“With her owner. He’s giving her a go today.”
“I’d like to see that.”
“You will,” she answered smoothly. “He’s competing against you.”
Realization dawned on Ty, and he smiled at his own gullibility. “You’ve been training her for Garth.”
“Worried?”
“Not at all.”
“You sound pretty sure of yourself.”
Did he? The truth was his ego hadn’t fully recovered from his loss to Garth last December. If he lost again today, he didn’t want Adele knowing he’d failed despite having a newly acquired weapon in his arsenal.
“Care to make a wager?” he asked.
“Shouldn’t you be talking to Garth?”
“I’m not interested in having dinner with him.”
“Dinner!”
The idea had been a spontaneous one, but the more Ty thought about it, the more he liked it. “If I win, you take me to dinner.”
“And if you lose?”
“I take you to dinner.”
She pondered the wager. “That sounds more like a win-win situation for you.”
It could be for both of them. “You want to raise the stakes?”
“Change them.”
And here he thought she was going to turn him down. “To what?”
“You win, I go to dinner with you.”
“Take me,” he corrected.
“Okay, take you.”
“And if I lose to Garth?”
Her eyes glinted with michief. “You teach the beginners’ class for one week.”
Ty’s hand must have jerked on the reins, for Hamm suddenly slowed and bobbed his head. He didn’t like being restrained.
“You kidding?”
“Not in the least.” She smirked, obviously having fun with this.
“Why? Are you taking a vacation?”
“No. I just think the students would benefit, learning from a professional.”
“The bet seems a little lopsided.”
“Only if you’re afraid of losing.”
That got him, which was probably what she’d intended. “You’re on. Make sure you have plenty available on your credit-card limit, because I have expensive tastes,” he said, and broke into a slow trot.
Her laughter followed him as he circled the arena.
At the gate, Ty came face-to-face with Garth Maitland riding the paint mare. Both men nodded. Garth wore a wide, confident grin. Ty didn’t let it faze him.
“Good luck, pal.”
“Same to you.”
This, Ty thought as he continued on, was going to be an interesting jackpot…for many reasons. And he had never been more ready.
ADELE DIDN’T STAND on the fence railing behind the box with the other ropers. She’d be welcome; that wasn’t the reason. Mostly, she didn’t want Ty to see how nervous she was, waiting for him and Garth to finish their runs. To avoid any potential embarrassment to herself, she waited—make that hid—in the announcer’s booth. While old Larry Fisher provided color commentary, his wife, along with the help of their oldest granddaughter, monitored the electronic timekeepers and kept the scores. If they were curious about Adele’s presence in the booth, they didn’t say.
Each contestant was allowed three turns. Their scores were then added together and averaged. The person with the highest average was the winner. After two rounds, Garth led, with Ty coming in a close second. Chase, a newcomer, wasn’t far behind in third place. It remained anybody’s game.
She still wasn’t sure she wanted Ty to win or lose. Beating Garth would do Ty good and restore some of his lost confidence. On the other hand, Adele had worked hard training Bella, and the horse was performing well. A win for Garth could potentially bring her new clients.
There was also the matter of her bet with Ty. Having dinner with him would be a mistake. Mind-boggling kissing and long, lingering glances aside, he was leaving soon. Regardless of how attracted she was to him, and she was seriously attracted, she wasn’t about to engage in a temporary fling. Her mother had done enough of that for both of them.
Try as she might, however, Adele couldn’t put the idea of dinner with Ty from her mind. Joe from Phoenix, as Pop had pointed out recently, was Adele’s last serious romance. Sadly, it hadn’t ended well. For either of them. Mainly because she wouldn’t leave Seven Cedars.
Nothing had changed since then. She was as rooted at the ranch as always.
Anticipation at the final outcome of the jackpot had her standing on her toes to see better. Garth rode into the box and positioned Bella. Chase had taken his run moments before, and currently held the first place position. Dismounting, he hopped onto the arena fence alongside his buddies to wait out the rest of the competition.
