by Marin Thomas
“I’m tired of chores.”
After Brody left, Ricky had to take over mucking stalls. By the time he finished cleaning the barn and doing his schoolwork, there wasn’t much daylight left to fish with Stevie—probably a good thing considering the teens were obsessed with each other.
“When the Bakers return in a couple of weeks, they’ll hire more cowboys and you won’t have to help out as much.” Ricky might not have to do any work if the Bakers fired Kat once they discovered what had transpired under her watch.
“Go after Brody, Mom. Ask him to come back. Tell him we really need his help.”
“I wouldn’t have any idea where to look for him. Besides, I can’t leave the ranch.” Her responsibility to the Bakers trumped her feelings for Brody. The ranch—not the cowboy—offered her and Ricky their best chance for stability and happiness.
“I bet I could find him,” Ricky said.
“Don’t even think about searching for Brody, young man.” The last thing she needed was her son skipping off to who-knew-where without telling her.
“I don’t get it. If Brody—”
“As soon as you’re finished with breakfast, do your homework, then come out to the barn.” She made it to the door before Ricky’s question stopped her.
“What if the Bakers offered Brody a permanent job at the ranch? Would he stay then?”
“Leave it be, Ricky.” Brody made his choice.
Now Kat was making hers. “You and I are just fine on our own.”
TWO HOURS HAD PASSED and Ricky had yet to meet Kat in the barn. Frustrated, she grabbed the pitchfork and began mucking a stall. She was determined to keep the Wild Rose in good shape with or without anyone’s help.
“Heard your bull rider moved on.”
The deep voice slapped Kat in the back of the head and she froze for a split second. Clutching the pitchfork with both hands, she slowly turned. Roger and Clyde stood at the other end of the barn. “What do you want?”
“Our jobs back.” Roger punctuated his statement by spitting tobacco on the clean floor.
“I don’t need your kind of help.”
Clyde snickered. “Maybe if we’d been workin’ here them two horses wouldn’t have ended up on the road a while back.”
Just as Brody had guessed, the bastards had been responsible for freeing the geldings. Kat played dumb. “What horses are you talking about?”
Her question caught the men off guard and they exchanged frowns. Then Clyde blurted, “The horses we let loose.”
Roger shoved his elbow in his sidekick’s ribs.
“Ouch! Quit it, would ya?” Clyde rubbed his side.
“I guess you two wouldn’t happen to know anything about the fire in the hay field?” Kat asked.
Roger inched forward, stopping when Kat pointed the prong end of the pitchfork at him. “You got any proof we set that fire?”
“Not unless your fingerprints are on the gas can you left at the edge of the field.” Roger’s face paled. “Get off the ranch or I’ll call the sheriff.”
“I’m scared,” Clyde said. “How ‘bout you, Roger? You scared?”
“Shakin’ in my boots.” Roger cleared his throat. “I’ll make you a deal, missy. We come back to work for the Wild Rose and we won’t say nothin’ to the Bakers about you messin’ with that bull rider while you was supposed to be runnin’ the place.”
Kat scoffed. “The Bakers know I hired Brody because you two walked off the job.” Kat hoped the lie would send the men searching for work far from Bandera.
“Why you—” Roger took a menacing step forward, but Kat jabbed the pitchfork at him. “I’m not afraid to use this.”
“You’d better watch your back, missy. And that kid of yours, too. Wouldn’t want either of you sufferin’ an unfortunate accident.”
A sound near the front of the barn caught Kat’s attention and she looked up in time to see Ricky skid to a halt inside the doors. Eyes wide he stared at the cowboys. “What’s going on, Mom?”
Kat backed up a step. “Don’t worry. These gentlemen were just leaving.” Indecision warred in Roger’s eyes then he cursed. “Be seein’ you ‘round, missy.”
The men left the barn and Kat followed, breathing a sigh of relief when they drove off without making a scene.
“Were they gonna hurt you, Mom?”
“Don’t worry, honey. Guys like Clyde and Roger are all bark and no bite.” Kat changed the subject. “Did you finish your homework?”
“No.”
Great. “C’mon, Ricky. Do your homework, okay? I need you to help muck stalls today.”
