“Hi. Blake?”
“Yes?”
“This is Shelby O’Connor.”
“Of course! How is Evarado? Is he coming along?”
Blake sounded so cluelessly happy that Shelby almost hated to tell her the truth. “Not as fast as one would hope. You see… he has issues.”
“Yes. I know.”
Okay… “He’s nine-years-old, which means he’s kind of set in his ways. It’s going to take a lot of time to get him to where he’s… trustworthy.”
“Do you need to keep him longer? It’s only been a couple of weeks, but if you think that more time would help…”
“It’s not so much a question of time as temperament.” Shelby waited a moment, to allow Blake to soak that in. “He’s never going to be a sweet horse. The kind of horse I picture someone developing a close relationship with.” Because Shelby had a feeling Blake wanted a horse that she could love like a dog.
“But with time—”
“Blake… he’s never going to be a sweet, dependable mount.”
There was a long, long silence, and then Blake said, “But he’s improving.”
“A lot,” Shelby said truthfully. “And he could get to the point where perhaps you could sell him to an expert rider and recoup your money.”
“Sell him?”
“It’s something to consider.”
Another long silence and then Blake said, “I want to do what’s best for Evarado. Please keep working with him and we can talk again when the thirty days are up.”
Shelby felt a surge of relief, right up until Blake added, “You never know… he might end up just perfect for a little time and patience.”
“I’ll give you a call when the thirty days are up,” Shelby said.
At least she’d planted the seed—and gotten permission to carry on, with the owner knowing full well that selling might be their best option. That was huge and it put her in a better mood as she contemplated her day ahead.
Let’s see—her comeback roping event, in which she’d either choke or she wouldn’t, in front of a hometown crowd. Ty’s comeback event, in which he’d either get creamed or not, before a hometown crowd.
The better mood began to stall out. Funny how the roping had seemed like such a huge deal when she agreed to it, and now it was more of a minor blip on her stress radar. And if, like Wyatt said, she roped best when she was worried about other matters, then they would catch that steer in record time.
Shelby came back into the kitchen and poured both her and her grandfather refill coffees. “I have to leave in half an hour so that I have time to warm up. Will you be ready by then?”
“I’ll drive myself in later.” He’d already told her that he wasn’t going in early for the parade, which was a first, and he hadn’t wanted to go into Marietta for the Friday night festivities either, which had her wondering.
“Are you sure your knees are up to driving?”
Gramps set down his coffee cup hard enough to slosh the contents. “I’m able to drive.”
He’d gotten damned prickly and defensive since his near fall in the living room the day before.
“If your knees are bothering you,” Shelby continued, “you shouldn’t stress them with that stubborn clutch. You know you can catch a ride with a neighbor and then come home with me.” That way she didn’t have to go to the street dance if she didn’t feel like it. Between her and Gramps, they were missing out on everything that made the Copper Mountain Rodeo weekend so much fun.
Gramps let out a disgusted breath. “I don’t need a chauffeur.”
“No. You need to go to a doctor. Maybe it’s just a matter of getting a brace for your knees.”
“Fine. I’ll see a doctor.”
Probably in six months, when he was due for a yearly physical with his behind-the-times doctor. Gramps had been raised in a family that only saw doctors when something was about to fall off their body, or they were prone and helpless, thus allowing someone to get them to the doctor. Obviously he wasn’t going to see the nurse practitioner.
“Do you want me to hook you up with a ride?”
“I’ll do it.”
Shelby gave a nod. “Rodeo starts at eleven.”
“I know.”
“See you there?”
“If not, I’ll see you when you get home.”
“Sounds good.” She picked up her coffee up and set it in the sink.
“I’ll do the dishes,” Gramps said gruffly. “Just leave them.”
“Thanks.” She went over to kiss the side of his head. “And thanks for agreeing to driving in with someone.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He waved his hand, but when Shelby started for the living room where she’d left her gear he said her name. She looked back. “Good luck today, kid. And remember, no matter what… you’re a winner to me.”
Shelby kept that thought in her head as she drove to Marietta and crossed the bridge to the rodeo parking. So what if she embarrassed herself again? In the big scheme, what did it matter?
It didn’t. But Ty’s ride did.
Open mind. Open mind.
“Ready?” Wyatt asked as she approached the trailer. Ginger was already saddled and ready to go.
“As I ever will be.” Shelby untied the horse, bridled him, and mounted. They headed to the warm up area and started trotting big circles, allowing the horses’ muscles to warm slowly. By the time they were finished, the announcer was heralding the grand entry.
Two events and they were up.
Three events and Ty was up.
*
Ty wasn’t nervous for his ride. He rarely was. He was either ready or he wasn’t, and he knew he was ready. He’d had no practice rides, but he’d worked out diligently and muscle memory was a wonderful thing. He set his gear down behind the chutes and started stretching. The team roping was about to begin, followed by the mutton busting. He had time to warm up nice and slow.
He purposely ignored the team roping event when it started. Told himself he wasn’t going to watch—right up until the announcer called Wyatt and Shelby on deck. The he couldn’t help himself. He found a place at the rail and realized his heart was beating faster. He was nervous for her—more nervous than he was for his own ride. He knew what it was like to be in a bad place in one’s head. Knew how doubts could hamper natural ability.
