Her Montana Cowboy

by Valerie Hansen

  “She’s right. You do. But nothing says we can’t meet for meals now and then. Do you have any special regimen you stick to before a rodeo?”

  “Other than not pigging out, no,” Ryan told her. “Some of the guys think there are special foods that help or they have superstitions they follow. Not me. I work out in a gym whenever I can, but I’m not obsessive about it. Yet. As I get older I imagine I’ll have to train harder to stay up with the young guns.”

  “How long do you expect to keep riding?”

  Ryan shrugged. “Who knows? Some guys stay into their thirties and beyond. If I can squeeze out another ten years or so, I’ll consider myself blessed. After that wreck I was almost caught in on my way back from Bozeman, I’m positive God is looking after me.”

  “You are?”

  “Uh-huh.” Pensive, he folded his hands atop the table and laced his fingers together. “I’m still not exactly sure what all happened, but I did come out of it reconnected to God. There’s no doubt in my mind.”

  “That’s wonderful!”

  “I thought you’d be pleased. My mother was when I phoned her last night, too. It seems you were both praying for me.”

  “And we won’t stop now,” Julie assured him. “How did she take it when you talked about your brother? You did, didn’t you?”

  Ryan nodded sagely and sobered. “Yes. It turns out we were each blaming ourselves instead of holding Kirk responsible for his own actions. I had no idea she was feeling guilty, too.”

  “Then you can put it behind you?”

  “In a manner of speaking. Mom just lost a really good friend. The way she explained it, she’ll always miss him, she’ll just go on with her life because he’d want her to.”

  “So does God,” Julie added.

  “I agree. So now that we’ve solved the problems of the world around us, what would you like for breakfast?”

  He could tell by her expression that she wanted to probe deeper into his psyche, but Ryan was reluctant. The more she knew about his past, the more likely she’d be to feel sorry for him, and that was the last thing he wanted.

  Julie was a wonderful girl—woman—and her father was right. She deserved a man who had roots, who would support her efforts on the ranch and love her enough to settle down. To stay. No matter how much he thought he could be that man right now, no matter how strongly he wished to be, deep down he feared he might be too much like his absentee father. After all, they both had trouble staying put for very long.

  Carla had evidently sensed that part of his personality and had wisely withheld some information about his dad until a few days ago. In retrospect, Ryan understood her reasoning; he simply didn’t like being left in the dark to find his own way.

  It wasn’t surprising that his instincts had led him down the same path in spite of his mother’s secrets. Like all men, he needed to be true to his inner drives in order to function properly.

  What about falling for a small-town girl? Ryan asked himself. How stupid was that?

  Plenty, he answered internally, but that didn’t mean he had to hurt Julie in order to help himself cope. The only fair thing, the only right choice, was to leave town without letting on how he felt. She was a sensible person. She’d eventually get over him.

  That thought was so painful he almost winced. If he hadn’t caught her looking across the table at him with those beautiful blue eyes and her sweet smile, he might have gotten up and left the café then and there.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Saturday morphed into Sunday before Julie could decide where she had gone wrong or make sense of Ryan’s actions. He had seemed ready to have a personal discussion with her in Great Gulch Grub, then had clammed up as if her father was standing right behind him, looking over his shoulder.

  Try as she might, she could not figure out why Ryan had begun acting so vague. She had expected his return to his faith to be a blessing, not a roadblock to their relationship, yet she could think of nothing else he’d mentioned that might be so influential.

  Unless she’d been right when she’d initially considered their meeting to be in God’s plans for saving him, she reasoned. If so, perhaps she had played her part and was now finished. Talk about a depressing thought!

  She was still thinking, mulling things over and praying about her confusion after church. If the final day of the rodeo had not been so important to her, in many ways, she might have spent her afternoon and evening out among her flock where nobody cared what kind of mood she was in and no one asked leading questions.

  Except for Cowboy Dan, she thought, giving his silky ears a gentle ruffle. The dog had obviously sensed her unrest because he was refusing to leave her side. Normally that wouldn’t have been a problem, but since she was headed for the rodeo arena for the last time, she hesitated.

  “I’m okay, boy,” Julie said softly. “It’s okay. You need to stay home and wait for me.” She pointed to her porch. “Stay.”

  The intelligent Australian shepherd was having no part of that order. He scooted so close she could feel him actually leaning against her leg.

  Julie sighed. Dan had always been an intuitive animal. And until today, she had paid heed to his signals. Given that his companionship was comforting, she decided to listen again and take him along.

  “Okay, get in the truck. But you have to be on a leash,” Julie warned, pulling one from behind the seat in the cab after he’d jumped aboard.

  The dog’s ensuing reaction made her chuckle. Poor Dan could be the poster boy for a hangdog look at the moment. His head was lowered, his ears laid back, his eyes peering up at her from behind lowered lashes as if he thought he was hiding from the dreaded tether that limited his freedom.

  Those antics alone lifted her spirits. She’d already been nervous about Ryan’s riding today, and her personal interest in the cowboy had intensified the existing emotional tension until she was every bit as wired as her sensitive dog. Taking Dan with her shouldn’t be a problem. His calm, loving presence was just what she needed on a day like this.

