The Bull Rider's Valentine

by Cathy McDavid

  “Okay. Well, I should skedaddle.”

  Skedaddle? That was the best her jumbled brain could come up with?

  “Don’t go yet.” Nate took hold of her arm. “I have news.”

  She was afraid to ask, her gut insisting she wouldn’t like the answer.

  “Bess offered me a job. Bull riding manager. Seems I’ll be staying in Mustang Valley a while longer.”

  Staying? And working with her? What next? Would he move into the vacant house across the street from her?

  Unable to hang around and hear the rest of what he had to say, Ronnie spun and all but ran toward the door.

  * * *

  NATE CAUGHT UP with Ronnie halfway across the dance floor. “Hey. What are you mad about?”

  She stopped abruptly, and he had to pull up fast to avoid bumping into her.

  “Whoa!”

  When she whirled to face him, accusation blazed in her green eyes. “No.”

  “No what?”

  “You aren’t taking the job and you’re not staying in town.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “Last time I checked, this is a free country. I can take a job with anyone who hires me.”

  “You said you were heading to Houston.”

  “I also said my schedule’s flexible.”

  “Why?” she demanded.

  “Why am I taking the job? Honestly, I need the money.”

  “You do know Bess hired me to manage the barrel racing events?”

  “She mentioned as much.”

  “And that doesn’t bother you?”

  “Us working together?” He shook his head. “Not especially. From what I gather, the barrel racing and bull riding events are at different times.”

  “Didn’t you think to ask me how I felt before accepting the job?”

  On closer inspection, he could see the spark in her eyes was less accusation and more...fear? Was that possible? Unlikely. But trepidation, for sure, and wariness.

  “Relax, will you?” He steered her to an empty table, not the same one they’d occupied with her clients. This one was smaller. Built for two. When they sat, their knees bumped and their feet battled for the limited amount of floor space. His hand inadvertently brushed hers. Each time, her reaction was a soft intake of breath. “It’s probably temporary.”

  “Probably?”

  “We’re starting with a month-long trial period.”

  “And what about the rodeo this weekend? You promised Sam you’d go with us. If you’re working—”

  “I’m going. The job’s only part-time. I’ll be able to work around Sam’s schedule, pretty much.”

  “Four hours.” She slumped in her chair as if every ounce of fight had drained from her. “You’ve been in Mustang Valley a total of four hours and already you’ve completely disrupted my life.”

  He almost chuckled and would have if she didn’t look ready to cry. “Don’t you think you’re exaggerating?”

  She raised her eyes to peer at him.

  “What did I ever do to you?” He hadn’t intended to raise his voice, but, frankly, he’d grown weary of her attitude. “You treat me like I was awful to you, and we both know that’s not true.”

  “Nothing.”

  “I did nothing or you have nothing to say?”

  She let her chin fall into her waiting hand. “You’re right. I’m possibly exaggerating.”

  “And I repeat, why?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  Maybe so. Though, in Nate’s opinion, she was using complicated as an excuse to avoid a serious discussion.

  “Are you afraid of me?” he asked, his tone softer than before.

  “Of course not!”

  “Are you afraid of your feelings for me?”

  She drew back, blinking. “I don’t have feelings for you anymore.”

  He’d argue differently. The more he considered it, the more inclined he was to believe she wanted him gone because, like him, she wasn’t over their romance. Having him close stirred too many emotions, ones she’d prefer to suppress or ignore.

  “Then why do you want me gone?”

  “You have a way of distracting me,” she finally admitted. “I need to stay focused if I’m going to help Sam qualify for Nationals and get my new school off the ground.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  She made a face. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  He chose to quit while he was ahead. Ronnie had never responded well to pushing. She either clammed up, pushed back or ran away. This situation called for a different approach. One executed with finesse. Which would require him to do some explaining.

  “This job is a good one for me, Ronnie, and not only because of the money. I need something to help me get back on my feet, even if it is only temporary.”

  “I don’t understand. Back on your feet implies you’ve been struggling.”

  He signaled the waitress and requested two soft drinks. When Ronnie didn’t object, he assumed she was willing to listen and let himself relax.

  “My injury didn’t force me to quit competing. I lied to Hugh and Jessica.”

  “Then what did?”

  “To borrow your excuse, it’s complicated.”

  She didn’t smile.

  “Telling people I dropped out due to an injury is easier than saying I lost the drive.”

  “No way. You were a world champion multiple times and in multiple events. With enough drive for ten people. You can’t just lose that.”

  “Actually, you can. Pretty easily. And not only did I lose my drive to compete, I lost my drive to do much of anything else.”

  She shook her head, her expression skeptical.

  “What started with you dumping me and my falling out with my mother continued with my injury a month later.” He took his time. Very few people knew all that Nate had been through. If he had a choice, no one would. “While I was home recovering from surgery, my best friend, Logan, moved to Galveston. On top of that, he picked the anniversary of Allan’s death to deliver the news.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t acknowledge her apology, not quite ready to let her off the hook.

