And Then You Dare (Crested Butte Cowboys Series Book 5) (9 page)

“Are you gonna tell me what it’s about?”

“I’m not, and I need you to trust that I’m makin’ the right
decision by not tellin’ you.”

“Did he hurt her?” Bill caught Clancy’s wince.

“No son, not in the way you think.”

Bill didn’t like it one bit that Clancy was keeping something
from him, especially since it was about his mother and sister. It really wasn’t
any of Clancy’s business. Maybe it was time for him to start looking for
another job, one where his employer understood that he was a man capable of
handling his own problems.

“I don’t like it.”

“I know you don’t.” Clancy put his hand on Bill’s shoulder.
“As I said before, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

Bill nodded his head that he could. If he didn’t say the
words out loud, then maybe it wasn’t as much of a lie.

The spring schedule was set. Bullet would be moving broncs
from the Crested Butte operation to Patterson Ranch in Black Forest later in
the month. Next month he’d move more broncs to Black Forest from Jace Rice’s
place in Montana.

Doing it now would give him time to evaluate the stock and
determine which horses he and Bill would take to each of the events before the
rodeo season kicked into high gear.

“You sure about this?” Bullet asked Bill when the bronc
meeting broke up.

“About what specifically?”

“All of it.”

Bill smiled at Dottie, who had been in the meeting with the
rest of the Flying R partners. “Been a long time since my girl and I traveled
the rodeo circuit. We made a lot of friends over the years, some we haven’t
seen since Billy retired from ridin’.”

Bullet shook his head. “I don’t get it. Billy tells me you
aren’t keen on what you call modern rodeo, yet your son was a national saddle
bronc champion. Where’s the disconnect?”

Before Bill could answer, Dottie rested her hand on his arm.
“It’s the timed events Bill has a harder time with.”

“But aren’t those events closest to what happens in a cattle
operation every day?”

“No son,” answered Bill. “At least not in the same way. Sure, we
rope. But it’s different when you’re tryin’ to do it in a number of seconds.”

“What’s your stand on ranch rodeos?”

“I have to admit I prefer them, what about you Dottie?”

“The Working Ranch Cowboys Association is goin’ on twenty
years in operation. We’ve participated in their Ride for the Brand cattle drive
in Colorado Springs for ten years.”

“I think it’s been longer than that, but you’re right. I’m
much more ‘keen’ on ranch rodeo events than I am on the Professional Rodeo
Cowboy Association’s events, for example.”

Bullet needed to compete in enough PRCA sanctioned events to
qualify for the Super Bowl of rodeo, the National Finals Rodeo held in Las
Vegas in December. But Professional Bull Riders was the organization Bullet
wanted most to ride with. Initially he hoped to ride for the Touring Pro
Division, considered the minor league of the PBR. As a Touring Pro rider,
Bullet could compete in PBR-sanctioned events and start moving up in earnings
to qualify for the bigger events.

Neither of those organizations had anything to do with ranch
rodeos. Bullet couldn’t travel solely to ranch rodeos and compete in other
events. He’d need to be in two places at the same time. Why had he even brought
it up?

“You got a problem now, don’t ya son?”

Bill and Dottie were good to him, and putting his desire to be
a professional bull rider in front of what they were doing didn’t sit right
with him. At the end of the day, he needed a steady paycheck, and a home for
Grey. He didn’t need the thrill associated with covering a bull for eight
seconds, he just wanted it.

“Nah. No problems. Only opportunities,” he smiled.

Bill rested his hand on Bullet’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll
work it out. The Flying R partners aren’t gonna be satisfied with ranch rodeos
alone.”

Bullet needed to go for a walk. He felt his dream slipping
further out of his reach, and he didn’t want Bill and Dottie to sense his
frustration. He used the excuse that he was going to check on the filly he’d
been working with the last time he was in Crested Butte.

***

“I get the prize for biggest mouth, that’s for damn sure,”
Tristan overheard Bullet say to the horse. “Why in hell I can’t learn to keep
it shut I just don’t know.”

