Dave Hicks shook hands with each of them. “I’m happy to have you here. We’ve got your steers waiting for you in the pen, a stopwatch in my pocket and I’m wearing my whistle ’round my neck.” He demonstrated with a quick toot. “Get your gear and let’s go scope out the arena.”
Marcos, Lena and Thomas rushed to the rear of the van, and then followed the rest of the group in Dave’s footsteps as he headed around the side of the barn. In the near distance stood a large metal pen about two hundred feet across, with a bucking chute and a couple of pens on one side. Six steers occupied one of the enclosures, projecting the essence of bovine complacency.
“They don’t appear wild,” Rachel said, stopping to observe. She’d insisted on carrying her medical duffel herself.
“Right now, they wouldn’t waste the energy.” Garrett paused beside her. “But put a rider on them, and they suddenly have a mission in life.”
“Which is what we’re here to do.” Shaking her head, she walked on. “I watched some steer-riding videos on the internet. I was not reassured.”
He allowed her to walk ahead of him rather than endure the tension between them. When he caught up with the group, Dave was demonstrating the gate in the bucking chute for the kids.
“You’ll sit down, wrap your rope good and tight, and then when you’re ready, we’ll swing this gate open and out you’ll go. We’ve got a nice soft dirt floor for your falling pleasure, so once you’ve done your eight seconds, just get yourself off.”
“When can we ride?” Lena asked, her eyes eager.
Dave laughed at her enthusiasm. “I’ll call some extra hands over here and we’ll get you started, little lady.”
Garrett went to stand by the two boys. “You guys set?”
“Oh, yeah,” Thomas said. “This will be so awesome.”
Marcos pumped his fist in the air. “I’m riding to the whistle!”
“Not without your vest and helmet,” Garrett reminded them. “Better get those on.”
The four kids who weren’t riding, along with Caroline, Rachel, Susannah and Amber, had settled on a small stand of bleachers placed outside the arena fence. Snacks had been distributed and everybody seemed to be enjoying the morning. Wyatt stood near the chute, and even from a distance Garrett could sense his yearning to be a part of the action instead of a spectator. The summer’s forced vacation had been hard on his spirit.
Dave brought three cowboys over to the chute. “These are some real experienced bull riders,” he said. “Fred, Steve and Tad. Along with Ford, they’re gonna get you situated for each round. Guys, this is Lena, Marcos and Thomas. They’ll be riding our steers today.” He eyed the youngsters. “So who’s first up?”
All three of them raised their hands. Dave gave a big laugh. “Got us three go-getters, here. Thomas, you’re looking fierce this morning. We’ll let you take the first shot.”
Marcos groaned in protest. Garrett put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll get your chance. It never hurts to watch the others. You two go stand behind the fence.”
The first steer moved into the chute from the pen and stood quietly enough while Thomas sat down. Ford had promised he’d make sure the kids took a good grip and had the rope wrapped tightly around their gloved hand before he let them go. Tad and Steve climbed down to operate the gate while Garrett and Dylan positioned themselves on either side of the chute. Like rodeo clowns, their role was to help the rider get off as safely as possible.
“Everybody set?” Ford called. Then he asked Thomas, “Ready?”
The boy nodded.
“Go!”
The gate swung open and the steer charged into the arena, bucking hard. Holding on with both hands, Thomas jerked forward, back, forward, back, and then tipped over the right side. Garrett closed in to be sure that the rigging had come loose, as it was supposed to, allowing the boy to fall clear. He landed facedown but quickly scrambled to his feet in the way they’d instructed him, ready to run if the steer came after him. Dylan moved in front of the animal, waving his hat, and it veered off to the left, where Dave held open a gate leading into the pen.
Garrett walked with Thomas to the fence. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He took off his helmet. “I lost my balance.”
“You made a decent start. Keep that chest forward and over the shoulders. Did you have fun?”
The boy’s dirty face split into a wide grin. “Oh, yeah.”
