by Marin Thomas
Clint ignored his daughter’s outburst. “You can’t ride with broken fingers.”
“I hold the rope with my right hand. I’ll be fine.” Fearing she’d back down to pressure, Rachel walked off. Two seconds after she’d entered the house the front door blew open. Clint stood on the welcome mat, steam spewing from his ears.
“You’re not riding tomorrow.” He stepped inside the foyer and shut the door.
“I’m not your daughter.” And you made it clear that I’m not your significant other. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Mayor Larsen will understand if—”
“I’m calling the shots, Clint. Not you.”
“P.T. wouldn’t want you to ride.”
“My father asked me to return to Stagecoach to manage the summer rodeos. That’s what I’m doing.”
“You got off easy the first time, Rachel. I won’t allow you to risk another injury.”
“Be careful or I might believe you care about me.”
In a move so quick Rachel gasped, Clint pinned her to the door, his body blocking her escape. “Making love to you earned me the right to be concerned about your safety.” His mouth inched closer, scrambling Rachel’s brain until she couldn’t form a coherent thought.
“Damn it, Rachel. I do care about you.”
Tell me you love me and I won’t ride.
The words never came.
How could Clint have made love to her and not recognized she wasn’t a threat to him? Whether she succeeded or not in proving she was the better candidate to run her father’s business, she’d never take what he’d worked for years to earn. The future of Five Star Rodeos belonged to Clint, not Rachel.
Clint’s mouth inched closer, but Rachel turned her head and his lips brushed her cheek. No more kisses—kisses made leaving too difficult.
“’Night, Clint.”
The sound of the front door closing released a flood of tears from her eyes.
“LADIES AND GENTS, we’ve packed the stands today for Piney Gorge’s first-ever women’s rough-stock event. For those of you who’ve never seen a cowgirl ride a bull, you’re in for a wild time!” Applause followed the announcer’s spiel.
“Rex, the clown, is gonna show you folks what to expect.” Catcalls and whistles erupted when a rodeo clown, wearing cowboy boots and a low-cut 1890s saloon dress with pantaloons and a big blond wig, strolled in front of the crowd. Following the clown, a cowboy led a small calf on a rope. When the clown attempted to climb onto the calf, the animal moved and the clown landed on his fanny, ruffled skirt covering his head.
“You sure about this?” Shannon asked Rachel. The women stood next to the bucking chutes.
“Positive.” Maybe if she repeated the mantra in her head enough she’d believe it. “Have you seen Clint?”
“He and Randy are already inside the arena.”
Clint had been avoiding Rachel all day. If not for Lauren’s incessant chatter on the way to Piney Gorge, the hour-and-a-half drive would have been the longest of Rachel’s life. Once they’d reached the fairgrounds, she and Clint had gone their separate ways.
“Where’s Lauren?” Rachel asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe she went to get a hot dog.” Shannon exchanged long stares with a rodeo contender in the cowboy-ready area.
“Who’s that?” Rachel asked.
“Gavin Tucker.”
The name sounded familiar. “Wasn’t he the cowboy Dixie hung out with at the other two rodeos?”
“Yep, that’s him. He recently got out of the army.”
“Is he the father of Dixie’s baby?” Rachel asked.
“Don’t know.”
Rachel returned her attention to the other women gathering near the chutes. Wendy prepared to ride first. The announcer’s voice droned on in the background but Rachel blocked out the sound when she noticed Clint and his partner decked out in their colorful outfits. Rachel drew comfort knowing Clint would do his best to protect her from the bull once she was thrown.
Wendy climbed the chute rails and straddled Tootsie, a black bull. Shannon and a rodeo helper looped the rope around the animal. Once Wendy was satisfied with her grip, she bobbed her head and the gateman opened the chute door. She lasted five seconds before sailing over Tootsie’s head. When she hit the ground, she tucked her body and performed a somersault before coming to her feet. The flashy landing earned her a standing ovation.
