The cowboy grabbed his rope, readied his horse, and signaled the chute worker to open the chute. The calf ran forward, the barrier popped, and the cowboy followed.
The cowboy lassoed the calf and leaped off his horse to wrangle and tie the calf. Bill heard an audible snap, and the audience reacted with a gasp. Then silence.
At the same time the cowboy turned and walked away, rodeo officials on horseback raced to the center of the arena and crowded around the downed calf.
Bill watched as rodeo officials loosened the rope from the calf’s neck, covering its eyes and easing its legs to the ground.
“What happened?” he asked Clancy.
“Looks like the rope’s knot landed square on the back of the calf’s neck. The force of the horse’s stop flipped the calf upside down and directly onto its spine. It’s called a jerk down. And it’s a move that was explicitly banned years ago.”
“What are they doing now?”
“They’re sedating the calf to get it out of the arena.”
Bill wanted to believe Clancy, but the calf didn’t look sedated, it looked dead. No cowboy ever wanted to see an animal of any kind hurt in rodeo. Regardless of whether it was hurt, or dead, Bill was devastated.
“I’m out.”
Clancy turned away from watching the vets work on the calf, and looked straight at Bill. “You’re quittin’?”
“Yes, sir. I am.”
Clancy nodded his head, walked over to one of the officials, and then led Cisco out of the arena with Bill still in the saddle. As he passed Dottie in the stands, he almost couldn’t bring himself to look at her. When he did, he saw she had her head in her hands, and she was crying.
What had begun as one of the best days of his life had sunk into a horrible nightmare.
11
When she went back inside, no one seemed to have noticed she and Bullet were gone. Rather than sitting in her seat at the table, she began clearing dishes. Soon Liv joined her.
“Everything okay?”
She didn’t want to lie, but she also didn’t want to talk about it.
“I’m more tired than I thought,” Tristan finally admitted. “And ready to go home.”
Liv rubbed her shoulder. “I’m sorry I made you stay. It’s just that I love having you here. If you promise to come back soon, I’ll promise not to be so selfish next time.”
“It isn’t that.” She smiled at Liv’s apology. “I really am tired. But I’m also glad I stayed.” For the most part. Liv didn’t need to know what had happened with Bullet on the porch.
She heard the front door open and close, but refused to turn around to see if it was Bullet. Instead, she excused herself and went downstairs to pack.
Bullet crept back inside and saw Tristan all but run downstairs. Not knowing what else to do, he followed her. He could hear her milling around in the guest room. He approached the door several times but couldn’t bring himself to knock. He felt terrible about what had happened, and wished he could find a way to tell her so.
What could he say, though? That she was more than just a lay to him? That ought to go over well. He’d tell her things had gone too far. That her friendship was what was important to him, but he’d be lying, and she’d know.
He wanted her, then and now. He rested his hand against the door, willing her to open it and let him in.
The next morning, they got the broncs loaded into the trailers and were close to ready to leave. When Bullet packed Grey’s bag, his son had a temper tantrum, lying on the floor, kicking his feet, and crying. Clearly, Grey didn’t want to leave. If Tristan hadn’t left an hour earlier, he wouldn’t have wanted to either.
Before she left, he couldn’t decide whether to try to talk to her or stay out of her way. He finally decided on the latter. If she wanted to talk to him, she’d know where to find him. She hadn’t.
“Hey, bro—” Lyric slapped him on the back and scared the crap out of him.
It was something she used to do when they were little. She’d tell him he should practice “feeling her presence,” so he wouldn’t be startled when she came up behind him. He figured that was a load of crap, and she did it because she liked to see him jump out of his skin.
“What happened with you and Tristan last night?”
“Why? What did she say?”
“She didn’t say anything, but the two of you avoided each other all morning.”
So, she had been avoiding him. He was glad now that he hadn’t sought her out. It only would’ve made everything worse.
“Ain’t like we have a reason to be around each other. Don’t make more of it than it is.”