“That’s what counts. Go get a snack and a drink.” Over at the bleachers, Thomas received a hero’s welcome from the spectators, which was probably almost as satisfying as staying on till the whistle.
In the meantime, Marcos had climbed into the chute and was settling on his steer. When Ford yelled, “Go,” the steer roared out of the gate, bell clanking, and went into a spin. After just two bucking turns, Marcos dived to the outside, landing on his hands and knees. He was slow to stand, though, and the steer rounded on him, bent on revenge.
Yelling, “Get up!” Garrett jumped between them, flapping the red bandanna he’d brought for the purpose while Dylan came in from the side. Together, they distracted the animal and sent it toward the exit gate. With the coast clear, Garrett spun around, checking for Marcos, but the boy had disappeared.
Retracing their walk from the barn, Garrett found him at the van, sitting inside with his vest and helmet stuffed in his bag. “I’m ready to go,” he announced.
“Why the hurry?”
Marcos crossed his arms over his chest. “This is boring.”
Garrett clicked his tongue. “One thing I’ve never heard about rough-stock riding is that it’s boring.”
After a pause, Marcos said, “I didn’t make the whistle.”
“Most people don’t on their first ride.”
“It’s nothing like the bucking barrel.”
“No, it’s not. But the only way to get better is to keep trying. If that’s what you want.”
“I’m not sure.” He was quiet for a minute. “They’re bigger than I expected they would be.”
Garrett nodded. “The next ride will be better because you’ll be more prepared. Whether you make it or not is up to you.” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone rounding the corner of the barn, headed toward them. His chest tightened when he recognized Rachel.
“I wondered if Marcos is okay,” she said when she reached them. “Is there anything I can do?”
The boy sent Garrett a pleading look.
“He’s fine.” With a hand on her shoulder, he steered her in the direction she’d just come, walking with her. “Just reviewing his ride.”
“I…understand.”
From her tone of voice, he realized she probably did. “We’re okay so far, at least,” he said. “Now we’ll find out what Lena can do.”
Rachel flashed him an angry glance. “You make it sound as if she’s coming up to bat in a softball game. What she’s doing is dangerous.” Before he could answer, she picked up her speed, walking away from him for the second time that day.
Another female gave him hell when he reached the arena. “Where have you been?” Lena glared at him from her perch on the fence rails. “I’m ready to ride!”
“Go for it,” he told her, with Rachel’s accusation still ringing in his ears.
Inside the arena, he stood with Dylan while Lena climbed into the chute. “She’s a little thing,” his brother said. “Seems kinda breakable.”
“But she’s strong.” Garrett needed the encouragement himself. “And she’s the best rider we have, except for Nate.” Of course, even experienced riders could get hurt.
“Everybody set?” Ford yelled. “Ready, Lena?”
Garrett took a deep breath.
“Go!”
Rearing and bucking, the animal danced across the dirt, jerking Lena forward and back, a rag doll tied to the top of that big old steer. But with her chin tucked, she kept her seat glued to the animal’s spine, her legs long on his sides. As the ride went on, she acquired more control,
deliberately moving with the motion instead of simply reacting to it. Dave blew the whistle while Garrett was still waiting for her to fall off.
With the instincts of a seasoned cowboy, Lena loosened her grip, threw her leg over and slid to the ground, landing on her feet and then hustling out of the way.
Cheers erupted from the spectators and the men in the chute. Garrett made sure the steer had reached the exit before approaching the grinning girl. “Fantastic!” he yelled, slapping her hands as she held them over her head. “Way to go!”
“I said I could.” She spun around and waved her arms at the kids still applauding from the bleachers. “I can do anything!”
A snack break followed, during which Thomas and Marcos sat with their shoulders hunched, frowning, while everyone else celebrated.
When Garrett went to the cooler for a second bottle of water, he turned to find Rachel standing behind him.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes. “And I concede your point. Lena just got a tremendous boost of self-confidence.”