Down in the arena, the gate to the chute flew open, releasing the calf. Garth followed in hot pursuit. Bella performed flawlessly. Even so, Adele tensed. Seconds later, it was all over. Prompted by his wife, Larry called out Garth’s time, which was quickly added to his other two times to determine his final standing.
“That run, ladies and gentlemen,” Larry said, his voice blaring from the speaker, “will put this here young man in first place.”
Adele hadn’t doubted the outcome. The question was, could Garth maintain it?
“Our last contestant for the day is Ty Boudeau.” The crowd applauded. “Come on, folks,” Larry coaxed, “don’t be stingy. This cowboy needs more encouragement than that if he’s going to take home the prize money.” The audience broke into cheers.
Adele chewed on her bottom lip, studying Ty’s every move as he lined up his horse in the box.
Why had she agreed to such a stupid bet?
Larry’s wife swiveled around in her chair. “You doing okay, honey?” she asked Adele. “Yeah, fine.”
“You sure? ’Cause you’ve been fidgeting something awful.”
Had she? Adele willed herself to relax.
Her efforts were wasted. A moment later, the calf sprang from the chute. Hamm went from zero to sixty in one second flat. Ty raised his arm high and threw his rope. It sailed through the air like an arrow, straight and true.
Her hands balled into tight fists, Adele watched Ty jump from Hamm’s back and hit the ground at a dead run. In the next instant, he’d roped the calf and was throwing his arms up in the air even as he climbed to his feet.
She knew without looking that his time was a good one. Better than his first two runs. A glance at the digital display confirmed it, as did Larry’s announcement.
“Ladies and gentlemen, weren’t that a pretty run? Give it up for Mr. Ty Boudeau. Your winner today.”
Happiness for Ty swelled inside Adele. This competition might be nothing more than a two-bit local jackpot, but he’d needed the win. To prove he still had what it took. To prove he’d picked the right horse when he bought Hamm. To prove coming to Cowboy College was the right decision.
Larry turned away from the microphone. “Adele, tell Pop when he’s got a second—”
“I’ll get him for you.”
She used the excuse to flee the announcer’s booth. Only it wasn’t Pop she went looking for when she reached the bottom of the stairs.
Ty wasn’t hard to locate. A group of people, mostly fellow students and wranglers he’d come to be friends with, surrounded him and Hamm, offering their congratulations, shaking his hand and giving him hugs. Adele held back, a sudden and acute bout of shyness cementing her feet to the ground.
Slowly, the group thinned. Before the last person had departed, a lone cowboy approached. Garth Maitland. Adele was relieved to see he was wearing his usual grin.
“Good run, Boudeau.” Garth extended his hand.
Ty shook it. “You, too.”
“It’ll be better at the Buffalo Bill Rodeo.”
“I’m counting on it.”
“Why don’t you come by my place this week? Check out the facilities.”
“I’d like that.”
“Bring Adele with you.”
Ty glanced over, caught her gaze and winked, giving her reason to think he’d known all along she was standing there. “I will.”
Humph! What made him so convinced she’d go?
Because she wanted to, and he’d probably seen as much in her eyes.
“Give me a call,” Garth told Ty, then turned in Adele’s direction. Touching his fingers to his hat, he said, “See you later, Dellie.”
Great. He’d known she was there all along, too.
Eventually, the last of Ty’s fans left. The bleachers had emptied out and the Boy Scouts were packing up the snack bar. Only Ty and Adele remained. She stood there, still unsure what to do or say. He didn’t seem to share her problem. Tugging on Hamm’s reins, he closed the distance separating them, a happy smile stretching across his face.
“I’ll start tomorrow, if you want.”
“Start what?” she asked.
“Teaching the beginners’ class.”
“Why? You won.”
“Yeah, but I’d like to, anyway. I’ve been working with Mike, giving him some pointers, and enjoying it.”
“Really?”
“Took me by surprise, too.”
