More Than a Cowboy (Reckless, Arizona)

by Cathy McDavid

  While Mercer had hinted at not needing Deacon’s services in the near future, they hadn’t officially terminated their representation agreement. Deacon could initiate it if he chose, and would as soon as it was feasible.

  He drank in the sight of Liberty again. First thing Monday, he’d make an appointment with Mercer.

  “I saw you and Tank over by the catering van,” she said. “How did that go?”

  “Fine until I brought up the accident.”

  She slanted him a look. “I don’t suppose you posing a probing question or two had anything to do with that.”

  “Maybe.”

  She sighed expansively.

  “You’re right, Liberty. Tank’s hiding something.”

  “Fat chance getting it out of him.”

  “Someone else will talk.”

  “Is that why you entered the steer-wrestling competition?” she asked.

  “It gives me the chance to mingle without raising suspicion.”

  “You don’t think Tank’s suspicious?” Her teasing smile was contagious.

  “I might have gone overboard.”

  “No.” She feigned shock. “You?”

  He laughed at that.

  “I’ll keep an ear to the ground, too. You competing in the steer wrestling is sure to get a few people talking. Especially when you eat dirt.”

  “You think I can’t win?” He was mildly offended.

  “You didn’t do that great the other day.”

  “I didn’t do that bad.”

  “You should have told me you were going to enter. I’d have signed you up for some practice sessions.”

  “It was last-minute.” As in yesterday last-minute. “I’ll catch up with you later, and we can compare notes.”

  “Promise.”

  “Sure.” He started to leave. There wasn’t much time left, and he still needed to ready his horse.

  She gripped his arm, waylaying him. “Be careful today.”

  The warmth in her eyes and the tenderness in her voice compelled him to lean in closer. “Steer wrestling isn’t half as dangerous as bull or bronc riding.”

  “I meant be careful you don’t get somebody else mad at you with the questions you’re asking.”

  She cared. And she wasn’t mad at him for avoiding her recently.

  As if to prove it, she stood on her tiptoes and planted a light peck on his cheek.

  “For luck,” she said. “I’ll be watching you from the fence.”

  She turned and walked away, leaving Deacon standing there and most certainly wearing a dumbfounded expression on his face.

  It was confirmed a moment later when Mercer sauntered over. “By the looks of you, I’d say you’ve been bitten hard.”

  “Liberty? She was wishing me luck.”

  “Mighty friendly way of wishing you luck.”

  “She’s a friendly gal.”

  “That’s what I’ve been hearing. By my count, this is the third time she’s been friendly with you.”

  There was a bite to Mercer’s tone. Someone—Deacon’s money was on Sunny—had ratted on him and Liberty, and Mercer wasn’t happy.

  “I can assure you, there’s nothing between Liberty and me.”

  “Didn’t appear that way to me.”

  “You have no reason to worry. There’s been no misconduct on my part. Either personally or professionally.” He was stretching the truth. But there had been no intentional misconduct, and he and Liberty had stopped before things progressed too far.

  “See that it stays that way.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  There was no mistaking the warning. Mercer didn’t approve of Deacon seeing Liberty. He might not approve even after Deacon stopped representing him. Until he terminated their contract, Deacon needed to tread lightly.

  At that moment, a voice blared from the loudspeakers announcing the start of the steer-wrestling competition and for all participants to report to the south gate. It couldn’t have come soon enough.

  * * *

  HE CAN’T POSSIBLY WIN. That was what Liberty told herself. Secretly, she hoped differently.

  Deacon had steer-wrestled a total of once...in how many years? While he’d done passably well the other day, his time was nowhere near good enough to put him in the top. Not at this level of competition. Of the ten cowboys who had gone ahead of him, three finished in less than seven seconds.

  Really, he didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell. Still, Liberty watched from her place at the fence and chanted in a soft voice, “Come on, come on.”

  The chute door opened with a clang. The steer charged across the arena, kept in a straight line by the hazer riding beside him. The instant the barrier rope broke, Deacon spurred Huck into a gallop.

  Liberty counted the seconds, matching them with the beating of her heart.

  One...two...

  Deacon caught up with the steer.

  Three...four...

  He flung himself from the saddle and onto the ground, his hands outstretched and ready to grab the horns. There! He had him.

  Five...

  His form was perfect. The steer turned his head, his legs going out from under him as if in slow motion. In that moment, she realized it was possible. Deacon could do this! He could place in the top four!

  She cheered along with the audience, her fingers cramping from gripping the fence railing with all her might.

  Then it happened. The unexpected. Deacon’s feet suddenly lost their purchase. Instead of harmlessly laying the calf on its side, he went down like a sinking stone. The entire lower half of his body slipped beneath the rampaging steer.

  He let go of the horns, unable to sustain his hold under the pressure. The steer stumbled as it trampled Deacon. Then, it was over. Deacon lay in the dirt, unmoving as the steer loped away. The buzzer cut the air, announcing his disqualification.