  The only thing she would have liked better was to have the rodeo over with so Ryan could act on whatever personal interest he had in her. He must be feeling something. He had to be. There was no way he’d missed picking up on her fondness—and more.

  Julie slammed the truck door and turned the key. The rodeo finals had to be Ryan’s hang-up, she concluded. He’d been concerned about her father’s undue influence from the beginning. Therefore, it made perfect sense for him to behave nonchalantly toward her until the competition was completed and he’d won.

  He will win, she told herself. In her opinion there were no riders who could match his skill and daring, no matter how many other champions happened to be in town.

  The mottled-gray dog laid his chin on her right knee and gazed up at her as if she was the most important person in his life.

  The direct contrast between the dog’s attitude and Ryan’s amused her. She smiled. “Too bad you can’t teach another favorite cowboy of mine to look at me that way all the time.”

  The dog wiggled his stump of a tail, clearly in agreement with anything Julie wanted, especially since she was treating him to a ride into town.

  * * *

  An old mentor of Ryan’s had taught him that too much bravado in the chutes could be worse than being scared stiff. There was no danger of that today. He recognized his normal anxiety, the result of the surges of adrenaline that gave him his winning edge. This afternoon, however, he was sensing something else, a fear he could only interpret as an aura of impending doom.

  It didn’t help that his final round pitted him against a son of the infamous Panhandle Slim. This bull was enormous, an advantage for a taller rider like Ryan. It also had a hump; a broad, slanted back; and a reputation for coming after anybody who happened to be handy once he’d unseated his
rider.

  The bullfighters were already falling back as Ryan settled in place and nodded.

  The gate swung open. Wranglers jumped clear of the snorting, rampaging animal.

  It kept bucking, shifting Ryan’s weight to the outside and beginning a tight spin at the same time.

  Spectators were on their feet, cheering, hooting and whistling.

  Ryan knew better than to look up and lose focus. His internal clock was ticking off the seconds.

  Where was eight? The whistle should have blown. His hand was starting to come loose from the rigging. One more immense jump. Than another.

  Finally! A horn blast. Ryan opened his gloved hand and let the bull’s momentum throw him clear.

  He landed on all fours, quickly jumping to his feet as the one-ton behemoth wheeled and made a beeline for him.

  Several clowns crossed between rider and bull. The animal’s attention was diverted for mere moments. That was enough to let Ryan scale the fence and stand on a rung near the top to salute his fans with a broad grin and fist pump.

  He knew before the scores were tallied that he’d done it. He’d won. Everything. It was finally over.

  Only it wasn’t, was it? he reminded himself. There was still the awards presentation ceremony to get through before he would ride the bonus bull for an additional hundred thousand dollars. Even if he happened to fail to do that successfully, he’d come away from this extended rodeo with half a year’s worth of winnings, thanks to all the generous sponsors and supporters. If he rode the auto industry-sponsored bonus bull, it didn’t matter how high or low he scored as long as he stayed on for the full eight.

  Congratulations from the grandstand and clusters of news reporters were just the beginning. Other riders smacked him on the back, gave him high fives and shook his hand as he made his way to the reviewing stand where the mayor and arena judges had gathered.

  There were gold-and-silver belt buckles for some of the day leaders and monetary awards for ropers and steer wrestlers, so they were presented first. Ryan had been told to wait next to a hand-tooled, silver-embellished Western saddle and matching bridle, which were part of his winnings. Whether he kept them or eventually sold them wasn’t important as long as he earned enough to adequately pad his savings account. In this case, the check for winning overall was going to be more than sufficient.

  Jackson Shaw himself presented his award, a facsimile printed on a large sheet of poster board so it would be highly visible. He and Ryan shook hands and posed together while lights flashed and applause literally shook the platform.

  “Thank you, sir,” Ryan said.

  Jackson was outwardly polite when he replied, “My pleasure,” but his smile never affected his steely eyes.

  Ryan reached for the microphone the mayor was holding. “I’d like to say a few words, if you don’t mind.”

  If there had been no audience, Ryan figured Shaw would have denied him the right to speak. Since they were standing in front of most of the townspeople, as well as news cameras from all over Montana and beyond, the man conceded.

  “Thanks.” Ryan held up the awkwardly huge paper check and spoke into the microphone. “I want to thank all my fans and rodeo supporters for the chance to participate in this special competition.”

  He waited until the cheers died down before continuing. “I’ve made lots of friends here in Jasper Gulch and I want you all to know I’ll never forget you.”

  As Ryan spoke, his eyes were raking the stands and checking both sides of the platform where he stood. He didn’t see Julie, yet he knew she was there. She had to be. There was no way an avid rodeo fan like her would miss the finals, particularly his last rides.

  It was the dog he spotted first. Cowboy Dan barked, drawing Ryan’s attention to an area along a distant fence. Julie was perched atop it, watching intently, while her shepherd stood on the ground, sounding off every few seconds.

  So this is it, he told himself. It was now or never. He set the cumbersome check replica aside and grasped the mic with both hands so nobody could tell if he was shaky.

