Home on the Ranch: Montana Rodeo Star

by Mary Sullivan

  “True. I don’t dispute that. But this decision about this rodeo is mine, not yours. There will be no bull riding.”

  He argued. He pled.

  She didn’t budge. She got tight in the jaw.

  Then and there, he decided his next step would be to talk to the guy who’d started it all, the one who’d given Max the flaky idea.

  She’d hired Dusty to make this rodeo a success. He wasn’t in the habit of failing.

  “Can I talk to him?” he asked.

  “Who?”

  “Vy’s husband.”

  For an instant, her shoulders tensed. Maybe he’d insulted her. Surely he had. In her position, he would have felt the insult, but she relaxed and shrugged.

  “You’re not ready to give up, are you?” she asked.

  “Nope,” he answered.

  “Let’s go.” She fished her truck keys out of her pocket.

  “We can take my truck,” he said. “It’s a more reliable vehicle.”

  She stiffened. “Nope. We’re good in my truck.”

  She likes to have her own way. Didn’t bode well for their working together.

  He worried more now, not just about the lack of bull riding, but because Max had to have control.

  Women liked him because he was an easygoing guy, but he could be pushed too far.

  Ten minutes later, they turned onto the fairgrounds, surprising Dusty.

  “He lives here?”

  “Yes. He’s the original owner’s grandson. We’re going to that big old brick house at the back of the grounds.”

  Dusty twisted his head in every direction, taking it all in. “I’ve never seen such beautiful rides at a fairground.”

  A smile turned up the corners of her lips. “Thanks. You know Nadine, who you met at the diner?”

  Dusty smiled, remembering drop-dead gorgeous Nadine with the stunning red hair, vibrant green eyes and flawless skin.

  “What about her?” he asked.

  “Her soon-to-be husband painted all of the rides. Look at those teacups.”

  She pointed and he craned his neck.

  “Beautiful. Whimsical.” He stared until it was out of sight. “It’s like something straight out of Alice in Wonderland.”

  “Yeah, it is,” she answered, drawing Dusty’s glance because of the smile in her voice. That bit of pleasure softened her features.

  “If the fair can make money on whimsy and pretty rides, you’re already winning,” he said. But, he thought, you need to do a hell of a lot more.

  “Well, we’re all doing our part,” Max said. “Each of the committee members has her own role—Nadine does publicity, Vy is taking care of food and I’m in charge of the rodeo.”

  So that was why she had so much sway with the bull-riding decision.

  They parked in front of an old two-story brick house.

  At Max’s knock, a guy answered the door in a pale pink button-down shirt, beige chinos and tasseled loafers, a man so far out of his element here in rural Montana he should be uncomfortable.

  He wasn’t. He smiled and extended a hand when Max introduced Dusty and stated the reason for their visit. A firm handshake belied the softness Dusty had assumed would be part of his character.

  “I met your wife earlier,” Dusty said. “Hell of a cook.” He wouldn’t have thought the beautiful diner owner with the bountiful body would go for a man was as refined as Sam Carmichael. On the way over, Max mentioned that he hailed from Manhattan, a Wall Street businessman before moving to Rodeo.

  When Sam caught Dusty giving him the once-over, he grinned and seemed to read Dusty’s mind.

  “Yeah, I know,” Sam said. “Vy could have picked one of the local cowboys but she didn’t. She had years to choose any one of you, but she waited for me to come to town. I snapped her up. The rest of you losers can go weep.”

  Dusty laughed. “No accounting for taste,” he said, and Sam responded with a laugh of his own. Solid sense of humor.

  “Come on in and sit down.” Sam led the way into a comfortable living room that had seen better days. All of the furniture had been broken in.

  An old man slept in an armchair beside the fireplace.

  Max sat in the chair beside him, pulled an afghan from the back of her armchair and covered the man with it, her action affectionate.

  Dusty wouldn’t have taken her for the nurturing type.

