Rodeo Dad

by Carla Cassidy

  Waited for nothing, she reminded herself. For ten years she’d kept her heart for him only to discover he no longer wanted it.

  And yet he wanted her physically. There was no way he could fake his desire for her. That, at least, was as strong as ever. Was it possible for a man to make love to a woman and yet not love her? Marissa knew there were plenty of women who believed plenty of men were capable of just that. But she found it difficult to believe about Johnny.

  He’d loved her once. Was it possible she could make him love her again? Could she make him love her enough to forget how stupid she’d been in the past? She didn’t know. All she could do was try.

  With this thought in mind, she got up and went in search of Johnny and Benjamin. She found them at the bull pens, looking at the bull Johnny would ride in the preliminary round.

  “His name is Muffin,” Benjamin told his mom as she joined him. “Dad says there’s no way he’ll get thrown from a bull named Muffin.”

  Marissa eyed the black Brahman. Two thousand pounds of muscle and temper. “Doesn’t look much like a Muffin to me,” she said, a sick dread in the pit of her stomach as she imagined Johnny trying to ride such a beast.

  As Benjamin ran to the next pen to see the bull, Marissa turned to Johnny. “You don’t look nervous,” she said. No, he looked at ease, with a confident gleam in his eyes.

  “I don’t feel nervous,” he agreed. He leaned back against the thick fencing and propped the heel of a boot behind him. “It’s been a good morning. I met a couple of guys I rodeoed with when I was in high school.”

  “That must have been nice.”

  “It was.” He reached up and tipped his hat back farther on his head. “I’ll tell you what’s nice. Unlike the judgmental people of Mustang, rodeo people don’t much care where you’re going or where you’ve been. They just want to know how good you rope, or how good you ride.”

  “Don’t judge the people of Mustang too harshly,” Marissa said softly. “You’ve always been far harder on yourself than anyone here in Mustang could be.”

  Johnny nodded, then frowned as he looked over her shoulder. Marissa turned to see what he was looking at and saw Brad Emery talking to Benjamin. Like a bullet, Johnny shot toward his son. Marissa hurriedly followed, her heart beating a rhythm of fear.

  “Benjy, why don’t you go get me something to drink from the concession stand?” Johnny said to his son, but his gaze remained fixed on Brad. Johnny pulled a couple dollars from his pocket and pointed to a nearby vendor selling hot dogs and drinks. Benjamin took the dollars and raced toward the vendor.

  “Good-looking boy you’ve got there, Johnny,” Brad said, a smirk curling his lips. “Yes, sir. That’s a fine-looking young man. Benjamin, right? Be a damned shame if anything bad happened to him.”

  Marissa gasped, and Johnny lunged forward, grabbing hold of Brad’s shirt. The smirk gave way to anger as Brad struggled to free himself from Johnny’s grip. “Let me go, you crazy bastard,” Brad yelled.

  Marissa was aware that they had attracted the attention of the people in the area. Men moved in closer, anticipating a good old-fashioned rumble.

  “I’m not the crazy one around here,” Johnny said. “And if you ever touch a hair on my son’s head, I’ll kill you.” He released Brad by shoving him backward.

  Brad fell to the ground on his back, his face contorted with rage. “Why you...”

  “Did you hear me, Emery? You touch my boy, and I’ll hunt you down and I’ll kill you.” Johnny’s words echoed in the silence that had fallen among the bystanders.

  Johnny took Marissa’s arm. “The show is over, folks,” he said loudly. Without a backward glance at the man still on the ground, Johnny guided Marissa toward Benjamin, who stood with a drink in hand next to the concession.

  “You all right, buddy?” he asked his son.

  Benjamin nodded, his eyes huge.

  Johnny took the drink Benjamin held and took a long swallow. “Hmm, root beer. My favorite.” He smiled reassuringly at Benjamin, who relaxed visibly.

  “He didn’t say anything bad to me,” Benjamin said.

  “He was just trying to get under my skin.” Johnny smiled apologetically. “Guess he succeeded.”

  “If you wouldn’t have pushed him down, I would have,” Marissa replied, her blood still cold as she remembered the way Brad had smirked.