  “Between losing you, my knee, not getting along with Mom, Logan moving, missing Allan, it was more than I could handle. Even after my knee healed, I stayed home. Quit competing. Avoided well-intentioned friends and family. Ignored phone calls, including the important ones. Slept a lot.”

  “You were depressed.”

  “That’s too unmanly a term for a big, macho guy like me.” He managed a half smile. “I prefer to say my spirits were low. After six months, my doctor recommended I get some therapy.”

  “Did you?”

  “Naw. I loaded up Breeze and hit the road. My own personal brand of therapy.”

  “What happened to your sponsors?”

  “Another unfortunate consequence. My agent sorted out the legalities. Ultimately, I wound up reimbursing the advances and paying the penalties for breach of contract.”

  Her brows rose. “That must have been expensive.”

  “A little.” Nate had gone broke and had yet to recover. “Before I left, I sold off everything I didn’t absolutely need.” The one exception was the engagement ring he’d bought for Ronnie. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he kept that tucked away in a drawer.

  “And you’ve been traveling ever since?” Concern tinged her voice. For him?

  “Mostly.” He sat up straighter when the waitress brought their sodas and waited until she left to continue. “Allan always encouraged me to take chances. Said life’s too short to live it on the sidelines. I applied that philosophy to rodeoing with pretty impressive results. Figured the same would hold true with my new lifestyle.”

  “I’m guessing you were wrong.”

&n
bsp; He took a swig of his soda. “I convinced myself all I needed was plenty of open highway, the occasional small town and a variety of scenery. I found odd jobs when I needed gas or food or pellets for Breeze, relaxed and enjoyed the sights when I didn’t. Along the way, I met some nice people, made new friends and checked off as many bucket list items as possible.”

  “Did your spirits eventually lift?”

  He couldn’t tell if she was teasing him or not. “What’s the old saying? A doctor who diagnoses himself has a fool for a patient?”

  “I thought it was the attorney who represents himself has a fool for a client.”

  “Either way, I wasn’t so much taking chances as escaping my problems. Only by then I was on a fast downward spiral and unable to stop. Not that I tried very hard.” He pushed his cowboy hat back and rubbed his forehead. “I guess I needed the right incentive. Coming here, seeing what I’ve become though your eyes, comparing myself to Hugh—who started with less than me—I’ve had a rather rude awakening.”

  “I don’t understand, Nate. You’re not at all the person I knew. You excelled at rodeoing. You were, and still should be, on top of the world.”

  “That’s the last place I want to be. It’s cold and lonely up there. Hell, it’s cold and lonely at the bottom.”

  “Is that how you felt when we were together?”

  “Sometimes.”

  She stiffened.

  “You held back, Ronnie, only trusting me with part of your heart. Which was too damn bad. I thought we had a chance for a future.”

  “We were young.”

  “That’s not the reason.”

  Her features abruptly fell, and she averted her glance.

  He reached across the table for her hand. She let him hold it, though she didn’t return the gentle squeeze of his fingers. After a moment of silence, any hope he had that she’d open up and talk to him vanished.

  “I’ll try to stay out of your hair as much as possible,” he said. “We’ll only cross paths during Sam’s lessons and competitions. When it comes to working together, I think we can both be civil.”

  She swallowed. “I want to try to get along. For Sam’s sake.”

  “Me, too.”

  He released her hand, drained his soda, tossed several bills on the table and stood. “I should go. Bess strikes me as a pretty tough taskmaster, and she wants me here in the morning at nine sharp.”

  Ronnie also stood, though he sensed a reluctance in her to leave. Did she have more to say to him or more she wanted to hear? As always with Ronnie, she revealed very little.

  He tugged on the brim of his hat. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Right.” She took a step.

  At a loud thud, followed by a low grunt and a breathy, “Oomph,” they both turned. Seeing Theo McGraw in a heap on the floor beside his barstool, Nate hurried over, Ronnie right behind him.

  “Mr. McGraw!” He knelt beside the man. “Are you all right, sir?”

  “I’m fine, dammit.”

  He grabbed the older man’s arm, attempting to lift him to his feet. It was no simple task. He trembled violently and had trouble putting weight on his legs.

  “Leave me alone,” he groused.

  Again, Nate was reminded of helping his late brother, who’d given the same stubborn response when Nate had tried to lift him after a fall or out of bed. The difference was, Allan had never touched alcohol, and Theo McGraw was more than a little tipsy.

  “Let me drive you home,” Nate offered. Ronnie, along with several other patrons, watched his every move.

  “Want me to call your ranch manager?” Bess asked. She’d scurried out from behind the bar. To Nate, she said, “He usually drops off and picks up Theo.”

  “I don’t mind taking him.” By then, Nate had managed to assist the man to his feet.

  He tried to push Nate’s hands away, without success. “I can get home on my own.”

  Bess cackled. “You can’t get out the front door on your own, Theo. Let this young man drive you home. He seems capable enough.”

  Theo aimed his slightly unfocused gaze at Nate. “Don’t think you’re guaranteed a job just because you gave me a ride.”

  “The thought never crossed my mind.” He helped the older man don his jacket. His attempt to fasten the buttons was thwarted.