  He knew better than to give in to first impressions, but he was human and as judgmental as the average person. And she had been nothing but prickly with Dusty.

  “This is Sam’s grandfather Carson,” Max said, not really an introduction, as the man snoozed on. “Carson’s father started the rodeo and amusement park nearly a hundred years ago.”

  Dusty sat on the sofa and leaned back. Sam sat on the hearth on his grandfather’s other side. He offered them tea or coffee, but they declined.

  “Tell me about the polo match,” Dusty said, anxious to get to the point of the visit. “Why at a rodeo?”

  “I heard that Max didn’t want to do a traditional rodeo,” Sam said. “Back in New York I belonged to an amateur polo league.” He settled his arms onto his knees. “I know you won’t believe me, but polo matches are incredibly fast-paced and exciting. I told Max she should do it. When she balked—”

  Dusty’s surprise must have shown because Sam continued, “Yes, she balked, just like you’re doing. She changed her mind when I told her my friends and I would cover all the costs and would even contribute a prize for the winning team. It’s a win-win. Neither the fair committee nor the town will put out money for the event.”

  Okay, so it wasn’t a gamble to mount the match since it wouldn’t cost the town anything, but neither would it bring in money if the crowds wouldn’t come out for it.

  The costs of putting on a normal rodeo, including a bull-riding event, were high, and you had to believe that ticket sales would offset those costs.

  On the other hand, there was still no advantage for local cowboys who depended on the rodeo circuit for a certain amount of income. “What good does it do the locals if the money goes right back to one of the teams from New York?”

  “One of the teams? Max didn’t tell you all of it?”

  “He didn’t give me a chance,” Max grumbled. She slouched low in the armchair and held Carson’s hand. Every so often, she checked to make sure he was okay, pulling the blanket higher about his chest, the gesture so sweet and affectionate it shocked Dusty. No reason why it should have. He didn’t know the woman.

  “He just took offense and wanted to talk to you,” Max, the tattletale, continued.

  “That’s never stopped you before from making your opinions known,” Sam said, the sentiment hostile, but his tone friendly.

  An infinitesimal smile flickered across Max’s lips, here and gone in an instant. She could be teased and she could like it.

  Dusty filed that away for future use. He liked teasing women. He liked charming them. Hell, he just liked being with them, pure and simple.

  “What’s the rest of the idea that Max didn’t tell me?” he asked.

  “Only one of the teams will be me and my friends from New York.”

  “Where are the others coming from? London?” He racked his brain for what little he knew about polo. “South America? I still don’t see how that’s going to appeal to anyone coming to a fair and rodeo here in Montana.”

  “The other team will be you.”

  “Me?”

  “You and all of your bull-riding, bronc-riding and barrel-racing buddies.”

  Stunned, Dusty couldn’t speak for a moment. “You want rodeo cowboys to play polo?”

  “We want you to participate in a polo match, yes.”

  Dusty stared at Sam. “A bunch of cowboys playing polo? You have to be kidding.”

  “Nope,�
�� Sam said. “Not one iota.”

  Dusty’s gaze slid between Sam and Max, who both watched him placidly. “But that’s...that’s...just plain unheard of.”

  “Yes, but if you study it from a bunch of different angles—” Sam held up one finger to forestall arguments “—it’s actually a damned good idea.”

  “How so?” Dusty knew he sounded sulky, but come on. In what universe did polo at a rodeo make any sense?

  “You might not think so, but polo is tough and cutthroat,” Sam said.

  Dusty hadn’t been thinking that. He turned to Max.

  She nodded. “Sam showed me films of their matches.” She glanced at Sam and smiled a little meanly. “He’s tougher than he looks.”

  Sam took no offense. “It might seem like a rodeo audience won’t be interested, but it’s a riveting spectator sport, on top of being competitive and strategic, like any other rodeo event.”