  Johnny wrapped one arm around Marissa’s shoulder and pulled her close against him. “Don’t you let this worry your head. Brad knows better than to hurt you or Benjamin. He’s a stupid fool, but he’s not a complete lunatic.” He placed his free hand on Benjamin’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you two back in your seats. The bull-riding event is the next one up.”

  An hour later Marissa and Benjamin watched as Johnny rode Muffin for the required eight seconds, propelling him into the final round to take place the next morning.

  And the next morning Marissa and Benjamin were back in the same seats, waiting for the final competition that would hopefully win Johnny his seed money.

  She and Benjy had only seen Johnny a short time after his win on Saturday. He’d come to where they sat, his eyes sparkling with victory. He’d sat with them for just a few minutes, then told them he was heading home for a long hot soak in the tub.

  It had been early evening when Marissa had finally talked Benjamin into calling it a day. They’d gone home, eaten a late supper, then Benjamin had gone to bed and Marissa had been left with her thoughts.

  And always...always her thoughts were of Johnny. There were times she felt as if she had been born loving him, and would eventually die loving him.

  As she sat next to Benjamin, waiting for the final bull-riding action to begin, she wondered what Johnny would say if she proposed they get married. It really wasn’t as crazy as it sounded.

  No decent woman would be seen in Johnny’s company as long as he was branded the town ex-con. He’d told her time and time again that he liked making love with her. So, they could marry and raise Benjamin together, and she would love him enough to make up for the fact that he didn’t love her.

  “I hope Dad wins,” Benjamin’s voice cut through Marissa’s insane thoughts.

  “Me, too,” she agreed. She clutched her fingers together in her lap, nerves bucking and kicking like a wild bronco in her stomach. Please let him win, she sent the silent prayer skyward.

  She couldn’t imagine what he might do if he didn’t win the prize money. The very idea terrified her. She had a feeling if Johnny didn’t win, he would give up. He’d make himself believe that it would be better if he left Mustang, left Benjamin She was afraid he’d believe no father was better than a father who had nothing. He’d be wrong, but she didn’t know if she had the power to convince him of that.

  As the bull-riding finals were announced, both Marissa and Benjamin leaned forward in nervous anticipation. There were six cowboys competing in the finals....five men who could beat Johnny for the purse.

  “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce our clowns, Timmy and Tommy,” the announcer said, the speaker system sending his voice throughout the arena. Timmy and Tommy, the raggedy clad clowns with sad painted faces, waved to everyone, then Timmy took his position inside one of the barrels and Tommy stood ready to roll the barrel.

  “Our first cowboy today is Stephen Cottrane and he’s riding an old bull named Raider.” The announcer barely finished his statement before bull and rider exploded out of the gate. The crowd went wild, hooting and hollering their encouragement, but the cowboy fell off after only four seconds.

  The next two riders suffered the same fate. “Okay, the score is bulls three, cowboys zero,” the announcer said. “Let’s see if our next rider can change that score. He’s a local cowboy. Johnny Crockett riding Diablo.”

  Diablo was a black Brahman. Snorting mad, the bull twisted and jerked as if trying to dislodge the offending weight on his back.

  Johnny’s body moved with a fluid grace, one arm up in the air, he rode the bull unti
l the eight-second buzzer rang. The crowd went wild, Marissa and Benjamin adding their screams of excitement to the others.

  After the buzzer rang, Johnny untied his hand and hopped off the crazed bull. He grabbed the kerchief from around his neck and waved it at Benjamin and Marissa.

  The next two riders met the same fate as the first three, leaving Johnny the undisputed champion and the winner of the prize money.

  “Come on, let’s go find your dad,” Marissa said when the event was over and Johnny had been announced as the winner.

  She and Benjamin left the bleachers and went to the bull pens. Marissa saw him in the distance with a couple of other cowboys who were obviously congratulating him.

  “Dad!” Benjamin hollered.

  Johnny smiled widely and in five quick strides joined Marissa and Benjamin. He swept his hat off his head and plunked it down on Benjamin’s. “I told you I’d win,” he said as he crouched down and gave his son a hug. He straightened and pulled Marissa into his arms. With a cowboy cry of uninhibited happiness, he bent her over backward and planted a deep, long kiss on her lips.

