And Then You Dare (Crested Butte Cowboys Series Book 5) (25 page)

Tristan closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Tell me what you’re thinkin’ right now.”

She opened her big brown eyes and looked into his. “This is
not a conversation I ever imagined myself a part of.”

“How much are you hatin’ me right now?”

“I don’t hate you Bullet.” Another deep breath. “You have
lived the life I imagined you had. Not just you, most of the guys that compete
in rodeo. Most of the girls too. Or some anyway.”

“But not you.”

“No, not me. I’ve had sex with two men in my life. You and
Walter Harris. Do you want to know what I worry about?”

“Yes, I do.” He was solemn. He dreaded the words she was about
to say. She was worried that he’d never be able break out of that life. That
she’d never be able to trust him not to sleep with women who offered. He
couldn’t blame her, and there wasn’t any way for him to prove her wrong.

“What if I’m not enough?”

“Huh? That’s what worries you? You think I’m gonna get bored?”

She lowered her eyes. “Yes.”

Bullet reached over and touched her chin. “Look at me
darlin’.” When she did, he took his own deep breath. “I love you Tristan. Up
until I met you, I didn’t know what it was to truly love a woman. Now I do.
It’s the same way I feel about my kids. When I’m not with ’em, I think about
’em all the time. I can’t imagine a world without them in it. If they’re hurt,
I wanna take their pain and carry it for them. If
 
they’re sad, I wanna make ’em smile. Whatever isn’t workin’
in their life, I wanna be the one who fixes it. And with you? I want to be the
only man who ever touches you. The only man who ever makes love to you again,
until the day you die. The idea of touchin’ a woman other than you makes me
sick to my stomach.”

He couldn’t tell by the look on her face whether she believed
him, or thought he was full of shit.

“Ask anybody. I’ve been a monk the last few weeks. And it
wasn’t because I had the idea that bein’ that way would win you back. There
wasn’t anybody other than you I wanted to be with. Nobody.”

“I believe you.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I do. I also believe you aren’t the father of the child
in the subpoena.”

“And what if it comes back that I am? Will you believe it’s a
setup?”

“That’s harder, but I will.”

“There are ways to prove I’m not, you know, after the baby is
born. At some point I’m gonna have to know who this woman is, and once I do, I
can ask for my own test. It’s the time in between that will be hardest.”

“Maybe we can find out who she is now.”

“How?”

“I’m not sure, but Lyric is working on it.”

“She is?”

Tristan told him about the conversation they had earlier at
the bar.

“I don’t have any ideas myself, but you know Lyric. God knows
what she’ll come up with.”

Bullet didn’t have any ideas either. At least short term. As
he’d just said, once the baby was born, he could ask for another test, and have
it performed by someone neither of them knew. He’d get a court order to make it
happen if he had to.

“Bullet, there’s something I need to tell you though.”

Here it came. His shoulders tensed as he waited for her to
speak.

“No matter what happens, you need to know this. I love you too
Bullet.”

***

1994

“No Dottie. This is not up for discussion.”

“But you saw him as well as I did. Billy is a natural born
bronc rider.”

“We saw him one time, tryin’ to break a spirited horse. That
doesn’t make him a bronc rider.”

“You may have seen him one time, but I’ve seen him a lot
more.”

“What are you talkin’ about woman?”

Dottie told Bill that their son had been getting on broncs for
over six months. He’d been going to practice pens without Bill knowing it.

“Who’s been takin’ him?”

Dottie stood from where she sat at the kitchen table, and
walked over to where Bill stood near the sink, looking out the window.

“I have. Clancy too.”

Bill was furious. Beyond furious. He couldn’t yell at Dottie,
but he sure could yell at Clancy. He walked toward the back door, and put his
hat on his head.

“Where’re you going?”

“To give Clancy a piece of my mind.”

“Clancy? Did you hear me? I’ve been taking him too.”

Bill opened the door.

“Don’t you walk away from me Bill Patterson.”

“Dottie, please don’t push this.”

“I’m gonna. You turn right back around and say what’s on your
mind.
To me.
Not to Clancy.”

He couldn’t. Spitting in the face of God was something he couldn’t
do, and telling his wife about the deal he’d made was something he couldn’t do
either.