  “What I had actually been thinking,” Dusty interrupted, “was that the city guys have the advantage. Rodeo riders are a tough, competitive lot, true, but they have no experience with polo. How are we supposed to win?”

  “With practice.”

  “The rodeo is less than a month away. How are we supposed to practice?”

  “My friends are bringing ponies in by the end of the week. You can get your buddies together to practice on them.” Sam smiled. “It might not be their best ponies, though. They’ll likely save the best for themselves. You might want to train on your own horses.”

  “Ponies?”

  “They’re not really ponies, Dusty,” Max said. “They’re only called that. They’re actually full-size horses. And they are gorgeous.”

  “That’s right,” Sam said. “The term ponies is in reference to how agile they are, not to their size.”

  Dusty nodded. Okay, but... “These city guys are too competitive to lend us their best?”

  “Too protective. These are their babies.”

  “Seriously?”

  Sam stared. “How do you feel about your horse?”

  Dusty got Sam’s point. “Protective.”

  “Right. These owners have put out big bucks on these ponies. Serious money. Don’t worry. Their second-best ponies are spectacular. You’ll be impressed.”

  “You honestly think a bunch of city slickers and their game will engage a rural audience?” Dusty asked, not sure which one of them he was directing the question to. Max knew the West and Sam knew polo.

  Max glanced at Sam before checking her no-frills, no-nonsense watch. “You want to put on one of the videos for him? We can’t stay long. Maybe twenty more minutes. Marvin’s probably got dinner started by now.”

  Sam stood and turned on the TV on a stand at the far end of the room. He put a DVD into a player on a shelf underneath the television and fast-forwarded.

  “Here’s last year’s final match, coming down to the wire. Watch how the ponies move.”

  For the next ten minutes, Dusty watched and marveled. Sam was right. The players worked hard. The ponies worked harder. The men maneuvered their animals about as well as anyone barrel racing in a tournament or rounding up cattle on the range.

  Tension glistened in the sweat on the riders’ faces and hardened their shoulders and arms. The agile, quick ponies were, in a word, fabulous. He wanted to ride one.

  When the match ended, Sam turned off the machine and raised his eyebrows at Dusty.

  “Well?”

  “Well.” He gave both of them his attention. “It’s exciting. It’s fast-paced. It’s tough.”

  Sam smiled. Max looked satisfied.

  Dusty might not like the idea of polo instead of bull riding, but he loved competition. That put it mildly. He could see himself trying to win against a bunch of city boys.

  “But...” Dusty said and they grew serious. “We need more than this.”

  “I was thinking—”

  “Max, don’t even mention it.” Sam had turned stern, all hints of teasing gone.

  “But—”

  “No!”

  Sam’s anger surprised Dusty. Dusty had pegged him for an easygoing guy.

  “What are you guys fighting about?” He glanced from one to the other.

  “You don’t want to know,” Sam said, expression unforgiving.

  Face every bit as hard-edged, Max shook her head.

  Into the tense silence, Dusty inserted, “I have an idea.”

  “What?” they both asked, one as unhappy as the other.

  Dusty had grown up in a home in which fighting and tension didn’t exist. He might love competition, but he hated conflict.

  “On second thought... You’re both angry. Maybe we should wait for another time.” And why was he even considering this? If he spoke his idea out loud, it would sound like support of the polo match instead of bull riding.

  Sam pulled his anger under control. Max looked like she still struggled and Dusty sensed that the woman didn’t give up on grudges easily.

  She relented enough to say, “Go ahead. What are you thinking?”

  Dusty didn’t much care about their argument, so he put forth his idea. “You got these city guys coming out to compete in their own sport and all of us cowboys are just supposed to go along with it.”

  They nodded.

  “Your point?” Sam asked.

  “That bugs me. We’re going all-in for the city boys. Turnabout is fair play. How about if we set up a series of competitions and the city riders have to also compete in our disciplines?”

