The Bull Rider's Secret

by Marin Thomas

  Katarina—sounded like a ballerina’s name.

  His mind conjured up an image of Ricky’s mother. Once he’d gotten an eyeful of the woman he’d almost swallowed his tongue—a rare event for a man used to beautiful women chasing after him. He appreciated Katarina’s midnight-black ponytail, tanned skin, slanted brown eyes and high cheekbones, but it had been her fighting spirit that had bowled him over.

  Katarina Sovo was no wilting flower. Her short, sturdy frame had flaunted a toned physique. The hint of bicep muscle beneath her T-shirt proved she made her living outdoors and not behind a desk. He could easily picture her hoisting a sixty-pound saddle onto the back of a horse without losing her breath.

  That Ricky’s mother hadn’t succumbed to Brody’s charms had amused him. She was the first woman since his ex who’d been immune to his handsome face. Deciding he’d wasted enough time contemplating the woman, Brody drove west away from Bandera. He blasted the radio, hoping the noise would muffle any lingering thoughts of the feisty foreman.

  He’d driven ten miles when signs advertising Dicky’s Roadhouse sprouted up every hundred yards along the road. Why not? Now that he had a little jingle in his pocket, he’d sit a spell, drink a beer and plan out his rodeo schedule for the upcoming month. A few minutes later he parked in the dirt lot in front of a machine-shed building that had been converted into a bar.

  Inside, music blared from the jukebox and cigarette smoke clouded the air—apparently no-smoking laws didn’t apply to this Texas dive. Brody sidled up to the bar, ordered a longneck then made his way through the crowd to the outdoor patio in back. All of the tables were taken, so he stood in the corner partially concealed by a low-hanging awning.

  Bits and pieces of conversation drifted in one ear and out the other—talk about jobs, baseball and the Bandera festival. Halfway through his beer Brody made up his mind to catch the rodeo in Abilene next Friday. He could use a warm-up ride before competing in Lubbock that Saturday. A stray cat picking through the garbage that overflowed the waste barrel at the back of the lot caught his attention. The skinny gray-and-white fur ball batted about an empty sardine can, then scurried away when a larger tabby wandered out from beneath a nearby bush.

  “That bitch is gonna regret sendin’ us packin’.”

  The hairs on the back of Brody’s neck stood on end. He recognized the voices of the cowboys Katarina had fired. The men shared a pitcher of beer at a table close by. Keeping to the shadows, Brody tuned his ear to their conversation.

  “Shit, I’m no damned farmer.” Clyde voiced the complaint.

  “I shoulda been put in charge,” Roger grumbled. “Don’t my hard work these past five years count for somethin’?”

  Clyde chugged his beer, then reached for the pitcher. “Word’s gonna spread we walked off the job and won’t no one hire us.”

  “Don’t worry. After that bitch makes a mess of things, we’ll show up ‘n’ save the day.” Roger chuckled. “Mark my words she’ll beg us to come back and when she does, we’ll demand a pay raise.”

  “What if she don’t make a mess of things?” Clyde’s whiny voice grated on Brody’s nerves.

  “We’re gonna see to it she does.” Roger flashed a menacing smirk before signaling the waitress for a second pitcher of beer. Their conversation shifted to Clyde’s brother Earl who’d recently been released from prison and was having a tough time finding employment. Brody quit listening.

  Now what?

  They’re not your problem. Let someone else rescue them.

  He didn’t dare leave the area, knowing that Katarina might be a sitting duck for the duo’s pranks. Brody had no choice but to return to the Wild Rose and warn Ricky’s mother about the cowboys’ threat.

  OUT OF THE CORNER of her eye, Kat watched Ricky pitch clean hay into the horse stall at the far end of the barn. She hated that her relationship with her teenage son had become strained these past few months. Was it only yesterday that Ricky had shadowed her and his great-grandfather chattering their ears off? Since Ricky had hit puberty she’d felt useless as a parent. Her son needed another man in his life to talk to about guy stuff—girls, sex, cars. Too bad Ricky couldn’t count on his father to be there for him.

  Dwayne did more harm than good when he spent time with their son. His hit-or-miss visits did nothing more than show Ricky he wasn’t a priority in his father’s life. If Kat expected a permanent position at the Wild Rose she had to demonstrate to the Bakers that she had her life under control. Ricky’s jaunt into town today proved the opposite.

