The Bull Rider's Secret

by Marin Thomas

  “The only thing waiting for me in Lubbock is a rodeo.”

  Why the news pleased Kat, she couldn’t say.

  Brody descended a second step.

  “The trailer comes with a hot shower.” She pointed to the vintage 1965 Silver Streak that had belonged to her grandfather. Kat had seen the dirty laundry, fast-food wrappers and the sleeping bag piled in the backseat of his truck and guessed the Dodge Ram had been Brody’s home for a while. Shoot, he probably hadn’t slept in a real bed in months.

  His boot clomped against the third step.

  Okay, so the Silver Streak wasn’t five-star accommodations, but the bed linens were fresh and he was welcome to use the washer and dryer in the cabin to do his laundry. “If you stay, Ricky won’t run off again when I turn my back.” Kat felt awful for laying that at Brody’s feet, but the older Ricky got the more he wanted to be with his father. Today’s jaunt into Bandera had been a warning sign that one day soon her son would strike out on his own to find Dwayne. She hated using Brody, but if his hanging around distracted Ricky maybe he’d forget about searching for his father—at least for a little while.

  Brody’s boot hit the ground.

  “Stay for supper.” Kat quickly moved down the steps and squared off with him. “I owe you a dinner for watching out for Ricky today and warning us about Clyde and Roger.”

  As if he’d been holding his breath for minutes not seconds, the air exploded from Brody’s chest. “I guess I could eat something.”

  Now that Kat had stalled his departure, her other senses kicked in and she caught the crisp scent of Brody’s aftershave—an unusual smell for a hardworking cowboy. “I’ll ring the bell when supper’s ready.”

  Kat watched Brody retreat to the barn. She’d won the first round. If she couldn’t change Brody’s mind about staying, then hopefully Grandpa’s Mexican casserole would.

  BRODY STOOD IN THE shadows inside the barn, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. He watched Ricky scoop feed from a large bin near a storage room. Instead of announcing his presence, Brody took a moment to gather his wits—he’d need them if he intended to leave the ranch and not look back following supper.

  Today had felt like the longest day of his life and it wasn’t finished yet. Instead of poking his nose where it didn’t belong, he should have minded his own business after he’d delivered Ricky to the Wild Rose.

  Kat… The woman intrigued Brody, but he was nuts to consider working for her even on a temporary basis. Earning a regular paycheck would come in handy for covering his rodeo fees and home-cooked meals and hot showers sounded mighty good. But gut instinct insisted that a few creature comforts weren’t worth the risk of getting to know Kat and Ricky on a personal level.

  The one place Brody truly felt comfortable was on the road. Traveling the circuit prevented him from investing in relationships. Drew had been the only person Brody had gotten close to since Angel’s death and his subsequent divorce from Kelly. The invite to Dry Creek Acres had been Drew’s attempt to make Brody an extended family member. What if Kat’s invitation ended up the same as Drew’s? Brody had quit being part of a family after Angel had died. The last thing he wanted to do was live and work where every day he’d be reminded of what he’d lost and would never again have.

  “You gonna stand there or help?”

  Ricky’s voice interrupted Brody’s thoughts. “I don’t know, kid. I kinda like watching you work.”

  “Ha, ha.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Brody moved farther into the barn.

  “The horses need fresh water.”

  “I’m on it.” The barn floor consisted of a cement slab with a two-inch grated drain running through the middle. All Brody had to do was tip the buckets onto their sides and the dirty water ran down the drain. The horse stalls were equipped with automated feeders that dispensed set amounts of feed at scheduled intervals throughout the day. Not even the Black Stone Ranch in Montana, which ran ten thousand head of Aberdeen Angus, boasted a modern barn such as this one.

  “Hose is up there.” Ricky nodded to the post in the center of the barn, where a rubber hose connected to the water pipes overhead.

  “You gonna eat with us?” Ricky asked.

  “Looks that way.”

  The teen finished adding grain to the bins then stretched out on a hay bale and watched Brody. “What’s it like riding bulls?”

  “It mostly hurts.”

  “Then how come you do it?”

  “It’s fun if you win.” Brody grinned.