The horse Shelby had borrowed from Wyatt walked calmly into position as she adjusted her loop, his ears pricked forward, ready to do the job he’d been bred to do with no unnecessary fuss. But of course Wyatt would have the best horses that money could buy. He was that good… and he’d retired a champion.
Doesn’t matter.
And the funny thing was that since making love with Shelby, the “doesn’t matter” feeling was growing stronger. The driving need to win it all one more time, to not be taken out of the game by a freak accident, wasn’t as strong as it’d been even forty-eight hours ago.
The team before Wyatt and Shelby roped, racking up a respectable time and then Shelby and Wyatt rode into the box on either side of the chute. The guys manning the chute nudged the steer to straighten his head so he was pointed forward, then the chute opened and the big animal lunged out. Wyatt was on him so quickly that Ty thought for certain he’d broken the barrier. If he had, then this loss would be on him instead of Shelby.
The loop dropped easily over the steer’s head and Wyatt dallied before the animal hit the end, swinging the steer’s high quarters around and giving Shelby access to the heels. Before Ty could blink she’d thrown and pulled her horse to a stop, dallying and stretching the steer. Double heel catch. No penalty unless Wyatt had broken the damned barrier.
The crowd cheered and for the first time since she rode toward the box, Shelby smiled as she eased her horse forward, taking the wraps off her saddle horn. The steer regained his feet when the rope loosened and stepped out of the loop. After Wyatt had shaken his loop off the animal’s neck, the steer loped to the gate at the opposite end of the arena. Shelby an
d Wyatt followed, coiling their ropes as they rode.
“I know what you’re thinking, folks,” the announcer said in a conspiratorial tone. “But the barrier was not breached. The time is good and we have new leaders—Wyatt Marshall and Shelby O’Connor. May I say, Shelby, that it’s good to see you back in the arena again? And Wyatt… way to pick the prettiest partner here today.”
Ty pushed off the fence as the next team loaded into the box. When was the last time he’d been that concerned over someone else’s performance? Maybe that time Austin had drawn that widow-maker bull that had never been ridden. Odd comparison, but the truth was his heart was still beating a little faster.
The bucking chutes were being loaded with sheep for the mutton busting so Ty headed toward his truck. He’d catch up with Shelby later and congratulate her, but right now he needed to spend some time in his head. He idly rubbed his bad thigh as he walked. The muscles there were as good as they were going to get. Were they good enough?
He had to believe that they were. Had to believe this upcoming ride was his new start.
If he got creamed, what then?
Then he was going to be damned glad he’d chosen a small venue, a place where people knew and liked him, to test the waters. A place where his failure wouldn’t be pasted across online rodeo blogs and news sites.
*
Shelby should have been walking on air. She’d conquered the mental block, proved that she was still the roper she’d been prior to blowing things at Nationals. Proved she could rope in front of a crowd under pressure. As things stood now, she and Wyatt were at number one in the standings. It wasn’t a national title, but hey… she bit her lip to keep from smiling sappily to herself… she hadn’t blown it!
The mutton busting started. The crowd hooted and cheered for the little guys clinging to the backs of sheep, but all Shelby could think about was the event following mutton busting. Saddle bronc.
Was Ty ready?
Was she?
Once upon a time, she’d loved watching him ride. But that was before riding had become her rival. So was that why she was so nervous? Because if he did well, then he’d once again leave Marietta?
After the issues with Gramps yesterday, there was no way Shelby could give up everything and follow Ty on the road—even if he asked her. So that left her exactly where she’d been when he’d asked her to travel with him four years ago. Without any real choice.
She hated it. Hated being wedged in between a rock and a hard place.
So what choice did she have, except to put on a brave face and watch the guy she loved try to conquer his sport all over again?
Maybe that was what love was… doing the thing that was hardest of all to do.
Shelby pressed her lips together and headed toward the crowded stands, spotting a few empty seats up high where the crowd was thinner. She owed it to Ty to watch, to see how this all played out, even though she wanted very much to retreat to her truck and hide out.
“Great run!”
She smiled and bumped fists with the kid at the edge of the aisle, smiling at his family as they chimed in their agreement. Heads turned and people waved. Shelby waved back, glad to have congratulations instead of sympathy, but at the same time wishing very much that she could be alone.
She moved a couple beer cans to the floor and sat on the uppermost row of the bleachers. Truly the nosebleeds. The tractor came into the arena and did a quick pass after the mutton busting and then the announcer encouraged every to get ready for saddle broncs!
The woman in front of Shelby was holding up her program and Shelby caught Ty’s name toward the end before she lowered it again.
Four guys rode and two of them made the whistle. Good rides in the eighties. The stock was better than usual this year.
Just her luck.
And then Ty was on deck. Shelby recognized his hat at chute number five, as they brought in his horse. The horse reared and struck the solid metal divider with a front hoof before going back to all fours and Shelby’s stomach tightened.