  Liberty cried his name as the entire stands gasped in unison. She glanced frantically about, searching for the closest gate. Too far! Her foot hit the bottom rung of the fence, and she started to climb. Nothing was going to stop her from getting to him as fast as possible.

  Then, something did stop her: the audience cheering. Pausing midstep, she looked up. Deacon was rising from where he’d fallen, putting first one foot and then the other on the ground. Standing at last, he waved to the crowd, signaling that he was unharmed.

  The hazer rode over to him, having already herded Deacon’s horse to the end of the arena where one of the wranglers collected him. The hazer spoke to Deacon, probably asking if he needed help. Deacon shook his head no and started back toward the chutes.

  Liberty’s knees betrayed her and she wobbled unsteadily. She clung to the fence, waiting for her strength to return. She’d seen countless falls through the years, some of those with tragic results. Yet, she’d never been more scared. And never been more glad to see a cowboy walk out of the arena under his own steam.

  She raced to the exit gate beside the chutes, beating Deacon there. The instant he was through, she began fussing over him, mindless of the curious stares, bemused smiles and wolfish hoots.

  “Are you okay?” She put her palm to his chest, then ran her hand down his arm. “Anything broken?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not.” There was an angry red scrape on the side of his neck. “Maybe you should have the medic check you out.” The entrant following Deacon finished his run. He must have done well judging by the crowd’s enthusiastic response. Liberty hardly noticed. “You could have a broken rib.”

  “I didn’t break anything.” Deacon started walking away.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get my horse.”

  She went with him over to the wrangler who held on
to Huck.

  “Better luck next time,” the young man said from atop his horse.

  “Thanks.”

  She hurried to keep up with Deacon as he led his horse away, matching her smaller steps to his longer ones. “You’re not seriously going to try steer wrestling again,” Liberty demanded.

  “Not without more practice. I have three months before the Wild West Days Rodeo.”

  “Why? You only did this so you could mingle and ask questions.”

  “I had fun.”

  “Fun?” Liberty couldn’t believe her ears.

  He stopped at his truck to unsaddle the horse. “Isn’t that why we do things? Because we enjoy them.”

  “Deacon.” Emotion overwhelmed her. To her chagrin, she sniffed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I thought you were hurt.”

  “I like that you’re worried about me,” he said gently.

  She rushed to his side and buried her face in his shoulder. “You could have cracked your skull open. Don’t do that again.”

  “So, is it my skull and not me you care about?”

  His sexy voice sent a tingle dancing along her skin. “What do you think?”

  She didn’t hesitate, just stood on her tiptoes and kissed Deacon soundly. Right there in front of everyone. She didn’t care who saw them or that they would probably be the talk of the rodeo before the night was over.

  At first, he tensed. Then he returned the kiss. Only briefly but enough to ignite a warm glow inside her.

  “Come with me tonight,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Where?”

  “To the Hole in the Wall. Or the Flat Iron Restaurant. Both will be open late because of the rodeo.”

  “Are you asking me on a date?”

  “We need to talk.”

  The warm glow dimmed. Until he smiled. How could she not have noticed the little creases that appeared at the corners of his eyes before?

  A cowboy came up behind Deacon and clapped him on the back. “Good to see you competing.”

  “Thanks, Vic.”

  During Huck’s cooldown walk, Deacon was stopped numerous times. It was a while before he and Liberty found themselves alone.

  “Your father pretty much warned me to stay away from you.”

  “Because he’s your client.”

  “I think more because he doesn’t want to see you hurt.”

  ‘That’s kind of...” Words failed her.

  “Fatherly of him?”

  “Yeah.” Liberty took a moment to digest this new aspect of her relationship with Mercer. His actions were those of a doting father. Except a doting father didn’t use his daughter like Mercer had used her.

  Was she mad at him or touched? She wasn’t sure.

  “You okay?” Deacon asked.

  “Sorry. I was just thinking about Mercer.”

  “We can skip tonight if you’d rather.”

  “Absolutely not.” She refused to allow her issues with Mercer to affect her evening with Deacon. He might not think of it as a date, but she did. “There’s a band playing the Hole in the Wall, and I want to go.”

  Music meant there would be dancing. She had no idea if Deacon even danced, but she intended to find out. The idea of him holding her close and swaying to a slow, easy number was just too tempting.

  “We’re going there to talk,” he reminded Liberty.

  “Sure, sure. I’ll get away as soon as I can.” She wondered who she could coerce into covering for her. “I have to go.” She thought of kissing Deacon but was suddenly distracted. “I don’t believe it.”

  “What?”

  She pointed.

  “Well, look at that,” Deacon murmured.

  Liberty’s mother and Mercer stood in front of the door to the registration booth, locked in an embrace. A very passionate embrace.

  “I was right,” Liberty exclaimed. “Mom is still in love with him.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “Cassidy’s not going to like this.”

  “Don’t tell her.”

  “She’ll find out before the night’s over. It’s not as if they chose a dark, secluded corner.”

  “True. How do you feel about it?” Deacon asked.

  “Mom’s a grown woman. She can do what she pleases.”

  “Not that.”

