by Kym Roberts
Scarlet was brimming with hope.
I wasn’t so enthusiastic. “Why did he say that?”
“What do you mean?”
“In what context did Travis say that?” I asked.
Scarlet jumped on the bandwagon faster than a roadrunner dodging a bullet. “Does it matter? For all intents and purposes, Wyatt was already in a grave when he said it. I’m not a fan of a coincidence that big.”
Aubrey nodded, but I stuck with my question. “In what context did Travis use that phrase?”
Aubrey kicked her feet around a little bit before answering. “He was talking about the way Wyatt stayed in the pen too long with a rogue bull.”
“A rogue bull?”
“Yeah there was this bull, Lucifer, that was totally out of control in the pen.”
Scarlet jumped in. “That’s the bull that he was riding when Jessie got hurt.”
Aubrey nodded, getting caught up in the excitement all over again. “Wyatt had to get off him, wait a few minutes, and then get back on. Only Lucifer did it again. On the third try, Wyatt got on. It was his last ride and his highest scoring, but the other riders were critical of him and the CBR. Saying Wyatt should have told the judges the bull wasn’t fit and the CBR should have pulled the bull.”
“What happened to the bull?”
“It acted up again on its next outing and the CBR disqualified it.”
I was beginning to think I knew that bull. “Do you know who the stock contractor was that owned the bull?”
Aubrey started flipping through her notes on her phone, then stopped when she found the screen she was looking for. “Pierce Brown of Starlight Corral. Why? Does the name mean something to you?”
It meant a whole lot to me. His bull had bruised my ribs and my tailbone. The nasty abrasion on my arm was due to someone subjecting that bull to hormones he shouldn’t have had, and I thoroughly expected the tests on Twisted Mister to revealed that he had a heavy dose of testosterone in his blood.
“Nope. Nothing,” I told Aubrey. The last thing I wanted to do was to put an eighteen-year-old girl in danger, but I was going to tell Mateo everything she’d just shared with me. Whether it was related to the murders, I wasn’t sure. It just stunk to high heaven and back.
Scarlet turned back to me. “I gotta get going. Think about what I said. Think about Travis and what he’s capable of.”
That was the problem. I had been thinking about Travis. Wondering if my date knew more about the bulls and drugs than what he was revealing. Wondering if he only asked me out to get information about what I knew. Wondering why he hadn’t even attempted to text me or call me after our date. For a man who claimed it was no accident that we always ran into each other, he’d been pretty scarce since he walked me to my door and kissed me on the cheek. Even today, standing right in front of him, I hadn’t registered on his radar at all. It’d been like I didn’t exist. And maybe that should concern me more than it had.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Daisy came looking for me about the time I left the restroom. Not only was she protective of her husband, she was a drill sergeant when it came to work. I went back to the booth and took my place on my donut for the next couple hours.
At eight o’clock it was getting close to Dalton’s turn to ride. I glanced at my phone, and looked over at Daisy, hoping for a signal that the gates were closed. I wanted to be there to see the end of the event. Not to watch Dalton, but to watch everyone’s reaction around him. Aubrey’s comment about the killer returning to the scene of the crime made me wonder if a killer would also be interested in how he—or she—ruined someone else’s life. Was that a point of joy to a murderer? Did he think, Ha! Sucker! or That guy’s so stupid, I could set him up all day long and no one would know, or would his thoughts be more superior minded: I could get away with killing anyone; they’re all inferior to me, or was he out there fretting that someone, somewhere might catch on?
My money was on all four. The killer I had in mind was someone who would experience conflicting emotions. One-minute superiority, the next inferiority. One-minute brave beyond his or her abilities, and the next a complete coward. In this case, it just made sense to me—and I wanted to see if I could recognize that person in the crowd. Weed him out from all the rest of the spectators who were caught up in the drama of the moment. A part of me also wanted to win, but my motives were much different than the killer’s. Scarlet’s future hung in the balance, and I wasn’t willing to sit idly by and let a coward win.
“That’s it. We’ve sold to capacity. No more stragglers coming in at the last minute to watch,” Daisy announced.
“So we can leave?” I was off my donut faster than I thought possible. At least faster than Jessie’s rise out of his chair.
Daisy waggled her finger at me for the umpteenth time. “You can leave. That’s my husband, he has to stay.”
“Thank you, Daisy. Bye Jessie!”
I made my way toward the pens, hoping to at least find a place to stand and watch the people milling around in back and in the audience. Camera crews were stacked on top of each other, but it appeared Liza Twaine and Aubrey had the best spot in the area, since Liza’s station was broadcasting the event live. I finagled my way through just in time to see Dusty Lamb signal to the gatemen to open the gate. He was riding a bull named Air Raid that got so much height when he kicked you’d think he was ready to take flight. I was shocked to see the bull kick and then raise his head, his entire body off the ground as Dusty battled to stay on him. Each kick a true testament to Dusty’s ability not to go head over heels across the bull’s head as Air Raid lowered his nose, and kicked at what looked like a ninety-degree angle. The buzzer barely sounded before the bull added a nasty twist and Dusty lost his balance. His feet lifted behind him. He released his grip and was sent over the bull’s front shoulder.
