by Vicki Tharp
* * *
The stands were packed by the time Silas made it to the chutes. The air sizzled with electric excitement, and the light breeze mixed the dark smells of dirt and dander, beer and bratwurst, cotton candy and cow patty. The adrenaline seeped into his system making the arena lights brighter, the raucous cheers louder.
Over the PA they announced the rodeo clowns as they came out. The crowd went wild. Silas looked up from adjusting his rope because from the crowd’s reaction he was positive Jesus had just walked on water or Elvis Presley had walked on stage. But no, Rowdy Boyd had run into the arena, waving his hat in the air. Off to the left a woman screamed and held up a poster that said Rowdy Boyd, I want to have your baby.
For a guy like Rowdy, that was a monstrous promotion from wannabe bull rider to celebrity bullfighter. Everyone had seen the news footage of the recent saves he’d made. The media and female attention were well deserved, and only a couple of assholes dared give him crap anymore for not making it in one of the most dangerous sports in the world.
When it was his turn, the spotter said to Silas, “You’re up.”
The big gray Brahman jostled and jumped and kicked in the chute. His tail flicked feces, spray painting the inside of the rails with fresh manure. Silas climbed over the top rail, balanced over the bull and looked into the stands where the wives and the fiancés and the girlfriends of the competitors sat. He scanned the seats, but he didn’t see Josephine any—
There.
In the corner, by herself, as if unsure where she fit in with those women. Where she fit in with him. She gave a little wave when she caught his eye. He nodded back, then sat down on fifteen hundred pounds of hide and horn and raw power. His heart hit that awkward, crazy rhythm it always hit, except this time when he got on the bull, he wasn’t thinking about the ride, he was thinking about that kiss.
While he adjusted his rope, he was thinking about that dimple.
When he wrapped the tail of the rope around his hand, he was thinking about the sweet, sweet curve of her ass.
And as he settled into his rope and nodded his head, he pictured the perfect ride, how hot and wet and tight she would be as he sank balls deep into her warmth.
His cow bells clacked and clanked as the bull jumped free of the chute, landing with a jarring stride that shorted his spine by a foot and knocked his kidneys into his throat.
The bull spun to the left, Silas’s spur catching in the thick hide, but he was already off balance and behind the movement. His shoulder strained and his trick elbow made that popping sound. One spin, two spin, three. Silas’s mind caught up with the ride and he felt that hesitation, that bunching of muscle beneath the hide, and he knew the next spin would be to the right.
He went with the movement, his left arm high overhead for balance. It should have hurt his ribs like hell, but it didn’t.
He whooped as his internal clock counted down the seconds.
He would make the bell. In three, two, o—
A head flip, a nasty belly roll, and beneath him where there had been a bull there was only air. He was aware of three things as he sailed across the arena like a human cannonball—the crowd went quiet, the buzzer went off, and the rope was still wrapped around his hand.
He ducked his head, and tried to roll out of the fall, but he landed hard on his shoulder, the back of his head smacking against dirt. It didn’t matter how deep the dirt was, it was never soft enough.
Pain shot through his head as his brain played bumper cars with his skull. The stands went blurry, then starry, then black. All he heard was the beat of his heart behind his eardrums, not a thud, thud, thundering, but a great galloping in the distance.
Far, far, far, awa—
5
The door to the waiting room at the hospital opened and an older man in a white coat and a put-out expression walked in. Josephine stood, knowing he came for her, not because he knew who she was, but because someone on the hospital’s board of directors owed her father a favor.
“Can I see him now?” Josephine asked the doctor.
The doctor opened his mouth to say something, then must have thought better of it. As much as she liked to deny she was Caine Cox daughter, sometimes it paid to be her as well. Not that this favor from her father would come without repercussions when she got home, but that was weeks away and she would worry about that later.
The doctor turned to leave and said, “Follow me.”
Her boots echoed in the hall as she jogged to keep up with the doctor’s brutal pace. “How is he? Is he awake? Is he talking? Is anything broken? Is—”
The doctor stopped abruptly, and she almost ran into the back of him. He turned and said, “I’ve been ordered to allow you into his room. But since you’re not his wife, nor his next of kin, his medical condition isn’t up for discussion.”
“Yeah, yeah. Okay. Fine. Just take me to him.”
Two doors later, the doctor turned the knob and led her into the room. The overhead lights were off, the blinds on the window drawn. A soft light from the fixture over the bed was enough to see the easy rise and fall of Silas’s chest.
She approached the bed, and reached out to take his hand, hesitated.
“You can touch him.” The doctor lost the edge to his tone.
She glanced up. “Will he wake soon?”
The doctor gave her a look that said that was something he couldn’t discuss, but then he said, “Everything indicates that he should. But this is a brain we’re dealing with, so we’ll have to wait and see.”
“Can he hear me?”
“I don’t know. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
The doctor left, and she pulled a chair by the bed and sat. The heart monitor beat a steady, soothing rhythm. Silas’s color was good, and if he didn’t have the white bandage around his head, she’d think he was only sleeping. Reaching out, she took his hand in both of hers. He was warm, and alive, and it made her eyes sting.
