The Cowboy Next Door (The Cash Brothers)

by Thomas, Marin

  Shannon was the first to admit the bull made her nervous, but a draw was a draw and her sponsor paid her to play the game with the big boys. C.J. had drawn Mr. Gigolo, a twenty-one-point bull known for running toward the exit after throwing his rider.

  Shannon unzipped her bag and put on her gear.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re ready to kick off our bull riding event.” The announcer’s voice boomed over the sound system.

  “Don’t look now but Rodriguez is heading this way,” Johnny said.

  When C.J. noticed Johnny, he glared. “What are you doing here, Cash?”

  “Making sure you mind your manners.”

  A cowboy standing nearby snickered and C.J. snapped at Shannon, “You’re going down, Douglas.”

  “Is that any way to talk to your girlfriend?” Johnny asked.

  C.J. flashed a smug grin.

  “Don’t let Rodriguez get to you.” Johnny grasped Shannon’s shoulders. “You’ve got to keep your head on straight with this bull.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Ready?”

  Whether she was or not didn’t matter. It was showtime.

  Chapter Four

  “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the third annual Yuma Rodeo Days Ride-Off!”

  The spectators’ applause competed with the industrial-sized fans, which moved stagnant air through the building and kept the temperature at a steady eighty-five degrees—not bad considering the thermometer outside hovered at one-hundred-five.

  “Yuma is the only town in Arizona to put on a rodeo the last Saturday in the month of August.” The crowd noise grew deafening. “This event is for bull riders only, but be sure to stay afterward for the legendary chuck wagon races. Let’s have a round of applause for our sponsors, the Yuma Main Street Merchants Association.”

  Shannon caught C.J. watching her. He wanted her to lose and his steady stare squeezed her like a vise, crushing her chest until she couldn’t draw any air into her lungs.

  “Take a deep breath and relax.” Johnny’s quiet voice broke the tension in her body and her lungs opened enough to suck in a gulp of oxygen. “Don’t worry about Rodriguez.” He grasped her hand. “Concentrate on your ride.”

  “Folks, we got ourselves fifteen of the toughest rodeo athletes in the Southwest ready to ride fifteen of the meanest, orneriest bulls on the circuit.”

  Johnny released her hand, and she resisted the urge to cling to his fingers—leaning on him was a sign of weakness. The only person she could rely on when the chute opened was herself. Gathering her courage, she studied the bulls.

  Shannon zeroed in on Heat Miser’s rear hooves. Every few seconds the bull kicked the rails, causing Shannon’s adrenaline to spike. Her heart rate sped up and her mouth watered—she could taste how much she wanted to even the score with C.J.

  Music blasted over the sound system as the JumboTron played clips of bull rides from previous rodeos. “Before our competition begins, let me introduce southern Arizona’s famous rodeo couple!” Shannon and C.J. waved to the crowd.

  “Shannon Douglas hails from Stagecoach, Arizona, and next to her is our hometown legend C. J. Rodriguez!”

  The giant video screen zoomed in on Shannon and C.J., and she forced a smile. C.J. blew kisses at the camera and the women in the stands screamed wildly.

  “Sponsored by Dynasty Boots, Shannon and C.J. are traveling the country, promoting women’s roughstock events. For those who don’t know, Shannon is in the running this year for the prestigious title of Cowgirl of the Year.”

  When the applause died down, the announcer said, “Place your bets, folks! It’s cowgirl against cowboy. Who’s gonna come out on top in today’s ride-off?”

  The crowd went crazy.

  Shannon heard several shouts for her name but a whole lot more for C.J.’s. There would always be fans who believed women didn’t belong in roughstock events. Most of Shannon’s supporters were her competitors who respected talent—female or male made no difference.

  “Did you do your research on Heat Miser?” Johnny asked when Shannon dropped back to the ground.

  “He kicks twice, spins then kicks again before he comes out of the spin.” She’d watched the bull perform at a rodeo in Alamosa, Colorado, which was both helpful and not so helpful. Knowing what she was up against before the gate opened wasn’t the least bit reassuring.