“Whenever you start talkin’ like an Oklahoma hick, I know somethin’s up. Good thing for you, there’s a surprise waitin’ on you when you get back to Black Forest.”
Bullet hated surprises, and Lyric knew it. As well as he knew there wasn’t anything he could do to get her to tell him what it was.
“It’s a good surprise.”
Yeah, whatever. He knew what it wasn’t. It wasn’t Tristan waiting on his front porch for him and Grey to pull up. Any surprise other than that wouldn’t be a good one.
Bullet pointed toward Grey, who was on the lawn, playing with Caden. “Soon as I pick him up, he’ll turn from the happy little boy he is at this moment, into a screaming, unhappy monster.”
“I’ll get him,” Lyric offered.
He’d let her. Bullet had already had one unpleasant tantrum from Grey this morning. His auntie could handle this one.
“Come on, Caden, let’s walk Grey over to his truck, so we can wave bye-bye when he leaves.”
Bullet watched as Caden took Grey’s hand and the two walked to the truck. Before Lyric could lift him up and put him in his buddy seat, Caden wrapped her arms around his neck and plastered a loud smooch on his lips. Grey smiled from ear to ear.
Oh, Lord, thought Bullet. His boy was in for it. Girls were already kissin’ on him, and he was happy as a pig in mud. If he kept this up, he’d be on the road to a hell of a lot of heartache. Grey could take that from his old man.
Bullet rubbed his hand over his chest. Yep, it hurt. Bad. He didn’t dare ask anyone when Tristan might be back in Colorado. Even when she was, she wouldn’t want to see him.
Tristan leaned back against the window seat, on the plane, and lowered the shade. Part of her wished she’d asked Ben to fly her home, the other part was glad she hadn’t.
Every time she closed her eyes, she could feel Bullet’s hands on her. And his lips. She could hear his voice and feel his breath as he leaned in close to her. She’d wanted him as much as she could feel he wanted her.
If they’d been anywhere else, she wouldn’t have stopped him. Thankfully, there were too many people at the Flying R last night, and the thought of them being inside the house while they were outside, had brought her to her senses.
Bullet Simmons was dangerous with a capital D. In fact, dangerous should be in all caps. He was the kind of man who fathered children with different women. And worse, he was a bull rider.
He was also playful and sweet. He was close to his sister, a good father, and a hard worker. Bill and Dottie adored him; that much was obvious. He wouldn’t have a job with the Flying R team, or a sponsorship, if he wasn’t a decent guy. He was good with kids. And horses. And her. Especially her. She groaned and covered her face with her hands.
“Tristan?”
There were only two people on earth she really didn’t want to see this morning. One was Bullet Simmons. The other was standing in the aisle, putting his carry-on in the compartment above her row of seats.
After crying for twenty minutes when they left the ranch, Grey slept the rest of the way home, all six hours. Playing with Caden the last couple of days must’ve worn him out, and Bullet was thankful for it. He only hoped that he’d be tired again by bedtime. If Grey couldn’t sleep later, Bullet wouldn’t be able to either.
When Dottie called his cell to say they were stopping for something to
eat, he told them he’d keep driving. He dared to stop only once, to give the horses a break, and Grey had slept through it. He wouldn’t risk it again.
He was tempted not to answer his phone when it rang again, but knew he had to, in case it was Bill or someone else from Flying R.
“You home yet?”
“You’re always givin’ me shit about not feeling the twin thing. How come you don’t know if I’m home or not?”
“Ha, ha. You’re funny. I guess you aren’t yet.”
“Nah. I’m close though. Why?”
“You’ll see.” Silence. Lyric had hung up. What the hell?
“Tell me you aren’t sitting here,” she demanded when he threw his jacket on the aisle seat.
He pulled his boarding pass out of his back pocket. “Yep, I sure am.”
“Then I’m moving.”
The flight attendant standing behind him in the aisle stopped her. “You’ll have to stay where you are. These are the last two open seats. We have a full flight, and Mr. Jones is our last standby passenger.”