“Seriously, Ty. You’re not under any obligation. And you’re here to work on your own skills.”
He wasn’t taking her to dinner. The stab of disappointment cutting through her was far stronger than she would have liked it to be.
“I owe you that much.”
“For what?”
“Figuring out that Hamm takes aim with his right eye.” Ty scratched behind his ear, the boyish gesture charming Adele. “The thing is, I was scared. Thinking somehow I’d lost it. Roping came so easy for me on my other horse. I took that for granted. The harder I tried with Hamm, the more I screwed up. Overcompensating, I suppose. Whatever was going wrong, I kept getting more and more tangled up in it. Coming here, focusing on the fundamentals, well, it’s cleared my head and put me back on track.”
Adele could see the admission hadn’t come easy for Ty, and she valued it that much more.
“I’m glad.” She returned his smile with a tentative one of her own.
In every direction, wranglers were hard at it, moving the calves to their regular pens, feeding the stock and cleaning up the arena. On the other side of the bleachers, Pop and Larry conversed. Too late, Adele remembered she hadn’t informed her grandfather that the announcer wanted to speak to him.
“So, how’s seven-thirty?” Ty asked, distracting her. “Does that give you enough time to change and get ready?”
“For what?”
“Dinner tonight.”
“But I thought…you said you’d teach the beginners’ class.”
“That’s a favor.” He eased closer. And though he didn’t touch her, Adele swore the bare skin on her forearms tingled as if stroked. “I still won.”
Yes, he had.
“I intend to collect my dinner date,” he added.
She could decline. Ty had coerced her into the bet, and she doubted he’d insist on holding her to it if she flatly refused.
“Seven-thirty will be fine,” she answered in a low voice. “I’ll meet you in front of the main lodge.”
Ty shook his head, his eyes glinting. “Nothing doing. This is a date. I’ll pick you up at your place.”
“All…right.” She swallowed. “See you then.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
So, Adele realized, was she. More than she should.
Chapter Eight
Flowers.
Adele accepted the bouquet—fresh picked and tied with a ribbon—from Ty’s outstretched hand, her movements tentative.
“Thank you.”
As she cradled them to her chest, she tried to recall when a man had last given her flowers. The only incident to come to mind was a pink carnation corsage at her senior prom.
That long ago?
“Come in,” she said, and stepped back to admit him, hoping he didn’t notice the tiny catch in her voice.
He glanced around her smallish but, she liked to think, comfy living room. “Nice.”
“Let me put these in water.” The excuse was a good one and got her the minute she needed to compose herself.
Why didn’t men give her flowers? Was it their unromantic nature? Her hesitancy to commit to a serious relationship? Maybe she was too much of a tomboy, and men assumed she didn’t like flowers.
Except for Ty.
Her heart melted a little as she pulled a glass jar from the kitchen cupboard, filled it with water and arranged the flowers. Smiling to herself, she set them in the center of the table, then moved them to the breakfast bar, where she could see them first thing in the morning when she stumbled in from the bedroom.
“I’d have brought you roses, but there’s no florist in Markton.”
At the sound of Ty’s voice behind her, she momentarily froze. “These are lovely,” she said, covering her reaction.
The flowers were perfect, in fact.
Repositioning a daisy that wasn’t out of place to begin with, she swallowed and turned to face him.
He looked good, doing justice to his jeans and Western dress shirt, which hugged his broad shoulders. The only place to eat a sit-down dinner in Markton was the Spotted Horse Saloon, and cowboy wear was practically required to get in the door. She’d picked her newest pair of jeans, her most flattering shirt, and left her usually bound hair loose to frame her face. Ty seemed to appreciate her changed appearance, given he’d yet to take his eyes off her.
“You ready?” She hesitated, feeling on unfamiliar territory. Entertaining men in her small apartment behind the main lodge wasn’t something she did. “Or would you like a cold drink first?”
Cold drink! She mentally kicked herself for sounding like a waitress.
