The Bull Rider Wears Pink

by Jeanine McAdam

  “I relocked the door,” John replied. This was unbelievable. These Cooper men could get their backs up about something they didn’t need to worry about. Misplaced anger, John had read of it when he was working on his certificate. Then Bret Bodner drifted by and all that Cooper aggression shifted to the rodeo president and away from John.

  John wanted to yell, praise the Lord, but decided he didn't want the attention to come back on him. Later he'd have a talk with Logan about not mentioning to anyone his visit to Cassidy's room. That sort of knowledge could get people thinking about him in ways he didn't want them to think. Asexual had been his gig at the rodeo.

  “Bret,” Logan called out. The rodeo president didn't stop walking. But Logan was fast. “What the hell was that about?” He asked standing in front of Bodner.

  “What?” Bret said. He blinked a few times at Logan.

  “Those bull fighters weren't getting the damn bull away from my sister after she fell.” Logan stood nose to nose with Bodner. “And, you can't allow spectators to throw garbage at a rider.”

  John had to give Cassidy's brother credit, even though the man was infuriating, he had balls. “She could have been killed by that bull or the crowd,” Logan continued. “But that idiot Mike Shannon was too damn busy looking at her ass to get her out of the ring.”

  “That's right,” Rachel affirmed. “An animal's hoofs or a beer bottle would have cracked Cassidy’s skull open.” She shifted the baby in her arms.

  “We don't allow bottles in the arena,” Brett replied lamely.

  If it hadn't been directed toward him earlier John would have appreciated what a powerful force the Cooper family could be when they worked together. But since John knew he'd probably be on the receiving end of it again, he wasn't ready to give credit where credit was due.

  “The bull fighters were doing their jobs,” Bret countered. “Like they do for every bull rider including you.” The rodeo president pointed at Logan's chest. “No matter if your rear is hanging out or not.”

  “They were not,” Logan replied. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

  “Bull fighting is a tough business and you know that,” Bret shot back as he put his hands on his hips. The man was not to be intimidated. “Those guys have saved your ass many times and I don't think you should be so damn critical.”

  “Logan,” Cassidy interrupted. “It's okay.” She put a hand on her brother's forearm. “You've made your point.” John had a feeling Cassidy was worried about the bull fighters hearing this complaint and not helping her the next time around. That's how it worked among cops, quid pro quo.

  But Logan wasn't listening. “They were slow today,” he said. Rachel stood behind her husband and nodded. “Mike Shannon could have stepped in a lot quicker and I think you need to talk to him about that.”

  Bret Bodner shrugged. “It's exciting for the crowd to see the little lady scamper.” That was true. They showed Cassidy's quick crawl on the jumbotron above the arena and the crowd laughed again. Which was disturbing.

  Bret's cell phone rang.

  “Don't tell me you're sacrificing my sister's life to sell tickets,” Logan chastised the rodeo president over the reveille ring tone.

  “Don't tell me you brought that naked protester to the rodeo.” Bret shot back. “I thought I told you I didn't want to see her around here again,” he added as he held the phone to his ear and ordered the person on the line to hang on.

  “She's my wife,” Logan said jabbing a thumb toward Rachel. “She's got my son with her.” Rachel pulled the baby closer to her chest.

  “Logan, it's okay--” Cassidy started again.

  But this time Bodner interrupted her. He pointed a pudgy finger at John. “Pastor John,” Bret yelled as John wished he could step into the shadows with Kevin. “Didn't I tell Logan Cooper he couldn't bring her around here a year ago?”

  Jesus, John didn't want to get involved in this. Honestly he didn't give a damn if Rachel Fox came to the rodeo. As far as he was concerned it was all bull shit and Bret Bodner needed to be more worried about the drug dealing going on in his organization than a naked protester who didn't run naked anymore. After the baby, the woman was carrying at least fifteen extra pounds, not that there was anything wrong with it, but John was pretty sure she wasn’t going to expose herself in front of ten thousand people.

