His Last Rodeo

by Claire McEwen

  “I didn’t want some big fuss. I didn’t think you’d be this upset.” He let go of her hand and leaned back, suddenly looking all of his sixtysomething years. “I’m out of here at the end of the week.”

  “You mean—” she somehow resisted the urge to whack him upside the head “—you’re only giving us a few days’ notice?”

  “I know you.” Chris grinned suddenly, as if delighted with this part of his deception. “You’d want to throw me some big old party where the regulars would get all drunk and weepy on me. And that’s not my style. I’d rather just grab my tackle box and go.”

  Kit studied him, making sure he meant it. “Fine. Though you’re missing out. I plan good parties.”

  “So I’ve heard. And seen, when my staff stumbled in the next day.”

  Disappointment and loss combined, overriding her efforts to hold back her tears. “We’re going to miss you so much.”

  Chris brushed the sentiment off, of course. “Hell, he’s Tyler Ellis. Big rodeo champion. I figured you’d all be over the moon to work for a guy like that.”

  “I guess I’d been hoping to buy the bar myself, if you retired,” she admitted.

  He looked at her sharply. “You never said.”

  “You never said you were planning on retiring anytime soon.” There it was, that note of accusation she’d planned to avoid.

  “I guess I assumed you wouldn’t be interested. Because...” Chris stopped, so she finished for him.

  “Because I wouldn’t have the money?”

  “Well, I know you’ve been taking care of your daddy lately. It’s a big responsibility.”

  “I’ve been saving. And maybe the bank would have helped me.”

  “Maybe,” Chris said, but she could hear the doubt. She must seem like an idiot. Like she’d been hoping for a handout.

  Her voice came out small. “Can I ask what it sold for? Just so I know if I was even close?”

  His gaze went to the table. “Almost a million dollars.”

  Her gasp burst out before she could bite it back. That much money stole her breath.

  He leaned forward, meeting her shock with concern. “You might not realize it, but this bar is on a huge piece of property. I inherited it all, but I only use this building. There’s a bunch of barns, outbuildings, all kinds of acreage for ranching. And Tyler wanted it all.”

  “What’s he going to do? Tear the bar down and stick cows on the land?”

  “Nah. I think he wants to expand. Maybe even add a restaurant. He’s got some big dreams.”

  A million dollars. Kit might laugh if it didn’t sting so badly. She may as well have been saving pennies in a piggy bank.

  “Wait until you talk to him,” Chris went on. “I’m sure he’ll call a meeting with the staff soon and fill you in on his plans. It’s gonna be exciting to see what he does. You might find that me heading out to pasture is a good thing for everyone.”

  “Maybe.” He was trying to make her feel better so Kit found a smile, but it felt like a grimace. “But I doubt it. We’ll miss you.”

  “Likewise. It’s been a pleasure working with you. You’ve been a bit like the daughter I never had.”

  “Well, don’t be a stranger then.” Her voice was husky. “Take me fishing with you or something.”

  There was a suspicious shimmer in Chris’s eyes. “I’d like that.”

  “And when will the rodeo star take over?”

  Chris chuckled. “Don’t give him too much of a hard time. I know you’ve got a disdain for cowboys, but Tyler is a champion for a reason. He worked his butt off to get where he did. You might find he’s made of better stuff than you imagine.”

  His words wormed guilt into her conscience. She’d been cursing Tyler three ways to hell since yesterday. Letting her jealousy and her disappointment make him the villain. He may have been drunk and obnoxious last night, but he’d been her friend when they were kids. He’d stuck by her, stuck up for her, and she’d kicked him out of her life the moment Arch Hoffman tilted a badass eyebrow her way.

  “You’re right,” she admitted. “I might find that out. Or I might already be fired for throwing him out of his own bar.”

  “He shouldn’t have come in here drunk like that.” His eye crinkled into a Santa Claus wink. “Though I wouldn’t have minded seeing you send him out the door. I’ll say something to him. Make sure he knows who’s really been running this place for the past few years.”

