The Bull Rider's Valentine

by Cathy McDavid

“Yes.” Ronnie had heard of her, as had almost everyone in the rodeo world. “But I’m happy teaching and running the event at the Poco Dinero.”

  “Have you competed at all since...” He didn’t finish.

  “No.”

  After the reference to their unhappy past, neither of them spoke again. They were polishing the silver conchos and accents on Sam’s saddle when the teenager returned.

  With a quick, “I’ve got to get ready,” she scurried past them and climbed into Ronnie’s camper.

  Kingman’s Andy Devine Days wasn’t the biggest rodeo in the state by any means. Nonetheless, Ronnie had insisted Sam give it the same consideration as one twice the size. As a result, Sam looked every inch the professional barrel racer when she stepped out of the trailer fifteen minutes later, and Comanche was impeccably groomed from head to toe.

  Ronnie gave her sister a last-minute inspection.

  “Well?” Sam demanded.

  “You’re only missing one thing.” Ronnie reached into her pocket and removed a silver horse-head pin, which she affixed to Sam’s shirt collar. “For luck. Dad gave this to me on my fourteenth birthday. I wore it in every competition after that.”

  “Really?” Sam’s entire countenance changed, and she visibly held back tears. “Thanks, Ronnie.”

  “You’re welcome.” Ronnie had to fend off her own flood of emotions.

  “That was nice of you,” Nate said after Sam rode off toward the practice ring.

  “It was just collecting dust in my jewelry box.”

  Rather than press her, Nate gave her a much appreciated break while they tidied up around the trailer.

  “Be back in five,” she said when they were done, and disappeared inside the camper to freshen up. “Because I’m covered with dirt and horsehair” she mumbled as she washed her face and combed her hair in the tiny bathroom. “Nate has nothing to do with it.”

  Right. Just like he had nothing to do with her applying mascara, blush and lipstick.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, evaluating her reflection in the mirror. She’d hurt him. Terribly. And had no business encouraging him. When he’d kissed her the other night, she should have immediately pushed him away and insisted they not let that happen again. Instead, she’d responded and most certainly given him the wrong idea.

  His appreciative glance when she stepped out of the camper lingered. “Wow. You look great!”

  “I want to be ready in case I meet any potential clients.”

  The explanation satisfied her. The twinkle in Nate’s eyes said he thought some of her efforts were for his benefit.

  He was wrong, of course. So very wrong. She lifted her chin a notch and purposely faced away from him as if searching for someone. His deep chuckle infuriated her. She didn’t like him guessing what she was thinking.

  They walked side by side to the warm-up arena, planning to watch Sam before she competed. Ronnie carefully maintained a good six inches of space between them at all times, refusing to dwell on his confident walk, strong profile and how the breeze teased the dark hair peeking out from beneath his cowboy hat.

  She cleared her throat. “Did you have a chance to talk to Sam about her pulling back on the reins?”

  “Yeah. When we stopped for gas this morning. You were inside the mini-mart buying coffee. I figured she’d be more receptive if you weren’t around.”

  Ronnie wasn’t offended. Mostly because he was right. “And?”

  “It went fine.”

  The crowd grew denser once they left the parking lot and entered the arena grounds. White tents lined both sides, food to their left, merchandise and services to their right. The setup created a long aisle leading to the main arena.

  During the walk, they were assaulted by the delicious aromas of fry bread and barbecue and kettle corn. A vendor selling colorful fringed vests caught Ronnie’s attention, and she decided to return later for a closer inspection.

  “Sam was receptive then?”

  “Pretty receptive,” Nate said. “We’ll see when it’s her turn.”

  “But she agreed she was pulling back on the reins?”

  “Not exactly, though she didn’t disagree.”

  Ronnie could have predicted as much.

  “What are your plans for the riding school?”

  His question took her momentarily aback. “Plans? Besides doubling the number of students, training the best barrel racing horses in the state and becoming wealthy beyond my wildest dreams?”

