Loving That Cowboy

by Victoria Chatham

  “Just tell me when you’re ready to go,” she told him.

  “How about right now?” He stumbled slightly as he stood up. Hell, he hadn’t drunk that much had he?

  She took his arm and led him out into the car park where she helped him into her car. She smiled as he fumbled with the safety belt, finally took pity on him and fastened it for him.

  “Where’re we goin’?” Brent mumbled as he slumped back in his seat.

  “I told you. My place. It’s in Mission.”

  “Nice,” Brent murmured.

  Annie didn’t think he knew where Mission was located, but it didn’t matter. She drove around her block a few times while Brent snored lightly beside her. When she pulled into the curb outside of her house her room-mate, Tova, came out to meet her.

  “How is he?” she asked.

  “Sleeping like a baby,” Annie replied. For the first time since she’d been asked to help, she frowned with sudden concern. “He won’t be hurt, will he?”

  “No,” Tova assured her. “We’ve arranged an overnight trip for him just to get him out of the way for the rodeo finals tomorrow but we have to hurry. Do you want me to drive?”

  Before they could swap seats Brent opened his eyes and struggled upright. He stared uncomprehendingly at the blonde girl standing beside the car.

  “Are you an angel?” he croaked.

  She reached into the car and stroked his cheek. “I am tonight, cowboy.”

  “Thas’ all right then.” His eyes fell closed with much less effort than it had taken to open them. As his head dropped down towards his shoulder he snored again. This time the snore was followed by the soft flutter of air as it escaped from between his slack lips.

  “Whew,” Annie breathed. “I thought he was going to wake up.”

  “Not for a long time,” Tova told her. “Come on, get in the back and let me drive. It’ll be easier than giving you directions.”

  Annie slipped into the back seat and had barely buckled up before they were on the move again. Brent’s head rocked against the seat as they turned corners, settled again as they waited for lights to change and didn’t move again as they continued their trip. Annie wasn’t sure where they were going, but at last Tova turned into the parking lot of a big truck stop. She slowed to a crawl, looking left and right until she spotted a horse trailer. She stopped beside it and a large figure in plaid shirt and jeans got out of the truck.

  “That’s my boyfriend, Mack,” Tova said with a chuckle, having caught sight of Annie’s startled expression in the rearview mirror.

  “Hey, babe, any problems?” Mack asked as he opened the door for her.

  “Nope. It all worked like a charm.” Tova got out of the car, slipped her arms around Mack’s waist and hugged him. “Oh, and by the way, did you know I’m an angel?”

  Annie didn’t hear the muffled response as Mack reached into the car and hauled Brent’s inert body out.

  “Where are you taking him?” she asked.

  Mack flashed a quick grin. “I’m not taking him anywhere. But my friend Wade Polanski here is. He didn’t score enough points in the wagon racing this week to make it worth his while staying to the end of Stampede, so he’s heading on up to Grande Prairie and the Peace country to see what damage he can do there.”

  “Whoa, bud,” Wade objected as he opened the trailer door. “Less of that damage talk. Here, tumble that fella inta’ this stall beside my gear.”

  Between them the two men propped Brent’s slumbering body into an empty stall between a stack of harness and a pile of blankets while the already loaded horses munched on hay, apparently unperturbed at their strange travelling companion.

  Wade closed and secured the door while Mack dusted off his jeans.

  “What’d he do anyway?” Wade asked as they shook hands.

  “He threatened to put my brother’s horse out of action.”

  “Hell,” Wade grunted. “That ain’t right. Cameron’s got a chance tomorrow then?”

  Mack grinned broadly. “Best he’s ever had.”

  Wade tipped his hat to the girls and got back into his truck. He turned the engine, let it run for a few seconds then hauled out of the lot with a final wave of his hand to Mack.

  “Okay, ladies,” Mack said as his friend rolled away down the road, “what would you like to do for the rest of this evening?”

  “Go to the Ranchman’s,” said Tova, slipping her arm through his. “How ‘bout you, Annie?”