Great. His comeback ride, the one where Shelby had hoped against hope he’d get a horse that bucked well enough to give him a score, but not so hard he had fight on his hands.
Heaven help her, she was praying for a horse that would give Ty a mid-level score—high sixties, low seventies. High enough that he didn’t qualify for a re-ride. Yes, she was a traitor, but she was worried about him.
Shelby swallowed and focused on the chute, where the horse had finally quieted. She saw Ty’s hat as he mounted once again and then, before she was ready, the gate swung open and the bay mare exploded out into the arena.
It had to be a little one.
Small horses could be harder to ride than the bigger animals. They were more agile and, as was true of this particular mare, able to change things up rapidly. She bucked, spun, and twisted, making it difficult for Ty to get his rhythm, but somehow he did, answering everything that little mare threw at him and then toward the end of his ride, he pulled off his hat and fanned her.
Damn it, Ty.
Shelby’s teeth were tightly clenched together as she waited for his smart ass move to give him some payback, but no. The buzzer rang, the pickup men closed in, one of them reaching for the flank strap and the other moving into position for Ty to grab hold and dismount. Once Ty’s feet were on solid earth, Shelby let out a very long breath as she closed her eyes and allowed her head tip back, coming to rest on the post behind her.
“You okay, sweetheart?”
She opened her eyes to see the woman, whose program she’d sneaked a peek at, turned around and frowning at her.
“Fine. Just… relieved.”
“Is that your young man?”
Shelby just nodded because right now, she felt pretty close to throwing up. This was even worse than it had been before.
*
It had been one of those magical rides where everything—abso-fucking-lutely everything—came together. He knew as soon as his feet hit the dirt he’d be in the high eighties. Scooter Do, the little bay mare, had done her part and then some, and he’d answered her every challenge.
He felt like hugging the mare, but instead he saluted her as she loped by on her way out of the arena, then slapped his hat on his leg to shake out the arena dust and headed for the fence.
“Ladies and Gentlemen!” The announcer roared. “You saw it here, at the Seventy-Eighth Copper Mountain Rodeo! Mr. Ty Harding’s comeback ride and what a ride it was. Ninety-one points! That’s a nine followed by a one, ladies and gentlemen. The score puts Ty firmly in the lead. Let’s show him how much we appreciate him sharing his comeback with all of us here in Marietta!”
The crowd continued to cheer and Ty waved his hat again and then slipped through the man gate.
He walked away from the arena, intent on getting to his truck when he could sit and process what had just happened, when someone called his name. He turned and saw his father walking toward him with Buck Creighton, a former bareback bronc rider and reporter for Rough Stock World, the online rodeo magazine.
Son of a bitch.
It was all he could do to not turn and head the other way.
“Helluva ride, Ty!” His dad slapped him on the back and Buck gave an approving nod.
Ty briefly met his father’s gaze. “I’m… surprised to see you here.”
“You didn’t think I’d miss your comeback ride, did you?” He jerked his head toward Buck. “I figured people in the rodeo world would be interested, too.”
Ty held out his hand to Buck. “Good to see you. It’s been a while.”
“Yeah, it has.” Buck had interviewed him after his two championships and they’d bumped into each other on the circuit. “Your dad called and mentioned that you had an entry at the Copper Mountain Rodeo. I’ve never been, had a free weekend, so decided to drive over from Boise and watch.”
“Hope you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Nice little rodeo. Now…do you mind if I ask you a few qu
estions for the magazine?”
Ty shook his head and avoided looking at his dad, who no doubt thought he had made a brilliant maneuver. “Not at all.”
“So this comeback ride… it went well.”
“I’m pleased.”
“You were a late entry. No press about the ride.”
“I had close to a year off and that last wreck had kind of ruined me—to the point that, as you know, I announced my retirement. I wasn’t certain that I’d healed enough to resume my career, so I thought I’d start with a hometown crowd—you know…people who are familiar with me and would have my back win, lose or draw.”
“I think most crowds are like that Ty. You have a lot of fans.”
“Thank you.”
“You have a decent lead in the standings, but that can all change tomorrow. How are you feeling after today’s ride?”
“Confident. My head’s in a good place.”
“Well, I wish you luck. I’ll be here to watch that ride and I’d like to do another short interview tomorrow and perhaps we can work in time to discuss another matter.”
Another matter? “Looking forward to it.”
Buck lowered his phone and reached out to shake Ty’s hand. “Good luck, man.”
“Thanks.” Ty shot his dad a look. “Catch up with you later, okay?”
“Sure thing, son.”
Ty gritted his teeth and headed for his truck, certain his dad would catch up to him sooner rather than later, and sure enough, before he hit the entrance to the field where his truck was parked, he heard his dad call his name.
His shoulders tightened and he made a conscious effort to relax his taut muscles before he turned back to face his father who was quickly closing the distance between them. His muscles he might have been able to control. His temper, not so much.
“What the hell, Dad?” The words came grinding out.
His father gave him a blank look, which only irritated him more.
“Did it ever occur to you that if I wanted publicity about attempting a comeback, that I would have arranged it myself? That I would have told you my plans?”
“What? You’re pissed because Buck Creighton is here?”
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