Rough Rider (11 page)

She consulted the rodeo schedule. And then her watch. There were at least fifty bareback rides before the first section of bulls. If she left now, maybe she could find something to wear in one of the boutiques. Without giving herself a chance to rethink and back down, Janice checked the water buckets in her bull pens, grabbed her purse from her trailer, and headed over to the Frontier Village.

* * *

Janice was in the third shop, a high-end boutique, and growing more frustrated by the second. She stepped out of the dressing room to the three-way mirror in a brown broomstick skirt and blousy floral top. She turned one way and then the other, chewing her lip in indecision. She should have known the clothes would be expensive. She didn't mind paying if she could make some kind of a fashion statement, but couldn't help thinking she looked more like her mama on a church social day. She turned back to the dressing room ready to give up and just buy a new pair of Wranglers when a feminine voice stopped her.

“You're Janice, right?”

She spun around to find herself face-to-face with Rachel Carson.

“I thought that was you,” Rachel continued. “Weren't you at the party in Casper?”

Janice was almost too stunned to respond. “I was there,” she replied. “But not for long. I left once I knew the mischief Grady was up to.”

“Grady Garrison?” Rachel's expression darkened. “Mischief?” she huffed. “That's putting it mild, don't you think? His raunchy karaoke routine ruined the party and then he started a brawl. He's lucky we didn't call the cops. You aren't seeing him, are you?”

“No. Not exactly,” Janice replied. “But he did ask me to the concert tonight. It's why I'm here. I was just lookin' for something—”

“Please tell me you're not buying
that
,” Rachel said.

Janice flushed.

“I'm so sorry!” Rachel's hand came over her mouth with an embarrassed laugh. “That didn't come out right at all! I just mean the colors totally wash you out. You have such pretty hair and eyes. You should wear jewel tones. Blues and greens. It was part of my queen training you know, learning to make the most of color. Come here. Let me show you.” She grabbed Janice firmly by the elbow and steered her to another rack. “These colors would be incredible on you.” She pulled a sexy tie-dyed sundress off the rack and held it up. Her brows furrowed in a long appraising look. “Maybe this one would be better yet.” She snatched a long colorful T-shirt off another rack. “You need to showcase those long legs.”

Janice wondered what the shirt had to do with her legs. “Would I just wear it with my jeans?”

“No silly!” Rachel giggled. “With your boots! It's a dress.”

“A dress?” Janice protested. “It would barely cover my ass.”

“And I promise the cowboys wouldn't mind a lick! But if that bothers you, just wear some cotton leggings under it. Trust me. I know these things. I promise you won't recognize yourself when I'm done.”

Janice grimaced. “That's what I'm afraid of.”

Rachel ignored the remark and shoved several more garments into her arms before steering Janice back into the dressing booth. “Just give these a try, will you?” She glanced down at Janice's well-worn brown ropers. “Got some dress boots?”

“No. Just another pair of ropers.”

“Nothing with a bit of heel or a splash of color?”

Janice shook her head. “Nope. Solid tan.”

“You know they've got some really cool dress boots here. Let me go take a look for you while you're putting those on. What size do you wear?”

“Eight and a half. But I really can't af—”

Rachel held up a hand. “Just humor me, OK? This makeover thing is kind of a hobby of mine.”

Janice fumed at the idea that she'd unwittingly become the rodeo queen's charity case but entered the dressing room anyway. She barely had the brown skirt pulled off before more clothes flew over the dressing room door—a gypsy-style peasant dress, a sexy slim-fitting halter dress, and a denim miniskirt with buckskin fringe with a matching denim bustier top.

An hour later, Janice had to reassess her entire estimation of Rachel Carson. She really wasn't the spoiled little bitch-girl Janice had always believed her to be. Rachel seemed genuine about her desire to help. They had never run in the same circles and had never even had a true conversation before today, but Janice knew the rodeo queen had plenty of other things she could have been doing besides helping a fashion-backward stock hand pick out a dress.