  “Thanks, Chris.” His praise didn’t warm her the way he meant it to. She’d been running the bar, but now she’d just be one more employee of Tyler Ellis. Just like her dad had been one more employee of Ken Ellis. And look where that had landed him. Broke. Cast off like some old ranch horse. Except the Ellis horses were given nice pastures and good food.

  “Now you go enjoy your day off,” Chris said, shoving up from his chair. “I’ve got to open this place up. Strange to think it’s one of the last times I’ll ever do it.”

  “Yeah, strange,” Kit echoed as she stood on numb limbs. Everything had felt surreal since Tyler showed up last night.

  Maybe owning the Dusty Saddle had been a pipe dream, but it had also been her lifeline. The thing that made her feel like she could survive staying in this town. And now Chris had hauled up that line and tossed it to someone else.

  She gave Chris a vague wave and left, furious at the traitor tears that kept pooling in her eyes. She had to pull herself together. Her next stop was her dad’s house, and she didn’t want him suspecting anything was wrong. She was his lifeline, and no matter how many things were going wrong in her life, she had to show up as strong as ever for him.

  * * *

  TYLER CHASED HIS third aspirin down with his second glass of water and tried to focus his eyes. His father’s kitchen looked exactly the same as it had for the past two decades. Clean, quiet and barren of decor. Sometime after Tyler’s mom died, his dad had removed all of her homey touches and never replaced them. The only changes were the new cracks in the faded green linoleum and the increasingly battered edges of the white cabinets.

  His father and brothers had long since eaten and headed out for chores. He could almost feel his dad’s disapproval in the ticking of the clock, in the tidiness, in the plate of eggs and bacon left for him. There was no way he could keep that down.

  How the hell had he ended up drinking so much?

  It had started simply enough. He’d met a couple friends at the sports bar. They’d shot some pool, knocked back a few beers, caught up. Then he’d told them about his business plans. How the papers were signed, the money paid. How he was going to turn the Dusty Saddle into the finest bar this side of the Sierras.

  And his friends had ordered shots to celebrate.

  They didn’t know that Tyler was a lightweight. Anyone looking at him could see almost six feet of solid guy. But it took training to ride rodeo as well as Tyler did. As well as he had. It took a good diet and hours clocked in the gym. To stay in top form, he didn’t drink much.

  Until last night.

  There’d been some dancing at the High Country. He vaguely remembered a pretty blonde draping her arms around him. Then someone had mentioned how Kit Hayes worked at the Dusty Saddle. Which got his attention. And held it until he didn’t care about what the blonde was offering. He’d had to see Kit.

  Because she’d haunted him. Was someone he’d always thought about, even when his life had taken him to the biggest arenas in the country. He’d been crazy about her when they were young. But they’d been friends. He hadn’t known what to do about his crush. Then she’d fallen hard for Arch Hoffman and that was that.

  Going to see her hadn’t been such a great idea. But knowing she was a few blocks away, working in the bar he’d just purchased, had been a siren call he couldn’t ignore. Seeing her again, it was clear he
still had that thing for her. Had it so bad he’d stayed awake last night remembering the way her dark brown eyes—huge already, but totally exotic under the heavy makeup she wore—had flashed at him. How her long black hair gleamed as it swirled to her elbows. How her sweater slipped off her shoulder and revealed a fraction of a tattoo that left him wanting to see the whole picture. Then there was the way she’d felt, pressed against him, when she’d walked him so sternly out of the bar.

  And her surprising strength when she sent him sprawling to the ground.

  A thumping on the kitchen steps had him turning in time to see his dad come through the door, tall, iron-haired, with shoulders broad from years of work and upright responsibility. He had a binder under his arm and moved like a man in a hurry, but he stopped when he saw Tyler.

  “You’re up.” Tyler could hear the subtext: The rest of us were up hours ago.