Ricky grumbled beneath his breath as he trudged back to the cabin. Kat called after him. “I’ll be up in an hour to make us some lunch.”
As soon as the cabin door shut behind Ricky Kat pulled her cell phone from her pocket. Wes answered on the first ring. “Clyde and Roger were just here. They threatened to harm Ricky and me if I didn’t hire them back.” Her eyes strayed to the trailer, wishing Brody was inside.
“Call the sheriff. Melissa would want you to notify the authorities.”
So would Brody.
Remembering Brody’s accusation that her actions reflected her own agenda and not what was best for Ricky or the ranch, Kat conceded defeat. “I’ll phone the sheriff right now, but keep your eyes peeled for any trouble.”
By the time Kat ended her chat with the sheriff, she’d answered a slew of questions, including several about Brody. Because Clyde and Roger had worked for the Bakers almost five years, the sheriff preferred to believe Brody was the culprit and not the former ranch hands. When Kat explained that Clyde and Roger had refused to take orders from her, the sheriff sided with the cowboys, insisting any man with an ounce of pride would have walked off the job. The good-ol’-boy system was alive and well in Texas Hill Country.
Kat spent the next hour and a half tidying the horse stalls while her temper cooled. With the barn in order, she broke for lunch. Silence greeted her when she entered the cabin. “Ricky?” She hurried down the hall and flung open his bedroom door. Empty. She checked the bathroom. Empty. She returned to the main room where she saw the note on the kitchen counter.
I went to find Brody. He’ll come back and help us.
Dear God. Ricky had run off again. She checked the clock. Her son had a two-hour head start. He’d probably hitched a ride by now—but to where?
Today Brody could be in a hundred different Texas towns hosting rodeos. Ignoring the panic building inside her, Kat grabbed the truck keys off the kitchen table and left the cabin. She whistled for Spot, not wanting to leave the dog behind for fear Clyde and Roger might return and harm him. As she sped down the ranch road, Kat phoned Wes and left a message on his cell that she was searching for Ricky.
Kat reached the main road and headed into Bandera, hoping she’d pass her son along the way. If not, she’d drive across the entire state of Texas if that’s what it took to find him.
“HEY, BRODY! BRODY!”
Brody stopped and gaped. What in the heck was Ricky doing in Boerne? He scanned the crowd, searching for Kat, but she was nowhere in sight.
“I was looking for you,” Ricky said, gasping for air.
A sharp twinge pierced Brody’s side. Since he’d left the Wild Rose, not a day had gone by that he hadn’t thought of the kid and his mother. “What are you doing here?” Brody recoiled at the harsh tone in his voice.
“You left without saying goodbye,” Ricky accused.
Brody’s stomach took a nosedive. He considered making up an excuse but the kid deserved better. “I don’t like goodbyes.” Ricky remained silent. “I’m guessing you ran off again without telling your mom.”
“I didn’t have a choice.” Ricky’s chin jutted. “Mom’s in trouble and I knew you’d help if I could find you.”
Apprehension squeezed Brody’s lungs. He snagged Ricky’s arm, pulling him aside, away from the crowd. “What kind of trouble?”
“Clyde and Roger threatened me and Mom.�
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“Threatened how?”
Ricky shrugged free of Brody’s hold. “They said a bunch of mean stuff and told Mom if she didn’t hire them back bad things might happen to us.”
Brody’s heart thumped painfully at the thought of Kat or Ricky coming to harm. “How did you know where to find me?”
“You left your rodeo schedule in the trailer.”
So that’s where he’d misplaced the calendar.
“You circled a bunch of places so I looked at today’s date and saw that there was a rodeo in Boerne.”
Smart kid. “We’d better call your mom, so she won’t worry.”
Brody skirted the stock pens and cut across the parking lot to where a handful of trucks and horse trailers sat parked. “Hey, Parker!” Brody called to the bronc rider who chatted with a group of buckle bunnies. Ed Parker excused himself from the ladies. “What’s up?”
“Ed, this a friend of mine—” Brody scowled at Ricky “—who left home today without telling his mother. Mind if he borrows your cell, so he can check in with her?”