  “I see you have no small ambitions.”

  She almost laughed. He could be charming and endearing when he chose, and she’d have to watch herself. “Truthfully? Make a decent living and have a good, no, a great, reputation.”

  “You’ve done really well for yourself, Ronnie.”

  The warmth and sincerity in his tone flattered her. “Thank you.”

  “I’m not sure you’d have accomplished as much if we’d stayed together.”

  She stopped midstep. “Why do you say that?”

  “I put my career ahead of yours.”

  “I’m not sure you did. But, in all fairness, you had the better career.”

  “Doesn’t make what I did right.”

  “Water under the bridge.” She took a step.

  “Is it?” He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Both our lives were completely changed that day.”

  Which day was that? she mused. When she’d miscarried? His wrecked Valentine’s Day proposal? The day she’d walked out without telling him?

  “Yes.” Ronnie forced herself to breathe evenly. She really did owe him an explanation.

  Not now, however, and when she started forward a second time, he let her go. Relief flowed through her, allowing her pulse to slow its beating.

  The crowd at this rodeo looked pretty much like those at every other one. The various groups were easy to spot. Spectators, competitors and their family and friends, rodeo workers, and those in the business—trainers, horse traders, and equipment or supply merchants. Some, Ronnie included, fell into more than one category.

  As expected, they encountered several familiar faces, frequently pausing for a brief hello. Nate, Ronnie noted, was always greeted warmly despite his lengthy absence from competition. When asked what he was up to, he answered bull riding manager for the Poco Dinero, which seemed to interest a great many folks.

  He also made each statement with a small amount of obvious pleasure, if not pride. A big change from his first day in Mustang Valley a few days ago, when he’d seemed subdued and reserved.

  What had he told her in the bar? That he needed the job and not just for the money? Hadn’t she herself learned the importance of pride in one’s accomplishments?

  At last, she and Nate reached the warm-up ring, where they immediately spotted Sam and Comanche. Rather than trotting or loping the horse in order to loosen his muscles, Comanche stood in place while Sam carried on an animated conversation with a friend Ronnie recognized.

  She wanted to shout at Sam to quit wasting time and get a move on. Biting her lower lip, she suppressed the urge.

  Fortunately for them both, Sam spotted Ronnie and gently nudged Comanche with her heels. Leaving her friend behind, she began putting the horse though his warm-up paces. Ronnie sighed expansively.

  “You okay?”

  She sensed Nate’s stare on her and purposely lightened her voice. “Couldn’t be better.”

  Soon after that, the announcement came that the barrel racing event was starting. Because Sam had been late registering, she’d be the last to go. They agreed Nate would remain with Sam while Ronnie went ahead to the arena and checked on the competition.

  There were several impressive runs, Ronnie decided, but none Sam couldn’t beat. She hoped Nate was offering Sam advice and that the teenager was listening for a change. Eventually, Ronni
e spotted them in the area behind the gate where Sam would wait for her turn. She rushed over to join them, skirting around horses and riders and spectators.

  As with every similar situation, Ronnie briefly flashed on the day she’d fallen after nearly being trampled by the runaway horse. Automatically, she looked in all directions, making sure the coast was clear. Emotions rose inside her, a fresh attack of grief and guilt and sorrow. She ruthlessly held them at bay.

  “Four more competitors to go,” she said as she neared, feeling more in control.

  Sam straightened in the saddle. Both she and Comanche appeared ready.

  “You’ve got this,” Nate told her. “Just remember to cue his lead change the second you come out of the pocket and watch that right hand.”

  “I got it.” Sam’s terse response could be, and probably was, the result of nerves.

  Ronnie gave a start when Sam’s name was called.

  “She’ll be great,” Nate assured her and led her to a spot on the fence where they’d have a better view of Sam’s run.

  “Good luck!” Ronnie hollered.

