The Cowboy She Never Forgot

by Cheryl Biggs

  Skip Magruder jumped easily from the back of a king-sized Brahma, scooped his hat up from the ground, waved it at the audience, and ran for the rails.

  Shane shook his head. “They would schedule my ride right after his.”

  Tim laughed. “Hey, it’s just an exhibition ride. Anyway, you want to break the Legend’s records, I guess the big boys figure you need to eat a bit of his dirt first.”

  “I’ll settle for being half as good as he is.”

  Tim’s handsomely boyish face screwed into a frown. “I wonder why he’s back on the circuit though. With the endorsements he’s got, I wouldn’t figure it could be for the money.”

  Jim Hodges’s voice came through the PA system, breaking into the noise of the crowd.

  “Folks, that was the man we all call ‘the Legend,’ Skip Magruder, who you just watched ride, Lightning Eyes with no more effort than if he was sitting on his front porch in a rocking chair. He’s been away from competition for the past two years after a bull took a real dislike to him down in San Antone, but now he’s back, and it looks like it’s with a vengeance. Welcome home, Skip.”

  The crowd cheered again.

  “But now we’ve got another treat for you folks here tonight,” Hodges announced. “Shane Larrabee, who holds the Professional Rodeo Cowboy Association’s World Champion All-Around Cowboy title, is out to break Magruder’s record of hanging on to it for three consecutive years, and he’s well on his way. Magruder and Larrabee are neck and neck in points so far this year.”

  The crowd roared again.

  Shane smiled and turned his attention back to the bull he was straddling. “Okay, LaBamba,” he said softly, “points or no points, give me a good ride.”

  The animal writhed beneath him, eager to get out in the arena, and Shane off his back.

  A cowboy stepped up to the arena side of the gate and grabbed the release rope.

  Shane twisted his hand around, getting it into a comfortable position. He flipped another length of rope through his open palm and, closing his gloved fingers, pounded on them with his other hand, jerked, pulled, and pounded some more, until his hold felt secure.

  Looking up, he glanced around. For the ten months he and Kate had been together she’d never failed to show up and watch him ride, even when she’d had to practically do handstands to rearrange her own schedule. She’d always been there. His gaze scanned the pen area, then moved to the spectator stands, but he didn’t see her anywhere. Disappointment rushed through him, and he shrugged it aside. It was a foolish thought, and definitely one he didn’t need or want.

  Kate saw him glance in her direction and purposely stepped back into the shadows of the bleachers she was standing beside.

  Since the day he’d walked out of her life, she’d tried to put all of her memories of Shane aside and concentrate on her career. The first months after he’d left had been the hardest. She cried her eyes out every night and went to work the next day looking like something that had just crawled from its grave. Looking back at it now she was amazed that she hadn’t gotten herself or her partner killed.

  And the platitudes her friends and stepmother, and even her father, endlessly offered had been almost as bad as the emotional pain.

  He wasn’t right for you anyway. He isn’t worth another thought. You’ll find someone better. You’re young, forget him and go on. There’s a lot of other fish in the sea. The right guy will come along. He obviously didn’t really love you, so better to find out now than later.

  That last one had been the one that hurt the most, because she knew it was true. He hadn’t really loved her.

  Finally, with the passing of time, the raw, tearing hurt that had threatened to consume her had quietly and slowly subsided to a dull, gnawing ache that she’d learned to live with.

  But now, watching Shane and feeling the long-dormant emotions their confrontation had awakened in her, she could no longer deny that all along, through everything she’d accomplished over the past three years, something had been missing. Deep down she’d always known...she just hadn’t wanted to admit it.

  Kate saw Shane push his hat down and nod to the gate man that he was ready.

  He hunched his shoulders and waited. Kate tensed and unconsciously bit down on her bottom lip, something she hadn’t done in three years. Suddenly, a severe attack of anxiety seized her, gripping every nerve in her body and nearly stopping her heart. Before the rides started, she’d checked the pens, stock and gear for any sign of sabotage as best she could without arousing suspicion, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t missed something. Or that their saboteur hadn’t come along behind her. What if...?