  “Folks, Rodriguez will ride Gigolo.” The announcer chuckled. “Seein’ how they’re both ladies’ men, C.J. and Gigolo ought to get along swell.”

  Shannon ignored the raucous laughter, tired of the lewd jokes that went hand in hand with her and C.J.’s fake romance. Johnny walked a few feet away to gain a better view of C.J.’s ride.

  “It’s a fact that Shannon’s bull, Heat Miser, is rated higher than C.J.’s, but you can never tell with a bull. Let’s see if this cowboy makes it to eight.”

  C.J. sat on Gigolo’s back and made a big production out of fussing with the bull rope, and then the fun began.

  The bull’s rhythmic bucking pattern—two kicks, a spin then two more kicks—made C.J. look like a superstar. When the buzzer rang he waved his hat at the crowd before dismounting.

  Show-off.

  C.J. landed on both feet, then faced Shannon’s chute and bowed.

  “Another stellar ride by one of the best cowboys on the circuit!”

  When Johnny appeared at Shannon’s side, she said, “Thanks for being here.”

  “You’re ready.” He straightened her Kevlar vest and she wished those strong arms would pull her close for a hug. Instead, she gathered strength from the confidence in his voice.

  “Don’t lean too far forward. Heat Miser is famous for butting heads with his riders.”

  Mean bulls didn’t care for anyone on their backs and it didn’t make a bit of difference if the rider was female or male. Shannon adjusted her leather glove, then put one boot on the rail. C.J.’s voice stopped her cold.

  “Better hold tight, Douglas, or that bull will stomp your head!”

  Shannon placed her boot back on the ground. “Is that any way to treat your better half?” she said, loud enough to turn heads.

  Johnny stiffened next to her, but she kept her eyes on C.J. This was part of the show—their love-hate relationship. Dynasty Boots wanted fans to believe they were a warring couple—fiercely competitive during the rodeo then wildly passionate for each other afterward.

  C.J. smiled for the cameras. “You’ll never make it to eight, Douglas.”

  Johnny stepped between them. “Give her some breathing room, Rodriguez.”

  “Jealous, Cash?” C.J. nodded to Johnny’s clothes. “I see you’re dressing like your namesake.”

  “You got a problem with my name, Rodriguez?”

  “Yeah, it’s stupid.”

  “If you don’t have anything nice to say...” Johnny smirked. “You know...shut your mouth.”

  C.J.’s gaze cut to Shannon. “Is Cash doing all your talking for you now?”

  She cringed when she saw their images on the JumboTron. “Back off, C.J.”

  “You think I’m afraid of a country-western wannabe?” C.J. puffed out his chest.

  Johnny bumped the brim of his Stetson against C.J.’s. “You heard the lady. Back off.”

  “Make me.”

  Before Shannon realized Johnny’s intent, he swung his fist, catching C.J. across the jaw and knocking him backward. The group of onlookers steadied C.J. before thrusting him toward Johnny.

  C.J. threw the next punch, catching Johnny across the cheek, but Johnny kept his balance and took another swing at C.J. The shorter man ducked, then pushed Johnny to the ground, where they rolled in the dirt.

  Rodeo officials intervened and pulled the men apart just as the announcer’s voice boomed over
the sound system. “Looks like there’s trouble in paradise.”

  Cheers and boos echoed through the stands.

  Shannon stuck her face in C.J.’s and whispered, “You probably just cost us our sponsorship. Happy now?”

  C.J. walked off, rubbing his jaw and the crowd dispersed.

  “You okay?” Johnny asked.

  “I’m fine.” She touched her fingers against the bruise forming on his cheek. “What about you?”

  “This isn’t the first time I’ve taken a punch defending my name.”

  “If you ask me, folks, it looks like we’ve got ourselves a little love triangle between Shannon Douglas, C. J. Rodriguez and...who’s that you say?”

  The JumboTron showed the announcer conferring with one of the scorekeepers. “Johnny Cash.” The crowd stomped their boots on the metal bleachers. “That’s right, folks...the Man in Black.”

