by Kym Roberts
Peter stood and waited. Holding the mic in front of Dalton, letting the crowd hear him sniff. And if I wasn’t mistaken, he’d moved it just a fraction closer, to let his audience experience the raw emotion of a grieving man.
“Wyatt loved the animals,” Dalton repeated. “He would spend hours in the pens back home, brushing them, making sure they were comfortable, healthy, and he’d talk to every single one of them like they were individuals. Even when he was on the circuit, he’d go down to the pens and talk to the bulls. No one respected the animals the way Wyatt did.”
Dalton looked up into the crowd as another stray tear fell from his eye. This time, he didn’t try to hide it. Didn’t swipe it away or stop the others from forming. I could hear sniffles around me. The crowd was completely drawn into his emotion. Including me.
“He taught me everything I know about bull riding. Taught me about respecting women, and doing the right thing—the honorable thing and I want to do the honorable thing right here and now.” Dalton took off his hat and held it across his chest. “I owe an apology to Scarlet. I treated her horribly the other night and embarrassed her in front of her friends and people she didn’t know. There’s no excuse for my behavior. None, whatsoever. She’s an intelligent, beautiful woman and I’m lucky to have her on my arm any day. So, Scarlet, darling, wherever you are, I hope you’ll let me make it up to you.”
The crowd cheered, the noise traveling through the arena in waves as they stood up and applauded the man accused of murder. Dalton put his hat back on his head and smiled the killer smile of his that we’d all grown to love so much. And I understood why Scarlet had faith in him—believed beyond any shadow of a doubt, that he was innocent.
Dalton put his hands in the air and motioned for spectators to have a seat and quiet down so he could continue. Rallied by the support of the fans, Dalton’s voice was stronger. “The Cowboy Ranch was something Wyatt felt strongly about. He wanted to help the riders before him who rode the rough way for the rest of us and made bull riding what it is today. These men deserve our respect and our support. Wyatt didn’t care if his ribs were bruised, his shoulder dislocated, or his fingers broken. There was no way he was going to miss The Cowboy Ranch Invitational…until someone made sure he’d never ride again. Wyatt loved the challenge, loved the competition, not just between him and the bulls, but between the riders. He loved the camaraderie. That’s why I want to ride in his honor tonight. That’s why I sought the approval of the residents of The Ranch and they gave it to me unanimously. Now, I’m asking you—the fans—do I have your permission to ride in Wyatt’s honor? To wear his riding outfit and let him go out with all the glory he should have had eight years ago?”
The crowd went wild before he even finished. Hats were flying and fists were pumping as “yahoos and yee-haws” traveled through the bleachers. Cade couldn’t have been happier. He was wearing a big smile on his face as he held Dalton’s hand up in the air like he’d already rode and won The Invitational.
And I guess in a way, he had, because the fans were behind him 100 percent.
Peter shook Dalton’s hand and Dalton turned and waved his hat in the air to the crowd. They ate it up; even I couldn’t help but clap. Then Dalton turned and hopped over the railing to the sawdust arena floor below. Several of the bullfighters shook his hand and smacked him on the back as he made his way over to the chutes. That camaraderie Dalton had been talking about, was alive and well.
* * *
I thanked the man next to me for the seat and was gone before Cade finished talking to Peter—no doubt giving a defense attorney’s spiel about the innocence of his client—which I actually was starting to believe in this case. I’d tried to watch the crowd throughout the speech, but I had to admit, I was drawn into Dalton’s tribute as much as anyone else. No one had looked overly suspicious, other than me, and I thought I’d try looking in a few other areas where the key players congregated. I made my way to the walkway around the arena and was heading toward the pens when I saw Mateo walking with Scarlet.
Scarlet’s brows were drawn and her eyes were focused straight ahead. She was a cowgirl on a mission or a path of destruction, and Mateo looked a little bit worried about how that operation would end. I stepped in her path, and she almost plowed right through me. Recognition finally hit her and she pulled up short just in time.
“Charli, you’re going to get hurt stopping in front of people like that.”
“You look like you needed an intervention.”
“Thank you. I couldn’t agree more,” Mateo said, but I kept my eyes on Scarlet. “Now if you two will excuse me, I have an arrest to make.”
“I want to be there,” Scarlet argued but I could tell by his abrupt departure that Mateo wanted no part of her interference so I stayed in front of her, blocking her path.
“Since when are you one to sit back and let things happen?”
“Since I can’t move my left arm, and my right arm hurts like I fell in a bed of prickly pear cactus.”
“Well, I need to be there when Mateo arrests Liza Twaine.”
“Liza Twaine?”
“Yup. That woman is the one who broke into my trailer.”
“Liza Twaine?” I knew I sounded like a broken record.
“It wasn’t Dalton. I told you it wasn’t, and this is just one more piece to the puzzle that proves his innocence.”
“How does Mateo know it was Liza?”
“Her fingerprints. He got a hit this afternoon on the prints he took from inside my trailer. Liza had a DUI back in 2010 in Harris County. Mateo came over and asked me if I’d ever had Liza in my trailer. When I told him no, he asked me if I was sure.” Scarlet’s head bobbed back and forth in disbelief. “As if I’d ever forget that woman and her batty eyes walking inside my trailer.”
“Why would Liza want to break into your trailer?”
“I don’t know, but she’s the one who stole the backpack and the book that Dalton swore he didn’t take. Which means she set him up for the murder as well.”
It was an interesting change of events and it definitely made the case against Dalton weaker by the moment. Scarlet started to walk around me, but again I stopped her forward progress.
“Don’t you think it would be better for you to go tell Cade and Dalton what’s going on? As his defense attorney, Cade’s going to want to be present when they interview Liza.”
Scarlet’s lower lip jutted out. She wanted to see Liza Twaine put in cuffs, but her first priority was Dalton. “O.M.W. You’re right. I just wanted to see those fancy bracelets clink on her wrist something fierce.”
“I’ll go watch and I’ll tell Aubrey to get it all on tape. How’s that?”
Scarlet beamed, her face lit up almost as much as it usually did. I hoped that light was there to stay. She hugged me quick and hard, and I resisted wincing as she pulled away. Somehow I had to stop people from hugging me until my ribs healed. Maybe I should bypass showers for a while—that would keep people at a distance.
Scarlet nearly skipped down the steps to join Cade and Dalton and I headed toward the pens where Mateo had gone in search of Liza. I arrived as he pulled Liza out of the riders’ break room with her hands behind her back in cuffs. Aubrey looked shell-shocked as Liza told Mateo she knew her rights and the network’s attorneys were going to eat him for lunch and his deputies for dessert.
I caught Aubrey’s eye and motioned for her to get the event on film. I was shocked by her quick action. She didn’t hesitate, capturing Liza’s struggle and filthy mouth while Mateo politely asked her to come along peacefully. She didn’t listen. She created a scene all the way out to the gate where they were greeted by Aiden with his camera rolling and Peter Kroft with a live mic in his hand.
“Any comment about being arrested on burglary charges, Liza?” Peter asked.
Liza glared as he stuck his microphone in her face. I actually enjoyed his timing for a change.
Scarlet and Dalton stood by
the ticket booth with Cade. Cade was looking very much like an attorney giving his client instructions before he left to follow Mateo and Liza.
After Mateo had departed along with Liza and Cade, Scarlet kissed Dalton.
“For luck,” I heard her say.
“I don’t need luck when I got a good woman by my side.” Dalton kissed her again and Scarlet’s right foot rose in a dainty sexy lift. Aubrey captured it all. And again, I was thinking the cameras could be a good thing.
“Did he already ride?” I asked Scarlet.
“No, there was a television delay. Apparently, the sponsors of ABN News now want the ride recorded, but on delay.”
Aubrey turned to us, her freckles standing out on her cheeks as she pushed against the earpiece in her left ear and the color drained from her face.
“You want me to give commentary during his ride?” she asked.
Scarlet and I looked at each other and grinned.
“Yes, sir. I know the rodeo very well,” Aubrey said. “I’m on my way.” She didn’t even look as she turned her camera back on and followed Dalton down the corridor. Getting an exclusive view of the champ’s walk to destiny. Hopefully.
Scarlet and I headed toward the area that Taylor had actually roped off for Scarlet at Dalton’s request. Sly was sitting in one of the four box seats and stood up to let us pass by. Then he held my seat down while I put my donut in the chair and turned around to slowly lower myself.
“A lot of pressure on Dalton right now,” Sly said as the crowd hushed.
Scarlet began wringing her hands. “You have no idea.”
“Probably not to the same extent, but I know what it’s like to ride after you’ve lost a loved one. Every bone in your body wants to honor them and do ’em proud. For Dalton, there’s even more to it than that.” He patted Scarlet’s leg and turned his attention to the chute.
Scarlet looked at me and I gave her an encouraging smile. Taylor arrived and sat on the other side of Sly just in time to see Dalton’s ride. Beyond, “Hello” and, “Thank you, for the seats,” we didn’t have time to say anything as Dalton climbed over the side of the chute. Everyone watched. The arena filled with the kind of silence normally found on a golf course, not a professional bull riding arena, as Dalton wrapped his hand, pounded the rope, and moved up into position on the bull’s back. He signaled to the gatemen and the gate swung open. Time stood still as the blond bull actually backed out of the chute. I glanced at the scoreboard to catch the bull’s name. “Angel” was lit up in red, and I wondered if that was fate speaking for Dalton.
Angel dipped his head and kicked with such force his back came up and smacked the brim of Dalton’s hat. The hat fell into to dirt and the crowd cheered as Dalton stayed on. The bulls head swished from right to left, as his body twisted from left to right. Again, Angel bucked, trying to best his rider, and Dalton’s white chaps flew in the air. For a moment, I thought his legs had released from their grip, but the ride went on. The crowd stood. The cheers increased. The camera flashes grew in intensity and frequency. The clock ticked as Dalton hung on, his form perfect and his blond hair bouncing freely with his white hat gone. It was almost as if he’d lost his halo. People saw the man—flawed, yet extremely talented on the back of an Angel.
The buzzer sounded and the clowns moved directly in front of the bull, distracting him as Dalton jumped off on an upward kick and landed on his feet. Angel took the bait, and went for the clown in front of the exit chute and disappeared from the arena. The crowd roared. Dalton’s fists slammed the open air before he dropped to his knees and pointed toward the heavens.
I whooped for the pure joy of seeing an incredible ride, then regretted the emotion immediately, as my ribs sang a different tune. I looked at Scarlet, who had tears in her eyes and tracking down her cheeks. Sly was grinning and Taylor’s eyes were filled to the brim as she stared at the scoreboard.
Up in lights, side by side, were images of Wyatt riding Lucifer and Dalton riding Angel. Both riders wearing the same outfit; the only difference was that one was still with us, and the other was gone. Wyatt’s record score of 96.5, however, had just been broken by his little brother with a 96.75.
History had been made.
Chapter Thirty
I slept better that night than I had in the past several nights. I was thankful that the pain was slowly but surely dissipating even if it kept me from sprawling out across my bed like I normally did. When I woke up, the sun was shining and Princess was awake and rearing to go, which was unusual, but not unheard of. We each ate breakfast and had a bath. I got dressed and we headed over toward the secret passageway and made our way down to the bookstore. Just inside the tearoom, I found a very large object covered with numerous dark trash bags. The thing stood almost as tall as me with pointy peaks and rounded bumps that looked like nothing in particular. A large sign was taped to the front that read, “Do Not Peek.” In parenthesis down below in smaller print, my dad had written, “That means you, Princess.”
I stuck my tongue out at the bag but got a giddy feeling like Christmas morning. “I think he means you,” I told the rodent at my feet.
Princess snorted. I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure she meant, In my dreams.
Dad wasn’t scheduled to come into work until around noon, but luckily he’d made plenty of sweet tea the night before. I called the bakery and ordered some cookies for the Monday morning kids’ book art class. This week I was going to have them find a hidden sentence on a page and draw something to represent their own personal story over the rest of the print. I’d made an example of using the line “A perfect family day” with the individual words circled and the image of my father teaching me how to skip a rock down by the river.
I’d drawn the picture after going through some old photo albums my mom had put together, and found one of my dad and I down at the river. I remembered that day vividly with a picnic on the bank, my mom nestled on the shore on top of a blanket. The cancer had been ravaging her body, yet she’d been determined to enjoy her time with us like any other family. As soon as I saw the photo, I felt compelled to make it into something special to give to my father for his birthday at the end of the month. At the edge of the page, I drew my mom’s hands with the camera, leaving out her frail body so that he could remember her the way he always spoke of her—whole, and full of life.
Princess waddled up to front door and made the buzzer sound even though the door was still locked. It was her favorite pastime; something about the noise gave her joy and I never questioned it. Maybe it reminded her of her own family, back in their burrow when she was young. Whatever it was, it never seemed appropriate to disturb the ritual.
Our morning was steady with visitors getting ready to leave town. Some were staying for the closing ceremony that night, while others were heading home to get ready for the work week to begin. Since most of the shops had opened early for the special weekend, many had decided to stop in and do a little shopping on their way home. It was welcome business and we hoped they’d come back the following year.
When the buzzer went off, I was expecting to see a couple of middle aged women with their husbands in tow. Instead, a handsome cowboy sauntered up to the counter with a grin on his face.
“Fancy meeting you here, Princess,” he said with all the charm I knew he had.
“Why, Travis. I do declare. You must have more brains than a pink armadillo if you could figure out how to find me.”
Princess snorted from under the counter and waddled away. I think she disagreed.
Travis leaned over the counter and crowded my space. His elbow on the counter with his jaw resting in the palm of his hand, he asked, “I probably should have come by sooner, huh?”
“That would have been the gentlemanly thing to do, after taking a woman out to dinner,” I chastised as I leaned over and rested my elbow on the counter and met his eyes at the same level.
“I messed up.” He stated the obvious.
“And I’m going to have to pay for it, aren’t I?”
A flirtatious smile spread across my face. I couldn’t help it. “You are.”
“Can I see you again?”
“You’re seeing me right now, aren’t you?”
“I mean when I come back to Texas. I have to leave before the ceremony tonight, but I’d like to take you to dinner when I return. Would you go out with me again?”
His eyes weren’t as dreamy as Mateo’s, but I could easily get caught up in them if I allowed myself to. “That would depend,” I said.
“On what?”
“On when you’re coming back, and whether or not I’m available.”
Travis grinned and snuck a quick kiss on my lips. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but when you see me again, I’ll be bearing flowers.”
“That’s the least you can do,” I called to the smiling cowboy who walked out my front door. Only time would tell if he’d return.
Dad showed up a little early to help shut The Barn down and take me to the rodeo to see the closing ceremonies. And to check to see if I’d peeked at his surprise. He’d even put a thin piece of fishing line across the bag. When I expressed mock outrage, though I really had been tempted, he got that twinkle of teasing in his eye and started talking about the ceremony. He’d insisted it was a sight to see and I couldn’t miss it. As I finished one final sale and wished the customers safe travels home, Taylor walked in the front door. She was wearing her usual get-up of a fancy dress and even fancier heels to match. I looked down at my jean shorts and Buy the Book T-shirt and shrugged. At least my aqua colored flip-flops matched the lettering on my shirt.