  “Yes, I am.” He resorted to the good manners that had been drilled into them. “I appreciate you saving me some breakfast.”

  “It might be spoiled now. Didn’t know it would sit out for so long.”

  “Right.” Not much of an answer but all he could think of in the face of the loud and clear message. He was slacking off.

  “You were out drinking last night?”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “I don’t appreciate you stumbling in drunk, you hear me?”

  “Yes, I do.” He was a kid again. Being chastised for his bad grades, his lack of brains, his inability to be what his dad felt he should be. A dull pounding kicked up a rhythm at the base of his skull. Last night was too much to drink, but all this was too much to come home to. What the hell had he been thinking? He could have bought a bar anywhere. Why’d he choose his hometown?

  “Your brothers are down on the southern end of the ranch. We’re redoing that old border fence. Why don’t you go help them out?”

  Tyler braced himself for more disapproval. “I was hoping to work on my business plan today.”

  “Your plan for what?”

  “Remember the bar I told you about? That I bought?”

  “You don’t start working there for a few days. You can help around here until then.”

  Tyler tried to summon patience through the fog of his hangover. “I can help out today. But I also have my own work to do. I need to be ready when I take the reins.”

  “You need to be ready? To pour beer?” His dad let out a breath of disgust. “I still can’t figure out why you bought that thing, anyway.”

  “It’s a business, Dad.”

  “This ranch is good business.”

  Tyler laughed out loud before he could stop himself. He and his father working together would be a disaster resulting in fists or worse. “My brothers have that covered. You don’t need me on the ranch.”

  “You have enough money, you could get your own place.”

  “I did get my own place.” He’d explained it all a few times now, but he tried again. “There’s a lot of land behind the bar. Maybe I’ll raise bulls on it, eventually. But ranching isn’t all I want.” Tyler cast around for the words to explain. The restless feeling. The need to connect with others after years of hotel rooms and training. “I think ranching’s a little too solitary for me. I like being around people.”

  “Suit yourself.” His dad shrugged, looking as mystified as he always had when it came to all things Tyler.

  “Trust me, Dad, it’s gonna be good.”

  His dad squinted, as if by changing his vision he could somehow change his son as well. “Well, we aren’t a hotel, son. We expect you to earn your keep around here.”

  Tyler felt his dreams shrink so small they’d fit in his jeans pocket. “Which is why I’m looking for a new place to live. I appreciate you letting me stay a few days, but we both know that won’t work out so well in the long run. I’ve got a few leads on some rentals in town.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  His dad nodded and turned away, striding toward his office. Hurrying away from the one son who made no sense to him. Who never had. Who probably never would.

  Tyler watched him go, wondering what it would take for his dad to see him as a success. A long time ago he’d thought it would be all those junior rodeo trophies. When he grew up, he thought it would be winning the world championship or making good money. When he decided to retire from rodeo, he thought it might be buying a business and a big piece of property. But nothing had changed. In Ken Ellis’s eyes, Tyler was just a disappointment. The third son, who didn’t fall in line with the first two. A problem he couldn’t fix. Same as always.

  Tyler glanced at the congealed meal and shuddered. He scraped the food into the garbage and rinsed the plate. He needed coffee and lots of it. He wished he could eat at the café in town, where the food was hot and the waitresses flirted with him. Where he could be reminded that for a few sweet, short rodeo years, he’d been a hell of a lot more than the Ellis family loser. But he had work to do. So he grabbed an apple out of the bowl on the counter and went to find his brothers.

  * * *

  THE CHESTNUT GELDING Tyler had borrowed nickered low at the sight of the two horses tied to the pasture fence. He picked up the pace, eager to be with his buddies.

  At the sound of their approach, Tyler’s brothers looked up from their work. Parker stopped cranking the wire taut and grinned. “You finally out of bed, princess?”

  Miles was kneeling, hammering in a staple to hold the wire to the fence post. He finished, then joined the fun. “Oh, look who decided to join us. I thought celebrity bull riders were too important for ranch work.”

