CLINT'S WILD RIDE

by Linda Winstead Jones

  "Sure," he said, not sounding at all convinced.

  "I'll be fine. I can do—"

  "I've heard this before," Clint said sharply. "If I can do it, you can do it."

  "That's right." Mary lifted her chin slightly. If he wanted to argue about this, she was ready.

  The bull ambled their way, and movement out of the corner of Mary's eyes took her attention away from any potential argument with Clint Sinclair. The bull was huge! And it was headed straight for them.

  Clint stepped between Mary and the bull. "Go," he said.

  "I'm going to have to get used to this." Besides, Sweetness didn't look like he was going to do them any harm. He just wanted to say hello. "There's no reason to run."

  Sweetness snorted.

  "Okay," Mary said. "I'll wait on the fence." Or perhaps on the other side.

  When she was standing safely behind the fence, Clint patted the bull on the neck and headed her way. How could he turn his back on that animal! He kept his eyes on her, not once glancing over his shoulder to see if Sweetness followed.

  He vaulted over the fence. "You're not ready," he said as he headed for his truck.

  "I am!" Mary said as she followed him. He didn't glance over his shoulder to look at her either. He should have. He should fear her much more than a bull named Sweetness.

  When he reached his truck, he turned to face her, shaking his head as if she were a misbehaving child. "Why are you so determined to do this? It doesn't make any sense. There has to be a better way. Why you? Why not send a man in to do this job? Give me a reason, Mary. Make me understand."

  The words were on her tongue and she swallowed. No one could know the truth about Elaine. No one. Especially not Clint. He had already seen a weakness in her—she liked him. She liked kissing him. If things were different she'd like more than a kiss. To tell him why she was so determined to do this herself … no, she wouldn't turn into a whining, clinging, weepy female!

  When she didn't answer he climbed into the truck. She hurried to the passenger side, certain that he'd leave her stranded here if she didn't.

  * * *

  Katie and Wes had gone to bed early and Mary had been not long behind them. The house was quiet when Clint made his way to the kitchen phone and dialed Eugene's number.

  The barrel man answered with a hearty hello.

  "Eugene? This is Clint."

  The barrel man laughed. "Want to give me more money to pretend I've got a twisted ankle and hobble around while you fellas do all the work? I tell you, that's the best deal I've ever gotten."

  "Actually," Clint said, hoping he didn't sound as sheepish as he felt. "I'm calling to make sure you show up in Birmingham fit as a fiddle and ready to work."

  "The deal is off?" Eugene asked too loudly. "What was it, a joke?"

  "No, no. And I'll still pay you, just … she's not ready. She'll never be ready."

  "She?" Eugene asked, again too loud.

  "Yeah," Clint answered.

  "It's a good thing you called me back. Oliver woulda had a heart attack if you showed up with a girl clown in tow."

  "I know. She's good," he said defensively. "She's better than I thought she'd be when we first got started, but…"

  "But what?" Eugene urged.

  But I like her too much to worry about her for six weeks. She's quick but she's not quick enough. She's good, but she's not good enough. She's going to kill me when I tell her what I've gotta do. "She's just not there, you know?"

  "I know," Eugene said, as if they were commiserating. "Man, she must be some piece if she's got you even thinking about dragging her along for the summer."

  "It's not like that," Clint said quickly. "She's a friend of my sister. That's all."

  "Definitely not worth all this trouble," Eugene said.

  "Nope."

  "Well, I'll see you in Birmingham," Eugene said brightly.

  If I live that long.

  * * *

  Mary left her bedside lamp off and dialed by the light of the cell phone. Lewis answered on the second ring.

  "How are things at the circus?" he answered. Of course, he had seen her number on his caller ID.

  "Rodeo," she said. "Not circus. And everything's fine."

  "What's up?"

  She and Lewis had been e-mailing fairly often. He was, after all, her sometimes-partner and her friend. The call wasn't necessary. How could she tell him that she'd called because she needed to be reminded of who she was? That she was beginning to like it here?