  Johnny escorted Shannon away from the cameras. “Don’t worry about anything right now but going out there and sticking like glue to your bull.” He winked, then pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. “It’s your turn to shine.”

  Instead of leaving her dazed, Johnny’s kiss propelled her toward the chute. Without hesitation she slid onto Heat Miser, but as soon as she grasped the rope, the bull rose on his back legs and Shannon had to scramble for safety.

  “Heat Miser’s full of hot air this afternoon. Shannon’s gonna have her hands full with this bull.”

  Once Heat Miser stopped protesting, Shannon found her seat and wasted no time wrapping the rope around her hand. She wasn’t a fan of suicide wraps and most rodeos didn’t allow a rider to tie his glove to the bull rope but this was one time she wished she could use the trick to keep from losing her grip.

  After harnessing her anger at C.J. she leaned her shoulder forward and nodded to the gateman. Heat Miser exploded from the chute, his hoof cracking against the gate and sending the rodeo worker diving for cover.

  The bull’s muscles rippled and clenched as he kicked out. When his hooves hit the ground, the impact reverberated through Shannon’s spine and across her shoulders. Clinging to the rope she transferred her center of gravity forward as the bull rolled left. With each second that ticked off the clock, she fought to remain balanced and tuned her ears for the sound of the buzzer.

  Just when she believed she’d make it through the ride without Heat Miser throwing his head, the bull dipped, propelling Shannon forward. She tensed, bracing for impact as the bull flung his head sideways. The jolt felt as if someone had swung a baseball bat at her face mask. Dazed, she received a one-second reprieve when Heat Miser planted all four hooves on the ground before gathering his power for another kick.

  Face numb, vision blurry, her strength began to ebb. Hang on...one...more... The buzzer rang and instinct took over, releasing a final surge of adrenaline as she waited for an opening to dismount.

  The bullfighters appeared in her peripheral vision and one of the men shouted at her, but she couldn’t hear him through the ringing in her ears. Heat Miser was tiring but even the kick of a tired bull was dangerous. Each time she thought she saw an opening the bull stole it from her. Her arm had grown numb and her vision began to dim. She was running out of time and options. She had to jump.

  The last thing she remembered was hitting the ground and the excruciating pain that shot through her left leg before blackness overcame her.

  Paralyzed with fear, Johnny was perched on the arena rails, watching the horror unfold before his eyes. Shannon laid facedown in the dirt while the bullfighters attempted to draw Heat Miser away from her. One of the men whacked the bull’s butt and the animal gave chase but only for a few yards.

  Get up, Shannon. Get up!

  She didn’t move.

  The bull pawed the ground. Good, God. Heat Miser intended to freight-train Shannon.

  No! No!

  Johnny vaulted over the rails and dropped into the arena. Everything happened in slow motion as he raced toward her body, waving his arms frantically above his head. The bullfighters closed ranks and showed amazing bravery when the bull charged them. One cowboy grabbed a horn but Heat Miser tossed his head, flinging the man through the air like a pesky fly.

  A sick feeling gripped Johnny’s stomach when he realized he wasn’t going to reach Shannon in time. A cowboy on horseback galloped into the arena and attempted to lasso the bull’s head but missed his first attempt. There was nothing left between Shannon and Heat Miser but twenty feet of dirt.

  Johnny’s heart stopped beating when the bull lowered his head and caught Shannon at the waist, hurling her into the air like a rag doll. She hit the ground and rolled several feet before her body came to a stop. Having made his point, Heat Miser trotted off to the livestock pen.

  Heart beating like a jackhammer, Johnny skidded to a stop at her side. “Shannon? Can you hear me?”

  A bullfighter knelt next to Johnny. “Don’t move her. She might have an injury to her neck or spinal cord.”

  The medics sprinted into the arena ahead of the rescue truck. Johnny held Shannon’s hand and whispered in her ear. “You’re going to be okay, honey.”

  “Out of the way!” The paramedic’s shout startled Johnny and he scooted over, allowing the medical team room to do their job.