Now that Janice had seen another side of her rival, she grudgingly confessed that Rachel's appeal ran deeper than her flawless skin. She couldn't help liking her and understood why Dirk was so taken with her…
by
her. Although they'd split, there was no doubt in Janice's mind that he truly was
taken
—whether
he
realized it yet or not.

“You're working the rough stock, right?” Rachel asked.

“Yeah. I brought a few bulls.” Janice wondered where this was going.

“Then you'll be seeing Dirk, right?”

“I'm sure I'll be seeing him eventually.”

Rachel chewed her lip. “Do you think maybe you could give him a message for me?”

Janice almost laughed aloud at the irony of becoming Rachel's emissary.

“Could you tell him I'd like us to talk? We really didn't get much chance last night.”

Janice bit her tongue. They were too busy “making up” to talk?

“I'm staying at the Cheyenne Marriott.” Rachel pulled a card out of her purse and scrawled her room number on the back, then handed it to Janice. “I'd appreciate it if you'd give this to him. We have a lot to work out, but I'm sure you know how it is with these bullheaded cowboys.” She winked.

“Yeah. I've been around a few in my time,” Janice replied woodenly.

She'd been right about Dirk and Rachel getting back together. It was past time for a reality check. Cowboys like Dirk belonged to rodeo queens like Rachel. While stock hands like Janice… Although Grady's foul mouth and rough ways certainly didn't qualify him as Prince Charming, Janice's dirty jeans and callused fingers hardly gave her the makings of a fairy princess either. Grady's goal was to make it to the top in the bull-riding world and he probably had the talent to get there. Janice's own ambition—to join the big league of bull contractors and take her bulls to the finals—was compatible with that. It might not be a match made in heaven, but they were both focused, hardworking, and goal driven. Was she settling? Maybe, but she was pragmatic enough to accept reality.

Janice stuffed Rachel's card into her back pocket and left the boutique shortly after that. She carried two shopping bags, her heart hammering with a mix of excitement and guilt. Today's shopping spree had set her back.

Way
back.

She'd never gone hog wild like that before. The Old Gringo boots alone were almost a month's pay. She'd have to live on saltine crackers to make up for it. She almost spun back into the store to return everything, but then took a calming breath. She'd saved a bundle by camping out in the stock trailer instead of staying at a motel. Would one selfish splurge in her whole life really hurt anything?

When she got back to her trailer she opened the bags and boxes with trembling hands. She fondled the supple leather boots that were almost identical to the ones she'd drooled over in Cody. The denim miniskirt would certainly show them off—along with her legs. She stared at the skirt and boots with a sudden feeling of discomfort, as if she was trying to impersonate someone else. Then she recalled the look on Dirk's face when Rachel had walked into the bar the night before.

Just once in her life, she'd like to have that jaw-dropping effect on a guy. She supposed tonight was her chance. She imagined the look of shock that would come over Grady when he opened the door. Maybe it was worth what she'd spent after all. His expression alone would be priceless—but part of Janice still couldn't help wishing it was on another cowboy's face.

* * *

Dirk took over two hours getting back to the rodeo grounds. He'd jawed so long with Reid and Garcia that he hadn't got back into town until they'd blocked off the streets. He'd forgotten all about the parade and had no choice but to sit and wait it out. Once he finally got back to the arena, the first events were in full swing. He'd hoped to catch Janice alone but probably wouldn't get a chance to talk with her until tonight—he hoped over a quiet dinner.

He still didn't know quite what he was gonna say. What did he really want from her? He wasn't sure of that either. There was a lot to figure out between them and opening that door suddenly seemed so hard. He'd kept his distance for so long that he wasn't even certain what kind of reception he'd get. For the first time he could recall, Dirk felt unsure of himself.

So he'd stalled.