  “You win a lot?”

  “Hardly ever, kid.”

  “Don’t you get scared?”

  “Sometimes,” Brody admitted. Scared of what might happen if he stopped riding bulls. At thirty-one his rodeo days were numbered.

  “You ever get tired of traveling all the time?” Ricky asked.

  “Not really.” Brody added water to the final bucket then joined the teen on the hay bale. Spot stretched out at their feet and Brody ruffled the dog’s wiry gray fur. “I meet a lot of fascinating people. See unique places.”

  “I hate new places.”

  “You move a lot?” Brody asked.

  “After my great-grandpa died, my mom had to sell his house and we got stuck living in his old trailer.” Ricky shoved a piece of straw in his mouth. “I know my mom works hard but I miss not having our own house.”

  “Does your father help you and your mom?” Brody regretted the question as soon as it slipped out. The less he learned about Kat and Ricky’s situation the better for all concerned.

  “My dad doesn’t have much money.” Ricky picked at a clump of dried mud on his jeans. “Mom’s lucky ‘cause she can make money shoeing horses.”

  Lucky? People made their own luck by working hard, not by waiting for luck to find them. Ricky’s father sounded like a real winner.

  Who are you to criticize? Brody’s position at the Black Stone Ranch had brought home a steady paycheck for years, but when the opportunity arose to move into Kalispell and hire on with the local meat-processing plant, he’d snubbed his nose at the job. He’d loved working with cattle and had preferred to punch live cows not dead ones. In the end, his wife and daughter had paid a high price because he hadn’t wanted to give up being a cowboy.

  Brody and Kelly had argued often about the fact that his job as a ranch hand hadn’t come with health insurance. Then Angel had fallen ill and he’d insisted Kelly wait until payday to take their daughter to the doctor. They hadn’t had the cash to cover the visit and their credit card had been maxed out. By the time Kelly got it through Brody’s thick skull that their daughter wasn’t getting better, it had been too late.

  Forcing his mind from the past, Brody changed the subject. “You play on any sports teams at school?”

  “I’m homeschooled.”

  Brody didn’t know much about homeschooling kids. He’d attended public schools until he’d graduated. “What about the Bakers? Do they have kids your age?”

  “Nope.”

  “What do you do with your free time?”

  “Sometimes I fish.”

  “Sounds like you could use a few more hobbies to keep you from becoming bored and running off like you did today.”

  “I didn’t run off.” Ricky averted his gaze. “I was going to see my dad.”

  As he was no expert in the parent department, Brody gave Ricky’s father the benefit of the doubt. “Maybe he had car trouble.”

  “He doesn’t have a car. Or a truck.”

  Jeez, the kid’s dad really was on the down-’n’-out. With the possibility of Roger and Clyde stirring up trouble it was important that Ricky keep his mother informed of his whereabouts at all times.

  “Your dad might have had to work.”

  “My dad doesn’t have a job.”

  Rodeo wasn’t a steady source of income and all Brody had to his name were the clothes on his back, his truck and his rodeo gear. He couldn’t ride bulls forever, but he couldn’t see him
self holding down a steady job that kept him in one place, either. Brody was ashamed to admit he and Ricky’s father were more alike than different.

  “How often do you see your father?” Brody didn’t know what possessed him to grill the kid with questions—probably too many days and nights conversing with himself as he drove to his next rodeo.

  “Every few months I guess.”

  Hardly seemed fair that Kat had her hands full raising a son, making a living and dealing with Ricky’s dad.

  “I’m sorry your father didn’t show up today, but that’s no reason to leave the ranch without telling your mom.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  Enough said on the subject. “What else can we do to help your mom since she’s cooking supper?”

  “Clean the buckets she uses to soak the horses’ hooves.”

  “Lead the way.” Brody followed Ricky into a room with a large stainless steel sink and shelves stocked with medicines and first-aid supplies for horses. He and Ricky slipped on rubber gloves and washed the dirty buckets stacked in the sink.

  “Brody?”

  “What?”

  “Do you got any kids?”

  Brody froze for several seconds, before he found the strength to take a deep breath. “No.”