  “I, I don't remember,” John replied. Shit, this sucked. He had made a shaky truce with the Coopers and he wasn’t going to back track. Plus, he was getting damn tired of this whole Pastor John thing.

  “You stood next to me at this exact same rodeo a year ago when I told her to never come back.” Bret’s face was getting red. “I’m pretty sure you called the woman a harlot or some other creative word you were using at the time.” Then he stuck his phone to his ear and said hello as he walked away.

  John looked at Cassidy. Disappointment was one way to describe the expression on her face. Disgust another. Holy hell, John didn't like it when she thought of him like that. He needed to remind her, he called Rachel those names because it was his job.

  “All Bret Bodner wants to do is sell tickets,” Logan announced ignoring John’s part in getting him and Rachel kicked out of the rodeo. Maybe the man had forgiven John. “Those bull fighters didn’t do shit and it's because you're a goddamn girl that they stood around,” he told Cassidy.

  John nodded. Logan was right.

  Even though John was agreeing with Logan, the man still turned on him—maybe he wasn’t going to forgive and forget after all. Honestly, John knew he'd be on the receiving end of the Cooper fury one more time before the day was over. He just didn’t think it’d be so soon. “If you ever call my wife a harlot again,” Logan threatened, “I will shove my fist so far down your throat you'll be thinking you were eating it for lunch.”

  With that threat effectively delivered, the bull rider stepped back, pulled his shirt down and looked around the stalls. “I'm going to find Mike Shannon and have a little talk with him.”

  As Cassidy and John watched Logan and Rachel walk away, John thought about suggesting that they leave the baby but then decided against it. Whatever happens with Mike, John was pretty sure Logan could take care of his family.

  “Brotherly love,” Cassidy said with a shrug. “He can be protective when he wants to.” Then, she added, “Nice undercover work there Pastor John. I didn't think finding the bad guys included insulting and verbally abusing a woman.”

  She walked away with the exact same attitude her brother had. John looked around for Kevin. As he walked away, he muttered something like asshole under his breath.

  John turned to the bull. “No good deed goes unpunished, does it?” The bull snorted at him.

  Chapter Eight

  “I think you like me,” Cassidy told John. She took a sip of her beer and put it down on the wood table. “But I don't think you love me,” she insisted after wiping the foam from her mouth.

  “I don't think you can judge—” John started.

  “That statement of love you made today was to get me in bed with you,” she explained to him. She smiled coyly. “You wanted to touch my breasts.”

  John shook his head back and forth. Then he shook it up and down, full disclosure was best. “Hell yeah, I wanted to fondle your breasts but your logic is all wrong,” he informed her.

  They were sitting at a table in a bar listening to blue grass music. Kevin had gone to the bathroom so they had a few moments to set things straight. Unfortunately they weren't on the same page. Yes, John had already apologized to Cassidy for insulting Rachel a year ago. Except he couldn't ask for forgiveness directly from Rachel because the mini Cooper family had moved on to the next rodeo, Logan was hoping to make a few bucks over in Steamboat Springs.

  “If I was trying to get you into my bed I would have had birth control available,” John argued. “A package of condoms or even your diaphragm.” He took a sip of his beer and looked at her over the rim. “You know you left it at my house.”
<
br />   She sucked in a deep breath and moved her folded hands into her lap. “Yes,” she admitted stiffly, “birth control would have been useful.” She shook her head quickly. “I behaved inappropriately.”

  John decided to ignore that comment because he completely disagreed but he’d address it later. “Honestly, I just wanted to talk.” He raised his hands in the air. Trying to indicate to her he was telling the truth. But she wasn't buying it. She had stayed on a bull named Kid Rock during the second round and was feeling pretty damn good about herself. The crowd even cheered. Everyone at the rodeo loves a comeback.

  Cassidy leaned forward in her chair. “If you're trying to tell me—” she started. Then she glanced over to where Kevin was coming out of the bathroom and quickly approaching a video game. “It's love because you didn't have a condom,” she continued, “I'm not following you.”