He'd first hung out with the bronc riders, watching every ride—mostly young cowboys eating dirt. Then he hung around the timed event end of the arena for the barrel racing. Once the last rider finished and the final scores were announced, he finally headed over to the bull pens. Grady was already suited up in his chaps and safety vest, occupied with his preparations. He must be one of the first draws. Dirk was one of the last. He'd hit it lucky.

He had his chance. “Hey, Red.” He tipped his hat.

“Hey yourself,” Janice answered mechanically and continued her routine, throwing the rope over the bull's back and leaning down to hook it under his belly. “Haven't seen you today.” She didn't look up at him even though he knew she could have flanked the bull blindfolded.

“I'm sorry I wasn't around to help you this morning. I came by early, but you'd already fed, so I went for some breakfast. I ran into an old rodeo buddy at the diner and then got stuck by all the parade roadblocks.”

“You don't answer to me,” Janice said, sounding irritated.

“No, but I owed you the courtesy of an explanation,” Dirk replied. “Something wrong, Red?”

“No. Why would you say that?”

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “You just seem out of sorts…”

“I'm just busy, Dirk. There's a lotta bulls to flank and a lotta riders to spot.”

“Yeah, I can see that. I'll be glad to help until my ride. Do you think we can talk later? Can I maybe buy you dinner when you're done tonight?”

Janice stood, setting her hook against the chute, and then settling her hands on her hips.

“What's all this about, Dirk? You avoid me for weeks and then the minute Grady asks me out, you all of a sudden want to
talk
?”

“Grady asked you out? You didn't accept, did you?”

“Yeah. As a matter of fact I did. He bought tickets for Chris LeDoux.”

Grady was watching them from the platform several chutes down. Even from this distance he could detect his buddy's scowl. He leaned in closer and dropped his voice real low. “Do you really think that's a good idea, Red?”

“What business is it of yours?” He could almost see her bristle. “You've got a lot of nerve, cowboy—especially after last night. Which reminds me…I was s'posed to give you something.” She pulled a card out of her back pocket and shoved it toward him.

“What's this?” he asked.

“Rachel's hotel and room number. She's expecting you.” Janice picked up her rope hook and moved on to the next bull.

He followed after her. “Please, Red.”

Janice spun around. “If you wanted to talk to me so bad, you've had plenty of chances before now. Even last night—but I s'pose Rachel walking in must have been quite the distraction.”

“This is exactly
why
we need to talk. There's some things I need to explain—”

“The look on your face last night was self-explanatory. There's nothing more that needs saying. Grady might be a horndog, but at least he doesn't play these head games.”

He winced, feeling as if she'd slapped him. She had no idea who the real Grady was, or what he was really after, but if he tried to warn her off again it would just look like petty jealousy.
Shit!
Now what the hell could he do? He couldn't have dinked things up any better if he'd tried.

“Just give me a minute,” he pleaded.

“I'm sorry, Dirk. I don't have time for this right now.”

He had to talk to her, and swore he would, but she was in no frame of mind to listen. “Have it your way.” He spun away, grinding his teeth.

* * *

Feeling all too raw and vulnerable, Janice watched Dirk stalk off. Did he think she was just going to wait around on him forever? He'd had weeks to talk to her but now, the very minute she'd decided to move on, he was all of a sudden interested? No way in hell was she going to let him manipulate her like that. In all truth, Grady couldn't hurt her if he tried, but if she gave Dirk half a chance, he'd surely break her heart.

Dirk walked off, shaking his head as he moved down to Grady's chute. He was coming up on Death Wish, one of the rankest and most dangerous bulls on the circuit with twenty-some outs and no rides. Grady was geared up and looking like the cat that ate the canary when Dirk stepped up to the chute.

“So, you used Chris LeDoux to get to her?” Dirk growled.

“Told you weeks ago I was staking my claim. Just had to figure out the right approach.”

Grady climbed over the rail, placing his booted foot on the bull's back. Death Wish gave a loud snort, jamming himself against the panel, an act that would have crushed Grady's leg had he already been in position. He waited for the bull to settle down again before easing himself onto its back. Dirk pulled the bull rope taut and handed the tail to Grady.