“If you walk out that door, I’ll never forgive you for it.”

“Dottie…please.”

“Say whatever you need to say to me.”

He walked over and took her by the shoulders. “Do you know why
I quit rodeo? Do you?” he shouted.

“Of course I do.”

“No. You don’t. I quit because I had to. I quit in order to
keep you and Billy safe.”

“Yes Bill, I know.”

“How could you?”

“Do you think you could just tell me one day that you didn’t want
to compete anymore without me knowing what was behind it?”

“I told you then it was because you were pregnant.”

“And then you sold all your gear, threw away anything that
came in the mail about rodeo, changed the subject if anyone, including me,
brought it up.”

Bill nodded his head, but didn’t answer.

“You quit because you promised God that you would as long as
he let me survive the pregnancy and have a healthy baby.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know you.”

“Then why in the dickens have you been letting Billy get on
broncs?”

“Because that’s his decision. He hasn’t made any deals with
God. And sayin’ you don’t want anything to do with rodeo ever again isn’t the
deal you made either.”

“But it is.” Bill slunk down in the kitchen chair and put his
hands in his face.

“No, it isn’t. My darling, sweet, wonderful husband, it
isn’t.”

“If somethin’ happens to him…”

“I agree. If something happens to Billy, I don’t know how I’ll
go on, but I will. And even if you forbid him to ride another bronc, something
still might happen to him. He could be in a car accident tomorrow and get hurt
much worse than if he bucks off a horse.”

“I know that, but…”

“Bill, look at me.” He looked into Dottie’s eyes. “It
brings him such joy. Don’t take it away from him. God gave him to us, but that
doesn’t mean we own him. He’s our son, to raise up to be the best man he can
be. Let him to do this Bill. Let him for me.”

It took Lyric until the last day of the NFR, but she did it.
She was on her way to the airport to bring the woman who accused Bullet of
fathering her child to the competition tonight. In the end it was Slade who
came up with the idea. It took going back to Colorado Springs, but he’d figured
it out. Lyric would be picking him up at the airport too; he was the one
bringing her here.

She called Tristan earlier to tell her. She hadn’t told Bullet
yet, and asked Tristan not to either. Tristan did have a job to do though. She
had to get Walter Harris to the Thomas and Mack Center tonight, at the same
time Lyric arrived.

“This is Ashleigh,” Slade introduced Lyric. “She’s the one we
met at the bar, you know, that night.”

Ashleigh was quiet, but Lyric didn’t expect her to be any
other way. “Let’s go see him then. If Bullet is your baby’s daddy, you two are gonna
need to spend some time gettin’ to know each other.”

The girl’s cheeks turned pink, as Lyric expected them to. It
must be awful to be getting ready to “meet” a man you already had sex with.

“I tried to call him…”

“Yeah? He gave you his number that night?” That surprised
Lyric. Bullet would be more apt to take her number, and never call, rather than
give his number out.

“Not the right one.”

That didn’t sound like Bullet either. He may have slept
around, but he was usually upfront about it. It wouldn’t be like him to give a
girl a wrong phone number intentionally either. But Walter Harris wouldn’t know
that.

“Almost there,” Lyric patted Ashleigh’s hand. They sat in the
back seat of the cab, Slade sat in the front with the driver.

As was prearranged, Bullet was out front, waiting for Tristan
to arrive. Tristan wasn’t there, but she wasn’t supposed to be.

“Here we are,” said Lyric, climbing out of the cab. Ashleigh
followed behind. She got out and stood on the sidewalk waiting as Slade paid
the cab. Thankfully Bullet was looking at his phone, and hadn’t noticed them
pull up.

He raised his head and looked at Lyric, who shook her head and
put her finger in front of her mouth.

“Okay, you ready to go find my brother?” she asked Ashleigh.

“Yes,” she answered softly. They walked right past where
Bullet stood. Ashleigh looked at him. Lyric watched. No recognition. When they
passed, Slade motioned for Bullet to follow.

It took a minute for Lyric’s eyes to adjust from the bright
outdoors to the more subdued lighting in the convention center. When they did,
she spotted Tristan talking with Walter Harris, near the box office.