  “It’s been great getting to meet you all and I’ve enjoyed our time together,” Ryan began. This is for you, Julie. “But all good things must come to an end. I’ve been blessed to be here, and I promise if I’m ever in the neighborhood again, I’ll try to make time to stop by and say hello.”

  There. He’d done it. Surely she’d understand and start looking for a local man who could make her happy. Somebody she could trust to be the kind of husband a woman like her deserved. Somebody stable and steady.

  Most rodeo horses and bulls were from long lines of similar animals. They behaved the way they did because they had no choice. They had been born to buck. It was genetically inescapable. So was his heritage. That was why his mother had chosen to keep the truth from him and why ignorance of his birthright had made no difference in his career choices. He was just like his father had been, only more skilled and successful in his rodeo career.

  Jackson reclaimed the mic. “There we are, ladies and gentlemen. Now, who wants to see our rough-stock champ ride for the bonus money?”

  To Ryan’s chagrin, he had forgotten all about having one more ride waiting.

  Gloom descended over him when he looked back at the far fence. Julie was gone.

  * * *

  All she wanted to do was run and hide. If Dan had not insisted on sniffing every fence post and every blade of grass they passed, she’d have already been back in her truck and headed for home.

  She gave the leash a sharp tug. “Come on, dog. Get a move on.”

  The busy canine didn’t even bother to glance at her. Instead, he put his nose to the ground and kept pulling her along.

  Julie sighed. What difference did it make where she went? Ryan was plainly leaving Jasper Gulch as soon as possible—and taking her heart with him. Chances of hearing him confess his love were slim to none, thanks to the finality of his farewell speech. She supposed it was just as well that he’d spelled it out for her, because she never would have believed it otherwise.

  Meandering wherever the dog led her, she noticed a hush come over the arena. It took little time to realize why. Ryan was about to step aboard the bonus bull, a nasty, temperamental monster whose buck-off record rivaled that of his sire and grandsire.

  She didn’t want to watch. Didn’t want to care. She simply had to look. Talking herself out of it was impossible.

  * * *

  Slammer was a grandson of the infamous bull Bodacious, the same yellowish-white color and with the same deadly habit of slinging his head. He had been ridden once out of thirty-seven outs, and that cowboy had vowed never to climb on him again.

  Ryan knew all this. He also knew he owed it to the rodeo organizers and the folks in the stands to try to make the ride. Yes, the prize money was an incentive, but he would have tried this bounty bull if there had been nothing offered but the challenge. It was a matter of pride.

  And stubbornness, he told himself as he wound the braided rope of the rigging around his glove and pounded his fingers tight with his opposite fist.

  One thing was crystal clear. Every second he sat there gave Slammer more time to get wound up. The bull’s neck muscles were already corded and he was blowing froth from his flared nostrils. This animal not only acted like a renegade, he looked the part, too.

  Beige hair lay in curls between his horns. His hump quivered as if he was trying to rid himself of a pesky barnyard fly.

  “Yeah, like me,” Ryan muttered, slipping his mouthpiece between his teeth and clamping down. It was now or never, and the anticlimactic feeling after winning the big check was more than a little unnerving. Still, if he wanted to please his corporate sponsors and keep making a name for himself in the sport, he’d have to do this. ASAP.

  Ryan pushed his hat down tighter. Took a deep b
reath.

  Then he clamped his heels to the bull’s sides, turned out his toes, nodded his head and found himself hanging on to the rankest, most unpredictable tornado of a bucking bull he’d ever been on.

  The closest his imagination could come to a description of his ride was the feeling a guy might have if he was strapped to the outside of a one-ton balloon and a giant was rapidly letting the air out of it.

  * * *

  Julie didn’t scream. She was too shocked to make a sound. She’d never seen anything close to the way this bull was leaping and landing, only to launch himself again and turn a one-eighty while in the air!

  Her gaze locked on Ryan. His free hand was still in the air and he seemed balanced, although how anybody could hope to have control over an unpredictable animal like Slammer was unthinkable. So far, the bull hadn’t tried to fool Ryan and pull him forward for the kind of debilitating head butt his granddaddy was famous for, but the ride was barely half over. At the velocity he was bucking, he still had plenty of opportunity.

  Julie grasped the top railing of the metal fence. She could barely breathe. Her head was spinning like Dan did when he got too excited.

  “Oh, Ryan” was more of a prayer than a statement, and she followed it up with, “Please, please, God. Be with him and keep him safe. And alive.”

  Just then he began to slide to the outside, carried by centrifugal force. Julie gasped. Saw him make the adjustment to the inside of the spin.

  Changing positions as if swapping ends in the air, Slammer reversed directions.

  Ryan was unable to keep up. He started to slip, yet refused to open his hand and jump free.

  Julie’s screams were lost among those of the rest of the audience.

  The bull’s head whipped to the side where Ryan hung suspended by one hand and one spur.

  Wild-eyed, Slammer was glaring at his rider from barely inches away.

  He gave his big horns and head a toss, clipping Ryan’s temple and sending his hat flying.

  The sound of the impact was an audible thunk.