“You're just using her, Grady, and I don't like it.”

Their eyes met. “I don't give a shit what you like.” Grady jerked his hand up and down, warming the rosin and then making his wrap. “She's mine now, Pretty Boy…” He looked up with a confident smirk. “Just like this bull right here.” Seconds later, Grady pulled his hat down low, shifted his hips forward over the rope, and gave his nod to the chute man.

The gate flew open with Death Wish hurling himself airborne and into a spin, coming down bucking and kicking wildly, while Grady sat the bull tight as a tick. The seconds sped by while Dirk watched his buddy spurring the bull, his body still balanced and moving in perfect synchrony with the animal's frenetic fits and sudden starts. Whatever his character flaws, there was no denying that Grady was a helluva bull rider.

At the sound of the buzzer, he looked up, released his rope, and threw his right leg over to dismount, landing on all fours and scrambling away from the bull. He'd made the whistle on the toughest bull for a record ninety-point ride. With that performance, he'd clearly go into the short round and qualify for the finals in Las Vegas.

* * *

It was during Grady's ride that Janice's phone jolted her. Pulling it out of her pocket, she found she'd missed three calls from home. She didn't understand how, until she recalled switching the setting to vibrate the night before at the Outlaw Saloon. She'd done it figuring she'd never hear the ring over the band and had forgotten to switch it back when she left. Her mind had been far too preoccupied.

With a strong sense of foreboding, she walked as far as she could away from the mayhem and then hit redial. A few rings later her mother picked up. “Hey, Mama, it's me. I saw you called. Is everything OK?”

A long pause followed. “Are you sitting down, baby girl?”

“No.” Her heart raced. “Do I need to be?”

“It might be best,” her mother replied.

Hugging the phone between her shoulder and ear, Janice turned over a nearby feed bucket and sat down on it. “I am now. Tell me, Mama, what is it?”

Her mother audibly inhaled. “We heard back from the doc yesterday. Your daddy has cancer in his pancreas.”

“What?” Janice gasped. “Oh my God! Are they sure?”

“Yes. They're sure. They did the CAT scan and all those other tests. They followed with a biopsy day before yesterday.”

This could not be happening. He couldn't have cancer.

“Why didn't you call and tell me? I would have come home! I would have been there with you.”

“There's nothing you could have done, baby, and I didn't want to worry you until we knew for sure.”

“Where's Daddy now?”

“They admitted him to the VA up in Helena.”

“I'll come now. Tonight.”

“You can't, Janice. I know you want to, but I don't see that it's a choice at least until after the rodeo's done. We need the money, especially with all the medical bills.”

“But I can't just stay here!”

“We need you to, baby girl. We need the contracts. You have to be strong for your daddy right now. He's countin' on you…” her mother added in a choking voice. “So am I.”

“All right, Mama.” Janice swallowed down the lump in her throat. “I'll stay until we're done, and then I'll come straight home. How's he doing? Can I talk to him?”

“He's on a lot of pain medication. Why don't you wait? I'm driving up to Helena tomorrow. I'll be staying a night or two with my cousin Claire who lives up there. I'll call you from the hospital as soon as I get there. OK, sweetheart?”

“Yeah. OK, Mama,” Janice replied woodenly.

“I love you, baby.”

“Love you too, Mama.”

“I'll call again tomorrow. I promise. Be strong.”

“I will, Mama. I won't let you down.”

“I know you won't.”

Janice disconnected the call with a dull feeling of unreality. He
couldn't
be dying. He was only fifty-four. Her next thoughts were of her mother. What would they do? How would she and her mama go on without him? She just sat there stunned and staring down at the phone in her limp hand for what felt like hours. She looked up only when a scuffed-up pair of boots broke into her line of vision. Her gaze tracked upward over Grady's lean body to settle on his face.