“We’ll have to pick up your pass at will call,” Lyric told
Ashleigh. “And you’ll have to show your i.d.”

Lyric walked slowly, so Ashleigh was beside her. She watched
the girl as she looked around. When she spotted Walter, she stopped, and put
her hand on Lyric’s arm.

“There he is,” she said.

“There who is sweetheart?”

Ashleigh’s expression was puzzled. She turned and looked at
Lyric. “Your brother.”

“Where?” asked Lyric.

“Right there, don’t you see him?” Ashleigh was pointing at
Walter. Who at that moment, turned away from Tristan, and looked at Ashleigh
and Lyric.

The expression on his face confirmed what they already knew.
Walter knew Ashleigh. And Ashleigh knew him. She just didn’t know his real
name.

“That isn’t my brother,” said Lyric. “He is.” She pointed at
Bullet.

Ashleigh turned around to look. “I don’t know that man,” she
said. “Is this some kind of trick?”

***

Walter tried to deny he knew the woman with Lyric, which
resulted in Ashleigh breaking down in tears. “I don’t understand what’s going
on,” she said to Lyric.

“You have been tricked, but not by my brother.”

“But he told me his name was Bullet Simmons. It isn’t a name
I’d ever get confused with Walter.”

“He lied to you sweetheart,” Lyric motioned for Tristan to
come closer.

“Walter and Tristan used to date. She can tell you all about
the kind of man he is.”

“That’s okay,” Ashleigh said through more tears. “You all must
hate me. I’m so sorry. I had no idea I was bein’ played.”

Tristan wanted to tell the girl she could’ve avoided all this
by not having sex with someone she didn’t know, but lecturing a total stranger
wasn’t her business. Bullet was though. She looked for him behind Lyric and
Slade, but he wasn’t there.

“Did you see where Bullet went?” she asked Slade.

“No. Not with all the commotion goin’ on. I wasn’t payin’
attention.”

“Excuse me,” she said to the group, and went in search of him.
She ran into Billy and Jace instead. “Have you seen Bullet?”

“Yep, he’s back behind the chutes gettin’ ready to ride.”

Tristan looked up at the big scoreboard over the arena. The
clock was ticking down to the official start of tonight’s competition, the
final of the week.

Liv, Dottie, Renie, Blythe and Bree were in the stands
watching with Tristan. Most of the gold buckles were awarded previous nights,
but bull riding was the last competition each night, and the last event to be
awarded. Scores were close between the six riders slated to ride tonight.
Included were some of the best riders in the world. After four buck-offs, and a
disappointing ride from the fifth contestant, Bullet was the final rider.

***

When the chute boss told Bullet he’d be the last rider of the
night, barring any re-ride options, he was relieved. Mentally he could prepare
himself better. As long as he didn’t buck-off, he was in a damn good position
to finish in the top two or three. A good ride, a really good ride, and he
might be able to win this thing.

Bullet grabbed his rope and handed it to Buck, who’d be
pulling for him. He climbed over, grabbed the opposite side of the chute, and
rested his boot on the bull’s back.

He crawled over and slid his legs down the side of the bull,
making sure his toes were pointed forward, so his spurs didn’t touch the
animal. He sat right down, keeping a tight hold on each side of the chute,
until his spotter was in position.

He reached over and ran his gloved hand down the resin on the
rope, warming it up, getting it hot and sticky. He tapped it with the back of
his hand, letting Buck know he could slack it off. Buck may be his trainer, but
when Bullet was in the chute, he was the boss. He couldn’t afford to let the
bull think Bullet was anything but the aggressor.

Next he warmed up his handle. He set the block on his knee and
pulled it. It kept the rope off the bull’s back, and let him get up under his
handle. He turned the rope over to shake his bells further down, and then
rolled it back over to put it in position in the pockets of the bull’s side. He
never pushed the rope forward, to him that was a waste of time.

He grabbed the handle and positioned his hand so his pinky
rested against the middle of the bull’s back, and then moved it just to the
right. With his long arms, it’s where he felt most comfortable. He rolled his
hand in the handle until it felt secure. Buck pulled the rope, Bullet kept his
free hand on the rope near the bull’s body, so it didn’t move with Buck’s pull.