The clowns swarmed and Dusty rolled out of the way to his feet. In a matter of seconds, he was on the rails and Air Raid was through the exit chute. Dusty took his hat off and waved to the crowd with a confident grin.
I could hear Liza giving color commentary about Dusty and was surprised by how much she actually knew about bull riding. She finished her bit about his triumphant comeback from a near career ending injury and said the fans could expect big things to come out of the junior rider in the event.
Then Aubrey relaxed her camera and Liza listened intently on her ear piece. She argued with someone as the next two riders were thrown off short of the eight-second bell. Her voice gradually got louder and louder. Aubrey looked around and started filming what had to be fluff pieces of clowns dancing, gatemen talking to pretty girls in the crowd, and bulls wandering in the pens behind the chutes.
I moved closer to hear what problems were stirring behind the scenes.
“You can’t do that!” Liza screeched into her headset.
Aubrey rubbed her earpiece and winced with the noise.
“He’s why everyone is here!”
Something else was said on the other end and Liza’s face inflamed. “I don’t give a flying fig what the sponsors want or don’t want. If you don’t show his ride, the CBR, our station, and my reputation will suffer!”
I looked at Aubrey for confirmation. Were they really considering not showing Dalton’s ride on television? Aubrey gave me a subtle nod and went about filming the leader board and the roping cowboy at the other end of the arena.
Liza’s perfectly cold composure was gone. She was steaming with anger. “He’s making his way over here for an interview before his ride. Are you telling me I can’t do it or I’ll be fired?”
It was unheard of in the Championship Bull Riding circuit to not show the top few leader’s runs. The lead position was where everyone wanted to be. Yet the sponsors were demanding the station not show the potential winner’s ride.
Rumors were making their way through the crowd. The gatemen and clowns were looking toward the cameras, which were suddenly turned in e
very direction but that of Dalton Hibbs walking across the arena. Some fans jeered, some patted him on the back in support. There was a wide range of emotions being played out.
I pulled out my phone and tried calling Scarlet, but my call went to voicemail. I scanned the crowd near the chutes, but couldn’t find her anywhere. If Dalton came over here and found out his interview had been canceled, there was no telling what that would do to the man. I certainly didn’t want to find out.
Peter Kroft and Aiden waltzed down the aisle like they owned the place.
“It seems you’re having problems with your sponsors,” Peter said to Liza but made sure his voice carried through the crowd. “Denying the fans the number one rider is unheard of. Isn’t a man innocent until proven guilty?”
Liza was like a hungry sow with an empty trough, snorting and huffing with no real substance behind the noise. The people around her, however, were beginning to see what was going on. They grumbled and complained hearing Peter’s declaration of innocent until proven guilty over anything else. They paid good money to see Dalton ride, and they thought the fans at home should be able to experience the event as well.
“So are you going to give up your position to free media, or are you going to try and block our special report?”
Liza managed to spit out two words: “Special report?”
Peter’s white teeth glistened in the light. “KBC is broadcasting a live shot of Dalton Hibbs’s ride. And since you won’t be interviewing him, we thought it only prudent to allow Dalton the opportunity to say something to our viewers that isn’t censored by sponsors.”
Liza stomped her heeled foot and was about to let into Peter when the camera turned. “This is Peter Kroft reporting from The Cowboy Ranch Invitational of Championship Bull Riding in Hazel Rock, Texas. Yesterday the leader in the all-around scoring for the CBR Tour, Dalton Hibbs, was charged in the Coleman County Courthouse with two counts of murder in the first degree. Charges to be taken seriously, yet charges that have not been found to be true in a court of law. Charges that could be dropped at any minute or adjudicated. We don’t know.
“What we do know is that in this great country, anyone accused is presumed innocent until proven guilty. That the press is free and not corrupted by special interest groups or political pressure. Yet the reason for this broadcast is just that. ABN has banned its reporters from interviewing Dalton Hibbs and has chosen not to show his ride that could clinch The Cowboy Ranch Invitational….”
I didn’t hear anything after that. Liza Twaine was stomping her way up the stairs with the fans in the stands heckling her the entire way. I stopped Aubrey before she got caught up in the scene Liza was making with the hecklers.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“We were told that the network would be showing a piece that honored Wyatt and Erik instead of Liza’s interview with Dalton.”
“Wow. Has that ever been done before?”
“You’re asking me? This whole scene is new to me. I’m just glad I’ve got a front row seat. It will make a great exposé for my freshman media class at East Texas University.”
“Are you sure you want to follow Liza with that camera and show the crowd you work for the same station? It’s not like these people know you.”
At about that moment Liza flipped someone in the crowd the bird and got beaned in the head with a paper cone of blue cotton candy.
Aubrey giggled. “Don’t tell her I laughed. Even though I’ve learned a ton from her, she’s a bit difficult to work for.”
“So the interview with Dalton is canceled?” I asked.
“Apparently so. I heard that Cade wasn’t happy. Dalton’s actually hired him as his defense attorney.”