“That’s the value of taking risks. Yes, you might get hurt.” Despite his noble intentions, he couldn’t help brushing up a strand of hair that had fallen over her forehead. “But you often emerge from the experience stronger and more powerful.”
*
RACHEL UNDERSTOOD. He wasn’t talking about the kids. He was talking about her.
She drew a deep breath, but before she could say anything, Lena accosted them.
“Do we get another ride? There were six steers. Can we go again?”
“That’s the plan.” His quick smile at Rachel was apologetic. Then his attention returned to Lena. “Are you ready?”
“Definitely!”
Rachel sat with Caroline and Susannah on the bleachers. “Three more rides,” she told them. “One each.” Blowing out a breath, she prepared to wait it out.
Lena, emboldened by her success, wanted to go first. But when her steer went into a spin, she fell off a couple of seconds before the whistle. Whatever Garrett said in consolation didn’t have much effect, and she came out to sit with Lizzie and Becky still pouting.
Thomas made a much better show on his next ride, staying on for almost the full eight seconds. He left the arena shaking his head, but bragged to Justino, “Next time, I’ll make it.”
That left Marcos. Rachel gathered he’d suffered a crisis of confidence after falling off on his first ride, but had chosen to go again. And his determination paid off—though he was jerked around in every possible direction, he somehow managed to stay on top until the whistle blew.
Then Caroline gasped. “He’s stuck.”
Marcos was hanging by one arm from the rope wrapped around the steer. Still anxious to be rid of its rider, the animal dragged him from one side of the arena to the other. Garrett and Dylan closed in, trying to release the boy. Endless moments passed.
Suddenly, Marcos dropped to the ground. The rope fell off. Garrett and Dylan drove the steer away from the boy lying in the dirt.
Rachel started running.
Before she reached him, though, he was on his feet. “I’m okay,” he said, grinning widely. “My foot got stepped on. My hand hurts. But I made the whistle!” He limped out of the arena to the viewing stand.
She cornered him there. “Let me examine your hand. Can you move your fingers?” Though his palm was swollen and red from being caught in the rope, there didn’t seem to be obvious damage. His foot was bruised but otherwise fine. “You’re lucky,” she informed him, handing over his glove. “I hope you’re aware of that.”
As happy as she’d ever seen him, Marcos only shrugged. “I made the whistle.”
Rachel glanced in frustration at Garrett, standing nearby.
Hands in his pockets, he shrugged. “Sometimes you get hurt, but you win anyway.”
His comment did not improve her frame of mind. He was implying that taking the risk of a relationship might get them hurt, but they would emerge stronger and happier for the experience.
She wasn’t convinced.
After lunch, Dave Hicks led them to the horse barn where he kept his stagecoach. The teenagers observed with fascination as four horses were harnessed to the vehicle, while Dave explained the history of travel in the old West. A ride around the ranch provided the kids with a view of the bison herd and the gorgeous grasslands of the area.
Their return to the barn signaled the end of the adventure. Dave accepted their heartfelt thanks and made sure to speak with Lena, Marcos and Thomas individually.
“All three of you did a great job,” he said. “Just getting on the steer makes you a winner.”
From the size of their grins, they believed him.
The excitement of the day proved to be a potent sedative—every one of the kids was asleep before they had traveled half an hour. Caroline had insisted on sitting in the second seat, and even she dozed off, with Becky’s head on her shoulder.
Rachel sat in the front with Ford, who was driving. “Today has been quite an undertaking,” she volunteered, since it would be rude to say nothing the entire trip. “All the kids really enjoyed themselves.”
“Dave made a big effort on our behalf. But that’s the way he does everything—one hundred and ten percent. We’ll have everybody write him thank-you notes tomorrow.” He grinned. “They’ll love that.”
“But so will he, I imagine. Letter writing is a lost art.” A clichéd comment if ever she’d made one.
“A downside of the computer age,” he said absently. Then he straightened up in his seat and sent her a sharp glance. “Listen, I’ve already been informed today that I’m a nosy brother, so I’m going to go with the role. What’s happening between you and Garrett?”