  The buzzer sounded, the gate flew open, and LaBamba charged from his shoot as if his tail was on fire and his temper was just as hot.

  “Ride safe, Shane,” Kate whispered softly, as she always had in the past whenever she’d watched him ride.

  He hung on, his left arm high in the air.

  The bull bucked, spun, and bucked again.

  Shane’s legs hugged the Brahma’s massive shoulders.

  The crowd roared encouragement as LaBamba spun.

  Kate held her breath and watched closely, hoping nothing unexpected would happen. She silently counted off the seconds...five, six, seven, eight.

  The buzzer sounded.

  Shane jumped off, fell to one knee and immediately staggered to his feet and ran toward the rails.

  The audience cheered.

  LaBamba turned to go after Shane but the clowns instantly ran between them, diverting the angry animal’s attention and urging him toward an open gate.

  Kate released her breath, feeling a wave of relief that Shane was safe. She smiled to herself, having forgotten how nervous she used to get for him, and a little sigh escaped her lips. It had been a long time since she’d stood at the fence and watched Shane ride, but he was as good as ever, if not better.

  The announcer was saying something over the PA system, but Kate wasn’t listening.

  Where would they be, she wondered, if she hadn’t said no to Shane three years ago? As quickly as the thought came to life in her mind, she squashed it. She’d given him the only answer she could, and if he’d loved her, he would have understood. But then, she thought, as she had a thousand times, if he’d truly loved her, he wouldn’t have forced her to make a choice in the first place.

  But where would they be if she’d said yes? her mind continued to ask.

  She played the toe of her boot through the dirt.

  “I didn’t see you before the ride.”

  Her head jerked up at the sound of his voice, and her gaze became lost within his as her heart slammed against her breastbone.

  Shane leaned a hip against the end of the bleacher. He knew what he was doing was foolhardy, and would bring him nothing but more heartache, self-loathing, and a whole lot of regret. If she’d wanted him, she would have called. Only a few hours ago he’d promised himself he would stay away from her, but then he saw her standing there, and he knew she’d watched him ride, just as she always used to do.

  Kate stood frozen to the spot, to the moment. She wanted to run to him, throw her arms around his neck, congratulate him, thank the powers that be for his safety, and lose herself in his embrace.

  And she wanted to flee. To turn and run into the night and never look back. She swallowed hard and struggled against the traitorous desires and cowardly urgings. “I was just walking past and—” She shook her head and smiled. “That’s not true. I watched you ride, and you were terrific. Congratulations, Shane.”

  His gaze bored into hers. “You used to be a little more enthusiastic with your congratulations.”

  Her heart nearly stopped.

  He didn’t know why he’d said it, didn’t know what he expected, but the words had slipped from his lips before he’d had time to think about or stop them.

  For a long moment silence hung between them, waiting to be broken, dragging out the moment, instilling it with a torture both seemed una
ble to turn away from.

  Finally, Kate found the strength. “I—I have to go,” she said. “I have to get a—”

  He touched her arm as she started to pass him.

  She stopped, the warmth of his hand penetrating through the threads of her shirt, turning her skin to fire, and her resolve to weakness.

  “It’s good seeing you again, Kate.”

  She looked into his eyes, saw all their yesterdays, knew there was no hope of any tomorrows for them, then tore her gaze away and ran for the stalls.

  “Okay, Dancer, it’s almost our turn to show them what you’ve got,” Kate said, checking the cinch she’d just tightened around the Appaloosa’s girth.

  Why had Shane approached her after his ride? Why had he touched her? The questions kept echoing in her mind.

  “You seen that?”

  She jumped, her heart flying into her throat, and spun around as the harsh voice cut through the immediate silence. She remembered, too late, that she’d taken off her ankle holster in preparation for her ride, and now her gun was safely tucked into the footlocker on the floor and shoved up against the wall several feet away.

  Jim Hodges stood in the doorway to the stall.