She hadn’t known what she’d expected, but feeling the warmth, knowing his heart beat and his blood pulsed, broke the tension in her chest that had prevented her from taking in a full breath since the bull had launched him into the air.
Seconds turned to minutes. Minutes turned to hours. The nurse came in and took vitals. The doctor came by on his rounds. Silas remained unconscious through it all. The halls quieted down as visiting hours ended. Thanks again to her father, no one asked her to leave. Her eyes drifted closed and she caught herself nodding off.
“Go. Get some sleep.”
Silas. His voice held a tremor, and if the room hadn’t been silent except for the faint beep of the heart monitor, she wouldn’t have heard him.
“You’re awake.” The knot of tension in her shoulders eased and her stomach climbed off the floor. “Let me go get the nurse.”
She stood to leave, but he didn’t let go of her hand. “Hang on.”
“But they said—”
“Sit. Talk to me.” He found the controls and buzzed the head of his bed up. “What’s the damage?” He glanced down at the IV in his left hand. Wiggled his legs under the covers. “Seems like everything works.”
“They wouldn’t discuss your medical care with me, but I don’t think anything is broken. Just a bad concussion from what I can figure out.”
He reached up and ran his fingers over the bandage, poking gingerly until he hit a sore spot on the back of his head. He grimaced and dropped his hand to his lap. “Good thing I’ve got a hard head.”
“And you said there’s no bad juju. You were very lucky. You could have—”
“Being dumped wasn’t bad juju. It was my fault. I let myself get distracted.”
He didn’t add the by you indicating what had distracted him, but the way he looked at her, she knew. Which made her feel guilty and giddy all at the same time.
“Did you win?”
“What?”
“Your run. You know where you get on your horse and you gallop around these big barrels.”
&nbs
p; Not even close. That’s why you had to focus. That’s why you didn’t get involved with men on the circuit. “Cora got second.” At least one of them had money now.
Silas’s voice was getting stronger and stronger, but he still sounded froggy. Josephine handed him some water. He drank. “What happened? You two looked great out there.”
“I just…” Had been thinking about him waiting for her in the alley when she was finished. It should have made her faster. It hadn’t. “We were just off tonight.”
“I’m sorry.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead, and his guard dropped, and she saw how much pain he was in.
“Let me get that nurse.”
He nodded and relaxed back against the pillow. Josephine was almost to the door when he said, “Was it my fault?”
“Was what your fault?”
“You not winning. Did my being in the alley—”
She didn’t want him to know how much he affected her. She plastered on an indulgent smile. “You must have hit your head harder than I thought. You’re talking nonsense.”
His eyes fluttered and drifted closed, but he said, “Cheyenne is just—”
“Yeah, I know. I’m good.”
He fought the heaviness in his lids, but beneath the disappointment on his face, she thought she’d detected a hint of a smile. “I think you should get that nurse now. Oh, and Josephine?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for coming.”
* * *
The nurse came in and kicked Josephine out into the hall despite Silas’s protests. Vitals were checked, and questions asked, and then the doctor came in and rechecked what the nurses had checked, repeated the same questions then tried to scorch his retinas with a penlight.
The bright light made his head pound harder. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought a bull was stomping his skull into the ground. He closed his eyes, but minutes later he still saw stars behind his lids.
Someone squeezed his shoulder. “Mr. Foss?” The nurse, he supposed, but he didn’t open his eyes to be certain. “The doctor was talking to you.”
Silas shook his head to try to dislodge some of the fuzzy wool that made his thinking slow. Ouch. He clamped a hand to his head, wanting to curl up into a ball and roll away from the pain. “What doc?”
“I said we want to keep you for a few days for observation and monitor you for any brain swelling or hemorrhage and—”
Silas sat up, his head spun, and he had to balance himself with both hands. “I’m not staying.”
He didn’t have time for that. More importantly, he didn’t have the money for that. Getting medical insurance as a bull rider wasn’t easy. Or cheap. As it was, he’d be lucky if this extended nap didn’t drain what funds he had in the bank. He and Toby would never save enough money for a roughstock ranch at this rate.
Hands grabbed his shoulders and tried to push him back down.
Silas stilled and leveled a don’t-fuck-with-me glare at the doctor. “Let me go.”
“You can’t go in there.” The woman’s voice came from somewhere down the hall. High pitched, angry. “I’m going to call security—”
“Be my guest, sweetheart.” Toby rounded the corner of Silas’s room, followed by Josephine, Cora and a nurse who had more steam coming out of her ears than a cartoon bull.
“Find my clothes.” Silas slipped off the edge of the bed. His feet didn’t hit hard, but the landing jarred his head enough that his knees buckled, and he had to catch himself on the bed rail.
“What are you doing?” Josephine grabbed his arm. “Get back in bed.”
Cold air hit his naked ass, but he couldn’t find a reason to care. He started taking off the gown. He was getting dressed with or without anyone’s help.
“Out.” The doctor started waving his hand like a traffic cop sending a line of cars through a red light. “Everyone out.”