  "How's the baby, Papa?" she asked.

  "Oh, he's fine. Fat and happy, sleeps and eats and fills his diapers. What a life."

  "And Judy?"

  "She's doing great."

  If there were more guys like Lewis in the world, she might actually consider getting married again one day. He was solid as a rock, loved his wife to distraction and adored his kids. He was honest, dependable and occasionally funny, though never quite as funny as he thought he was.

  Rick had been that kind of man. Steady. Good. Before she'd met him, she'd had a couple of bad experiences with men … boys, more honestly … who were not so kind. Oh, they could put on a nice face, they knew how to say what a girl wanted to hear. But they weren't good through and through. Not like Rick. Mary blinked away unexpected tears. She didn't think about her husband often. It hurt too much.

  It occurred to her that Clint had some of those qualities. Maybe that's why Rick had been so very much on her mind lately. She shook off the memories, old and new, and gave Lewis her full attention.

  "You have a couple more weeks of leave, don't you?"

  "Yeah," he answered. "The time off has been great, but I'm itching to get back to work. How's the clown treating you?"

  "Fine," she whispered. Clint was around, somewhere. After she'd gone to bed, she'd heard him puttering around the house. Right now he was in the kitchen, she thought.

  "So," Lewis continued, more relaxed—or so it seemed by the sound of his voice. "What's this clown really like? You haven't said much about him in your e-mails, only that he's been helpful." He managed to say that last word with disdain.

  "He has been helpful," she said defensively.

  "And?" Lewis prodded. He would not be satisfied with anything vague, and he certainly wouldn't allow her to ignore the question. He'd always been like a big brother, and since Rick's death he'd been downright protective. Overly protective at times.

  Mary sighed. "Sinclair's a stand-up guy. He's honest, works hard, lives fast. He's actually rather charming, in a good ol' boy kind of way. You'd like him."

  "How charming?" Lewis asked, breezing right past the other attributes she'd listed.

  She didn't dare tell him, or anyone else, that she had actually kissed Clint. "Charming enough," she admitted in an offhand way, "but nothing I can't handle."

  "I don't doubt that," Lewis said. "Look, Judy's doing great, much better than she did with Donnie. I don't need any more time here at home. To be honest, the boys are driving me a little nuts. I could stand to get out of the house for a bit. I can head out of here in a couple of days, hook up with you in Birmingham, check out this charming clown of yours for myself, back you up—"

  "No," she interrupted. "I'm not doing anything more than nosing around. You'd be bored silly."

  Lewis sighed into the phone. "Why do I have a hard time believing that?"

  He knew her too well … but he didn't know about Elaine. "I'm too smart to get in too deep while I'm on my own." Her heart fluttered. Was that a lie? "Everything's going great. If I find anything when I join the rodeo, I'll call you and then I'll call Josh." She took a deep breath. "Maybe my theory is wrong and there's nothing to find."

  "You don't believe that," he muttered. "If you did, you wouldn't be there."

  "I'm fine. Enjoy your time with Judy and the baby and forget about me."

  Lewis had everything Mary had convinced herself she didn't want. Marriage, babies, the whole nine yards. She never felt jealousy or even a touch o
f envy when he talked about his family. So why now?

  She had made her choice. With Rick gone, she didn't expect to have any of those things. He had been her one chance to have all those things every woman wanted, and her fear of being a terrible mother and a drunk driver had taken all those dreams away. All of them. Gone. Dead. Not for her, not now, not ever.

  "I don't like you being there alone," Lewis said in a lowered voice.

  "I'm not alone," she said too brightly. "I have Bozo to keep me company."

  "Why don't you go to Florida and get a tan. Wait awhile. Do a little more research off site and see if we can come up with something concrete. I'll back you up with this theory, you know I will."

  She couldn't wait. Six weeks and the summer tour would be over. If she was right, two more women would be dead. "I'm just going to poke around the rodeo a little. Should be more fun than getting a sunburn and sand in my bathing suit."

  "You gather information, and that's it."