  If Kat believed her son would settle down soon, she was dreaming. When her back was turned he’d take off again in search of his father, only the next time he might not be lucky enough to run into a stranger as trustworthy as Brody Murphy. Brody… She shook her head to dispel the handsome cowboy’s face from her memory.

  She returned her attention to Tiger’s hoof, which soaked in a bucket of warm water and antiseptic. “Let me see, Tiger.” Kat lifted the gelding’s hoof and examined the swelling. “Better.” She set the hoof in the water and scratched Tiger behind the ears. “Ten more minutes.”

  After rescuing the horse from an abusive owner, the Bakers discovered that Tiger had been improperly shod. The neglect had resulted in a nasty abscess, which prevented the gelding from putting weight on his leg. Scott Clark, the area’s large-animal veterinarian had treated Tiger with antibiotics then Kat had been put in charge of restoring the hoof to good health. She’d applied all the usual remedies, which cleared up the infection, but when she placed a new shoe on the hoof, the swelling returned.

  Kat wished her grandfather was still alive. She’d learned all about shoeing horses and then some from him. He’d know why Tiger’s abscess wouldn’t heal. She yearned to prove to the Bakers that their horses were in capable hands, but if the gelding’s hoof didn’t heal soon, Kat would be forced to concede defeat and seek the vet’s advice. Luckily she and Scott Clark were good friends.

  By the time Kat had turned eighteen, Ricky had already celebrated his first birthday. Although her grandparents had helped Kat care for the baby, she hadn’t handled motherhood well the first few years. When Scott had offered her a job as his assistant, she’d jumped at the chance to tag along on his ranch calls and escape the constant demands of caring for a small child.

  Thinking back on that time in her life, Kat acknowledged that she’d resented being burdened with raising Ricky while Dwayne had come and gone—mostly gone—as he’d pleased. She, not Dwayne, had changed diapers, washed baby clothes and paced the floor for hours at a time when Ricky had suffered one of his frequent bouts of colic.

  Shortly after Ricky turned four Kat’s grandmother had died, forcing Kat to take full responsibility for her son 24/7. The first few months had been pure hell—not for her but poor Ricky. Her son had cried nonstop for his abuela and refused to be consoled by Kat. Kat had turned to her grandfather for help but he’d been too consumed with grief, forcing her and Ricky to find their way as mother and son all on their own.

  Kat had been tempted to follow in her mother’s footsteps and run from her responsibility to her child, but each time Kat had packed her bag Ricky’s sad blue eyes had changed her mind. Then almost a year to the day her grandmother had died, Ricky had hugged Kat and said, “I love you, Mama.” From that moment on Ricky became the center of Kat’s world—her purpose for living. Her every act and decision was made with his best interests in mind. As with most mothers and sons, she and Ricky had experienced their share of ups and downs through the years, but each night she thanked God for blessing her life with him.

  “What’s for supper?” Ricky’s question startled Kat.

  She threw out a peace offering. “I can make Grandpa’s Mexican casserole.” The dish was Ricky’s favorite—rice, refried beans, taco meat, black olives and a can of hot enchilada sauce mixed together and baked with a thick layer of cheddar cheese on top.

  “Okay.” Ricky pushed the wheelbarrow out of the barn and Kat followed, Spo
t bringing up the rear.

  “You can’t leave the ranch and not tell me where you’re going,” she said while he emptied the barrow.

  “Jeez, Mom. Nothing happened.”

  “That’s beside the point. I have to know where you are at all times. What if there’s an emergency at the ranch and I need your help?”

  “Ask one of the other hands.”

  Hand not hands. Roger’s and Clyde’s departure had left Kat with one cowboy—Melissa Baker’s younger brother, Wes. Wes had a drinking problem—the main reason the Bakers had put Kat in charge of the ranch. Checking the fence line for breaks and making sure the water tanks were full in the pastures was about all Wes could handle.

  “Whether help is nearby or not doesn’t matter, Ricky. I—”

  “He wasn’t there, Mom.” Her son’s voice broke. “Dad said we’d team up for the hog-catching contest, but he never showed.”