  Marissa was vaguely aware of catcalls and resounding whoops from everyone around them. But, it was difficult to concentrate on anything but the kiss itself.

  When he finally released her, the crowd clapped and Marissa’s head spun with pleasant dizziness. Johnny laughed and Marissa realized just how relieved he was in winning the money. For the first time since his return to Mustang, his eyes held no shadows and his laughter held genuine jubilation.

  “Come on, let’s go find a quiet little corner where the three of us can celebrate,” he said. He reached out and tousled Benjamin’s hair. “We can talk about how we’re going to spend my prize money.”

  “Johnny.”

  The three of them turned at the deep male voice and saw Sheriff Jesse Wilder approaching them. “Hey, Sheriff, did you see my ride?” Johnny asked with an easy smile.

  Jesse didn’t return the smile and a fist of anxiety slammed into Marissa’s stomach. “No, I’m afraid I missed it,” Jesse replied. “Uh...” his gaze flickered from Marissa, to Benjamin, then back to Johnny. “I need to talk to you, Johnny,” he said.

  Johnny’s easy smile fell away and Marissa felt the tension that straightened his spine. “What’s going on, Sheriff?”

  “I, uh, need to ask you a few questions.” Again Jesse’s gaze went to Benjamin, then back to Johnny.

  “Here...what’s going on here?” Marissa’s father appeared next to Marissa. “Jesse? Is there a problem here?”

  “‘Fraid so, sir,” Jesse replied. “I need Johnny to come down to my office. I’ve got some questions that need to be answered.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until I know what’s going on,” Johnny replied. He turned to Marissa’s father. “Would you mind taking Benjamin to get a drink or some popcorn or something?”

  Jeffrey Sawyer looked at his daughter for approval. She nodded her consent, then turned back to Jesse. It was bad. Whatever had brought him here, brought him to Johnny was definitely bad. She could see it in Jesse’s dark eyes.

  Only when Jeffrey had taken Benjamin out of hearing range, did Jesse say what had brought him. “Johnny, Brad Emery has been murdered.”

  Chapter 15

  “Murdered?” Johnny stared at the sheriff in stunned surprise.

  Jesse nodded. “He was found about two hours ago in his barn. Somebody hit him over the head with a shovel.”

  “So, what’s this got to do with me?” Johnny asked. But he knew. He knew with a sick dread where this was leading. “Look, Jesse, I’ve been here since dawn. If Emery was murdered this morning, then I’ve got a hundred witnesses that will state I’ve been here all day ”

  “The coroner has placed time of death between ten and two last night. Can you tell me where you were at that time?”

  “He was with me,” Marissa said. She stepped up next to Johnny and grabbed his arm. She raised her chin defiantly. “He couldn’t have killed Brad Emery, he was with me all night.”

  “Marissa.” Johnny’s heart swelled as he heard her lie. He couldn’t let her do that for him. He looked at Jesse. “I was alone...at home in bed.” -

  “I got a dozen witnesses say they heard you threaten to kill Brad yesterday,” Jesse replied.

  The sinking sensation in Johnny’s stomach intensified. It was like déjà vu, the past all over again. “I didn’t kill him,” Johnny said earnestly. “I might have threatened him, but I didn’t kill him.”

  “I still need you to come down to the station,” Jesse said.

  “Am I under arrest?” Johnny’s heart beat rapidly as he waited for Jesse’s reply.

  “Not yet.” Jesse gestured toward the patrol car waiting nearby. “Hopefully we can get this cleared up as quickly as possible.”

  Johnny nodded. Brad dead? Murdered? What was going on? If Brad killed Sydney, as Johnny believed, then who in the hell had killed Brad?

  “Johnny,” Marissa grabbed his arm once again, her cheeks streaked with silent tears. “Johnny, it will be all right. Somehow, someway, we’ll figure this out.”

  Again he nodded, and felt an insidious numbness creeping over his body. He knew what was going to happen The same thing that had happened before. He’d be railroaded into a conviction, only this time he wouldn’t get ten years. He’d get life.