  After one awkward step, Theo started to sway. Ronnie pushed forward and grabbed his other arm.

  His scowl dissolved into a grin. “A pretty lady. Now that’s more like it.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Ronnie suggested. “You might need help getting him in and out of your truck.”

  In all likelihood Nate could handle Theo by himself, having had years of practice with his brother. But the prospect of her accompanying them was appealing...

  “What the heck. Why not?”

  Nate increased his grip on Theo’s arm, and the three of them began moving slowly toward the door.

  Chapter Four

  How often had Ronnie ridden in the front passenger seat of Nate’s truck? Too many times to count.

  This truck was different, however, from the one he’d owned six years ago. For starters, it was a plain white basic model sporting several dings and scratches. The truck Ronnie recollected had been newly purchased, top of the line, and the most beautiful shade of cobalt blue. She used to check her hair and lipstick in the shiny fender when Nate wasn’t looking.

  He must have sold that truck to help pay off his debts and bought this one, trading luxury for economy. Well, he’d done what needed to be done, and she admired him for it. Ronnie may be doing okay for herself now, but she’d been raised in a household where money was perpetually tight and appreciated the discipline and sacrifice required to live within a budget.

  That Nate should be down on his luck, after having such incredible success, was mind-boggling. And suffering from depression? All right, low spirits. Whatever he chose to call it. Imagining him being anything but positive and cheerful took effort.

  A sudden eruption of loud snoring had her checking on their passenger in the rear seat at the same time Nate did. Theo McGraw’s head had tipped to one side at an awkward angle. His eyes were closed, and his mouth hung wide open.

  “He’s asleep,” she said softly to Nate.

  “Sleeping it off, you mean.”

  “He’s not supposed to drink.” She shouldn’t smile but did. “That doesn’t stop him from sneaking out to the Poco Dinero once or twice a month when his daughter and son-in-law aren’t home.”

  “What’s wrong with him? I noticed the trembling.”

  “Parkinson’s disease.”

  “I figured it was something like that.”

  “He’s an ornery one. Refuses to follow doctor’s orders. Insists on doing what he wants, when he wants. Still rides on his good days even though a fall could put him in bed for months.” She pointed at the upcoming intersection. “Turn left here. The cutoff to the ranch is about a mile up the road. You can’t miss it.”

  “I remember. Your dad took me there once when we were visiting. He’s quite proud of the ranch. You’d think he owned a share.”

  “I suppose he is. He’s worked for Theo since he and my mom first came to Mustang Valley. Thirty-five or six years ago.”

  “Your dad in charge of hiring the help?”

  “Sometimes. He is livestock foreman. Why? You thinking of asking him for a job?”

  “Theo mentioned there might be an opening.”

  Ronnie rolled her eyes and slumped in her seat. “Why did I not see this coming?” Nate was going to worm his way into yet another aspect of her life.

  “I won’t take the job if it bothers you that much.”

  “I thought Bess hired you.”

  He slowed as the cutoff came into view. “Part-time. I need to find something else. Right away, if po
ssible. Frankie’s only letting me stay at her place until Monday.”

  “If you think I had anything to do with that—”

  “Even if you did, it’s no big deal. Better I find an RV park or campground.”

  The main gate leading to The Small Change Ranch appeared around the next bend. Ronnie and Nate didn’t talk much for the remainder of the drive. The ranch house, two stories high and bracketed by a fieldstone fence, was clearly visible in the glow from the full moon. Less visible were the stables, barns and various outbuildings situated a quarter-mile behind the impressive dwelling.

  Solar ground lights lit the walkway to the front door. Nate parked in the driveway next to a late-model sedan. Theo woke up at the sound of the engine shutting off.

  “What?” He lifted his head, taking in his surroundings though bleary eyes.

  Nate opened his door and climbed out. “We’re home, Mr. McGraw.”

  “When did we...oh, never mind. Doesn’t much matter.”

  Ronnie met up with Nate just as he was assisting Theo out of the truck. She latched on to Theo’s other arm right when his feet hit the ground. The older man leaned heavily against her, his breathing fast and shallow.

  “Steady, now,” Nate cautioned him.

  Repeating the same slow walk from the bar, they progressed up the stone tile walkway to the large, ornately carved oak front door. Theo seemed to have regained a margin of his faculties during the fifteen-minute drive. Also, his mood had improved.

  “Kind of you to give me a lift home.”

  “I was already coming this way,” Nate said.

  “That, young man, is a lie.”

  Both men chuckled. Ronnie didn’t see the humor.

  At the door, Theo fished first in one coat pocket and then a second for his keys, complaining loudly when he couldn’t find them. He was investigating a third pocket when the front door flew open.

  “Dad!” There stood Theo’s daughter, Reese, dressed in a flannel robe, face freshly washed, hands planted on her hips, wearing a glower. “What are you doing? I thought you were in bed reading.”

  “Went for a ride.”

  “At this time of night?” Her gaze narrowed. “Tell me you haven’t been drinking.”

  Theo raised his whisker-stubbled chin. “I may have indulged in a small libation. Good for the digestion.”