  Kat ached for Ricky. Damn Dwayne Walker and his lazy ass.

  “You told him to stay away from me.” Ricky’s accusing eyes pinned her. “That’s why he didn’t come.”

  “I said to keep away from the Wild Rose, not from you.” Dwayne’s visits were taking a toll on Ricky. Birth days and holidays came and went without presents, calls or visits. If Dwayne happened to drop in on her and Ricky, he spent the time sitting in the trailer watching TV. Once he’d eaten all of Kat’s food he took off. Kat had never known her own father and she’d been certain Dwayne showing up once in a blue moon was better than not being in the picture at all. Ricky’s forlorn expression proved her good intentions had failed miserably. She should have kicked Dwayne out of their lives years ago, and saved her and Ricky a lot of heartache and money.

  “If the Bakers give you a permanent job here, can Dad visit me as much as he wants?”

  “Within reason.” They’d been at the Wild Rose since January and Kat was working hard to prove she deserved long-term work at the ranch. But she was doing it for her and Ricky—not to give Dwayne a place to crash when he was between girlfriends. Kat wanted Ricky to be able to attend school in Bandera this fall, hoping that if he became involved in sports and clubs he’d be too busy to care how often his father visited. The Wild Rose was the answer to all their problems, but Kat needed Ricky’s cooperation to succeed. “Promise me you won’t run off again.”

  Instead of reassuring Kat, Ricky stared over her shoulder.

  Kat spun and shielded her eyes against the late-afternoon sun.

  The bull rider was back.

  Chapter Three

  Kat worried her lower lip as Ricky raced toward Brody Murphy’s red Dodge. The cowboy was practically a stranger but she feared her son had targeted the bull rider as his new idol.

  The instant the driver-side door opened, Ricky hollered, “Why’d you come back, Brody?”

  “Hey, kid.” Brody and her son exchanged fist pumps then his gaze—shielded by aviator sunglasses—met Kat’s across the hood of the pickup. He flashed his Hollywood smile and her pulse quickened. As Brody closed the gap between them, she reminded herself that the last thing she needed right now was the distraction of a handsome man.

  “Forget something?” she asked when he stopped in front of her.

  He removed his glasses and serious brown eyes studied her. “We need to talk.” The sober note in his voice concerned Kat.

  “Hey, Brody.” Ricky tugged the cowboy’s shirtsleeve. “My mom’s gonna make my great-grandpa’s Mexican casserole for supper. You wanna eat with us?”

  Oh, Ricky, why did you—

  “Thanks, but I can’t stay. I came back to tell your mom something.”

  “What?” Ricky’s gaze bounced between the adults.

  “Never mind, young man. Go finish your chores,” Kat said.

  “I already mucked the stalls.”

  “Then top off the feed bins and change out the water buckets.”

  “C’mon, Spot.” Muttering beneath his breath, Ricky stomped off.

  Motioning for Brody to follow, Kat walked up to the foreman’s cabin. At the porch steps she said, “I have iced tea or soda.”

  “Don’t bother. I’m fine.”

  The cowboy wasn’t much for socializing. Kat sat in the rocker nearest the door. Brody leaned against the railing across from her—his crotch eye level with Kat’s gaze. It took more willpower than she’d expected to ignore the way the faded denim jeans molded to his thighs.

  “I thought you were on your way to Lubbock,” she said.

  “I was. Am.” He removed his hat and ran his fingers through his sandy-blond hair. He needed a trim, but the shaggy style fit his movie star looks. “I stopped at Dicky’s Roadhouse outside of Bandera and bumped into the two cowboys who walked off the job.”

  “Roger and Clyde didn’t walk off, I fired them.” Because your interference forced my hand.

  Brody shrugged as if he didn’t care one way or the other how the ranch hands had been relieved of their positions. “I listened in on their chat and they intend to make trouble for you.”

  “What kind of trouble?” Kat straightened in her seat.

  “They didn’t mention specifics, but they want you to fail, so you’ll be forced to hire them back. And when you do, they’ll demand a pay raise.”

  Damn their lazy hides. She didn’t have time to run helter-skelter around the ranch, keeping an eye out for Clyde’s and Roger’s shenanigans. She had enough on her plate caring for the horses and harvesting the hay. “Are you sure you heard right?”

