Tanner (American Extreme Bull Riders Tour Book 1)

by Sarah Mayberry

  They hit the road again, and by the time his internal clock told him it was close to four they were traveling along smaller local roads and Evie was reading out signs and asking for directions. Half an hour later, she spotted the gate for his ranch and turned into the driveway.

  “Wow. I love these trees,” she said, and he pictured what she was seeing—the double row of American Sentry Lindens the previous owners had planted either side of the sweeping drive to the main house.

  “Can’t take the credit for them,” he said. “They were here when I bought the place.

  “Well, someone had great taste.”

  He’d called from Tulsa to let Johnny B and Helen know he’d be home this afternoon, and he wasn’t surprised when Evie told him two people were waiting for them in front of the main house.

  “That’s Johnny B and his wife, Helen,” he explained.

  “There’s a dog, too—a border collie,” Evie said.

  “That’s Bandit, their dog.”

  “Great dogs, border collies. One of my favorite breeds.”

  The car came to a halt. He could hear movement outside the car—gravel shifting beneath feet—and guessed Johnny B and Helen were coming to greet him. Pride made him open the door and swing his feet to the ground.

  “Tanner. How are you? How was the trip?” Helen asked, her low, calm voice washing over him.

  “Pretty easy for me, harder for Evie, who had to manage me and driving on the wrong side of the road. Wrong according to her, anyway. Evie, this is Johnny B and Helen.”

  “Lovely to meet you,” Evie said, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

  “You’re Australian?” Johnny B asked.

  “That’s right. Visiting Stateside for a few weeks,” Evie said.

  “Your room is all ready for you,” Helen said, and he felt an arm on his elbow, guiding him to his feet.

  He opened his mouth to tell her he could stand on his own, but managed to swallow the words before they made it out of his mouth. Helen was only trying to help, but it gave him a new appreciation for the way Evie had handled things, talking him through the lay of the land and then giving him the choice of how she guided him from A to B.

  “I’ve got those bags, Ms. Forrester,” he heard Johnny B say, and Tanner pictured the other man wrestling with Evie for the right to unload the truck.

  “Good luck with that,” Tanner said over his shoulder. “She’s stubborn as hell.”

  “Please. You have a Masters in Stubborn, Harding,” Evie fired back at him. “No, make that a PhD.”

  “Which makes me an expert on stubborn, and my expert opinion is you’re worse than me,” he responded.

  “So…I guess you two didn’t have trouble keeping yourselves entertained for two days on the road,” Helen said dryly.

  “We managed okay,” Evie said.

  “Come on inside when you’ve finished wrestling with Johnny over the luggage, Evie, and I’ll show you your room,” Helen said.

  Tanner could tell she liked Evie already. He suspected there weren’t many people who were immune to her many charms.

  Helen guided him into the house, telling him when they’d reached the front steps and when he had to step over the threshold.

  “I changed the sheets in your room and set things up as best I could for you,” Helen said as she led him into his bedroom. “I put Evie in the big room, up near the kitchen.”

  Tanner felt the press of the bed against the side of his leg and sank onto the mattress.

  “I’ve been thinking—you’ve got enough on your plate without me landing on top of it,” he said. “Maybe we should see about getting someone in during the day. A nurse, maybe.”

  “What? You’re not hiring in some outsider to come do things me and Johnny can take care of. That’s nuts, Tanner.” Helen sounded outraged.

  “I’m not adding to your workload,” he said. “End of.”

  Helen muttered something under her breath that he was pretty sure included the phrase “PhD in Stubborn.” He’d have to thank Evie for that one later.

  “There’s lasagne for dinner, and salad. Plus I baked bread this morning. I can come over and serve up either before or after I feed the guests.”

  While each of the ranch’s three guest cabins had basic kitchen facilities, one of the first things Tanner had done when he bought the property was build a big pavilion at a central point near the cabins where evening meals were provided for guests. The shared table created a sense of community and fostered conversation between guests, something that had proven popular and generated return patronage for the ranch.