  “How come? Don’t you like kids?”

  He’d loved Angel. Still loved Angel. Would always love Angel. “I like kids just fine, but rodeo and families don’t mix.”

  “Oh.”

  The teen’s one-word response landed like a punch to Brody’s gut. Worrying about Ricky’s feelings was yet another reason he wouldn’t allow Kat to talk him into sticking around the Wild Rose.

  “Got plans for that money you won at the festival today?” Brody asked.

  “I might buy a new fishing pole.”

  Brody had never learned to fish because farming had taken all his father’s time and energy. As a matter of fact Brody couldn’t recall his father teaching him much of anything through the years. If his father had any spare time during the week he spent the hours cleaning farming equipment or making small repairs around the two-bedroom shack that substituted for a home.

  The sound of a clanging bell echoed outside the barn. “Supper’s ready.” Ricky peeled the rubber gloves off and tossed them into the sink. “Race you.” He sprinted from the room.

  Brody caught himself in the nick of time before he chased after the kid. When he reached the cabin, Ricky waited on the porch barely out of breath. “Got a place for me to wash up?”

  “Inside.” Ricky held open the door. “Bathroom’s down the hall.”

  “Hurry,” Kat said from the kitchen. “Corn bread will be done in less than a minute.”

  Brody located the bathroom, which contained a single shower stall, small sink and a toilet. Kat had decorated the tiny space with framed photos of her, Ricky and an older couple he assumed were Ricky’s great-grandparents. The sight of the pink nightgown hanging on the back of the door gave Brody pause. He hadn’t pegged Kat as a pink kind of gal—red or black maybe. He returned to the main room to find Ricky seated at the table.

  “Anything I can do to help?” Brody asked.

  Kat paused in the task of slicing the corn bread. “No thanks.” A moment later she set the food on the table. “Iced tea, water or milk?”

  “Water’s good.”

  Drinks taken care of, Kat fetched the sour cream and salsa. Brody was aware of Ricky watching him. “Ladies first.” He held out Kat’s chair.

  “Thank you. Ricky pay attention to Mr. Murphy. You might pick up a few pointers on manners.”

  Ricky rolled his eyes. “Hurry up, Mom. I’m hungry.”

  Kat and Ricky filled their plates then Brody helped himself. First bite he groaned. Second bite he closed his eyes. Third bite he grinned. “Wow, this is really good.”

  “Told ya, you’d like it,” Ricky said.

  Supper passed with little conversation, then Brody and Ricky cleared the table, while Kat stowed the leftovers in the fridge. “Ricky, would you give the horses their carrots tonight?”

  “Sure.” The kid grabbed the bag of carrots off the counter and left the cabin.

  “Coffee?” Kat asked.

  “Only if you’re having a cup.”

  While the coffee brewed, Brody wandered about the room, studying the cabin’s construction.

  “It’s nice, isn’t it?” Kat delivered two mugs to the table.

  “You don’t see many homes made log-cabin style anymore. The quality’s top-notch.” He sipped the hot brew. “What happened to the Wild Rose foreman?”

  “He retired.” A short pause followed before Kat got down to business. “Have you given thought to my proposal?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Before you say no, I need you to understand how important this opportunity is to me and Ricky.” She swept her hand in front of her. “This cabin will be the first real home Ricky and I have had since my grandfather passed away. Living at the Wild Rose means we’ll be in one place long enough to put down roots.”

  As Brody listened to Kat’s impassioned speech, warning lights flashed inside his brain.

  “If I can prove to the Bakers that I’m capable of running the Wild Rose, then they’ll offer me a permanent position here.” She rushed on before he could interrupt. “Ricky’s been dragged through Central Texas for the past three years. I want him to have a sense of security and not wake up each morning wondering where we’re headed next.” Kat locked gazes with Brody. “I can’t do that without your help. Please stay until the Bakers come home the middle of May.”

  May was two months away! “I’m not good at staying in one place long.”

  “Then hang around until you get the itch to leave.”