  Sam reached a hand up and touched the silver horse-head pin. Seeing that caused a small lump to form in Ronnie’s throat. Whatever differences they had, Sam was her sister, and they’d come to love each other.

  Six inches of separation weren’t possible at the fence, not with the crowd squeezing in. Ronnie and Nate stood touching from the shoulders down. She tried ignoring the warmth radiating from him and the firm pressure of his body against hers.

  That was until the moment Sam and Comanche entered the arena at a full gallop, his hooves flying and her head low as she leaned forward over the saddle. Then, Ronnie’s attention was entirely focused on Sam.

  “You got this,” she murmured under her breath, every muscle in her body rigid.

  “Come on,” Nate said between clenched teeth.

  Sam’s run, over in the blink of an eye, was almost flawless. Nate whipped his hat off and, whooping loudly, waved it in the air above his head. Ronnie hollered, “Good ride!” as Sam sped past them out of the arena. When Sam’s results were posted on the jumbotron, Ronnie couldn’t help herself and let out a yelp. “Second place!”

  Nate’s grin spread from ear to ear as his arm slipped around her waist. “She’s advancing to the final round tomorrow.”

  Without a conscious thought, Ronnie turned into him, pulled his head down to her level and planted a kiss on his cheek.

  He increased his hold on her and whispered low and sexy, “Don’t stop there, sweetheart.”

  Chapter Six

  After the first twenty miles of Sam’s nonstop chatter, Nate had begun blocking her out. That had been a hundred-and-seventy miles ago. She hadn’t taken a break in all that time. It was a wonder her phone hadn’t died. Fifteen more miles and they’d reach home.

  Since when did he think of Mustang Valley as home? With all the traveling he’d done and long-ago move from Abilene, he didn’t call anyplace home. The thought gave him pause.

  “It was incredible,” Sam gushed. “Yeah, fifteen-point-ten seconds. My best time in I don’t know how long. The entire crowd cheered. When I accepted my first place ribbon and buckle, the guy in the booth announced the win qualified me for Nationals.”

  She was describing the events from earlier—day two, and the final round of barrel racing. Nate had lost track of how many people she’d told. This call, however, was different. Sam was talking to her mom.

  He couldn’t tell from Sam’s tone if the rift between mother and daughter had healed or simply narrowed. Sam was still riding an emotional high, which accounted for her elevated mood.

  Whatever the case, he was glad she and her mom were conversing and not arguing. He recalled the first friendly phone call with his own mother after their two-year estrangement. Tomorrow he’d let her know about Sam and her mother’s reconciliation, if Sam’s mom didn’t beat him to the punch.

  Nate let himself smile. He’d accomplished what he’d set out to do, check on Sam and help if possible. Not that he intended to leave anytime soon. He liked his two new jobs and, if he said so himself, was doing pretty well at them.

  Bess had been impressed with his assessment of the bulls at Lost Dutchman Livestock Company and his suggestions for renegotiating the contract terms. Reese thought he walked on water. Her description, not his. She was exaggerating, of course, but apparently his approach to caring for Theo was more successful than that of the man’s previous caregivers. Perhaps because Nate sincerely liked Theo and enjoyed their hours together.

  Over the din of Sam’s spirited conversation, he heard his own phone go off. Grabbing it from the compartment in the console beside him—his old truck didn’t have Bluetooth capabilities—he checked the display.

  Ronnie’s name and number appeared, sending a sudden surge of surprise and excitement through him. They’d spoken only when absolutely necessary since yesterday and her excited reaction to Sam’s run. All she’d done was give him a peck on the cheek. No big deal. Nate couldn’t figure out what was bothering her.

  Unless it was the smoldering look they’d shared and his less than subtle suggestion she not stop there. Or her name, which he’d uttered in a soft, urgent whisper. Right next to her ear. After she’d pulled his head down to her level. Which was right after she’d leaned into him. Or, was it the other way around?