  “Positive. That’s why I returned, so you could register a complaint with the sheriff’s department.”

  “Thanks for the warning but I won’t be notifying Sheriff Conrad.” The sixty-five-year-old man was a throwback to the Chisholm Trail days.

  “Mind if I ask why?”

  Yes. “The sheriff can’t do anything if Clyde and Roger haven’t committed a crime.” If she spoke to the sheriff now, the lawman would assume she was paranoid or worse—a ditzy female. “I disagree.”

  She sprang from the chair and paced to the end of the porch. “In case it’s slipped your notice I’m a woman working in a man’s—”

  “No.”

  Kat blinked. “No what?”

  “No, it did not escape my notice that you’re a woman.” An appreciative once-over accompanied his statement.

  Ignoring the heat suffusing her face, Kat continued. “If I report what you overheard, Sheriff Conrad will notify the Bakers and they’ll cut their vacation short.” And end Kat’s chance of making the Wild Rose her and Ricky’s permanent home.

  “Katarina, if those two doofuses decide to make good on their threat…”

  The husky way her name slid off Brody’s tongue messed with Kat’s concentration. “I’m sorry, say that again.”

  “Guys like Roger and Clyde are dangerous. They’re stupid enough to hurt someone. They might only want to scare you, but a practical joke can easily get out of hand.”

  Brody was right. She couldn’t stand back and wait for trouble, but informing the authorities was out of the question—for now. She’d have to find a way to outsmart the pesky ranch hands. “I’ll warn Wes to keep an eye out for any unusual activity.”

  “Who’s Wes?”

  “Melissa Baker’s younger brother. He lives in the line shack at the south end of the ranch.”

  “He’s not going to be much help if Clyde and Roger decided to mess with the barns.”

  “They wouldn’t dare harm the horses.”

  “Are you willing to chance it? What if they contaminate the feed or—”

  “Stop.” She held up her hand.

  “I’m sorry, Kata—”

  “It’s Kat.” Brody’s use of her full name sounded too intimate.

  “Take my advice and get help…Kat.”

  Kat was a fighter and refused to cower in the face of empty threats. On the other hand, it wouldn’t hurt, to have an extra pair of eyes watching over the ranch until the Bakers returned. Brown eyes the color of dark chocolat
e stared Kat down. A solution with a million drawbacks formed in her mind. No… Not Brody. Any man but the sexy one in front of her. “You could stay.”

  He flinched as if she’d peppered his hide with buckshot.

  The more Kat pondered the idea, the more it made sense. “You and Ricky can harvest the hay, while I work with the horses and keep an eye on the barn.”

  “You don’t know anything about me,” Brody said.

  I know you were kind to my son. You worry about others—or else you wouldn’t have driven back to the Wild Rose to warn me about Clyde and Roger. And you’re easy on the eyes—not that Brody’s good looks had anything to do with her offer. Kat wasn’t in the market for a man and her responsibilities at the ranch allowed little time for a personal life.

  “I could be a serial killer. A rapist. An ex-con.”

  “Are you any of those things?” she asked.

  “Hell, no.”

  Her woman’s intuition never failed her. She’d known Dwayne was a wild one when they’d dated in high school, but she’d taken a chance on him anyway. After she’d broken the news that he’d gotten her pregnant, she’d hoped he’d settle down and help her raise Ricky, but her instincts had proven correct again—Dwayne had walked away from his responsibilities. She sensed Brody was a better man than Ricky’s father—an upstanding guy and a hard worker.

  “I trust you not to harm me or my son.” The silence that followed Kat’s statement tied her stomach in knots. “I can offer you room and board and a decent wage.” With two cowboys off the payroll, she could afford to give Brody a little more than the average allowance for ranch hands.

  “A job would interfere with my rodeo schedule.”

  “You could work here during the week and rodeo on the weekends.” The rodeo cowboys she’d run into over the years usually hired on as ranch hands to earn entry-fee money.

  “I’m sorry.” He shoved away from the rail and skirted past her. “I can’t stay.”

  Before his boot landed on the first step, Kat asked, “Is it Lubbock? Do you have a girlfriend or a wife and family there?” Brody didn’t wear a wedding ring—then again a lot of cowboys never bothered with them.