Bullet shook his head, and Buck tightened the rope once more.
Using his opposite hand, Bullet took the rope from Buck, and laid it across his
riding hand. He made sure the rosin started right at his pointer finger, and
took the wrap behind, making sure there wasn’t any slack in the bubble, and
then forward again to lay it back across his hand. He took the tail of his rope
and threw it behind him. He’d ridden too many hooky bulls. If the bull felt the
rope, it might throw its head back to get rid of the nuisance.

He got up on his rope with his knees bent slightly. His feet
were in front of his rope so his center of balance was ready to ride the buck.
His calves were tight, his toes out, so every part of his leg was right against
the bull’s body. His riding arm was slightly bent, his back was straight, and his
chin was tucked so he was looking right in front of his riding hand, at the
bull’s shoulders. He put his free arm in front of him. He kept his toes
forward, and nodded his head. As soon as he felt the bull move out of the
chute, he turned his toes out and squeezed his legs, going with the bull’s
buck.

The bull went right and reared, Bullet kept his back straight,
and got up on the inside of his legs. He kept his chin tucked and rode into the
kick. He transitioned from being up on his legs to shoving his hips and lifting
on his rope.

The bull spun away from his hand, to him it was an easier
ride. He got over the bull’s shoulder and drove his body with his own riding
shoulder. He kept the line tight, and when the bull kicked again, Bullet shoved
his hips forward. The bull went back into a spin, kicked again, and Bullet
stayed right with him.

He heard the whistle blow, and positioned himself to get off
into his hand. With the bull still moving, he rocked over his shoulder, and
kicked his leg at the same time. He let go, and landed on his hands and knees
on the ground. He crawled out, and watched as the bullfighters distracted the
bull, and got him through the gate.

He jumped up and threw his fist in the air He spun around
until he found the section of the arena where he knew Tristan was sitting. He
looked straight at her and didn’t move, until the announcer gave the score.

Bullet won the round with an 85.5-point ride on K-Bar’s Rusty
Rags, which pushed his season earnings to $431,230, and beat his next closest
contender, who sat at $407,475.

Bullet Simmons was the first rookie ProRodeo cowboy to win a
world title in his first year since Hall of Famer Joe Beaver won the tie-down
roping in 1985 at the first finals held in Las Vegas.

The crowd went wild, but Bullet didn’t take his eyes off
Tristan. When PRCA’s Clown of the Year Timmy Islip approached him in the arena,
the crowd went silent.

“Damn son,” Timmy said to him. “I ain’t never even heard of
you before.”

Bullet laughed, and then thanked Bill Patterson, Buck Bishop
and the guys from Flying R Rough Stock. He put his hand over his eyes to shield
the glare from the bright lights. “And I’ve got a question for a very special
lady who’s here watchin’ tonight.”

Catcalls and hollers sounded from around the audience. When
everything quieted down, Timmy handed the microphone to Bullet. He walked
forward a couple steps. Tristan had run down the aisle, and was standing at the
rail.

Bullet knelt down on one knee, but kept his eyes riveted on
her. “Tristan,” he began. “I wore these chaps tonight, believing they’d bring
me good luck.”

Tristan smiled and nodded her head through her tears.

“And tonight, I won the world title for bull riding.”

She nodded again.

“So I’m just wonderin’…you think McCullough Cowboy might consider
sponsorin’ me now?”

The crowd was on their feet, cheering for him again. Bullet
couldn’t hear anything but the beat of his own heart. Timmy put his hand on
Bullet’s shoulder and guided him toward the chutes.

He looked over his shoulder in time to see Tristan wave, and
blow him a kiss.

***

Tristan finished writing the story of the Lost Cowboy who
found his way. It was Bullet’s story, but it was so much more than that. She
had two more drawings to do, and when she finished, she’d send them off, along
with the manuscript, to the designer who would turn it into a book ready to be
published.

It would be the first book in the Lost Cowboy series, picture
books for little cowboys and cowgirls, who could read about their heroes and
dream of one day becoming rodeo champions.

She already had the idea for the second book. It would be
about Bill Patterson and his wife, Dottie, and how even though he gave up his
own chance to be a champion, his son, Billy, grew up to win a world title
instead.