  "I know, I know. Josh reminds me by e-mail at least twice a week."

  "Just be careful," Lewis warned.

  "You know me, Lewis. I'm always careful."

  When Mary ended the call, she didn't feel any better than she had when she'd crawled into this bed. And when Clint shuffled down the hallway an hour later, she was still wide awake.

  * * *

  Chapter 6

  « ^ »

  On Saturday night they'd gone to the roadhouse again. Mary had danced with Clint, but not so many times that people might talk. He'd also danced with a couple of other women, but never with Katie's friend Tracy.

  On Sunday morning, Mary had put on tasteful makeup and one of her conservative suits and gone to church with Clint, Wes and Katie—ignoring Clint's protests. No wonder he'd tried to make her stay home! He might sing in the choir to appease Miz Emily, but he wasn't very good. Since the rest of the choir was no better, he fit in nicely.

  They spent the next couple of days working long hours, getting ready for their trip to Birmingham. With each passing day, Mary grew more anxious. The adrenaline was pumping, her mind was spinning. She knew the feeling well; she was preparing to do battle.

  She loved her job.

  Clint had not been his usual self for the past two or three days. He'd been almost distant, his thoughts definitely elsewhere. Jokes had been few and far between, and he neatly ignored their two kisses, as did she. He had something on his mind. Something he did not want to share.

  Mary helped Katie with the supper dishes. The pregnant woman had protested that a guest should not be doing chores, but Mary insisted. When Mary insisted, she got what she wanted.

  "Are you excited?" Katie asked as she rinsed off a plate.

  "Sure," Mary said truthfully. "Tomorrow is the day." She felt her heart pumping, and it seemed that every color, every sound, was more intense and precise than it had been yesterday.

  "I never knew a girl who wanted to be a rodeo clown before."

  Mary didn't bother to tell Katie that she was not a girl. There hadn't been any insult intended, she knew that. "It should be fun," she said simply.

  Katie grinned widely. "You sound just like Clint." Without pausing in her drying chores, Mary asked, "I do?"

  "Yep. He's always got to have something going on, you know what I mean? He spends plenty of time here at the ranch, and I think he loves it. But after a while he's got to go off somewhere and do something exciting."

  Like white-water rafting, or being a rodeo clown. Or falling for the wrong woman. "He's here at the ranch most of the time, though, right?"

  "I guess," Katie answered, as if she were not quite sure of her answer. "But after a while he gets antsy, you know? He starts to fidget."

  She could understand that. It was one of the reasons why she loved being a part of a flying squad. No desk for her … at least, not for very long. Maybe Clint was a kindred spirit, a like-minded sort, a … what was she thinking?

  "When Clint settles down and gets married that will change." Mary nodded her head and made herself imagine the life Clint would someday make for himself here at this ranch. The little woman, a herd of children. Peach cobbler and racing horses. The roller coaster.

  "I don't know," Katie said skeptically. "A man is what he is, you know? I can't see Clint ever really settling down."

  Again, something they had in common.

  Anxious to change the subject, Mary nodded to Katie's rounded belly. "Are you getting anxious?" She knew the answer to that question, from the way Katie talked about her unborn child.

  The mother-to-be grinned widely. "I can hardly wait. Just a little over two months, that's the day. Wes is so tickled that it's going to be a boy. He always said he wanted our first child to be a son."

  "What about you?"

  The girl blushed. "When I found out I was pregnant, I didn't care if it was a boy or a girl. All I ever wanted was a healthy baby. But when the doctor told us the baby was a boy, I got so excited." In a lower voice she added, "We're going to name the baby after my daddy."

  "That's nice."

  Mary spared no more than a passing glance for Katie's rounded belly. A baby was no longer a part of her plan. It didn't fit in, not anywhere. And still, there was a small twinge of unexpected … disappointment.

  They finished cleaning the kitchen in record time, once their conversation was over and they turned their attentions to the simple tasks. Katie went to bed early, these days, and Mary needed to finish packing.

  Come tomorrow, she was going to begin her career in the rodeo.