  If Kat found out about his past, he’d be the last person on earth she’d ask for help. Brody knew from his earlier conversation in the barn with Ricky that Kat couldn’t count on the boy’s father. Her grandfather was dead. Brody had no idea what had happened to her parents, but they weren’t in the picture.

  It’s been a long time since you’ve thought of anyone but yourself.

  “I don’t expect you to change your rodeo schedule,” Kat said.

  Lubbock was a heck of a long way from Bandera, but there was a smaller rodeo close by in San Marcos two weeks from today. He could catch that one.

  “Work here for a few days.” Kat fought a smile. “If you don’t like taking orders from me, then you can leave. No hard feelings.”

  Eight weeks wasn’t forever, and like Kat said, he could go anytime…no ill will. “Okay. I’ll stay.” A shiver racked Brody’s body. Was his desire to help Kat a signal he was tired of running?

  He didn’t dare stop running—unless he was ready to face the past.

  He wasn’t.

  Chapter Four

  “Well, howdy-doody, Ms. Katarina.” Tom Wheeler, the owner of Wheeler Feed & Tack in Bandera greeted Kat Sunday morning.

  Tom was an annoying pervert, who insisted on calling Kat by her proper first name when she’d specifically requested he use the shortened version.

  “Morning, Mr. Wheeler.” Kat didn’t have time for small talk. She was in a rush to check on Brody’s progress in the hay field back at the Wild Rose.

  “How’ve you and your boy been?” Tom’s shadow fell over Kat as she searched the shelves for the supplies on her list.

  “Fine.” She edged sideways, putting an extra foot of space between her and the owner. On the few occasions she’d visited the store, Tom had faked a stumble and bumped into a part of her body he had no business coming in contact with. She’d considered mentioning his inappropriate behavior to Melissa Baker but Tom was the kind of man who’d turn the tables on Kat and insist she’d given off signals that welcomed his advances. No sense stirring up trouble when Wheeler Tack & Feed was the nearest supply store to the ranch.

  “Roger and Clyde stopped by the other day and said they’d quit the Wild Rose.”

  So the deserters were still
in the area. “They didn’t quit. I fired them because they refused to take orders from me.”

  “That’s not how they see it.”

  Of course not. Men were delusional. She grabbed a large bag of Epsom salts and a bottle of Betadine solution then shoved them into Tom’s arms before moving down the aisle to inspect the first aid supplies.

  “Those two are angrier than a Texas diamondback with a squished rattle.”

  “They can have their jobs back at any time as long as they agree to follow orders.” Kat added a box of gauze to her purchases.

  “Now, Katarina—” Tom shook his head and stared at Kat as if she were simple in the head “—you know real cowboys don’t take orders from women.”

  “Is that so?” Kat propped her fists on her hips and squared off with Tom. “I’ve got a real cowboy out at the Wild Rose right now working for me and he took my orders this morning without complaint.”

  As a matter of fact, Brody had surprised Kat when he’d shown up for breakfast at sunrise. He’d offered to make the coffee while she’d whipped up a batch of pancakes. Kat couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a man’s help fixing breakfast.

  “Where’d you find this cowboy?”

  “He was passing through the area.”

  “You gotta be careful these days, Katarina.” A tsk-tsking sound echoed in the air. “There’s all kind of crazy folk out there ready to take advantage of a woman like you.”

  Kat found the duct tape and resisted the urge to slap a piece across Tom’s mouth. “What do you mean a woman like me?”

  “You know…a woman all alone with no man to look after you.”

  “Men aren’t worth the trouble,” she grumbled beneath her breath.

  Tom straightened his shoulders and preened like a barnyard cock. “That’s ‘cause you ain’t crossed paths with a good one.”

  There were no good ones. Besides, Kat believed in the three-strike rule. First, Kat’s father had never been in the picture. Second, Dwayne had bailed on her and Ricky. Third, Seth, who’d decided he wasn’t cut out to be a daddy to someone else’s kid after being in a relationship with her for almost a year, announced one morning out of the blue that he’d hired on with an oil rig off the coast of Louisiana. An hour later he was gone, leaving Ricky devastated. Three strikes—Kat was out of the ball game. She’d rather go it alone than suffer the heartache of another man disappointing her and her son.