His gaze met hers and then drifted to the phone, his habitual grin fading. “Bad news?”

“Yeah. You might say that.” Janice bit down hard into her lip, drawing blood in her struggle against the sob that threatened to break out. “M-my ol' man…it's cancer,” she whispered. “Pancreatic. He's gonna die, Grady.”

She didn't know how it happened, but suddenly her face was buried in Grady's shirt. His arms came around her, holding her tight, stroking her back, and murmuring soothing words as she let loose the wave of fear and anguish she'd tried so hard to hold back.

“Don't worry 'bout a thing.” His voice rumbled in her ear. “Whatever you need. I'm here for you, baby doll.”

“Y-you mean that?” She hiccuped.

“Said it, didn't I? You goin' home now?”

“I can't. I have to stay in Cheyenne until the rodeo's done—or at least until I know if my bulls are needed for the short round. After that, I'm headed straight home.”

“I'll go with you.”

“What about the rest of the circuit?”

“Doesn't matter. I just scored ninety points, which means I'm only one ride away from qualifying for the finals. Even better, the payoff here will take me all the way to Vegas. As long as I finish in the money here, I don't have to ride again if I don't want to, which means I can take you home.”

“Thank you, Grady.” She gazed up at him through bleary eyes. “I thought I knew you, but sometimes you really surprise me, you know that?”

He tipped her chin and his mouth brushed softly over hers. “Yeah, Sweet Cheeks. I'm just chock-f of surprises.”

* * *

Dirk's bull was being loaded four chutes down. The rider beside him was Seth Lawson, the same young cowboy who'd been with Grady at the Outlaw last night—the one who'd been Grady's shadow since they'd arrived in Cheyenne.

“Who'd you draw?” Dirk asked, but then instantly recognized the animal as one of Janice's bulls.

“Magnum Force,” Seth replied. “Heard he spins like a son of a gun.”

“Yeah, you heard right,” Dirk replied.

“You rode him before?” Seth asked.

“Yeah,” Dirk replied. “You might say that. I backed him once and even made the whistle, but then got hung up on my rope. Walked out of the arena with a concussion, bruised ribs, sprained wrist, and dislocated shoulder.”

“Shit!” Seth replied with a nervous grin. “I'm up next. Grady was s'posed to spot me, but he's disappeared.”

So had Janice. She never missed a ride on her bulls, but she was nowhere around.

Climbing the panel, Dirk scanned the bull pens and the surrounding area. His gaze lit on a couple locked in an embrace. It was Janice plastered to Grady. He clenched his fists, his blood pounding a throbbing pulse in his ears as Grady kissed her. He'd tried to play interference, but the snake had still gotten to her.

She's mine now, Pretty Boy… Just like this bull right here.

How could he not have seen it coming? Janice's earlier brush-off made perfect sense now. The idea of the two of them together, especially after Grady's behavior only the night before, made him want to pound him into the ground.
Fuck!
How had he let it happen?

Seth's voice broke into his thoughts. “That right there's the biggest reason for ridin' bulls—the all-you-can-eat pussy buffet.” A big smirk stretched his mouth as he jerked his head toward Grady and Janice. “Since Grady's…er…occupied, will you spot me?”

“Sure,” Dirk replied absently. Seth popped in his mouth guard but shook away the helmet offer before climbing over the rail. “You not gonna wear the helmet? This SOB's damned unpredictable,” Dirk warned.

“Grady doesn't wear one,” Seth said, tugging his Stetson lower on his forehead.

“He's been doing this a lot longer than you.”

“I plan to keep my head out of the way.”

Dirk shrugged. “It's your head.”

He spotted Seth, bracing his arms on either side of the rider's body while Seth's buddy tightened the bull rope. Seth settled down onto the bull, glancing up at Dirk with a nervous grin before releasing the panel and giving his nod.