  Nate hadn’t dared do more. Ronnie needed to be the one to make the next move. But she hadn’t. As if coming to her senses, she’d withdrawn. When Sam rode over to them moments later, it was to discover her sister and family friend eagerly waiting to congratulate her.

  Answering Ronnie’s call, Nate automatically checked the side mirror, noting the reflection of her headlights. She’d been behind him the entire drive from Kingman.

  “Hey,” he said cheerily, “is there a problem?”

  “What’s going on with Sam? I’ve been calling her for the past hour and keep getting her voice mail.”

  Okay. Not the least bit interested in talking to him. Well, what had he expected? A sudden outpouring of feelings? A confession that she’d been thinking about him as much as he’d been thinking about her? An invitation to finally have that long overdue talk?

  “She’s been on the phone,” he answered. “At the moment, she’s talking with her mom.”

  “Oh.” There was a pause before Ronnie continued. “Are they being civil?”

  “Downright friendly, from what I can hear.”

  “That’s good, I guess. Right?”

  “I think so.”

  “Well, I was going to suggest we stop at the gas station on the way into town. Sam can ride with me the rest of the way home. That would save you some extra driving.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  It had been Ronnie’s idea for Sam to ride with Nate. He’d been admittedly baffled, assuming she’d want to share in Sam’s excitement and discuss various strategies for Nationals. Maybe, possibly, Ronnie had needed some alone time to contemplate the many changes his recent appearance had wrought in her life.

  “You know where it is?” she asked.

  “On the south side of the road. Next to the auto parts store.”

  Nate stifled a yawn. It was late, and they’d had a long, grueling day that included a nearly four-hour drive. Thinking ahead to his 7:00 a.m. shift with Theo the next morning added to his weariness.

  “Sam’s going to have to practice harder than ever,” Ronnie said. “Local rodeos are nothing compared to Nationals. The competition is intense. Well—” she paused “—you’d know that better than anyone.”

  He did and wondered if she’d attended any National Finals after her miscarriage. Not Nate. He’d been invited more than once to watch friends compete. After he’d turned them down enough times, they’d stopped asking—which was fine by him.

  “I’ll be there to
help as much as I can,” he told Ronnie. “The first recreational bull riding event is next weekend.”

  “Bess didn’t tell me.”

  “She called me earlier today.” Actually, she’d let him know she’d signed the revised contract with Lost Dutchman. “I’m sure she’ll contact you tomorrow. She probably figured you were busy with Sam.”

  “I suppose.”

  He could hear the uncertainty in her voice and attempted to reassure her. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  “I’m not. And barrel racing doesn’t require nearly the preparation bull riding does. Neither is it as big a draw.”

  Did that bother her? Nate decided no. Ronnie’s entire purpose in managing the barrel racing events for Bess was to get her name as a trainer, and the name of her school, in front of as many people as possible. This wasn’t a competition between them.

  For that reason, Nate would do his level best to guarantee a smooth working relationship. Hadn’t he and Ronnie been getting along fine when it came to Sam? Unexpected kiss and intimate exchanges aside. And with this being Sam’s last rodeo of the year, they wouldn’t be traveling together again.

  Unless Sam insisted he accompany them to Vegas for Nationals in three weeks. Would she? They hadn’t discussed the possibility. Ronnie might not welcome him. And he had his two new jobs to consider, though he imagined his employers would give him time off. The entire town was pulling for Sam, as they’d once pulled for Ronnie.

  The real question was, how would he and Ronnie feel? Nationals was sure to evoke many difficult memories.

  “If you need help with setting up for Saturday,” he told her, “let me know. I’ll be there all day.”

  “Um, thanks. I should be fine. I have a couple of students and their parents coming.”

  “Okay. See you at the gas station.”

  He’d only just disconnected when Sam ended the call with her mother. “That went well,” he said.

  “Real well.” She positively beamed.

  “We’re meeting Ronnie at the gas station. To swap you out.”

  “I’m glad she suggested I ride with you and that we were able to spend time together.”