  Tyler tied his horse near the others and made his way through the thick spring grass. “I doubt I’ll ever get too self-important with you two clowns constantly busting my balls.”

  “We’re just glad you got your beauty rest.” Miles grinned, not willing to let the joke go. “In case you have any modeling gigs coming up.” Older than Tyler by two years, Miles took special pleasure in tormenting him. One time he’d shown up at a rodeo in Reno carrying a giant pink sign with the words I Love Tyler written in rainbow letters. That sign had made national TV and the other bull riders had teased Tyler about it that entire season.

  “What’s with coming home hammered?” Parker was the oldest and took that role seriously. Maybe losing their mom before any of them were out of junior high had grown him up too fast.

  “I went out with Eric and Mitch. They bought shots to celebrate my new bar.”

  “You’re a lightweight,” Miles teased. “It’s all that granola and kale you eat.”

  “Gotta keep fit.” Tyler’s answer was automatic. Followed by the realization that he didn’t actually have to keep fit anymore. Not in bull-riding shape, at least. The idea left him a little hollow.

  “Well, you stumbling in singing was like nails on a chalkboard for Dad. He was ranting about it this morning,” Parker said.

  “Yeah, he ranted when I saw him just now.” Tyler grabbed his work gloves out of his pocket. “What can I do to help?”

  “Bring a few of those posts over, will you?” Miles jutted his chin to indicate the large pile a few yards away. “And we need that bag of concrete out of the truck.”

  Tyler nodded. “You guys think Dad’s going to get over me buying a bar?”

  Parker shook his head. “Doubt it. You know Dad. Ranching’s the only job that makes any sense to him.”

  “But I got over it,” Miles chimed in. “In case you were worried. I’m looking forward to free beer.”

  “Come on by and I’ll start you a tab,” Tyler shot back. “And I’ll bill you for it at the end of each month.”

  “No family discount?” Parker added with uncharacteristic humor. “Cheapskate.”

  “Not until I’m running in the black. Right now th
e place is a money pit.”

  “So why’d you take it on, then?” Parker asked.

  “Because I can make it great.”

  “You and your big goals.” Miles grinned. “Isn’t it tiring being so ambitious all the time?” He put a gloved finger to the side of his face, as if he was thinking. “Hmm. I think I’ll join the army. Boot camp sounds fun. No, maybe I’ll become the best bull rider in the world. Now I’m going to buy a dive bar and convince everyone that it’s cool. Yeah, that’ll be relaxing.”

  It was such an accurate portrayal that Tyler couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, well, maybe I find it relaxing to try to meet my goals. I like pushing forward. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “No, there isn’t.” Parker sent Miles a strict glance. “In fact, maybe someone around here could use a few more goals.”

  Miles took the chiding with his usual good nature. “What, you don’t think working for you and Dad is the definition of success? Because it sure is fun.”

  “Fun until a daddy of one of the girls you chase comes out here with a shotgun.”

  “That’s when I hide behind my big brother.” Miles shoved Parker on the shoulder. “Hey, Tyler. Can you grab those posts? Or are you worried you’ll break a nail?”

  “Shut up, Miles.” But Tyler walked to the pile and grabbed a couple off the top. “I wanted you guys to help me with something.”

  “No beer, no help,” Miles said and grabbed the handles of the posthole digger.

  “What do you need?” Parker asked.

  “I plan to fix up the barn at my new place. It’s not in such bad shape—should be done in a few weeks. I want to get a few horses. And a couple bulls.”

  “Bucking bulls?” Parker eyed him shrewdly. “I thought you were done with rodeo.”

  “I want to offer a class or two. Get some local kids started in rodeo.” Tyler set the posts down near Miles.

  “I’m sure parents will love you for that. Especially when one of their little darlings breaks a neck.”

  “Bull riding’s the fastest-growing sport in the country.”