I said. “We shook on it. You owe me a hundred bucks, and you know it. Everyone in this bar knows it.”
“Why the hell would I actually bet a hundred dollars on some punk kid that I don’t know anything about?” he scoffed. “Would have had to see you ride before if I was going to stake that kind of money on a bet.”
“So that’s how it is,” I said as anger burned in my belly.
He shot me a smug look, like he’d won. God, he had a face made for punching. I was frustrated as all hell, but I wasn’t about to start a fight over a hundred bucks. It would take more than that to make me lose my cool.
“I thought I was betting with a man,” I said, shaking my head. “Not a lying little bitch.” I turned to walk away.
“What did you just call me?” Mike roared drunkenly, pushing through the crowd and coming after me.
I made it outside the Bison and then turned around to face him. If things ended up getting physical, I didn’t want to wreck my favorite bar. I respected the place too much for that. Mike, on the other hand, I didn’t respect at all.
He stalked toward me, his feet crunching on the gravel and his face was an ugly shade of purple. “What did you say to me?”
“Which part? The part where I said you weren’t a man or the part where I called you a lying little bitch?” I shouldn’t have been taunting him when he was clearly itching for a fight, but I couldn’t help myself. I’d been in a bad mood all night, and I wasn’t going to take any shit from this ape.
Besides, I didn’t expect things to escalate any further. This kind of guy was all talk. He’d get up in my face, make a big show of what a tough guy he was, and then he’d walk away, pretending he won. It was the quiet ones you had to worry about — the ones who never said a word before knocking you out with one punch. Mike was anything but quiet.
Other patrons were spilling out the front of the Bison, hoping to see some action. I wondered if any of them would intervene if Mike went after me. Probably not. The regulars had seen me fight before. They knew I could handle myself, and they all knew who my father was.
Had been, rather. No time to dwell on that now.
Mike lunged at me, arms swinging wildly. I sidestepped out of his way easily and fell into a fighting stance. I felt that familiar surge of adrenaline rush through my veins like rocket fuel. It had been a long time since I’d felt this way. It scared me how right it felt, like coming home.
The crowd kept their distance. Mike threw a wide, meaty punch. I ducked beneath it and swore under my breath. That one had been close. I could avoid his ham-fisted attacks for a while, but eventually, he would get lucky and connect. Then, there was no telling what I’d have to do to him.
Better to take control of the situation while I still could. I swung my leg around and caught him behind the knee, sending him crashing to the gravel with a pained snarl.
“Cut the shit, man,” I growled. “Just get out of here and don’t come back to until you’re ready to pay up, do you hear me?”
He heard me. His eyes burned with anger as he struggled to his feet. Blue and red lights flashed around us. I squinted against them, blinded. Mike chose that moment to come after me again, but the local sheriff stepped between us and halted his advance.
“Easy, Mike,” the man said, leading him away. “Let’s get you back home to your wife. Time for you to sleep it off.”
The onlookers cheered, but the sound if it didn’t thrill me the way it had when I’d been on the bull. Instead, I felt physically sick. I turned and stalked off in the opposite direction, heading home for the night.
For all that John insisted that I’d changed over the past few years, I couldn’t really believe it — not when I was still drinking and fighting like this. I felt disgusted with myself. But all the same, I knew I’d never change. I didn’t think it wa
s possible to change anymore.
I kicked at a rock, sending it skittering off across the road. It did nothing to soothe the pent-up anger and frustration inside me. I wondered if maybe John was right, maybe I was better when I was smoking weed. I scrubbed a hand over my face and went up to bed, hoping I could pass out for a couple hours and forget about everything, seeing that nothing was soothing the tiger pacing around in my chest.
I knew one thing that would: Vanessa.
Chapter Six
Vanessa
I felt like I’d spent the whole day thinking back over the dinner with Trethan, analyzing every detail of it. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I reached over and grabbed my phone, quickly calling Julie, needing an outlet.
“Hey, what’s up?” she asked when she picked up the phone.