  “Evie and I will work it out. Don’t worry about us,” he said.

  “All right. If you don’t need anything else, I’ll go get Evie settled.”

  “All good here. Thanks, Helen.”

  Tanner kept the smile on his face until he was sure Helen had left. Then he stood and walked to the door, shutting it to ensure his privacy. Then and only then did he let his shoulders sag.

  He’d never been so glad to be home in his life. Four days of trying to pretend he was totally okay with the fact his life was in the toilet had taken its toll. He was sick of forcing smiles and biting back snarls. He just wanted to be left alone.

  Making his way back to the bed, he pulled off his boots then lay down, sighing as his aching body sank into the familiar comfort of his bed. He could hear Helen and Evie talking down the hallway, and guilt plucked at him. He should go out there, make sure Evie felt welcome and had everything she needed. She’d put her life on hold for him; the least he could do was make sure she was comfortable.

  He started to sit up, then the thought of having to shuffle his way up the hallway, one hand on the wall, made him pause. Tiredness swept over him, bringing with it a tight feeling in his chest and throat. If he was still a kid, he figured there might even be a few tears welling in his eyes, too, but he hadn’t cried in years.

  He was spent, beyond the end of his tether. His career was over, he might have permanent damage to his eye, he was an object of pity to all who saw him…

  He returned his head to the pillow and rolled onto his side.

  For now, he was done. The world could take care of itself for a while.

  Chapter Twelve

  “The bathroom is across the hallway. Plenty of towels and toiletries in there. I need to head back to the pavilion to check on dinner for the guests, but give me a shout if you need anything else,” Helen said.

  Evie surveyed the pleasant room she’d been shown to and sent the other woman a quick smile.

  “Thanks. I think I’m covered with all of this,” Evie said.

  Only an inch or two taller than Evie, Helen had smiling blue eyes, short strawberry-blonde hair and a warm, genuine presence. In her late thirties, possibly early forties, Evie guessed she was a big hit with Tanner’s paying guests.

  “There’s a lasagne in the fridge for dinner. I told Tanner I can come across to the main house to serve up, but he seemed to think you two could cope on your own.” Helen’s gaze was curious as she waited for Evie’s response, and Evie suspected the other woman was trying to work out what the deal was between her and Tanner.

  “Even I can’t go wrong with putting lasagne in the oven,” Evie said.

  “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then. Your flight out of Pueblo is in the afternoon, have I got that right?”

  Evie glanced in the general direction of Tanner’s room and lowered her voice.

  “To be honest with you, I haven’t actually booked a ticket for tomorrow,” Evie admitted. “I’m not due to fly home for another week or so—I figured I’d be more use here, helping Tanner out, than sleeping on my friend’s couch in Santa Fe. But I kind of have to convince Tanner first.”

  Helen’s gaze became even more speculative. “That might be harder than you think. Like you said, the man is stubborn.”

  “So stubborn,” Evie said, shaking her head ruefully.

  “Good luck,” Helen said.
“I think you’re going to need it.”

  Evie smiled as the other woman exited, then glanced around the room again. The chunky timber king-size bed was covered with a red and black plaid quilt, a fluffy-looking red blanket folded over the end. The curtains were a textured neutral fabric and a warm-hued Persian rug covered much of the timber floor.

  Shrugging out of her jacket, she left it on the end of the bed and went to explore the rest of the house. Backtracking to the open-plan living area, she took in the high ceilings and big, stone fireplace surrounded by masculine dark brown leather couches. There was another rich-toned rug in here, in the center of which was a glass-topped coffee table made from an old wagon wheel. To one side was a big, rough-hewn dining table lined with ten upholstered chairs. The kitchen ran along the rear of the space and featured rustic timber cabinets and chocolate stone countertops. Evie was no expert, but all the appliances looked scary-good, the kind a dedicated chef might drool over.

  Tanner had a nice home, and now she was taking the time to think about it, she wasn’t surprised. His truck had boasted its share of luxuries—leather upholstery, lots of mod-cons. His hotel room had been on the luxe end of comfortable, too. It made sense that a man who appreciated a few of the finer things in life would take care of his home comforts, too.

  There was no overstated excess in this home, though. No gaudy features meant to show off how well Tanner had done on the bull-riding circuit. But she already knew Tanner wasn’t a braggart.

  Curious to see more, she explored further, discovering a laundry room, a home gym, and, finally, Tanner’s home office. She ducked her head through the doorway, intending to only take a quick look, then found herself drawn in to his personal domain. The walls were paneled to waist-height in a deep-toned tongue-and-groove timber. One wall featured built-in bookcases, and at the far end a large oak desk held pride of place. The wall opposite the bookcase featured a well-worn Chesterfield sofa in faded cognac leather. It was the wall above the sofa that had sucked Evie in, though—it was filled with pictures and mounted buckles and ribbons, and as she stepped closer she understood she was looking at a visual history of Tanner’s career.

  There was a picture of him as a young boy in cowboy gear, sitting on the back of a barrel tied between two trees. There was another of teen Tanner, lean and rangy in worn denim, his shirt off as he rode the back of a bull in a paddock somewhere. She put his age at sixteen or seventeen, and even then she could see the beginnings of the powerful musculature he possessed as a man—the flat belly, the broad shoulders and strong arms.

  Her gaze roamed over prize buckles mounted in frames, her eyebrows rising higher and higher as she registered how many there were. One of the last pictures was a framed front cover of the American Extreme Bull Rider magazine, featuring an amazing action shot of Tanner atop a wildly bucking bull.

  The photographer had captured a perfect moment in time, the bull’s rear legs kicking high in the sky, Tanner leaning back on his spurs, one arm flung high to balance himself. His face was hidden by the grill on his helmet, but even without seeing his face she could sense his wild joy and triumph in the moment.

  She reached out to touch the edge of the frame. Would he ever feel this alive again?

  She remembered an article she’d read recently about how sports medicine specialists were exploring the possibility that retired high-level swimmers struggled to adjust to retirement because their bodies were addicted to the dopamine rush of competing and winning. If there was any merit to the idea, surely bull riders must be addicted to adrenalin in the same measure. How else to explain the fact that they came back from injuries and cheerfully faced death again and again, even after they’d won millions and were effectively set up for life?

  Letting her hand fall to her side, Evie released a heavy sigh. Tanner had a road ahead of him—that was for sure.

  Realizing she’d been standing in his private space for way too long, she left his study and went outside to explore the rest of the property.

  The first thing she noticed was that someone had moved Tanner’s truck out of the way—Johnny, she guessed. She glanced to her left to where a more modest version of the main house stood beneath the shadow of a couple of huge trees. That had to be where Helen and Johnny lived. To her right was a series of barns and fenced-in yards. Tanner’s truck must have found a home in one of them.

  Tucking her hands into her back pockets, she headed for the barns. It wasn’t until she’d walked past the main house that she saw the three cabins dotted high on the hillside behind it, each separated from the other by a good hundred yards. A glass-walled building with a stacked stone chimney sat between the main house and the cabins, and she could just catch a glimpse of someone moving around inside.

  Tanner had told her a bit about his place—the cabins he rented to fishermen, the horse breeding. There was a good future here for him, even if it wasn’t one he’d planned on taking up for a while. She just hoped Tanner could see that once he was over being angry and grief-stricken about the loss of his career.

  Curious about the outbuildings, she approached the first barn, breathing in the familiar smell of feed, manure, horse and straw as she stepped into the cool, dim interior. Horse stalls lined either side of a broad concrete walkway, but she could see that only half of them were occupied. Big brown eyes looked her way as half a dozen horses tracked her progress inside the barn.

  “Nothing to worry about, pretties,” she said quietly. “Just came to say hello.”

  She approached the first box and smiled when a chestnut mare with a white flare on her forehead stepped forward to investigate. She had a long, muscular neck, deep chest and short back, and Evie was reminded of the stock horses she’d ridden all her life at Forrester’s Landing.

  “Two nosy ladies, checking each other out,” Evie said, careful to keep her voice low and steady. Holding out her hand with the palm flat, she let the mare catch her scent. After a beat, she stroked the side of the horse’s face and then her neck, her smile widening as she felt the smooth, warm velvet of a live animal beneath her hand.

  Nothing better in all the world, as far as she was concerned.

  “Aren’t you a beautiful girl,” she said.

  “One of our best breeders, Miss Daisy,” a voice said behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder to see Johnny B watching her.

  “She looks it. What breed is she? Appaloosa?” Evie asked.

  Johnny’s eyebrows rose a little, the crows feet around his eyes wrinkling as he smiled a little. He was a little older than Helen, she guessed, his dark hair liberally peppered with gray.

  “Close. She’s a Colorado Ranger, also known as Rangerbred. Bred for ranch work, rodeos, trail riding.” He paused a moment. “You know your way around horses.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  “My family own a cattle station in the Top End of Queensland,” Evie explained. “And I’m about to start my final year of vet science.”

  “Vet science, huh?” Johnny asked, his brown eyes lighting up.

  “Yep. Specializing in rural practice.” A lot of Evie’s fellow students had plans to use their degrees in the city, but Evie had lived too long under the broad skies of rural Australia to be able to tolerate city living for an extended period.

  “We’ve got a mare about to foal in the end stall. We figure she’s going to drop any day now,” Johnny said, his expression hopeful.

  “I’d be happy to take a look at her, as long as you know I’m not qualified to practice yet, so I can’t really offer advice,” Evie said.

  “Understand that, but it would still put my mind at ease. Clementine’s our most valuable broodmare.”

  “Let’s take a look at her, then,” Evie said easily.

  She walked beside Johnny as he headed for the far end of the barn where a larger-than-normal stall was situated. A swollen mare stood inside, her white and chestnut leopard spot hide stretched by her pregnancy.

  Evie talked softly to her before entering the s
tall with Johnny. She let the mare sniff her hand, then spent a few minutes petting her strong neck and murmuring soothingly to her before going to check out things at the horse’s back end. Crouching, she inspected the mare’s developing udder.

  “How long has she had this?” she asked.

  “About a week now,” Johnny said.

  “And when does she normally foal after bagging up?” Evie asked, using the colloquial term for a mare developing an udder prior to birth. Some mares developed up to six weeks prior to foaling, others just days. Typically, a mare followed the same patterns every time she foaled, though.

  “About a week, give or take.”

  “Any signs of wax or milk?” Evie asked.

  “None so far.”

  Evie nodded and checked the mare’s tail dock for sponginess, then lifted her tail to inspect her vulva.

  “She’s close. I’d say you’ll have a foal within the next forty-eight hours,” Evie predicted.

  Johnny beamed. “That was my feeling, too. Thanks for taking a look, Evie.”

  “My pleasure. She’s beautiful. Nice breed,” she said, running an appreciative hand down Clementine’s powerful flanks.

  Together she and Johnny left the stall and headed back toward the entrance.

  “Helen tells me you might be staying with us longer than tonight?” Johnny asked, shooting her a sideways glance.

  “Maybe. If I can get Tanner to see sense.”

  “Not a lot of fun, being beholden to other people for everything.”

  “Agreed. But there’s no need to make it more painful for everyone than it needs to be, either.”

  Johnny laughed at her dry tone. “Explain it like that to Tanner; I’m sure he’ll come around.”

  Evie couldn’t hold back her own laugher. “Or not.”

  After a moment Johnny’s smile faded. “Did the doctors say much about his eyesight?” he asked, face drawn with worry for his friend and employer.

  “They won’t know anything until the bandage comes off, and maybe even a few days after that. There will be swelling, things will need to settle down…”