  “I’m hopeful,” Liberty admitted. “I can get past all the lies and secrets if my family’s reconciled.”

  Deacon touched her cheek with the lightest of caresses.

  Liberty swore she felt the ground sway. Then she realized it was just Deacon, sweeping her off her feet.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Hole in the Wall was about the worst place Deacon and Liberty could have picked for talking. Even when the band went on break, the noise level remained deafening. Deacon was all right with that—he’d rather dance with Liberty than talk. For now. They would have to get serious eventually.

  He hadn’t seen the place this busy before. The dance floor overflowed with two-steppers. Cowboys and cowgirls stood three deep at the bar and six or eight crowded around tables designed for four. Some were celebrating their wins at the Helldorado and advancement to the final rounds. Others were drowning their sorrows. Family, friends and spectators joined them.

  Other than Liberty, none of the Becketts were there. They were probably still at the arena, taking care of last-minute preparations for tomorrow. Deacon should feel bad about stealing Liberty away, and he did. When they weren’t dancing.

  Then, he had trouble concentrating on anything except her. The delicate scent of her skin. The spark of laughter dancing in her eyes. The softness of her hand folded inside his. Her incredible curves that drove him to distraction.

  “Deacon?”

  “Mmm?” He looked down at her, mesmerized all over again.

  “The music’s stopped.”

  She was right. It had. “You ready for another wine?”

  “Do you mind?”

  She was drinking Chardonnay. Another contradiction he found fascinating. Not that white wine wasn’t a lady’s drink, but it wasn’t much of a cowgirl’s drink. Watching her sip from her long-stemmed glass while wearing jeans and boots and a leather belt was about the sexiest thing Deacon had ever seen.

  He hoped she didn’t notice how completely enamored he was with her. Then again, she’d have to be brain-dead not to. Even strangers smiled at them in a knowing way.

  “Wait here.” He left her at the edge of the dance floor and squeezed his way to the bar. Getting a waitress was impossible. With the room filled to capacity, the staff was being run ragged.

  “Hey, Deacon.” A pal and former junior rodeo rival stopped him. “Sorry about today.”

  “There’s always next time.”

  He chatted with more old friends while waiting for the bartender to return with Liberty’s wine.

  “What about you?” the man asked, sliding the glass toward Deacon. He had the affable demeanor of someone who’d worked behind a bar many years.

  Deacon produced enough bills to cover the drink and a tip. “I’m driving.”

  He had no desire to defend himself in court on DUI charges. Neither would he put a passenger of his in danger if he could help it.

  Saying goodbye to his friends, he returned to where he’d left Liberty and drew up short. She was talking to Ernie Tuckerman and looking none too happy about it. Deacon walked briskly to cover the remaining distance separating them.

  “Ernie,” he said upon joining them, raising his voice to be heard over the band. Handing Liberty her wine, he bent his head close to her ear. “You okay?”

  “He was just asking me how the rodeo went,” she said with exaggerated cheeriness.

  “You should check it o
ut for yourself tomorrow,” Deacon suggested.

  Ernie nodded. “I just might do that.”

  “Great.” Liberty beamed. “I’ll leave a guest pass for you at the booth.”

  His expression darkened. “I can pay. I don’t need your charity.”

  “She was being nice.” Deacon forced himself to remain calm.

  “The Becketts are nice people.”

  Was he implying that Deacon wasn’t?

  Ernie raised his beer bottle to his mouth and took a long pull. “Heard you been asking questions around town about the accident.”

  Deacon felt no obligation to explain. “I’d still like to talk to you about it.”

  “I have nothing to say.”

  “Did you know an electric shocker was found on the ground by the bulls’ pen right after the accident?”

  “The Becketts don’t allow shockers.”

  “Exactly,” Liberty cut in. “Which is why it was strange to find one. And on the same day a bull escapes and charges you.”

  “You think I’d shock a bull just to get myself hurt? Nobody’s that dumb.” His gaze narrowed on Deacon. “Not even Einstein.”

  “Hey!” Liberty objected. “That’s not very nice.”

  “Just joking with my old pal. He doesn’t care, do you, Einstein?”

  “I haven’t cared for a lot of years,” Deacon replied. “Not since I graduated ASU in the top ten percent of my class and passed the bar on my first try.”

  “You did?” Liberty turned wide eyes on him. “I’m impressed.”

  “Yeah, good for you.” The loud music didn’t mask Ernie’s malcontent.

  The band finished their song and went right into another one without pausing.

  “Liberty.” Deacon reached for her hand. “Would you like to dance?”

  “I think that’s a good idea.” She cast about for a place to temporarily set her wineglass. “There’s Bill and Arlene. They’re friends of Mom’s. Just a sec.” Hurrying over to the couple, she stayed a few moments to exchange pleasantries.

  Ernie’s gaze followed her. “I should’ve guessed you were tapping that keg when the two of you showed up on my doorstep.”

  Deacon loomed over him so that there would be no misunderstanding. “If I ever hear you say anything disparaging about Liberty or her family, I promise you’ll regret it.”