I sighed heavily. “It’s Trethan.”
“Uh oh, what happened?”
“He came over here for dinner last night. Dad invited him.”
“Oh wow, okay,” she said, sounding interested. “So, what happened?”
I shook my head, even though I knew she couldn’t see it on the other end of the line. “It was so awkward, Julie. You can’t even imagine how awkward it was.” I paused. “Why didn’t anyone tell me that his dad had died?”
“You didn’t know about that?” she asked, sounding surprised. “I would have thought your dad would have told you, or maybe even Trethan himself. Sorry, I would have said something. I just thought you already knew.”
“I had no idea,” I said. “And, I totally put my foot in my mouth at dinner. I asked if he was still living with his dad. Where is he living, anyway? Is he still at that old house?”
“Oh no,” she said. “He bought an apartment over on Fifth not long after he started working for your dad. He’s been trying to sell his dad’s place for months now, but you know how White Bluff is. It’ll probably sell soon, now that it’s summer though.”
“Oh,” I said lamely.
“Are you okay with having seen him?” she asked tentatively.
I grimaced. “I kind of blew up at him when he asked what I was going to do for a job,” I said. “I stormed out of dinner and everything.”
Julie laughed. “You always were so dramatic. Must get tough having everyone asking that though, doesn’t it?”
I sighed. “I think I might still have feelings for Trethan. Or at least, I can’t seem to stop thinking about him, ever since I’ve come back.”
“Uh oh,” she said. “Are you thinking of getting back together with him?”
“Of course not! But...” I trailed off, frowning.
“But what?”
“Dad said he’s changed a lot over the past few years,” I said slowly.
Julie sighed. “Well, sure. Everyone around town knows that.”
“How, though?” I pressed. “I know he’s been working here around the ranch, and obviously, he doesn’t look the same as he did a couple years ago, but what else? He’s more mature?”
“He’s not dealing drugs anymore,” Julie told me. “Rumor has it he’s not even smoking anymore. I mean, he’s still hanging out with that idiot Brent, but he really seems to be doing a lot better.” She paused, and I could tell that there was something more that she wasn’t saying.
“Come on, tell me,” I asked, wanting her to open up a little bit. She was my only source of information, and she knew it.
She was silent for a long moment. “He’s still drinking. Goes down to the Roasted Bison nearly every night. And he sleeps around a lot, too.”
I made a face. “I should have known it was too good to be true.”
“Sorry,” Julie said, sounding like she really meant it. “I wish I could tell you something better. I think he’s doing great, all things considered. Your dad has really taken a shine to him, but in terms of how much he’s changed, I wouldn’t go pinning your hopes on him, again.”
I swallowed hard and nodded. “Thanks, Julie.”
We said our goodbyes and hung up. Even though I knew I should forget about the whole thing, I couldn’t seem to let it go. Finally, I sighed and went downstairs, finding Dad sitting in the living room, a newspaper spread in his lap.
I laughed. “What year is it, old man?” I teased.
Dad looked up, grinning at me. “You youngsters can get your news off your tablets or your smartphones or whatever the latest gadgets are these days. For me, nothing is ever going to beat the feeling of having a hard-copy newspaper in my hands.”
“You’re so traditional,” I said, shaking my head.
He shrugged. “I live in a small town in Montana that time seems to have forgotten about,” he said. “Everything’s traditional here. You realize that most of the businesses in this town, with the exception of Jerry’s Pizza Place, have been in operation for over a decade now? I’ve never minded being a bit behind the times, not when I’m surrounded by like-minded people.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I said. I flopped down on the sofa across from his armchair, trying to think of how to ask what I wanted to ask.
He beat me to the questions, though. “I don’t want to bring up a touchy subject, but what are you thinking about doing for a job around here?” He held up a hand before I could respond. “I’m not asking because I want you to get out of here or anything like that. But like I said, most of the businesses in this town have been around for ages now, and none of those places are a good fit for your skills.”
“And you want me to take over the ranch,” I said with a sigh, preparing for another fight.
“No,” he said, surprising me. “I’ve come to terms with the fact that you don’t want to take over this place. And to be honest, even though I think you’d do a good job, I think it might be better that you don’t take over this place. If your heart isn’t in it, then the ranch will suffer.”
I bowed my head. A shameful blush spread across my cheeks. Dad chuckled. “Come on, you don’t have to be upset about that,” he said. “Vanessa, all I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy. I’m sorry if I didn’t express that as much as I should have before. I’m sorry we ever fought about your owning the ranch. I can’t say I was in the best frame of mind after your mother passed away, and I stupidly thought that maybe if you were going to take over the ranch, you’d come back home. I missed you.”
I smiled at him, appreciating how open he had always been about his feelings. But then, I frowned. “I’m not really sure what I’m going to do yet,” I admitted. I glanced toward him. “I mean, don’t worry. I’m going to look for work around town so I can earn a little money and not have to rely on you for everything. I’m sure someone must be looking for help, especially with the summer tourism season starting to pick up. I can probably find something as a waitress or a bartender, or maybe something in retail. Or something.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Dad protested. “I’m glad that I’ve raised you to be so responsible, don’t get me wrong, but there’s no rush. I want you to be submitting applications to places that you really want to work at, places that will allow you to use your talent. You’ve spent so many years studying art, I know you have a lot of knowledge about the subject. I want you to use that.”
“You know I’m not going to find an outlet for that knowledge here in White Bluff, though,” I said. “And, I can’t just stay here forever without paying rent or anything. I should at least help out around the ranch in the meantime. But now that you have Trethan, there’s probably not much for me to do.”
Dad waved a hand. “Don’t worry about that, either,” he said. “Look, I want you to find a job that you love. There’s no hurry on that. A proper father takes care of his daughter until it’s time she finds a husband who can take care of her. I know that you kids think there’s a different way to live now, but you know me, always traditional. My parents provided for me until I was ready to take over the ranch on my own. And, I’ll provide for you until you’re ready to forge out on your own.”
His voice soft
ened. “I think it’s wonderful that you took care of yourself as much as you did while you were off at college. I know it can’t have been easy, working a part-time job and still pulling top grades in all your classes. I’m really proud of you, sweetie.
“Now, if you need to spend the summer relaxing and doing nothing more strenuous than going swimming in the river, take the summer and relax a little. Have some fun. Okay?”
I smiled at him, wondering how I had gotten so lucky to have such wonderful parents. “Thanks, Dad,” I told him. “I really appreciate how understanding you’re being about this. I just don’t know where I want to go. Obviously, I want to do something with art, but I’m not sure what exactly. I thought about working for one of the big companies, going someplace like New York or, I don’t know, maybe Chicago. Or Austin. The point is, none of those places felt quite like coming home.”
Dad smiled at me. “I’m glad I was able to build a home that you want to come back to, after five years away,” he said.
“I am, too,” I told him quietly.
I hesitated, wanting again to bring up the matter of Trethan, but the last thing I wanted after such a good conversation with Dad was to ruin things by talking about Trethan and whatever problems he might still have. So instead, I hopped up off the sofa and went over to kiss Dad’s cheek. “I’m going to get dinner started, all right? I was thinking we could have that Cajun pasta dish that Mom always used to make.”
“That sounds great,” Dad said, smiling up at me. “Do you need any help?”
“No, I’ve got it,” I said. “Unless you’ve moved anything around in there since the last time I cooked?”
He shook his head, looking off into the distance for a moment. “I don’t cook all that much anymore,” he admitted, which I might have guessed at.
I silently promised to cook healthy meals for us all summer. It was the least I could do for him, considering how understanding he’d been about my finding a career. “You’re in for a treat, tonight,” I said. “Sandwiches and whatever else you’ve been living on are fine, but you could do with a real meal or two.” I glanced at my watch. “Should be ready in about an hour. Is that okay?”