“Sure.” Parker removed his phone from his pocket and handed it to Ricky. The teen walked a few feet away and dialed Kat’s number.
“You see much of Drew Rawlins these days?” Parker said.
Brody shook his head. “Nope. He’s busy getting his cutting horse ranch off the ground.”
“Rawlins would have won the title if he hadn’t scratched his ride at the finals. Shoot, every Vegas newspaper headline that week had his name in it.”
“We’ll never know.” Brody doubted Rawlins even cared about the title. He was happy in his role as a father and husband.
Ricky returned and handed the phone to Parker. “Thanks,” he muttered.
“What did your mom say?” Brody asked.
“She’s on her way.” Ricky shuffled his feet, then blurted, “I wanna stay and watch you ride.”
“You’ll get your wish, kid. I’m up in fifteen minutes.”
“You can watch behind the chutes with me if you want,” Parker said.
“Do you ride bulls like Brody?” Ricky asked.
Parker chuckled. “Hell no. I’m smarter than that. I bust broncs.”
“You stick with Ed and don’t wander off, you hear?” Brody said.
“Yeah, I hear.”
As Ricky and Parker walked away, Brody silently cursed. He’d known in his gut that Clyde and Roger hadn’t been finished with the Wild Rose.
Yet you still left.
He was a yellow-bellied coward. Guilt and worry had eaten away at Brody every minute of every day since he’d departed Bandera, but fear of the past catching up with him had kept him on the move.
Brody weaved through the crowd and made his way to the cowboy ready area, his mind on Kat and not Red Onion, the bull he’d drawn today. Brody didn’t want to face Kat. He tossed his gear bag by chute number seven and removed his bull rope. The bell attached to the end of the rope clanked against his knee and Brody hissed at the sting it left behind.
“Well, big boy.” Brody peered between the slats and eyed the bull. Red Onion turned his head and sprayed snot across the front of Brody’s shirt.
“That all you got for me?” Brody dug out his riding glove and put it on, then used his black rosin bag to make sure the leather was nice and tacky before he scaled the rails and straddled the bull. Most cowboys in this event wore protective headgear along with vests. Brody didn’t bother with a helmet. He figured a kick in the head might knock some sense into him.
“Ready when you are,” the cowboy on the other side of the cage said.
Brody lowered the rope down the side of the bull and his helper slid the end under the bull’s chest then handed it back to Brody who pulled the rope over the withers, making sure the sewn-in handle was centered behind the animal’s shoulders. Satisfied with the rope’s placement, Brody slid the free end through the knot and pulled the rope tight. Red Onion rebelled, stomping and snorting.
A minute passed before the bull relaxed and Brody settled onto the animal’s back. Once more he wrapped the free end tightly around his hand, securing it to the bull rope.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the world’s first extreme sport…bull ridin’!”
The meager crowd clapped and a few rowdy fans stomped their feet. Brody glanced behind the chutes and spotted Ricky. He gave the thumbs-up sign and Ricky returned the gesture.
At least Kat isn’t here to see you fall flat on your face or ass—whichever end hit the dirt first.
“Think you’re scary, huh, big fella?” Red Onion kicked his back legs against the cage. The bull was a chute fighter and Brody prayed the announcer would finish his spiel before Red Onion became too restless and Brody had to hop off.
“Ladies and gents, today’s first place winner in the bull ridin’ competition takes home a thousand dollars.”
A thousand dollars would keep Brody on the move for a long while and he wouldn’t have to worry about finding part-time work to pay his entry fees.
“Turn your attention to chute number seven! Brody Murphy from Montana is gonna try to tame Red Onion, a first-rate bucker from the Kingsley Ranch outside Oklahoma City.”
The dang bull garnered more applause than Brody.
Brody turned his thoughts inward, but instead of picturing his ride, Kat’s face materialized before his eyes.
“Murphy’s been bustin’ bulls for a couple of years now and is still looking for his first win. Let’s give Murphy some extra encouragement today.” If not for Ricky watching, Brody couldn’t have cared less about winning. For the kid’s sake he’d try to make it to eight.