  “I don't care if you’re not following me,” John told her. “I love you.”

  She rubbed her forehead. “That’s not possible,” she said firmly, “for you to love me.”

  “Why not?” John moaned. He had finally found her. They had finally talked and they were finally starting to build something together. Plus, he was having sex again. And not just any old sex—great sex. Jesus, John really needed to keep having sex. Celibacy was no fun.

  “Your love makes me do reckless things,” she told him. She looked at her son again. He was putting money into a classic Pac-Man machine.

  “Like what?” John asked. Jesus, she could be difficult. Didn't most girls jump up and down and wrap their arms around a guy when they were told they were loved? What about kisses all over the face? John wanted the works but he wasn't getting it. “You're already doing reckless things,” he countered. “The bull riding isn't because of me. You dreamed of doing that long before you met me.”

  “Sex without birth control,” she offered as both of her eyebrows popped up to her forehead. “That was reckless.”

  He shook his head. “That wasn't reckless or even adventurous, that was you and me showing our love.” And, it had been so damn good. What did she mean assigning a word like reckless to the magical afternoon they created?

  “It wasn't healthy,” Cassidy replied. Her hands were back on the table. At least they weren't folded. “We could have cooled our jets and gotten a condom.” She tapped her finger against her beer mug as she looked for her son again. He had moved behind a divider to the foosball table but they could see his legs and sneakers. “There was a convenience store around the corner,” she added.

  “No,” John reasoned. “We love each other and we wanted to show it.” He reached for her hand, grasping her finger. “Right there and then.”

  She shook her head. “It's me regressing.” She pulled away from him. “I'm hanging around with you doing bad things and making bad decisions that have an impact on other people’s lives.” Then she added, “Yesterday afternoon wasn't even about the ‘greater good’.”

  “It was good for me,” John commented. He smiled. She didn't smile back.

  “If I'm pregnant with your child that is going to hurt Kevin even more.” She glanced over at her son. She looked distressed. What did she think? She'd fall even further into the negative side of redemption if she had another baby.

  But it didn't work like that. Kevin would forgive her if a child came. He may even like having a little brother or sister to boss around. John could feel himself smile. “But wouldn't bringing a new life into the world and cherishing it mean redemption for you and me?” He suggested. Then he added, “Especially since I love you and I'm willing to take responsibility for my actions.” He looked at Kevin. “I'll also take responsibility for him too.”

  She opened her mouth to dispute his point but nothing came out. She tried again, but still nothing. John knew he was disarming her. He just had to launch one more campaign and he was pretty sure he'd win the war. But then that douchebag Mike Shannon came in the bar.

  Cassidy glanced at the man and within two seconds had her counter argument ready. “You're still working undercover,” she told John with righteous indignation. The woman had the corner on indignation and she probably had a right. “You can't love or take responsibility for anyone if you continue in this job. It's too dangerous.” Again she was right, the mortality statistics for undercover cops were not good.

  “Let's ignore him,” John suggested. He reached for her hand again.

  “He's probably your drug dealer,” Cassidy suggested. Ahem, she still had her Spidey sense and John loved her for that too. “And you should take this opportunity to follow him,” she advised.

  John hesitated.

  “It's your job,” Cassidy told him, eyes getting wide. “Confessing your undying love to me is not a part of the description. Your commanding officer is not going to be happy unless you go up to that bar and get some evidence so that they can arrest that incompetent idiot.” Understandably she was still mad at Mike for not protecting her against Daisy Rose in the first round. In the second round, the man did better. Maybe Logan had gotten to him.

  With a moan and something close to a whine John stood up. “I've got to take a piss first,” he told her. By this time Kevin was drifting back toward them. He gave Mike a quick but traitorous wave before sitting down across from Cassidy. It seemed the kid and the bull fighter had developed a bond after Kevin interviewed him.

  “Go out back,” the kid told John. “The line is really long. A bunch of buckle bunnies are redoing their makeup and they've taken over the men's room.”