  “Sorry to be a bore, guys.” Annie covered a yawn with the back of her hand.” If it’s all the same to you, I’m going home. All this subterfuge stuff has worn me out. By the way, what exactly was it I dropped in Brent’s drink?”

  Tova chuckled. “Just a dose of benzo. He’ll sleep like a baby tonight and probably have a bit of a hangover tomorrow, but Mack gave Wade some money to give to him so he won’t be destitute. We’re probably kinder to him than he deserves, but at least he can’t do any harm if he’s out of the way. Want to come to the rodeo finals with us tomorrow?”

  “I’d love to but I’m afraid I can’t,” Annie said as she got into her car. Mack folded himself in beside her and Tova scrambled into the back. “I’m on duty tomorrow and have to be at the airport for three o’clock. After all this, I hope your brother wins Mack.”

  Mack acknowledged her good wishes with a brief nod but a soft expression settled on his mouth. He’d not been around much in the last few years but, regardless of the issues that had driven them apart, he wanted the best for his brother too.

  “So do I Annie,” he said. “So do I.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “You intend leaving any hair on that poor critter’s hide?”

  Cameron took one more vigorous sweep over Anchorman’s already spotless hindquarters. He threw the brush he used in a bucket with the rest of the grooming tools before he looked up.

  His hazer, Larry McKinley, leaned easily against the end of the stall.

  “Guess I’m just a tad leery about starting the big one this afternoon.” To Cameron it was a better reason than admitting he couldn’t get Trisha Watts out of his mind. He’d missed talking with her, teasing her, making love with her.

  Heck, he’d even slept on the couch a couple of nights because he didn’t want to get into bed and her not be in it with him. What they had together went so far beyond sex and he’d thought she felt it too. Not that he’d had a chance to ask her as she hadn’t taken any of his calls or answered the voicemail or text messages he’d sent her. Missing her and worrying about her rankled worse than a burr under his saddle and at the end of the afternoon, win or lose, his first order of business would be to track her down. He reached into the bucket and pulled out a mane comb, aware all the time of Larry’s steady gaze on his back.

  “Uh-huh.” Larry drawled, not sounding at all convinced. “Rumor has it this is your last Stampede.”

  “For once, rumor is right.” Cameron combed out Anchorman’s mane but gave up when the horse shifted away from him. He sent the comb the same way as the brush.

  “If that’s the case, why isn’t Mack here?”

  “Aww, come on, Larry.” Disgust filled Cameron’s voice. “You know why he’s not here.”

  “Can’t blame him for following his own path and not yours.” Larry shifted his weight against the side of the stall as Cameron pushed past him.

  “Yeah, whatever.” Cameron walked out into the aisle with Larry following him. He stepped around bales of hay and a wagon full of fresh, sweet smelling wood shavings. He strode outside the barn with Larry right beside him.

  “Wouldn’t hurt my feelings none if you wanted your brother in at the end,” Larry continued.

  “Nope.” Cameron shook his head emphatically. “You and me have got this gig down to a fine art. We’ve worked together how long now?”

  “Since your Ma and Pa died. So ten years, give or take.”

  “There you go then. Too long to risk changing it up at the last moment. See you later.”
>
  Larry’s question churned in Cameron’s stomach as he walked away. It was true he and Mackenzie had been a good team, the operative word there being ‘had’. When their parents died they discovered that their ranch carried not only a second, but a third mortgage and for the first time they fully realized how their rodeo careers had been financed. He’d been willing to do whatever it took to keep the ranch but not his brother.

  He could still taste the bitter disappointment of Mackenzie’s refusal to pitch in and help save the place they’d called home all their lives. And then Mack put ranching and rodeoing behind him and joined the military. Going from leaning on each other for support, company, rivalry and anything else they could cook up as brothers, to standing alone took some getting used to.