  * * *

  It was a great night for a meteor shower, the sky clear and the city lights so far away they didn't dare intrude upon the spectacle. All was quiet. Even Mutt was asleep. Clint was the only one interested in staying up past midnight to see the best of the display.

  He couldn't sleep anyway. Tomorrow morning he and Mary were supposed to head for Birmingham to prepare for the first show of the summer tour. And he hadn't told her yet that she wasn't going to be the barrel man, that he couldn't throw her into the arena and wait for her to get hurt. She was going to be furious when she found out.

  Since sleep was impossible, he might as well lie here and enjoy the view.

  The pickup-truck bed was hard, but he'd thrown a folded blanket under his head and was comfortable enough. A meteor streaked across the sky, leaving a spectacular trail before fading into nothing. He'd always checked on when the meteor showers would be visible, even when he'd been a kid. Dean and Boone had not been interested, but many nights he and Shea had sneaked out of the house and found a nearby spot where the lights didn't interfere with the view too much. They'd lived in a residential neighborhood, though, so there had always been streetlights and porch lamps to cast light into the night, muting the view.

  Nothing muted the view here. The stars were sharp, the sky black, the shooting stars spectacular.

  He couldn't keep his mind on the display in the sky. How would he tell Mary that she wasn't going to be a rodeo clown? He should have known from the first day that it wouldn't work. She was in great shape, she'd learned a lot in two weeks and he knew a few bullfighters who were no better than she was. She might even get a job on her own, if she played her cards just right.

  But she wasn't good enough. He couldn't spend the next six weeks worried about whether or not she was going to get herself or someone else hurt. Out of the arena, when she was hunting her serial killer—he might not like it, but that was her business. This was his.

  She was going to be livid.

  A fair head came into view, a voice whispered, "Hi."

  "You decided to join me after all," he said, sitting up as Mary approached the truck.

  "Couldn't sleep," she said, tilting her head back to look up. "I figured I might as well check it out. I've never seen a meteor shower before." She waited half a minute. "Where is it?"

  "Be patient."

  A moment later, a shooting star streaked across the sky.

  "Wow," Mary whispered.


  "Climb in," Clint said, scooting to one side and pushing the blanket he'd been using as a pillow over for Mary.

  "I'm fine," she said, almost suspiciously.

  Clint lay back with his hands beneath his head. "Whatever you want. You will get a crick in your neck if you stand like that too long, though."

  For a few minutes, she stubbornly stood by the side of the truck, oohing when another meteorite left a trail across the night sky, shuffling her feet when she began to get uncomfortable. "Okay," she finally said, climbing up and over the tailgate. She'd taken the time to dress in worn blue jeans and a dark blue T-shirt. "As long as you behave yourself," she teased.

  "I always behave myself," he said as she reclined beside him.

  "Almost always," she responded in a soft voice.

  For a little while they lay there, side by side, commenting only when the meteor shower gave them something to ooh and aah about. The night was warm, but a nice breeze kept it from being hot, the way summer nights in Alabama could be.

  Now would be the best time to tell her, Clint imagined. Nice meteor. Great night. Oh, by the way, you don't have a job with the Brisco Rodeo because I made damn sure the barrel man will be there ready to work.

  "I never did thank you," Mary said, her voice velvety soft to match the mood of the night.

  "For what?"

  "You didn't have to do any of this." She rolled over and propped herself up on one elbow. "I know it's been a royal pain, to teach someone who doesn't know anything about the rodeo to be a bullfighter. You could have sent me packing any time in the past two weeks. You could have refused to help that night at Shea's house."

  "I probably should have," he admitted, dreading telling her the truth.

  "Yeah, but you didn't," she whispered.

  Mary fell back and stared up at the night sky, waiting for another shooting star. Her breasts rose and fell steadily, her pale cheek and bright hair caught what light there was on this dark night. She was so beautiful. He wanted to kiss her, one more time, before she kicked his ass.

  Clint rolled toward her. "Don't thank me."