  Gently, he removed Marissa’s fingers from his arm. He wished he had words that would take away her tears, but he didn’t.

  He got into the back seat, hoping that Jeffrey Sawyer had taken Benjamin far enough away that the little boy hadn’t seen his daddy getting into the back of a patrol car.

  Johnny closed his eyes, wondering why life seemed to enjoy kicking the stuffing out of him. He’d thought he was on the way up. The euphoria of winning the bull-riding event had just peaked, providing him a glimpse of the possibility of dreams...and now this nightmare.

  Brad dead. He struggled to understand what might have happened. He’d been so certain that Brad had killed Sydney...but now the first flutter of uncertainty appeared. Was it possible that the person who had killed Sydney had also killed Brad? But who? And why?

  The sheriffs office was just as he remembered it. A small building that housed the town jail. There were two cells in the back and Jesse’s office at the front. Thankfully, Jesse didn’t lead him back to one of the cells, but rather pointed to a straight-backed chair opposite his desk.

  “I’m sorry about this, Johnny, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t bring you in,” Jesse said. The sheriff swept off his hat and threw it on the desk. “I was sixteen when you were arrested for Sydney’s murder. I didn’t believe you were guilty then, and I don’t believe it now.”

  Johnny nodded, still numb. “If I was going to kill a man, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to threaten him in front of dozens of witnesses.”

  “So you say you were home alone last night between the hours of ten p.m. and two a.m.? Did you get any phone calls, have any contact with anyone who can confirm you were at home?”

  A ghost of a smile curved Johnny’s lips. “Since getting out of prison, my social calendar hasn’t exactly been full. Other than Marissa and Benjamin, I don’t get any calls...unless you count that crazy hat-wearing social reporter, Millie Creighton. She’s contacted me several times wanting a story on adjusting to life after prison.”

  “I understand that some of Brad’s men have been paying covert visits to your place, doing a bit of damage.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Nobody in particular. I just heard it through the grapevine.”

  Johnny scowled. “The people in this town do too much talking.”

  “Johnny, you’ve got to give me something, otherwise I’m going to have to hold you. Should I call you a lawyer?”

  Johnny laughed bitterly. “No, thanks. At the moment I’ll take my chances without a lawyer. The last one I had left a bad taste in my mouth. You charge me, arrest me, then I’ll think about a lawyer.”
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  “Who do you think killed Sydney?” Jesse asked.

  For the next thirty minutes Johnny told the young sheriff his theory of Sydney’s murder. He explained to him about all the people he had spoken with, how many had mentioned Brad’s physical abuse of the girls and their mother.

  “Okay, if I believe everything you say, then it’s possible Brad killed Sydney in some kind of a temper fit. But then who killed Brad?”

  Johnny sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I don’t have a damn clue.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Have you checked out Gus Winstead? He hated Bradley.”

  Jesse waved his hands dismissively. “Everyone in town knows Gus hated Brad. And everyone in town knows Gus is usually too drunk to do anything about it. Gus passed out last night at the Roundup. A couple of the bouncers dragged him into the backroom where he slept it off on a cot. He was still there when I checked it out a little while ago.”

  Johnny sighed once again, feeling old and weary. “I don’t know how to fight this, Jesse. It’s just like last time. Everything circumstantial points to me, and I don’t have any kind of defense.”

  “What about Marissa? She said she was with you all night.”

  Her name brought a deep pain to Johnny’s heart, the pain of memory. “No, we weren’t together last night. She’s just trying to make amends.”

  “Make amends?”

  Johnny nodded, the pain pressing tight against his chest. “Ten years ago, on the night Sydney was murdered, Marissa and I were together.”

  “But I’ve read the files and according to them, you had no alibi,” Jesse countered.

  “I had no alibi I wanted to use. The truth is I was dancing in the woods with Marissa while somebody choked the life out of Sydney.”

  “Why didn’t you tell somebody that?” Jesse looked at him incredulously. “That might have kept you from going to prison, from being found guilty.”

  Johnny shook his head. “I didn’t want to involve Marissa. Nobody knew we were seeing each other. And her father would have read her the riot act. I figured, if she came forward, then fine, we’d go with the alibi. But, she didn’t come forward.”