  “She’s breathing.” A medic examined Shannon’s limbs and when he touched her left leg, she groaned. “The bone might be broken,” he said.

  A third medic emerged from the truck with a body board. Once Shannon’s neck was immobilized with a foam brace, they rolled her onto the board and strapped her down. Johnny peered through the dented face mask, willing her eyes to open, but they remained closed. “Where are you taking her?”

  “Yuma Regional Medical Center.”

  Johnny waited until they’d loaded her into the truck, then raced through the cowboy ready area as he called Shannon’s father on his cell phone. Clive didn’t pick up so he left a brief message telling his boss to head to the hospital.

  Rodriguez chased after Johnny. “Where are you going, Cash?”

  “What do you care?”

  “She’s not your girl.” Rodriguez stopped when they reached the parking lot and Johnny kept walking.

  Maybe Shannon wasn’t his girl, but she was like a sister to him and right now he was scared to death for her. He jogged to his truck, convinced the tightness in his chest felt a whole lot different from the big-brother pain he experienced with Dixie when she got hurt.

  * * *

  SLOWLY, AS IF someone had thrown a rope over Shannon’s head, an invisible force tugged her from blissful darkness into a gray fog. She yearned to see her torturer but her eyes wouldn’t open as the voices echoed inside her head.

  “Maybe this will convince her to stop riding bulls.”

  Matt?

  “If it doesn’t, nothing will.”

  Luke? Why were her brothers talking about her?

  “Do you think she can hear us?”

  I can hear you, Dad. Where am I?

  “She just moved her hand.”

  Johnny?

  His deep voice calmed her and she no longer cared that she couldn’t open her eyes. As long as Johnny was near, she felt protected. The voices faded for a time until the sound of a throat clearing dragged her from the murky dark back into the gray fog.

  “Her leg should be fine.”

  What happened to her leg?

  “Fortunately, the fracture in the tibia was a clean break, but the orthopedic surgeon had to repair a tear in her Achilles tendon, which will require physical therapy after the bone heals.”

  “What about her concussion?” Matt asked.

  “The protective headgear saved her from a more serious blow. She’ll have headaches for a few days but there should be no lasting damage.”

  Listening to the voi
ces exhausted her and her thoughts floated out of reach.

  “How long will she have to stay in the hospital?” Clive asked.

  “Two days. Three at the most. All of you should go home and rest. She’ll sleep through the night, but the nurses will keep an eye on her.”

  Matt and Luke followed the doctor to the door. “We’ve got a big trial next week we’re preparing for,” Luke said.

  Tomorrow was Sunday. Johnny assumed Shannon’s brothers took at least one day off a week.

  “We’ll stop by tomorrow night.” Matt nodded to Johnny. “See you later.”

  “I’ll take care of things at the ranch if you want to stay here.” Johnny spoke to Clive.

  “I’ve got a meeting with a horse buyer first thing in the morning. I’ll drop by the hospital afterward.” Clive put his cowboy hat on and glanced at his daughter, then shook his head and left the room.

  Johnny moved closer to the bed. She looked deathly pale and small beneath the white blanket. He took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. Guilt pricked him. Had his fight with Rodriguez distracted her and caused her to lose focus? “Damn it, Shannon. You could have been killed today.”

  He mulled over the past two weeks since he’d run into her at the rodeo in Gila Bend and ended up in a motel room with her. He wasn’t able to make sense of his feelings. This burning attraction to her had sprung up out of nowhere.

  The room door burst open and Johnny jumped inside his skin, quickly releasing Shannon’s hand.

  “I got here as soon as I could,” Dixie said. “How is she?”

  “Concussion and a broken tibia.”

  “I saw Clive walking through the lobby.”

  “He’s driving back to the ranch tonight.”

  Dixie approached the bed and arranged Shannon’s hair across the pillow. “She’s so brave. I never thought she’d get hurt.”

  Bravery had nothing to do with becoming injured. If you rode bulls long enough, you got hurt—no cowboy or cowgirl was exempt from that rodeo rule.

  “Do you think she’ll recover in time to compete against C.J. at the Tucson rodeo in January?”