  “Seen what?” Kate snapped, relieved that it was the arena manager, and annoyed at herself for having been caught off guard and surprised. She was in a virtually deserted area, alone, at night, with a saboteur or worse on the loose. A rookie would have known better than to drop his or her guard so foolishly.

  Hodges jerked a thumb in the direction of Shane’s stall. “This crap over here.”

  Kate moved past Hodges, saw that the gate to Shane’s stall was open, and stepped inside.

  “I had to let him move his horse,” Hodges growled from behind her, “after that incident with the tacks. Figured if I gave him the stall next to you he’d be safe. Obviously I was wrong on that one.”

  She turned to face him, her annoyance deepened by his insinuation that she wasn’t doing her job. “I’ve only been here for a few hours, Mr. Hodges,” she said curtly, knowing the scowl pulling at her face wasn’t doing anything to soften her words or defuse the situation, but she didn’t care. Her captain had nearly tied her hands by ordering that no one but Hodges was to know she was a cop, then demanded she solve the situation as quickly as possible. But he hadn’t said anything about not stepping on toes or bending over backward to make certain everyone liked her.

  Hodges looked suddenly embarrassed. “Yeah, okay,” he grumbled. “But whaddaya gonna do? This thing isn’t stopping and if the fans get wind of it...Well, I only went to Aames because my security chief insisted.” The meaning behind his words hung on the air between them.

  If the fans got wind of what was going on they might stay away, then the rodeo would lose money, Reno would lose money, and Kate would definitely not come out of the situation smelling like a rose.

  She looked back at the words that had been spray painted on the stall’s rear wall in bright red paint: Go Away or You’ll Be Sorry.

  A chill snaked its way up her back. For the past year the homicide department had been working on a case that had started with daily threats being spray-painted on the walls of a young woman’s house. They’d thought it was her ex-boyfriend, but couldn’t prove it, and the incidents continued. Then she ended up dead, and the ex-boyfriend had an iron-solid alibi. Homicide still hadn’t solved the case. Fear for Shane nudged at Kate’s nerves. Could their saboteur be leading up to something a lot more deadly? She looked for other possibilities. “How do we know this message was meant for Sha—Larrabee?”

  “It’s his stall, ain’t it?” Hodges snapped, his derisive tone making it clear he thought her question a stupid one. “Who else would it be for?”

  She turned and looked at him. “Did anyone beside you and Larrabee know he was changing stalls, and that you had assigned him to this one?”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t mention to anyone that you’d reassigned him? Not even a secretary?”

  Hodges’s eyes narrowed and his jowl-heavy jaw clenched. “No. I told Larrabee, wrote it in my ledger, and that was that. It’s not something I’d bother the secretary with.”

  Kate shrugged. “Then maybe the message wasn’t meant for him.” She turned and looked at the threat again. “Maybe it was meant for me.”

  “You?” Hodges thundered.

  “Somebody might have found out who I was, but got the wrong stall.” She touched a finger to the painted message and found it dry, then turned back to the arena manager. “Does anybody have access to your ledger? Your secretary? A clerk? Anyone at all?”

  “No. It’s kept in my desk, and that’s kept locked.”

  Why would someone want Shane gone? The fact that his horse wasn’t present suddenly dawned on her. Feeling a sense of apprehension, she turned back to Hodges. “Where’s Shane Larrabee now? And his horse?”

  Hodges shrugged. “I think he’s scheduled to do some calf roping for the exhibition. They’re probably both up at the pens waiting their turn.”

  Damn. She hadn’t been able to get to Shane’s gear to check it and now it was too late.

  “Why? What’s the matter?” Hodges persisted.

  Kate spun on her heel. “I don’t know. I’ve just got to get to the arena.” She pushed past the burly manager and ran from the stall, then remembered Dancer. Grabbing his reins, Kate hurried toward the pens, the Appy trotting along beside her.

  “What’s going on?” Hodges called, running after her.