  Cameron’s mouth settled into a tight line. Larry said Mack couldn’t be blamed for going his own way but Cameron did blame him. He hadn’t even stuck around long enough to help out after the funeral and he lived his brother’s defection every single day. It irked him worse than a pebble in his boot. He flipped his hat off and raked his fingers through his hair, then settled the Stetson on his head again.

  It didn’t do to think about Mackenzie and what might have been. Today was too big a day to let anything cloud his judgement.

  He walked some more, stretching out his back and legs, making sure he had no knots of tension ready to kink up his muscles at the wrong moment. He rolled his shoulders a couple of times and headed back to Anchorman’s stall and started tacking him up.

  A hand clapped him on his shoulder and he looked up from cinching the saddle into an older man’s eyes. Tommy Conrad, a neighbor, with two daughters who both barrel raced.

  “Your Ma and Pa would be right proud of you about now, I reckon.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Conrad.” The old courtesy, insisted on by his mother in his formative years, still came easier to his lips than a casual ‘Tommy’. The weight of the man’s hand, a hand as big and as warm as his father’s had been, comforted him as much as the words did.

  He tested the cinch, tightened it again then swung into the saddle. Sensing his rider’s tension, Anchorman snorted and danced sideways. Cameron laid a hand on the horse’s neck, mentally calming himself. It wouldn’t do any good at all to let his nerves get the better of either of them.

  As he rode into the outfield he looked around for Larry, and frowned. There was no sign of him, or the rangy roan mare he always rode. Looking up and down the line of men lounging against the fence, the horses standing ready to compete, the tail end of one horse caught his eye and he almost choked.

  He’d know that scrub-tailed paint gelding anywhere. And if it was here, that must mean ...

  A man stepped into the arena and took the paint’s reins, then mounted and rode towards him.

  “That look could curdle milk, bro,” Mackenzie grinned at his brother’s shocked expression. “Couldn’t resist partnering with you for your last big one.”

  “How in hell did you know about that?” Cameron growled. His jaw tightened as he bit back everything he’d like to say, knowing that if he started it would be difficult to stop until he’d blown every hurt at his brother out of his system.

  “Ever heard of texting?” Mackenzie neck-reined his paint to ride along side his brother. “Larry kept me in the loop. Said you’d be too mule-headed to let me know yourself.”

  Before Cameron could loosen his tongue and shoot off an angry retort, the announcer introduced them as the Carter brothers, previous partners now re-uniting in a grand slam effort to win the big one. Still stunned at the turn of events, Cameron rode Anchorman into the starting box. He turned the horse around and backed him into the corner, catching Mackenzie’s eye as he did so.

  Mackenzie grinned at him, that slow, almost sardonic lift of his mouth so familiar it slammed into Cameron’s gut. Hell, he’d missed Mack like crazy, but he was here now, when it mattered most. He watched Mack line his paint up on the other side of the starting chute, a move he’d seen a thousand times but one that meant more to him today than at any other. Cameron grinned back at his brother, knowing with a deep-seated certainty that everything was going to settle into its rightful place in the world.

  He glanced up at the clear blue sky, thankful for the perfect weather conditions. Anchorman could run in the mud if he had to, but the ground today would be ideal for him. The barrage of sound from the crowds in the grandstands almost deafened him. A brief image of his parents and how proud they would have been of him skimmed through his mind.

  But then he looked at his steer being loaded into the chute, watched the starter fix the breakaway rope barrier and everything around him faded into oblivion.

  His vision narrowed as he focused on the steer’s brindle hide.

  Sounds faded away by degrees until he could not even hear the blood pulsing through his head.

  Anchorman quivered like a coiled spring beneath him, every muscle and tendon primed to shoot forward at the first signal. He barely sensed the horse’s anticipation.

  Everything he was, everything he had ever been, condensed into this one moment. He narrowed his gaze even more, pinning it on his steer until he saw nothing else. He nodded his head at the starter.

  In an instant his world changed.

  The steer charged from the chute, triggering the barrier.

  Anchorman launched himself from the box, springing off his hocks in one powerful thrust.