Oh, boy. Cade had represented me in the past, although the case never went anywhere because I was immediately cleared of any wrongdoing. But Dalton had been charged and that pitted mayor against sheriff. That could not end well.
“Taylor threw a conniption, and the execs were sweating the backlash of the public, and from what I hear, Peter Kroft is going to take our interview with Dalton.” Aubrey was eyeing the crowd with more than a little bit of trepidation. “I’m not sure I want to walk through that gauntlet.”
I slowly removed my sweater, struggling with not one, but both arms before putting it over her camera. “Act like you’re not associated with Liza. Most of these fans haven’t noticed who you are, they’re focused on her.” It was the best move, all things considering.
“Thank you! I’ll be sure to get it back to you.”
“Only if it doesn’t get egged.”
Aubrey gave me a quick and painful hug, then headed up the stairs.
There was a break in the riding. I wasn’t sure what caused it, but the clowns started entertaining the crowd with various dances to different kinds of music. The fan favorite seemed to be when they started crawling around on the arena floor like a famous eighties pop singer as her music played through the loudspeakers. I knew what was on that floor beside the six hundred tons of dirt they brought in for the event. All you had to do is look at the backside of the bulls in the pens and see what those clowns were rolling in. Nasty doesn’t begin to describe that smell.
A cowboy offered me his seat as he put his kid on his lap and vacated his prime real estate. I accepted his gallantry with ease as I waited to see if Peter would interview Dalton in Liza’s old spot.
A cheer from the crowd a few minutes later signaled Dalton’s arrival. There were still some boos mixed in, and I honestly wasn’t sure where I stood on the issue of him riding. What did make my heart pitter-patter was the man dressed in a cowboy hat, western jeans, and cowboy boots who sauntered down the aisle behind him. To many, Cade looked like an attractive bodyguard who knew how to wear a pair of jeans. To those of us who knew him, he looked like our mayor and now Dalton’s defense attorney who’d make sure anything that was said wouldn’t hurt Dalton in court.
What interested me the most was the location of the interview. Most of the riders were interviewed outside their staging room as they headed to and from the chutes. Yet Dalton’s was in the middle of the crowd where they could turn on him quicker than a scalded haint could run.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“This is Peter Kroft, for CNCB News, reporting live from The Cowboy Ranch in Hazel Rock, Texas, with a special report.”
The crowd cheered. The interview was also streaming live through the arena, and although not everyone had a front row seat to the interview between Peter and Dalton like I did, they could hear everything that was said over the intercom while Cade stood on the sidelines right next to Dalton, making sure nothing was said that would hurt his client’s case. The man hadn’t even acknowledged my presence despite being two feet away from me.
Peter’s cameraman, Aiden, was sitting on the step behind me, zeroing in on the three of them standing at the railing that served as a barrier between the arena and the fans. It would make a great story to watch on the news later that night.
“I’m standing with the champion, Dalton Hibbs, who was charged with two counts of murder yesterday in the deaths of Erik Piper, promoter of The Cowboy Ranch Invitational and author of The Dangerous Eight, a number one best-selling book about bull riding.” Peter turned toward the cowboy standing in the middle of the two men, making the interview seem more intimate.
I watched as Cade whispered something in Dalton’s ear and the cowboy nodded.
“You were also charged with the murder of your brother, Wyatt, who disappeared eight years ago. Would you like to tell our viewers about that?”
“All I’m going to say about the charges is that I’m innocent—”
“What about the evidence against you?”
“I’m not here to debate the evidence—”
“Didn’t they find the murder weapon in your cabin? What kind of gun was it?”
Cade interrupted before Dalton could speak. “Mr. Kroft, out of respect for the victims’
families, including Dalton”—Cade put his hand on Dalton’s shoulder in a consolatory manner—“we ask that you not bring up the details of the case and that we stay on point. Specifically, that we discuss the cause that has brought all of the fans to the arena today—The Cowboy Ranch.”
Dalton took over before Peter could protest. “I would like to tell the fans and the viewers one thing.” The silence grew with the anticipation. “Erik Piper didn’t write The Dangerous Eight, my brother did. And I aim to make it right.”
Cade’s jaw flexed.
“You’re saying that Erik Piper stole your brother’s work?” Peter asked.
“I’m saying that Wyatt Hibbs wrote The Dangerous Eight and that’s all I’m saying. But I would like to take a moment and tell you about Wyatt.”
Cade’s feet shuffled. He was not pleased with Dalton going off script. I couldn’t say that I blamed him. That bombshell about the book had the crowd stirring and the gossip flying.
“Wyatt loved bull riding. He loved the animals.” Dalton’s voice cracked and he hesitated. His eyes began to glisten as he began to work his bottom lip. It was as if at that very moment, Dalton realized his brother was never coming back.
Aiden shuffled on the step behind me, and I knew he was angling for that money shot—the one that captured a strong man breaking.
Dalton cleared his throat and swallowed visibly. He smiled—at his inability to talk, at his memory of his brother—and a tear slowly rolled down his cheek. It was as if it was the first tear he’d ever shed. His lips curled inward, and his emotions threatened to get the best of him as he worked his bottom lip with his teeth and swiped away that lone sign of love between siblings.