“We should probably get a move on.” Ty flashed her a disarming smile. “We’ve got eight-o’clock reservations.”
“Reservations?”
“It’s Saturday night. I figured the place would be packed after the jackpot, and I wanted to make sure we got a table.”
Ty was going out of his way to make their date special.
And it was a date, despite starting out as a bet. Her tingling insides confirmed it.
“Let me grab my purse.”
Outside, Ty opened the passenger door of his truck for her and supported her elbow as she climbed in. Adele was about to protest that she climbed in and out of trucks all day long and didn’t need help. At the last second, she shut her mouth and just enjoyed his chivalrous treatment.
Fifteen minutes later, they reached the Spotted Horse Saloon. Adele expected the place to be crowded, and she wasn’t disappointed. It took them as long to find a parking spot and walk to the front entrance as to drive there.
“We have a reservation,” Ty told the young hostess. “For Boudeau.”
“Right this way, please.”
Piped in country and western music accompanied them to a dark booth tucked in the corner. The band was scheduled to take the stage soon, and by nine o’clock the place would be hopping.
Ty stood and waited while Adele slid into the booth. He sat beside her—close—and the hostess passed them menus.
“Enjoy your meal.”
Ty squinted at the menu, not easy to read in the dim light. “Are the specials any good?”
“Actually, most everything is.” The cowboy-type fare at the Spotted Horse was simple but tasty. “I like the grilled chicken, and the fish and chips aren’t bad.”
Their dinner progressed comfortably, and the mood, much to Adele’s relief, was definitely casual, with conversation centering mostly on Cowboy College and the students.
“We’ll be taking a group of whoever wants to go to the Buffalo Bill Stampede Rodeo,” she mentioned, while buttering a roll. “Pop, of course, wouldn’t miss it.”
“I’m already entered. Tie-down roping and team roping.”
“Who’s your partner for team roping?”
“I’ve heard of him. He’s good.”
She thought she might have detected a bit of tension in the lines around Ty’s mouth. Was he nervous about competing? It was hard to tell over the mounting noise, a combination of the lively crowd and the band warming up on the stage. Adele recognized several ranch guests among the saloon patrons, as well as locals and out-of-town jackpot contestants. From where they sat, she could see almost as many people packed into the bar area.
“I don’t think you ever told me what you do when you’re not rodeoing.” She fully expected him to answer horse trainer or wrangler or stock breeder. Those professions went hand in hand with rodeoing. She didn’t see him following in his parents’ footsteps by going into real estate.
“I apprentice at a saddle shop.”
“Seriously?” She imagined a small, independently owned shop like the ones she’d visited before. “I don’t remember ever reading that about you.”
“You’ve read up on me?” A twinkle lit his eyes.
“I subscribe to horse and rodeo magazines. You’re in them.” She didn’t mention the online searches she’d conducted before he’d arrived in Markton, afraid—make that convinced—it would go to his head.
“You’re in them, too.”
She felt his gaze on her and cleared her throat. “So, you build saddles?” she asked, as casually as if asking if he built bookcases in his spare time.
“A few. Mine, for one. Pop has a couple of old Charlie’s.”
“He does?” She stopped chewing. Pop owned a lot of custom-built saddles. But Ty had used only one, and she’d recognized the maker immediately. Could it be? “What’s the name of the shop?”
“Kingston Saddlery.”
“As in Charles Kingston?” She almost choked on her chicken. “You’re kidding!”
Ty broke into an amused grin. “Not at all.”
There wasn’t a serious horse enthusiast alive who hadn’t heard of Kingston Saddlery, and many wanted to own what was considered to be one of the finest custom built saddles available.
“That’s where you work?”
“Yep. When I’m not rodeoing.”
“And you make saddles. Actually make them?”
He laughed. “I actually make them. Though I’m still considered an apprentice. If you ask old Charlie, he’s not sure I’ll ever amount to anything else.”
The Comeback Cowboy Page 9