  One stride.

  They were in the arena in a blur of motion.

  Two strides.

  Anchorman came alongside the steer.

  Three strides.

  Cameron leaned down from the saddle and caught the steer’s left horn in a rock-hard overhand grip. He threw his right arm around the opposite horn and dropped in the hole between his horse and the steer, right where he needed to be, landing at the perfect angle to optimize his weight.

  Anchorman galloped on, leaving his rider to plant his heels in the dirt. Cameron shifted his left hand from the steer’s horn to its nose, tightened his grip and twisted as hard as he could.

  They both dropped in the dirt.

  Cameron got to his feet and took one quick look back at the barrier.

  Good, they hadn’t broken it.

  He looked up at the clock and his jaw dropped.

  Three seconds even.

  The cheering and applause rocking the grandstand gradually filtered into his ears, and the wall of sound echoing around the infield totally engulfed him. A slow grin formed on his face. He grabbed the brim of his hat and threw it into the air. It soared high above him, swirling on an air current before falling to the ground.

  He watched Mackenzie retrieve it, reaching down from the saddle to scoop it up in one smooth move. Anchorman trotted up and Mackenzie grabbed his reins and headed towards his brother.

  “Good one, bro,” he yelled. “You did it.”

  Cameron swung into the saddle and looked up at the grandstand. He hoped Trisha might be up there in the crowd. She’d been the first person he’d told of his decision to quit rodeoing after this Stampede. He would have liked it if she’d seen his last performance.

  Mack caught his attention and pointed at a TV camera. They both faced it and waved at the cheering crowd before riding out of the arena.

  * * *

  “Have I been drinking today?” Samantha suddenly asked.

  Trisha looked up from the souvenir brochure she’d been thumbing through for information on the next competitor. She’d tried to remain calm and disinterested as Cameron had backed Anchorman into the starting box, but her pulse still raced with the excitement of his astounding performance. She didn’t see how he could be beaten. “I don’t think so. Why?”

  “There’s two of them.”

  “Two of who?”

  “Cameron, you ninny. Who’d you think I meant? Look.”

  Trisha looked up at the jumbotron screens fixed either end of the arena opposite the grandstand. They displayed images of two men, each wearing black h
ats, pink shirts and jeans. They rode side by side while they waved at the camera and the crowds, and then trotted out of the arena to be swallowed up by the cowboys at the entry gate.

  Her mouth dropped open as her brain processed what her eyes saw. Her heart lurched and her mouth dried. She licked her lips and swallowed hard, still trying to make sense of what she’d seen. It couldn’t be true.

  “Twins,” Samantha chortled, “identical twins.”

  “He said he had a younger brother,” Trisha stuttered, her mind still trying to cope with the shock of the images she had just seen.

  “Well one of them had to be born first.” Samantha grinned broadly at her. “Obviously it was Cameron.”

  “He said his hazer was a guy called Larry,” Trisha remembered, “but his brother is Mackenzie. Which means ...”

  “Which means what?” Samantha prompted her.

  “Mackenzie came back to help him win his last Stampede.” Trisha’s blood ran cold as another thought wormed its way into her mind. She shot out of her seat. “Oh. My. God.”

  Samantha, still wearing an expression of amusement, looked up at her.

  “What?”

  “I’ve got to go,” Trisha muttered.

  She grabbed her bag, swinging it over her shoulder so hurriedly that she almost hit the person sitting in the row behind her. She uttered an apology and pushed past Samantha who hurriedly gathered up her own belongings as she yelled at Trisha to wait.

  Trisha didn’t hear her as she ran down the steps to the closest exit, brushing people aside in her hurry to escape.

  What a fool I’ve been.

  Her heart pounded as she thought of the times she’d been with Cameron. Or had it been Mackenzie?

  Which brother had she gone riding with? Which brother had teased her and eased the aftermath of her nightmares? And most of all, the realization of it almost shredded her heart, which brother had she fallen in love with?