Mr. Jones. Tristan turned back toward the window and rolled her eyes. Addressing him in such a respectful way was a waste of words. There wasn’t a single thing about Harris Jones that was respectable. He was a dirty, rotten scoundrel. In fact, scoundrel was too good a word for the bull rider. He was the devil incarnate as far as she was concerned.
“Tristan McCullough. Fancy meeting you here,” he said after he fastened his seat belt.
“If a stranger were sitting where you are, I’d ignore him the same way I’m going to ignore you.”
Harris leaned over, resting his arm on the seat between them. “You can’t ignore me, and you know it,” he drawled. The way he said it made her skin crawl. And it made her think of Bullet.
Since she met him, Tristan had been comparing Bullet to Harris. Having him seated near her showed her how wrong she’d been. Bullet was nothing like this slimeball.
The way Bullet spoke to her was seductive and soothing. Bullet made her feel safe. Deep down she knew she could trust him. Harris made her feel sleazy. She couldn’t wait to get off the plane and take a shower. Had he always worn cologne? And that much of it?
Since Grey was still asleep—snoring in fact—Bullet would wait until he was out of the rig to call for help unloading the broncs. Dead tired though he was, he knew it would be hours before he could catch some shut-eye. As soon as Grey was awake, he’d be rarin’ to play, and Bullet would not be able to deny him.
Bullet recognized the SUV in the driveway as soon as he pulled up to the house. Lyric was right; it was a good surprise. There were lights on, inside, so either one of the ranch hands had let Gram in, or showed her where the front door key was hidden.
“Grey, time to wake up,” he said softly to his son. “Gram is here to see you.”
“Not just Gram, Yaya and Poppa are here too.” Bullet’s father came up behind him, a big grin on his face. “Now, hand over my grandson,” he smiled.
Grey buried his head in Bullet’s shoulder.
“Someone’s shy,” said his mother, coming up behind them. Grey peeked over Bullet’s shoulder and held his arms out to his grandmother.
“It’s her voice,” Bullet’s father said. “Soothes the soul.”
Bullet hugged his dad after he handed Grey to his mother.
“Oh, my goodness, he’s heavy. What have you been feeding him?” she teased.
“I’ll take him, Guinie,” offered his dad.
“No, it’s been too long since I held him. You wait your turn.”
Bullet followed his parents into the house, where Gram was waiting.
“I can’t believe Lyric kept our secret. She did, didn’t she?” Gram pulled him into a big hug, just like Dottie’s. He wondered if he had remembered it right, how similar they were.
“She did,” he answered and rested his head on his grandmother’s shoulder.
She ran her hand through his hair like she used to do when he was growing up. “Long drive?”
“Yeah. Long week before it too.”
“Have a seat, and let me get you a beer,” offered his dad. “You still drink beer, don’t ya?”
“You must not have checked the fridge, or you wouldn’t be asking,” Bullet answered. “There’s plenty in there. At least there was when I left.”
Gram had his favorite dinner waiting on him, and she and his mama whisked Grey off for a bath. His daddy sat down at the table with him.
“Not hungry?”
“You know your gram, she made sure I had three helpings before she let me leave the table.” Nate rubbed his hands over his stomach. “You gonna ask what we’re all doin’ here?”
Bullet’s mouth was full, so he nodded.
“You need a break, son, and we’re here to make sure you take it.”
“Listen, Daddy—”
“No, you listen. We’re here because Bill and Dottie Patterson asked us to come.”
“Why’d they do that? How did they even know how to get in touch with you?”
“She didn’t. Dottie asked your gram to come, and since we were planning to fly in yesterday anyway, she picked us up at the airport in Denver.”
Bullet had given Dottie Gram’s phone number in case anything happened to him on the ranch, or while he was riding bulls.
He pushed his plate back. He’d lost his appetite. He’d been trying to be a good employee, to work hard for the Pattersons, and not let the fact he was raising his son on his own interfere with his job. If Dottie had asked his gram to come, he obviously wasn’t succeeding.
“What am I doin’ wrong?” he said to himself as much as he did his father.
“It isn’t that. They asked her to come because they think you need a little time to yourself. And they know you well enough to know you wouldn’t depend on their kindness if they offered to watch Grey for a few days. So, they called in the cavalry…in the form of your grandmother.”
Bullet still didn’t understand. Between Billy, telling him that he’d raised his daughter on his own and Lyric, always after him about following his dream, and now this, it seemed as though everyone was encouraging him to do the opposite of what he knew he needed to be doing.
Had he proven himself to be so undependable that even the smallest sign of responsibility made everyone believe he needed a break to get his head screwed back on crooked?
“Lyric said you were thinkin’ about gettin’ a place in Colorado.”
“She’s right. Not sure where yet, though. Got any ideas?”
Bullet talked to his dad about the places in Colorado he knew well, and brought up other towns he’d like to visit.
“Lyric suggested Aspen. I don’t know why. Seems like a sleepy ol’ town to me.”
“Lots of rockers maybe.”
“Don’t know about that. Unless you mean the chairs. I’ve been to Telluride a few times for their Blues Fest. However, outside of that and ski season, doesn’t seem like too much is happening there either.”
“Colorado ain’t Los Angeles.”
“It sure isn’t. But it’s all good. I’m done with LA anyway. Doesn’t matter anymore where you’re based. You can record music anywhere. You can set up a damn studio in your house.”
Bullet told his dad about Ben’s set up in Crested Butte. “You should check it out.”
“I got a call from Ben recently. About hookin’ up with Mark Cochran. Won’t that be somethin’?”
Bullet remembered Ben talking about it several weeks ago. He was probably supposed to arrange it, or at least tell his dad, but he’d forgotten all about it with Callie’s death.
“Sure would. Mark lives close to here. I don’t know if Ben told you.”
“Yep, and we’re scheduled to get together day after tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“Here, or at Mark’s. Like you said, he lives close. Ben is comin’ in tomorrow for dinner, and then the next day, we’ll see what kind of musical firecrackers we can light up.”
&
nbsp; How had all this been arranged without anyone mentioning it to him? Bullet was beginning to think they were right, he did need a break. Maybe he was already having a break—a mental one, and that was why so much of what was going on around him made no sense.
“How much of a break did Bill and Dottie say I needed?”
“A week.”
What was he supposed to do for a week?
“And before you start over thinkin’ it. Bill has a place lined up for you to go.”
“Oh, yeah?” Bullet laughed. “Am I bein’ committed somewhere?”
His dad laughed too. “I told your mother you were gonna say that.” Nate looked over his shoulder. “Hear that, Guinie? Bullet wants to know where we’re committing him.”
His mother came out of the bathroom, wiping her hands on a towel and laughing.
Bullet could hear Grey speaking his gibberish to Gram, who sounded as though she was loving it.
“She’s soaked from head to toe, but with a big smile on her face.”
Bullet looked his mother up and down. Gram was right about her. She didn’t look to have a drop of water on her, but he knew she’d been right in there, playing with Grey.
His mother looked herself up and down. “What?”
“Gram said you could play in a mud puddle and not get dirty. Looks as though you can give Grey a bath and not get wet either.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” She sat down at the table and covered his hand with hers. “Bullet, it’s hard work, taking care of a baby boy. On top of that, you’re running a big part of the ranch for the Pattersons. Don’t start imagining anyone is unhappy with the job you’re doing just because they care enough to want you to take a vacation.”
“If I’d had some notice, I might’ve been able to plan somethin’, but I can’t leave right now. I talked to Pearl’s mama yesterday. She’s supposed to call me back today about gettin’ her up here for a couple of weeks.”
“Your mama talked to Pearl’s mama. We’ll go get her the day before you get back. She’ll be stayin’ with us for a month.”
Win Me Over (Cowboys of Crested Butte Book 5) Page 11