Startled, she dodged the question. “What has he told you?”
“Nothing. That’s why I’m asking.”
“We were…attracted. But we’ve decided we can’t make it work.” She managed a small shrug. “That’s all.”
“I’d say a lot more than attracted, at least on Garrett’s part. But maybe not yours?”
If only it were so simple. “That’s not the problem.”
“So what is it?”
Rachel suddenly remembered that Ford was a lawyer. “He’s a minister.”
“And?”
“I can’t support him that way. Can’t be part of a church. And since that’s such a big aspect of his life, we would only end up hurting each other if we…got together.”
“Garrett seems to be hurting pretty badly as it is.” They traveled in silence for several minutes. Then Ford said, “What you’re really afraid of, in my opinion, is that he’ll change your mind.”
“That’s doubtful. I have my reasons.”
“Caroline shared your mother’s story with me. I’m sorry—I can’t imagine what a painful experience you’ve endured. But there’s a world of difference between Garrett and the man who duped her.”
“Yes, there is. But believing in miracles and depending on prayer to solve your problems leaves you vulnerable. I choose to rely on facts, and on rational judgment.” She took a deep breath. “I rely on myself.”
“You must be very strong. Most of us need other people in our lives.”
“I—” Her hands fisted in her lap. “I have friends.”
“Which is why you moved—alone—to a little town in the middle of Wyoming.”
“Bisons Creek wanted a doctor.”
“You wanted to feel safe.”
Rachel frowned at him. “How is that relevant?”
“We’re talking about trust, and you won’t.”
She resorted to sarcasm. “You have me all figured out.”
“I’m afraid so. Being part of a community entails trust, so you reject community. Love demands trust, so you push Garrett away.”
With reluctance, she realized there was some truth to what Ford was saying. After the campfire, she’d promised Garrett she would try to trust him. But she’d failed.
&
nbsp; Struggling to keep her voice steady, she said, “And do you have a solution for this dilemma?”
Ford sighed. “The same one we all face. You have to accept the risk.”
That word again. Taking risks seemed to be the theme of the day.
He steered onto the exit for Interstate 25 south, a big loop that jostled the kids into waking up. “How much longer?” Thomas asked from the rear seat. “I’m hungry.”
“Twenty minutes,” Ford replied. “Will you survive?”
“I doubt it.”
Everyone seemed more or less alive when the van doors opened, however, though the three steer riders moved a little slowly. “Man, oh, man, I’m stiff,” Marcos complained. Then he grinned. “But I made the whistle.”
Rachel went to Garrett’s truck to get her duffel. “A successful expedition,” Dylan said, pulling the bag out for her. “Everybody’s home safe and sound.”
Garrett came around the front end. “Now, of course, they’re going to want to ride steers every day. We’ve created a problem for ourselves.” His gaze met Rachel’s. “Did you have a pleasant drive?”
“Great.” Especially the part where your brother cross-examined me. “I’m happy my services weren’t really necessary. Congratulations on pulling off your minirodeo.”
He pretended to wipe the sweat off his forehead. “I have a few more gray hairs after the experience, but the kids are worth it.”
“They’re lucky to have you.” She wouldn’t see him again, Rachel realized, except for medical issues, or if they happened to run into each other in town. Her chest suddenly felt hollow, and she couldn’t quite get her breath.
She bent to pick up the bag. “I’ll be on my way,” she said, pretending to adjust her grip. “Have a nice evening.” Walking toward her car, she wondered if he’d come after her, as he often had, to open her door or tease her with some question she didn’t want to answer.
But she reached the SUV alone. She unlocked the doors and stowed the medical bag without his help. Once inside, she let herself glance over to where they’d been standing. Garrett wasn’t there.
Instead, she found him with the kids on the porch of the house, a grin on his face as he watched Thomas reenact one of his rides.
A Marriage In Wyoming (The Marshall Brothers 3) Page 16