Seth's ride didn't last long. Within three seconds, he pitched face-first onto the bull's horns. He went instantly limp. The bull spun, hurling Seth from his back to land headfirst in the dirt—but his left spur was caught in the flank rope, trapping Seth beneath the bull for a deadly pummeling as the animal continued to buck, kick, and spin. The next seconds unfurled like a repeat of Dirk's own nightmare.

Without thought, he leaped over the fence to join the bull fighters, but the bull had already dragged Seth's unconscious body half the width of the arena before anyone could get in close enough to cut Seth loose. The announcer and barrel man distracted the crowd with jokes and antics while half a dozen men fought to free the unconscious rider. Once they'd cut the cowboy loose, the bull fighters coaxed the enraged animal back through the cattle chute and into the pen while the medical team sprang into action, surrounding Seth's inert, bloodied, and barely breathing body.

Dirk had seen plenty of bad wrecks before, but this one made his blood run cold. He stood helplessly looking on as the medical team swiftly transferred Seth onto a stretcher to carry him out to the waiting ambulance. As they passed, Seth's eyes flickered open to stare directly into Dirk's. Their gazes met for no more than a second but Dirk read the terror and helplessness before Seth's expression went utterly blank. A long and shuddering breath followed. Then he went perfectly still. The efforts at revival were frantic and fruitless. Seth was gone. He'd slipped away before their very eyes.

Everyone would later say the kid died doing what he loved, but he shouldn't have died at all. Seth Lawson should never have been on that bull. Dirk watched utterly numb as they carried him out. The smells, the sounds, and the look in Seth's eyes were forever etched in his brain. A long moment of silence followed Seth's exit, but then the announcer called the next rider. As always, the show must go on.

Minutes later, Dirk lowered himself onto his own bull, mechanically going through the motions, wrapping his fist in his rope and sidling his hips right up to his hand just as he had a hundred times before. Normally his heart would be pounding in anticipation and his blood fired to beat Grady, but everything had changed. He felt completely numb. The thrill was gone.

Fearing his head wasn't in the game—a damned dangerous thing while forking an eighteen-hundred-pound bull—it took all his concentration to tune out the distractions and blank his mind to all but the bull.

When the gate swung open, the animal came to life beneath him, hurling himself into the air and transforming into a furiously bucking cyclone. He clung like a burr to the wildly pitching animal for the longest eight seconds of his life. When the buzzer finally sounded, he released his hand and threw his leg over for a clean dismount, landing on both feet. His boots had barely hit the dirt before the bull spun around to face him, dropping his shoulders as if to charge, shaking his head and spewing snot. While Dirk's instincts told him to run for the panels, he just stood there, boots rooted in the dirt.

The bullfighters moved in shouting and waving their hats, but the silent showdown continued with bull and rider just staring one another down. Taken with a sudden crazy impulse, Dirk tipped his hat in salute. As if on cue, the animal gave a loud snort and turned away, trotting quietly back into the chutes. Dirk watched until the gate closed, then looked up to find Janice staring down at him, mouth agape. Their eyes met. He tipped his hat again and walked out of the arena.

* * *

Dirk found himself in the warm-up area behind the pens without even remembering how he got there. Hell, he hardly remembered the ride. It was as if he suddenly viewed himself through someone else's eyes. While the other riders laughed and jawed, he wordlessly stripped off his vest and chaps, throwing them into his rigging bag.

“What the fuck was that exit all about?” Grady demanded.

“I'm done,” Dirk said.

“Whadaya mean done?”

Dirk released one spur from his boot, and then the other. “Done as in retired.”

“Retired? Old men and pussies retire. You sayin' one kid gets killed by a bull and you go all chickenshit? You know the risks. He did too. Hell, the danger is more than half the reason we do it.”

“It's why
you
do it,” Dirk said. “I'm done now. I haven't lost my nerve, I've just gained some sense. You might call it an epiphany.”

“An epiphany? What the fuck's an epiphany?”

“It's a ‘shit, I finally get it' moment.”