The nurses ushered his friends out of the room, closing the door firmly behind them. She crossed her arms over her chest in front of the door as if he’d have to go through her to get out. The doctor, he could take, but the nurse was a substantial woman who looked like she nibbled on razors for fun. In his current condition, Silas didn’t like his chances.
He collapsed on the side of the bed. More because his legs were shaking from the strain than because he’d decided to follow the doctor’s orders. For the next fifteen to twenty minutes, he and the doctor negotiated what he was and wasn’t willing to do. Finally, they had a plan, and the nurse allowed his friends back into the room.
“What’s the verdict?” Toby was the first to speak. “Are they letting you go or do I have to come back at midnight with a posse to break you out?”
“I’m leaving,” Silas said.
“Against medical advice.” The resignation in the doctor’s voice reminded Silas of his mother after she’d realized she couldn’t stop him from riding bulls. The doctor finished signing something on Silas’s record and handed it to the nurse. “And under certain conditions.”
“I can’t ride next weekend, so I’m going to miss Salinas.” Saying those words left a bitter taste on his tongue that made Silas want to spit. “And I have to stay within a ten-minute drive of the hospital for the next four days in case I have any complications.”
“That’ll still give you plenty of time to meet up with us in Ogden,” Josephine said.
“And he can’t be alone or drive for at least a week.” The doctor wasn’t helping.
The smile on Toby’s face crumbled. They were travel partners and even though Toby now had his own ride, they still caravanned together. They had each other’s backs. “Uh… I drew a bad bull for Salinas and like my chances better in Rock Springs.” Toby glanced first at Josephine and then almost desperately at Cora. “I can stay a day. Maybe. But then I gotta go, buddy.”
“No problem.” No way was Silas gonna be the reason Toby missed out on a chance to ride at the Big Daddy. “You gotta do what you gotta do on the road to Cheyenne. I’ll make do and catch up with you when I can.”
Josephine stepped forward. “I’ll stay with you.”
If he couldn’t ask his best friend to stay, he certainly couldn’t ask his…his… he didn’t quite know what to call her, but considering what he wanted to do to her, with her, he couldn’t exactly call her his friend. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll stick close to the hospital.” He glanced at the doctor. “That’ll have to be good enough.”
“I’m staying.” Josephine crossed her arms and raised her brows at him as if daring him to argue.
“Fine.” As much as he hated the idea of her missing a rodeo, he loved the idea of four days alone with her.
“Glad that’s settled. See you in Ogden.” Toby clapped him on the shoulder and started backing out of the room. Silas knew Toby needed to pack up and get on the road. Toby turned back at the door and said, “And buddy, if it makes you feel any better, I think that you flying off the bull got Rowdy laid again. He should probably thank you for helping out his sex life.”
* * *
Three days.
Three days of keeping his hands to himself when all Silas wanted to do was make Josephine his.
Three days of falling for her laughs and her smiles and her brains when he knew it would be best for his career if he stayed away, and three days of hoping like hell she wouldn’t come to her senses and leave his sorry ass in Calgary.
“Well?” Silas sat slumped on the converted bed in his camper’s dinette area, his bare feet plopped in Josephine’s lap on the far end, his head resting on a stack of pillows as he glared at her over the tops of his cards.
“Don’t rush me.” Her eyes cut from her cards to him then back to her cards. If this were a high stakes poker game, he wouldn’t want to be betting against her.
“Either you have an Ace, or you don’t.”
“Fine.” She took a slow sip of five-dollar-a-bottle wine from one of the Dixie cups they’d stolen from the closed concession stand and folded her cards. Her
eyes cut to his. Right before she spoke, he saw triumph toy with her lips. “Go fish.”
“You’re lying.” He held out his hand for her cards, but she pulled them to her chest.
“Stop being a sore loser.”
“Sore loser? I’m not the one who faked a paper cut when launching my paper airplane off the top of the bleachers and insisted on a do-over.” He pulled his feet from her lap and sat up, glad that the simple movement didn’t send his head spinning anymore.
“The cut was little and hard to see. Those hurt the worst.”
He held out his hand again, unable to keep the smile at bay. “The cards. Lemme see.”
She held them out of his reach.
“Last chance.”
“Oooooh. What’s the big bad bull rider gonna—”
He dove to her side of the bed. Josephine let out a noise, part laugh, part screech. It made his ears ring, and his heart skitter sideways. His heart had been doing that a lot lately. Maybe the ER doctor had gotten it all wrong. Maybe his head was fine, but the fall had damaged his heart.
He straddled her legs and grabbed at the cards. Even with her arms straining to keep the cards away from him, she was no match for his long reach. He gripped her wrist, her pulse galloping beneath the tips of his fingers.
Her laughter died as her gaze locked on his lips. Hell.
Having to nurse his concussion when all he’d wanted to do was roll her beneath him was worse than having his hand caught in the bullrope and being dragged across the arena.
He wanted to sink into her until he forgot he couldn’t ride this weekend, until Silas forgot his shot at Cheyenne was slipping through his fingers, and before he remembered Josephine’s father still had the power and the pull to jeopardize his career.
He’d climbed the bleachers that morning without getting a migraine. A little romp in the trailer couldn’t be any worse.
He released her wrist no longer caring about the cards, and brushed the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip.