“I was going to say don’t eat all the pizza, but that too.” He released the door, and Kelsey opened it.
“Really, I am safe—”
“Yeah, I agree, but humor me,” Tate said. “Besides, I think I know what you need. Follow me.”
He led her toward the stairwell at the end of the hall, then walked them up more flights to the top. But didn’t stop there. He pulled down the stairs hooked to the top level and affixed them to the floor. “The skyline is amazing from up here.”
Oh, she liked Tate, especially when he wore the same look Knox had the day he’d suggested the Ferris wheel.
He opened the door to the roof, climbed out, and held out his hand. She hesitated only a moment, then took it and let him pull her up.
A gravel surface, filled with electrical and HVAC boxes, but beyond the edge of the roof, Vegas sprawled glittering under the black sky. Tate walked her over to the edge and then let go of her hand.
Silence edged between them. Then, “You okay, Kels?”
She took a breath, then, “Oh Tate, I…I don’t know.” She curled her hands around her waist. “I know what I did was the right thing—I can’t take your brother away from his life. But…I…”
“What if?”
She looked at him and slowly nodded.
“Yeah, I know,” he said quietly.
She sighed. “He accused me of hiding inside the person I am onstage…and maybe he was right. I know this world.”
“But you wanted the other one.”
“I don’t know. I…I think I just wanted…” She sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”
Tate stood beside her, saying nothing, and just his presence made her ache for Knox.
“Knox used to drive me crazy. We’d be out riding fence, hours and hours of mundane work in the spring, looking for breaks in the barbed wire, and I’d just…I’d want to go home. I hated every minute of it, but Knox—no, when you rode fence with Knox, you rode to the bitter end. You checked every cotton-pickin’ inch of that fencing because he refused to be the guy who let one of our cows get hurt or wander off our land.” He shook his head. “Knox is the guy who gets it right.”
“Safe. Nice. He even called himself boring.”
“Oh, Knox is not boring. He wanted to be a bull rider, but my dad said he had to learn how bulls think, too, so he made him be a clown for a while.”
“A clown?”
“Yeah. They distract the bull after the rider is bucked off. It’s dangerous, but Knox…he was crazy good at it. He could read a bull, tell which way it would go, taunt it, then run the other direction. He’d pull the bull rope and play with the animal, herding the animal right into the pen like it was coming home for dinner. And then he’d work the audience for the next cowboy. Everybody loved Knox the rodeo clown.”
“I can’t even imagine him doing that.”
Tate lifted a shoulder. “He gave it up when he started seriously riding bulls—mostly did the clowning for local rodeos. But it’s still in him—the desire to protect. Only now he channels it into the ranch.”
And, toward her.
She looked away, nodded. “I’ve never felt so…safe as when I was with Knox.”
“I’ll try not to take that as a criticism.”
She laughed. “No, I mean…he just…he has a way of looking at me. And yeah, he has those eyes…that…well, they’re a little dangerous…”
He glanced at her, but she didn’t meet his eyes.
“But he also calms the churning inside,” she said softly. “Something came back to life inside me when I was with him. He made me believe that maybe…maybe I didn’t have to be afraid all the time.”
“‘Lead me to the towering rock of safety, for you are my safe refuge.’”
She glanced at him. “Your mom said that.”
“It’s one of her favorite psalms. She said that you always have to look for the high places to get a different view and for a firm place to stand.” He glanced down at her. “Of course, Ma always means Jesus, but I suppose it could work for Knox too. He’s a pretty big guy.”
Tate’s words wove through her, settled, and in their wake, she heard Gerri.
It’s how God shows us He loves us too—through the way we reach out and hold on to each other.
Like Knox had held on to her.
God made me to take care of you, to protect you.
She ran her hands up her bare arms, her gaze on Vegas.
What if…what if God had shown up in her life through Knox? She drew in a breath. Your soul is thirsty.
It was. So very thirsty.
Lord, if You’re out there, please… She didn’t even know what to ask for.
Or rather, she did.
But she’d already said no to her tomorrows.
13
“Kelsey, you’re wound so tight I think I’m going to lose the hotdog I had for supper just looking at you. Please, take a freakin’ breath. Everything is going to be okay.” Tate stood in the doorway of the Yankee Belles’ dressing room, one hand on the jamb, the other looking out toward the concourse of the Las Vegas Western Complex.
The smell of animal flesh, dirt, beer, and a hint of manure filtered down the hall, mixed with the concession area offerings of popcorn, pizza, and ball park dogs, and didn’t help the mess in Kelsey’s gut.
And not because she was afraid. Tate had distributed the two pictures of the men suspected in the bombing in San Antonio. Plus, he’d cordoned off the Belles’ dressing area with double security. He wore an earpiece and had spent not a little time briefing the crew of the arena of possible threats.
No, they were probably safe from whoever wanted to hurt Glo.
And she’d run through her set without a glitch in rehearsal. Not a moment of hesitation as the lights fell, nothing to take her by the throat and send her to her knees.
Tate was right—everything was going to be okay.
Except she’d probably put too much hope in the idea that Knox might show up. Had shot a bullet prayer into the heavens with too much expectancy.
Silly.
He wasn’t coming, and of course not because she’d walked away. Told him not to follow.
The man probably came to his senses. Who wanted this life anyway—playing in dirty stadiums, staying up until all hours, pasting on a smile…
Down the hall, the crowd cheered as another poor cowboy got thrown from a bull. She glanced at the clock. Thirty minutes to showtime—the rodeo was nearly over. And NBR-X had sold out tonight, thanks in part to a killer bull they’d brought in to impress the crowd. Were pitting some old PBR rider against him.
Apparently, rodeogoers had been spooked by the events in San Antonio, but maybe after tonight—and her concert—they might get back on track.
Dixie’s violins were lined up against the wall, and now she sat in a chair, checking her phone. She looked amazing tonight in a pair of black leather pants and a white, sequined shirt, her long blonde hair down and twined with flowers.
Glo sat with one leg over the arm of a lounge chair, picking at her Dobro. Her arm had healed fast, but not enough for her to play tonight. Carter had hired a guy from Vegas who’d rehearsed with them for the week.
Elijah Blue was out in the wings, hanging with him somewhere.
Glo had opted for a short, black tiered dress with flouncy long sleeves, and red cowboy boots that showed off her legs. One look at Tate’s face when he’d knocked on the door to check on them, his gaze lingering on Glo, said that despite her efforts, he still saw her injury. What he’d nearly lost. Poor man, he recovered quickly, hiding it, but she sort of hoped that she’d see that look of desire on Knox’s face again, someday.
Apparently not.
Kelsey wore a pair of cutoff jean shorts, a white oversized blouse with cutout shoulders, and fringed boots. No feathers tonight, but she did braid one thick section of hair and let it fall into the tousles of the rest.
“C’mon,” she said, pushing herself out of the chair. “Let’s go
watch the rodeo.”
Dixie looked up at her, raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“I have to get out of my head. So, I’ll go watch strong, brave men try to cheat death.”
“I’m in,” Dixie said and got up.
Glo put down her Dobro. “I’m always in the mood for eye candy.”
Tate’s mouth tightened as he stepped back to let them through. “Just stay in the hallway. I don’t want anyone to see you.”
Tonight’s stage would be pushed out onto the arena floor after the rodeo. Kelsey walked down the tiny hallway, standing at the opening that led out to the auditorium. A walkway ringed the arena floor, a shelf that separated the dirt from the stands.
NBR-X had thrown everything into this night. American flags hung from the ceiling in between banners printed with the pictures of rodeo and stock champions. Her gaze fell on the one of a white bull and a handsome cowboy with a half smile, a dangerous twinkle in his eyes. He looked familiar, but she dismissed him as one of the regular bull riders who competed in the NBR-X events.
She hoped the man lived through this night.
She heard a shout, then the crowd roared as in the arena a black-hided bull burst from the pen, twisting its body as a cowboy gripped the bull rope, his red chaps flying.
“It looks so painful,” Glo said, coming up to stand beside her. Dixie was leaning against the wall across from her.
“It is. You can sprain your wrist, tear ligaments in your arm, break fingers, strain your back, not to mention break your neck and get gored,” Tate said. “It’s for the crazy, or maybe the not real bright. These guys have landed on their heads one too many times.”
“Knox was a bull rider.” She glanced over her shoulder to Tate.
He was grinning. “I know.”
Oh. She grinned back, and it eased the deep ache for a moment.
As if he might be suggesting that Knox was an idiot for not running after her.
She turned back to the rider, now scrabbling through the dirt toward the rail. The rodeo clown distracted the bull, then ran to the rail to dodge the animal as it charged.
Tate’s words about Knox the rodeo clown thrummed in her head. He could read a bull, tell which way it would go, taunt it, then run the other direction.
She refused to apply that comparison to her. Maybe she’d done the taunting, then ran the other direction.
This clearly wasn’t working to get him out of her head.
The lights suddenly went down in the arena, and a spotlight hit the center floor as a cowboy walked to the middle. He looked familiar.
Right. Tori’s dad, from San Antonio.
He raised his mic and waved to the crowd. Good-looking with brown hair, a lazy smile that tweaked up one side, and a lean, sculpted body outlined in a teal blue snap-button shirt, and a pair of black chaps and a black Stetson. “Hey, y’all. My name is Rafe Noble, and I’m one of the NBR-X organizers. Thanks for comin’ out tonight! I hope y’all are having fun!”
The crowd rose to his greeting with a roar of applause.
“Rafe is a three-time champion bull rider with the PBR,” Tate said as the applause died.
“We have a special treat for you tonight. A couple of old cronies coming out of retirement for one spectacular ride tonight, just for you.”
The crowd began to murmur.
He turned, and someone was running out into the area holding a protective vest and a helmet. Rafe handed the man the mic and donned the vest as the murmurs grew. He grabbed the mic again.
“It’s a great night to get back on a bull.”
“Oh my…” Tate said, almost in a whisper. “He’s going to get killed.”
The crowd was roaring, and Rafe held up his hand. “And the bull I’m going to ride is a champion himself, a three-time PBR Bull of the Year, with a power ranking of 90.14 and an average buck off rank of 86.7 percent. Out of fifty-one attempts, only seven cowboys have stayed on this powerhouse. He’s a nineteen-hundred-pound monster, nine years old, and was the sire of PBR champion bull Hot Pete, who passed away recently. And tonight he’s back, for one show only, to see if he can get another old dog off his back!”
The spotlight shifted away from Rafe and over to the bucking pen.
Kelsey drew in a breath as the light lit up the animal. But her gaze didn’t land on the massive, leathery white Brahma bull who bucked in his chute, giving life to Rafe’s words, but—
But on the man who stood on the gate, settling the bull down. He wore a red shirt with the NBR-X logo on the front, a white hat, and as the spotlight settled on him, he looked up and waved.
“Let’s give a warm welcome to Gordo the Bonebreaker!”
Knox Marshall smiled, reached down and patted his animal as if he might be the family dog.
And if she’d forgotten the stun power of this man, it swept back through Kelsey, his smile, the dangerous stubble across his chin that made her clench her hands. Wide shoulders, lean hips, and he looked a little like a bull-riding champion himself.
The crowd roared—for Gordo, probably also for Knox—and then the lights went back to Rafe. “You ready to get ’er done?”
Kelsey turned her back against the cement wall as the crowd cheered whatever was happening down in the arena. She pressed her hand to her chest.
“Are you okay?” Tate said, turning to her, his eyes clouding.
She closed her eyes. “He’s here. Knox is here.”
Tate went silent.
She opened her eyes. He was pinching his mouth tight.
“Wait—did you know?”
He shook his head. “He called and left a voice message, but I’ve been too busy to check it. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry…” He glanced back at the arena. “Rafe’s getting on Gordo.”
Knox was here.
And…he hadn’t called her. Hadn’t tracked her down.
Her eyes burned, but she refused the emotions that filled her throat. Don’t let your fear keep you from us.
She turned, her hands around her body, holding on, watching the jumbotron as Rafe stood over the old bull. Gordo was moving around in the chute, but Rafe pounded his hand down onto the bull rope, then settled on the bull.
Tate sucked in his breath as the entire arena went quiet.
Knox bent over Rafe, holding his arm. Rafe wrapped his free hand around the gate. Hit his chest once, then nodded and lifted his hand.
Kelsey clamped a hand over her mouth as the bull released. Gordo came out twisting, his back hooves kicking high, but Rafe bore down, his legs viced around the monster’s body.
Gordo landed on a run, then writhed again, both sets of legs leaving the earth.
Rafe’s body jerked hard to the right, but he clung to Gordo’s back. Gordo didn’t just kick, he curved his body midair, so when he landed, the cowboy was already off balance.
Rafe was thrown forward and narrowly missed Gordo’s cropped horns.
The crowd had gone wild, on their feet, pumping their fists.
Terrifying, wild, reckless—Kelsey couldn’t look away from the spectacle, suddenly rooting for Rafe to hang on. To ride Gordo’s violence out for the win.
Gordo dipped back, his hindquarters hunching down as his chest arched.
Rafe flew off the back, doing a near flip before he landed in the dirt.
The buzzer sounded as Gordo, still bucking, ran down the length of the field.
Rafe got up, ran to the railing, and Kelsey’s breath caught as Knox hit the dirt, waving for Gordo. The bull turned to follow him, and the crowd gasped as Knox ran toward the pen, dodged Gordo’s advance, and led the bull right into the gate.
Then he walked over to Rafe, and they high-fived, Rafe grinning.
“Six point nine seconds,” Tate said. “Almost.”
But she couldn’t take her eyes off the triumph on Rafe’s face.
Maybe that was it—what she was missing. The triumph. She simply hadn’t held on long enough through the fear and recklessness and wild ride of letting Knox into her h
eart.
Safe, nice, protective Knox who’d just run down a bull to protect his friend.
Who had shown up tonight. Because…because God had answered her prayer.
And maybe it was time to stop letting fear rule her life.
“C’mon, girls, we have a change in the program.” She grabbed Glo’s hand and pulled her close as they walked to the dressing room.
“What?”
“You’re singing your song tonight.”
“No, I—”
“Stop being so afraid!” She glanced at Tate, a few steps ahead of them. “Poor man deserves a little hope.”
A smile tugged on Glo’s face. “Maybe I do too,” she said softly.
Maybe, in fact, they all did.
Kelsey called in the band, grabbed her guitar, and laid out the new program. “Just one big change—aside from Glo singing her song. I’m debuting mine.”
Dixie grinned, folded her arms over her chest, nodded.
“Really?” Glo said. “We haven’t worked out any arrangements, there’s no…are you sure?”
“Yes. Just a simple acoustic performance.” No polish, just heart.
Please, God, make Knox be in the audience.
She ran the song a couple times with the band, and Glo offered a few ideas. But yeah, it was enough. Please let it be enough.
Even if it killed him, slowly, from the inside out, Knox planned on watching Kelsey sing. He’d stand in the shadows so he didn’t distract her, but when Kelsey walked out onstage, he’d lose himself for the space of her show in the what-ifs.
Clearly, however, she wasn’t interested in having him back in her life, because Tate would have texted him. When he’d left the voice mail—something he regretted almost instantly, thanks to the pleading in his voice—he’d left the decision with her.
Hey, Tate, it’s me. I’m here with Gordo—the show needed a boost, so they’ve brought us out for a one-night event. But…I was hoping…so, um…how’s Kelsey? I’d like to see her, but…she might not want to see me. I’m going to hang around for a while tonight, maybe catch the show, so if she’s…oh brother. Just text me if she wants to see me.
Yeah, desperate, weak, and pitiful.
He’d just have to figure out how to live with the ache in his chest.
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