Up next, Rachel donned her riding vest and helmet, then retreated to the shadows to gather her composure. Turning her back to the group, she took deep, calming breaths in an attempt to subdue the anxiety building in her.
“Folks, we got a glitch in the lineup tonight. Looks like Lauren McGraw is taking the place of Dixie Cash who’s withdrawn from the event for personal reasons. Lauren’s from Los Angeles, California. A city girl turned country!”
The blood drained from Rachel’s face. She whipped off her headgear and scanned the bull chutes, searching for Lauren. Dressed in protective gear, she sat on a bull in the very last chute.
“Ms. McGraw’s about to tangle with Dancer!”
“Stop! Wait!” Rachel raced toward the chute. Too late. The door opened and Lauren disappeared from view.
Heart pounding with fear, Rachel watched Lauren struggle to keep her seat on Dancer. She wanted to glance at Clint but she couldn’t take her eyes off Lauren. Dancer twisted right and Lauren slid sideways but managed to regain her balance before the next buck.
God, please keep her safe.
Dancer’s next buck threw Lauren forward, but the teen kept her balance and the crowd went wild.
C’mon, Lauren. You can do it.
Dancer fought hard but Lauren gave no quarter and the buzzer sounded. Lauren had made it to eight before a crowd of thousands, but Rachel refused to enjoy the girl’s success, because Dancer was making it impossible for Lauren to dismount.
Randy waved his arms in front of the bull’s face while Clint approached from the side and helped untangle the rope from Lauren’s hand. Once freed, she vaulted into her father’s arms. Clint whisked Lauren to safety while Randy coaxed Dancer back to the stock pens.
“Well, folks, it looks like Lauren McGraw made a name for herself tonight. We’ll call her Hollywood after the show she put on. Lauren’s the first female bull rider to make it to eight on Dancer. Let’s see how the judges scored her.” A few seconds passed and the crowd cheered when Lauren’s score flashed on the JumboTron. “Hollywood earned herself an 82! Not bad for her first rodeo.”
As soon as Lauren returned to the cowboy-ready area, Rachel rushed to her side. “Are you all right?”
Eyes glowing with excitement, Lauren said, “I’m better than fine. I’m great.”
“I don’t know whether to hug you or spank you,” Rachel said.
“I’m sorry I went behind your back, but you and Dad wouldn’t let me ride and I knew I could do it.” Lauren shook her head, her pink hair drawing stares from several cowboys. “That was such a rush!”
Oh, Lord. After today, Clint was going to have his hands full steering Lauren away from bull riding. “How did you—”
“I told the woman at the check-in table that Dixie’s replacement had a migraine and I was riding instead.”
“Your dad’s going to ground you for the rest of your life.”
“Yeah, but it’ll be worth it.” Lauren hugged Rachel. When they broke apart, she said, “Let’s cheer for Shannon.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, Shannon Douglas is a local gal who’s had a lot of success in women’s bull riding. She won this event at both the Canyon City and Boot Hill Rodeos earlier in the summer.” The fans applauded and a few waved signs with Shannon’s name on them.
“Shannon’s highest score to date is an 86, which she earned this past May at the Lane Frost Challenge Rodeo in Vernal, Utah.” The JumboTron replayed the footage of Shannon’s ride in Utah and the crowd stomped and hollered.
“If Shannon makes it to eight on Cracker Jack, she’s got a g
ood chance of beating Lauren McGraw’s 82. Cracker Jack’s a veteran bull. Let’s see if Shannon can tame the beast!”
Shannon signaled to the gateman and Cracker Jack jumped for freedom. The bull was fast and strong, making Lauren’s ride on Dancer look like a walk in the park. Shannon clung to her seat, even though the bull fought valiantly to throw her.
The buzzer rang and applause thundered through the stands. Clint and his partner closed in on the bull, but Shannon didn’t need help. She leaped from Cracker Jack, stumbling once then sliding to a stop in the dirt before popping to her feet and running for the rails.
The JumboTron displayed an 85. “There you have it, folks! Shannon Douglas has taken the lead with an eighty-five!”