  Following Kevin's advice John ended up pissing against a wooden fence behind the bar. He looked at the moon as he tucked himself into his pants, zipped up his fly and turned around. Jesus Christ, Mike Shannon was right behind him pulling down his fly. John jumped back. “What the hell are you doing?” John asked.

  “Sorry, Pastor John,” the man replied. “Didn't mean to scare you. But I'm taking a piss.” Mike gestured toward the spot on the fence John had just covered.

  John wanted to say, ‘Not on my bloody boots’ because the man was so close but he didn't. He needed to establish some sort of bond with Mike. Too bad Kevin couldn't work this job with John because the kid had already built a connection. “I should be the one apologizing,” John suggested. “I shouldn't have sworn like that.” Holy fuckin’ hell, John would never go undercover as a preacher again. It was just too damn difficult to watch his mouth and build relationships with total assholes.

  “No worries,” the clown remarked while reaching into his pants. It took him a good thirty seconds to find what he needed. Was he really that small? Probably.

  John stepped to the side as he waited for Mike to do his business, readjust and zip up. Even though he wanted to go back into the bar, sit across from Cassidy and argue about loving her some more, he couldn't. Cassidy was right, this was an opportunity not to be missed. Mike Shannon was dealing drugs out of those red floppy shoes of his and John needed to get the evidence.

  The clown glanced over at John as he pulled on his belt buckle. “Why aren't you home in bed dreaming up ways to tell people they've sinned?” He looked at his watch. “It's too late for a good guy like you to be out on the town like this.”

  “I can't sleep,” John replied which wasn't true. “Haven't been able to sleep in a long time,” he added, which wasn't true either. But now that Cassidy was turning his love away, John probably wouldn't be able to shut his eyes for many nights to come. So his statement applied to the future.

  The goal of this little talk with the clown was to gain the man's pity, get some incriminating evidence and go back to Cassidy. Remember, most of the rodeo folks thought Pastor John was a loser. Didn't the prescription drug dealer want to take John under his wing? Maybe help him out with a few pills? A classic ploy for infiltrating a drug ring.

  Shannon pushed his cowboy hat back. “Woo-wee,” he said. “That's mighty tough on a man. Why don't you take some cold medicine? You know they put antihistamines in the mix and those make you d
rowsy.”

  John rubbed his hands down his face. He wanted Shannon to be helpful but not like the local pharmacist. His hat slipped off his head as he rubbed his forehead but he left it on the ground. He was hoping Shannon would pick it up but the man didn't. The drug dealer just wasn't feeling John's pain yet.

  Then again, maybe the man was clean. Just a plain old rodeo clown. Slightly rude but not committing any crime. Except there was that Spidey sense and Cassidy confirmed it, something was not right with the rodeo clown.

  “Naw, that stuff gives me a headache in the morning, I need something else,” John commented as he leaned over and picked up his hat. “To take the edge off.”

  “What the hell kind of edge do you have?” Shannon looked disgusted with him. Back in L.A. a guy would never look at John Risk like that. Jesus H. Christ, John was feared. Here at the rodeo he was barely tolerated. John scratched his head. Maybe this undercover assignment wasn't for him. Maybe Cassidy was right and he needed to do something less dangerous.

  Shannon continued, “I can't imagine a preacher having anything to be concerned about except keeping the holy water clean.” He laughed at his own joke.

  “Well, I have worries,” John said sharply. He thought of Cassidy. Holy crap, every time she got on a damn bull he worried. He added, “I'm a minister not a Catholic priest, there's not much holy water involved except baptisms.”

  “Did you try one of those ibuprofen PM medicines?” Shannon offered. The man wasn't interested in a lecture on religion. “I know they put my mother to sleep at night.” He turned toward the door. Banjo's blasted from inside the bar. The band must have returned to the stage.

  Damn this Mike Shannon was a pain in the ass. Most drug dealers sold to preachers, nursery school teachers, and even stay at home moms. The thinking being that the non-threatening were safer to corrupt, plus they always had honest cash.