  There was nothing mean about Max’s smile now. It blossomed full of pleasure. “That’s what I said! I’ve been trying to get Sam to agree with me for months! Glad to have your voice added to mine.”

  Mercurial, she’d surprised Dusty again.

  Grouchy one moment. Sweet the next. Her ideas were too far out. Her ideas were sound.

  Dusty was having trouble keeping up.

  Sam groaned. “That’s what we’ve been fighting about. It’s unfair. My guys have never participated in those kinds of sports.”

  “I’ve never been involved in polo, but you’re asking it of me. If, and that’s a big if, I can get any cowboys to agree to it, they’ll have...what?...only a few weeks to practice? It’s hardly fair.”

  “I know.” Sam sounded glum. “Believe me, I get what you’re saying, but I’ve already got my friends on board and willing to front the costs. I just don’t know if I can get them to agree to any changes at this point, or if it’d even be fair to ask. We can’t risk anyone backing out.”

  “Let me talk to them,” Max said.

  “Like you can sweet talk them into it,” Sam scoffed.

  “Sam, you have no idea what I’m capable of.” She sounded so confident, Dusty wondered if maybe she could do it.

  She might not be the least bit feminine, but she had a beautiful voice that conjured up images her face and body sure didn’t deliver on. He had a feeling she could win out on stubbornness alone, but as a last resort, on the phone her voice might seduce.

  “You should let her try,” Dusty said.

  Surprise showed on Max’s face.

  Sam didn’t look convinced. “Seriously?”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Let her give it a shot.”

  “Okay.”

  Sam took a notepad out of a drawer and wrote down a few names and numbers. He tore off a sheet and handed the paper to Max.

  “Knock yourself out.”

  On their way out the door, Max stood close to Sam and said, “Trust me. Okay?”

  Dusty didn’t really like the woman’s demeanor in general, or the fact that she had no give in her, but she sounded sincere.

  Sam’s rigid shoulders eased and he hugged her. To Dusty’s shock, the woman who looked like she didn’t
have a soft or affectionate bone in her body hugged him back hard.

  Chapter 3

  Dusty ate a double-decker sandwich for dinner along with a bagged salad and frozen fries he heated in the oven.

  He’d just finished washing his few dishes when someone knocked on the frame of the screen door.

  “It’s Marvin,” a voice called. “Can I come in?”

  “I’m in the kitchen.” Dusty dried his hands, snagged a couple of cans of beer from the fridge and opened them.

  When Marvin stepped into the kitchen, Dusty handed him one.

  “Thanks,” Marvin said. “How’re your parents?”

  “Great. Growing old gracefully with all their faculties intact. Still fit and healthy. Touch wood.” He rapped his knuckles against the big round oak kitchen table.

  “Let’s go out on the back porch,” Marvin said, leading the way. “Max won’t be able to see us from the big house.”

  They sat in a pair of oversize aging rattan armchairs with plastic flowered cushions.

  Dusty settled himself in and crossed one ankle over his other knee.

  On the far side of the house, the sun set in the west, at the front where two chairs, one big and one little, looked like they were used regularly.

  Back here, full dusk crept in, filling in with shadows the spaces between the trees and the low hills in the distance.

  Dusty took a long pull on his beer. “Why am I here, Marvin? She’s a stubborn woman. Not sure what I can do about that.”

  “You got to talk sense into Max or she’s going to ruin the rodeo. A full-on frontal attack won’t work. The whole town has already tried that. She gets defensive and digs in her heels. You got to work on her from the inside. As the one who’s helping her to run the rodeo, maybe she’ll listen to you.”

  Dusty doubted it. “How’d you get her to hire me?”

  “She doesn’t know that I did. She thinks she hired you to run the rodeo all on her own. She needed help. I just made sure your name made it to the top of her list.”

  Dusty asked, “You want to tell me what’s going on? Polo replacing bull riding? Is she lacking good judgment, or what?”