  Kate didn’t answer. Instead, the moment she cleared the stalls she quickly tied Dancer to a hitching rack near where the other barrel racers had gathered and were talking. She had to get to Shane. Zigzagging through the dozens of men, women, children and dogs milling about the back area and pens, Kate ran toward the arena. The chutes were at the far south end. She took a few shortcuts to get there, running under the announcers’ booth, through some of the pens, then under the grandstand.

  She’d almost made it when she heard Shane’s name announced as the next rider. No, wait, her mind screamed. A myriad of grisly images of what could happen if the saboteur had decided to get ugly, all of which she didn’t want to acknowledge, crowded through her mind. She got to the rail fence near one end of the chutes just as the gate opened and a calf bolted into the arena.

  Shane and his horse were only a few inches behind.

  Kate’s hands curled around the rails and squeezed down as she watched horse and rider gallop past.

  Shane whirled his lariat over his head, then threw it toward the calf. It dropped over the animal’s head and encircled its neck. Shane’s horse instantly ground his front hooves into the earth to stop.

  The calf kept running—the rope attached to Shane’s saddle horn pulled taut and the calf was jerked from its feet.

  Shane was already on the ground and running toward the calf, a leg tie rope held between his teeth, leaving his hands free to topple the calf and draw his rear legs together for tying. He dropped to his knees just as the rope between calf and horse snapped.

  The calf instantly bolted to his feet and took off.

  A gasp of surprise sounded from the audience.

  The announcer began rattling off a hasty recitation about how ropes break sometimes, after which he bemoaned the fact and labored the point that, thankfully, it doesn’t happen often.

  Shane got to his feet and snatched up the end of the rope that lay on the ground. Coiling it in one hand as he walked, he returned to where Samson stood waiting. Shane patted the animal’s neck, then swung up into the saddle and rode from the arena, smiling and waving to the audience as if what had just happened didn’t matter.

  Pointwise it didn’t, this being exhibition night, but Kate knew that to Shane, every ride counted, points or no points, and the look she saw on his face as he exited the arena and rode past the pens confirmed that opinion. It was one that would make a rattlesnake think twice about approaching him, let alone anyone else.

  Nevert
heless, she moved in the direction he was headed, staying far enough away that he didn’t notice her. She didn’t want to talk to him, but she did want to get a look at the end of his rope, and she didn’t want anyone to see her doing it. Especially Shane.

  “Hey, Shane, tough break, bud,” Tim called out. “You okay?”

  Shane turned and saw his friend leaning against the counter of the Snack Shack. Dismounting, he tied Samson to a nearby hitching rack and joined Tim, grabbing a paper cup and filling it with coffee from the huge um that sat on the counter.

  “Yeah, well at least tonight’s only an exhibition,” he said. “It was annoying enough having that rope break without it losing me points too.”

  Kate circled the rear of the ambulance building that sat next to the Snack Shack, then moved up between the two toward where Shane and Tim stood. If either of them turned now, even slightly, they’d see her. She watched them for a long minute, not wanting to take a chance.

  Her gaze moved over Shane, then jumped to Tim as he waved an arm in emphasis of something he said. Three years ago she and Shane had been a close foursome with Tim and his fiancée. Then Kate had turned down Shane’s proposal—no, she corrected herself—she’d turned down Shane’s ultimatum. She’d heard a year later that Tim’s fiancée had left him for some bigshot banker in Denver. Remarkably, Tim was the only other person she’d seen so far who she recognized, and who would know that she’d been a cop.

  She pushed aside the old memories and, taking a deep breath, slowly approached Shane’s horse. The rope that had broken was coiled and looped loosely over the saddle horn.

  “Whoa, boy,” she whispered softly when the animal fidgeted as she neared. “Good boy.” She stroked his silky black neck. “Stay still, handsome. That’s a good boy.”

  The horse turned his head toward her but made no sound. Instead he closed his eyes and turned away.

  Kate fingered the end of Shane’s lariat. To an untrained eye it might look as if it had frayed, but she wasn’t untrained, and she was pretty certain it had been cut. She looked closer. On one side the fibers looked as if they’d been severed a little too straight to have broken because of wear and tear.