Rachel’s chest swelled with pride as Shannon’s friends congratulated her and Lauren. Because of these courageous women, Rachel had been able to increase the profits of her father’s summer rodeos and maybe open the door for future women’s bull-riding events.
“Next up is Skylar Riggins!”
Three more bull rides and a few more hours of rodeo and Rachel’s job in Stagecoach, Arizona, would end.
“UH-OH,” LAUREN MUMBLED to Rachel after the final ride. Clint marched in their direction. His stony expression didn’t bode well for his daughter.
When Clint was ten feet away, Lauren said, “I can explain.”
“No, you can’t.” Clint’s angry gaze swept over Rachel and she opened her mouth to defend herself but he cut her off. “I know you didn’t give Lauren permission to ride.”
Rachel was relieved that, despite their personal situation, Clint trusted her to do right by his daughter.
“Dad, I’m sorry, but I had to prove I was ready to compete.”
“You promised—”
“No.” Lauren pointed a finger at Rachel. “She promised not to let me ride.”
Clint’s shoulders sagged.
Trying his damnedest to keep his emotions under control, he reined in his temper. He’d been wound tighter than a yo-yo since he’d climbed out of bed this morning. He hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep the previous night. Visions of Rachel being stomped by a bull had kept him awake until the wee hours of the morning. Then he’d spent the hours leading up to the women’s bull-riding event in a state of anxiety, terrified Rachel would be injured today.
When he’d heard his daughter’s name over the loudspeaker his anxiety level had shot through the roof. Before he’d overcome the shock and put a stop to Lauren’s antics, the chute had opened and she’d been in a battle for her life. Those eight seconds had lasted forever.
As he’d watched his daughter fight to keep her seat, his life had flashed through his mind. In that moment he’d decided that he needed to let go of the past and not allow his fear to control him.
“Mind if I speak with Lauren alone?” he asked.
Rachel walked off. Not caring that his eyes watered, he opened his arms and Lauren stepped into his embrace.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I won’t ever disobey you again.” Her sobs soaked the front of Clint’s shirt.
Hugging her tight, he buried his face in her pink hair and for the first time confessed what had always been in his heart but he’d never had the courage to say. “I love you, honey.”
“I love you, too.” Lauren wiped her runny nose across the back of her hand. “It’s not going to happen for a long time,” she said. “But one of these days you’ll have a great story to tell your grandchildren.”
“You think?” Clint grinned.
Lauren joined Rachel and the other women and Clint stood by himself, pleased with how far he and Lauren had come this summer. His gaze swung to Rachel and the contentment turned into a heavy ache.
Clint needed to make a decision—one that was going to require a lot of strength and a leap of faith in himself.
Chapter Fourteen
“Hey, Dad.” Lauren stepped inside the barn where Clint was mucking stalls. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” He pointed to an extra pitchfork against the wall. “Feel free to help.”
Lauren plopped down on a hay bale near the stall. “What’s got you so grouchy today?”
Not what…who. Three days had passed since the Piney Gorge Rodeo and Rachel was doing her best to avoid him. He’d had seventy-two hours of intense self-examination.
“Are you still mad at me for riding Dancer at the rodeo?”
“No, but I’ll probably suffer nightmares of that ride the rest of my life.”
His daughter chuckled then her expression sobered. “Dad.”
“Huh?”
“I’m not going to ride any more bulls.”
Clint stopped tossing hay into the wheelbarrow and stared.
“I don’t regret competing in the rodeo because I proved to myself that I can do whatever I set my mind to.”
His daughter’s statement made Clint sad. “I’ve been a crappy father.”
“I didn’t make it very easy for you.”
That was the truth but Clint refused to allow his daughter to accept any blame. “I should have been there for you more than I was.”
Lauren jumped off the hay bale and hugged Clint.
He chuckled. “Does this mean you’ll visit the ranch again?”
“Maybe.” Lauren crinkled her nose. “I still hate the desert and no place compares to L.A., but I’d like to help with the rodeos next summer.”