The announcer ran down a list of rodeo sponsors and Brody lost his concentration. Forcing himself to focus, he shut his eyes. No good. A slide show of Kat’s face, displaying a thousand different emotions, fast-forwarded through his brain. He shook his head, hoping to dispel the images. The gateman misinterpreted Brody’s gesture and the chute door suddenly opened.
Red Onion bolted for freedom. The first buck wasn’t bad. Brody managed to stay seated and maintain a forward position, preventing himself from being tossed over the bull’s head.
Red Onion bucked harder the second time and spun his two-thousand-pound girth to the right, flinging Brody about like a rag doll. He clenched his thighs against the bull’s sides until fire licked his muscles.
The stands blurred before Brody’s eyes as Red Onion went into a series of spins. Nausea worked its way up Brody’s throat. He prayed for the buzzer but feared only a few seconds had passed since the chute door had opened.
C’mon. Stay on this time. Win this go-round for Ricky.
Red Onion came out of the spin and straight into a twisting buck. Brody slipped sideways. Clenching his teeth, he fought to keep his seat. Just when he’d gained control of his body, the stupid beast went into a belly roll—all four legs came off the ground and the bull kicked them in a twisting, rolling motion that sent Brody sailing through the air just as the buzzer sounded.
His right shoulder slammed into the ground first, knocking the air from his lungs. He rolled away from the bull, but as he attempted to stand he forgot about his broken toes and pushed off too hard on his injured foot. His leg buckled and he fell to the ground. The bullfighters closed in on Red Onion but the stubborn beast continued to spin and buck wildly.
The ground vibrated beneath Brody and dust swirled in the air. Eyes watering from the dirt the bull kicked in his face, Brody managed to get to his hands and knees. Red Onion charged. The bullfighters gave chase, but Red Onion kept coming.
Brody’s last thought as he stared into the bull’s eyes was Ricky. He didn’t want the kid to see him go down this way. With a final burst of energy, Brody planted his feet on the ground and launched himself sideways. The bull ran past him, but not before Brody felt one of the animal’s hooves kick the back of his calf. He’d have a nice bruise in the morning.
The bullfighters corralled Red Onion at the far end of the arena, while
Brody stumbled to his feet. His toes hurt like hell and his calf muscle throbbed, but he limped through the pain and managed to bend down and sweep his hat off the ground. At least Red Onion had spared his favorite hat. He nodded to the crowd then exited through the gate.
“Well, folks. Too dang bad Murphy couldn’t have held his seat for one more second. That was a hell of a ride.”
“You were awesome, Brody!” Ricky’s excitement faded and he frowned. “Are you okay? I thought Red Onion was gonna trample you after he bucked you off.”
“I’m right as rain, Ricky.” He nodded to Parker. “Thanks for letting Ricky hang out with you during my ride.”
Parker patted Ricky on the back and walked away. “Nice to meet you, kid.”
“Hungry?” Brody limped off, Ricky skipping alongside him.
“I’m always hungry.”
“Let’s grab a chili dog.” Brody confiscated his bull rope and stuffed it into the gear bag then led the way to the concession stand.
They ordered their food and sat at a table near the parking lot. Ricky wasn’t too talkative, which suited Brody just fine. His body ached all over and he wasn’t in the mood for conversation. They’d sat at the table for almost an hour when a silver Ford with the Wild Rose logo on the door pulled into the parking lot. “Your mom’s here. Looks like Spot came along for the ride, too.” The dog’s head stuck out the passenger-side window, his tongue flapping.
“How long do you think she’s gonna ground me for?” Ricky asked.
“The rest of your life.” Brody swallowed a chuckle at the teen’s dejected face.
Chapter Eleven
Brody watched Kat search for a parking spot at the Boerne fairgrounds. She ended up in the last row. She left the truck and walked toward the main gate. Spot remained in the front seat. Brody waved his arm in the air and caught Kat’s attention. She veered from the entrance and cut across the lot, her short strides eating up the gravel and sending plumes of dust into the air.
The knot in Brody’s stomach cinched tighter. She looked good. Too good. He studied her face and his thoughts turned to the night they’d made love. His skin burned with the memory of her caresses—her leg sliding between his. Her fingers blazing a path across his stomach. Her back arching off the bed when he—God, he missed her.