“I’m sure P.T. would love that.” Spending the summers with his daughter was more than Clint deserved.
“What about Rachel? Are you guys going to stay together?”
Uncomfortable with the question, Clint returned to mucking. “What do you mean, stay together?”
“Uh-oh. Did you and Rachel fight?”
“No.” Not really.
“What happened between you guys on the houseboat?”
Discussing matters of the heart—his in particular—with his daughter was off limits. “That’s private.”
“I’m not asking if you two had sex.”
Clint’s face heated.
“Something went down on that boat because Rachel seemed really sad last night when I asked for her advice on hair color.”
“You’re getting rid of the pink?”
“I might switch to banana-yellow.” Lauren waved her hand in the air. “Never mind that. I asked Rachel if she’d ever consider moving to Arizona and she said even though she’d been born here it didn’t feel like home.”
“Have you spoken with Rachel today?”
“No. Her car’s gone so I thought she went into town.”
Panic surged through Clint. He flung the pitchfork aside.
“Where are you going?” Lauren followed him out of the barn.
Ignoring her question, Clint made a beeline to the main house, flung open the front door and marched down the hall to the guest bedroom. All Rachel’s personal possessions were gone. He checked the closet—no suitcases. He went into the bathroom. No toothbrush. No cosmetic bag. He headed for the office. The top of the desk had been cleaned off.
Lauren poked her head around the door frame. “She left without saying goodbye.”
Clint noticed a sheet of paper resting on the desk blotter. With a shaking hand he snatched up the note.
Dear Clint and Lauren,
Please forgive me for not saying goodbye in person but goodbyes make me sad. Lauren, thank you for your help with the rodeos. Because of your efforts with the media, the women’s bull-riding events were a huge success. Good luck with your senior year of high school—I’ll keep tabs on your progress through P.T. Clint, thank you for looking after my father all these years. You were there for him when I wasn’t. Five Star Ranch will be in good hands with you at the helm.
Fondly,
Rachel
Had Rachel even considered how her sudden departure might affect P.T.’s health? Not to mention Clint’s heart. A need to stop her propelled Clint into action. “Finish cleaning the stalls, will you?”
>
“Why?” Lauren ran outside after Clint.
“I’m heading to Phoenix.” He dug his truck keys out of his jean pocket and cut across the ranch yard. Fearing he’d change his mind, he didn’t take time to shower or throw on clean clothes.
Lauren stopped at the driver-side door. “Ask Rachel to stay, Dad.”
He cranked the engine. “I can’t promise she’ll come back.” He wanted Lauren to be prepared if he returned alone.
Lauren leaned through the open window. “Give P.T. a hug for me.”
“I’ll phone Mark Donner on the way out of town and ask him to stop by and check on the livestock.”
Lauren grabbed Clint’s sleeve before he shifted into Reverse. “Tell Rachel you love her, Dad. Say the words or she won’t know how you really feel about her.”
Did his daughter understand how much she was asking of him?
“HEY, DAD.” RACHEL stepped into the hospital room. P.T. waved her closer and she approached his bedside. Today her father appeared pale and thinner. “Did I catch you napping?”
“I don’t take naps,” he lied. His gaze swung to the door. “Where’s Clint? Didn’t he come along?”
“No. He stayed at the ranch.” After making the long drive to Phoenix, Rachel’s courage had vanished. She hugged her father then drifted toward the window. “I have a confession to make,” she said.
“Oh?”
“Before I come clean, did Mayor Ross phone you and chat about the Boot Hill Rodeo?” She faced her father.
“He left a message but I haven’t returned his call.”
“The mayor’s considering the possibility of Five Star Rodeos promoting two events in one calendar year. A biannual schedule.” Rachel smiled. “If Mayor Ross follows through with his idea then you know the other mayors will jump on board. You’ll be back to a full rodeo schedule before you know it.”
P.T. didn’t appear impressed with the idea of expanding his business. After a moment, he said, “I’m waiting to hear your confession.”