The horse reared, probably because of the tone Bullet was
using. The filly could sense Bullet’s anger and frustration just as well as she
could.

Tristan sat on the fence and studied him. In a few minutes the
Lost Cowboy sponsorship meeting would begin. She’d gone outside to stretch her
legs, and feel the sun on her face. The back-to-back meetings all day were
wearing on her. The next one was her meeting, and that made all the difference.
She was equal parts nervous and excited about signing new team members. In
years past they hadn’t signed five competitors in a year. Today they were
signing twenty. And Bullet wasn’t one of them.

He hadn’t brought it up last night either. She’d expected him
to, particularly after the run-in with Stormy. Instead, he danced with her.
Tristan lost count of how many times. After the first two songs, Bullet went to
the bar and got them both a drink while Tristan talked to Lyric about today’s
meetings. Before she could get too deep into business mode, he whisked her back
to the dance floor.

Bullet was a good dancer. That hadn’t been a surprise. His
graciousness, and their conversations were unexpected.

Tristan was beginning to think she’d been wrong in her initial
assessment of Bullet. Maybe he was more talk than action. Last night Lyric told
her about his late wife’s struggles with bipolar disorder, and how hard Bullet
had tried to make their marriage work.

“You talkin’ to yourself or horses this afternoon?” she
shouted out to him. Bullet waved, slapped the horse’s hindquarters, and walked
over to her.

“Needed some time outdoors. Bein’ inside all day was gettin’
to me. I’m not one for sittin’ in meetings.”

“Me too.” Tristan looked up at the mountains surrounding the
ranch. The sky, set against the green of the trees, was so blue. No photo could
capture its intensity.

“Beautiful here, isn’t it?”

Tristan opened her eyes. Bullet
stood right next to her. “It’s the same in Black Forest. Sometimes Grey and I
lie right down on the grass and watch the clouds move across the sky.”

“Mmm, that sounds wonderful.”

Bullet hopped the fence, and pulled her by the hand. “Come on,
we got a few minutes before you gotta get back inside.” He didn’t let go of her
hand until he’d pulled her down on the grass with him. She expected it to be
damp and cold. Instead it was warm from the sun.

“Look there,” Bullet pointed to a cloud. “Looks a lot like the
filly when she reared up on me a bit ago.”

Tristan put her hand across her brow to shade the sun’s glare.
“It does.”

“Reminded me of you.”

“What?” Tristan started to sit up, but saw Bullet’s grin and
laid back down.

“Dada!” Grey came running across the lawn and jumped on
Bullet’s stomach.

“Sorry,” said Liv, chasing
after him. “He saw you out here and was through the front door before I could
stop him.”

Bullet lifted the little boy up in the air and spun him around
until he giggled. “How’s my big boy?”

Tristan couldn’t understand any of what Grey said in response,
but it seemed as though Bullet did. Watching him with his son made her think
again that she had misjudged him. Perhaps she should invite him to the
sponsorship meeting. If they could sponsor twenty, they could certainly sponsor
twenty-one.

Bullet set Grey on his bottom on the grass and pulled his
ringing phone out of his pocket.

“Yeah,” he answered. “’Bout
damn time.” Pause. “Sure, I can meet ya. Just give me a couple days to make
arrangements.”

When he hung up he picked
Grey up again. “You ready to see sissy?”

Grey squealed and let forth
another slew of unintelligible words.

“Sissy?”

“My daughter. Her mama
finally agreed to let her come visit. Been too damn long, hasn’t it Grey?” He
set Grey down again, who laid down in the grass next to Tristan.

Her head was spinning with
questions. Daughter? Mama? Bullet had another child? Had he been married
before? Why hadn’t Lyric told her that part of the story?

“Pearl is goin’ on four,”
he said, as though that was all the explanation necessary.

“Time for my meeting,” she
stood and walked toward the house.

“Tristan?” he asked after
her.

“What Bullet?”

He was on his feet,
striding toward her. “What’s goin’ through your head?”

“Nothing, why?”

He reached out and rubbed
her shoulders. “You were relaxed for a minute. Now you’re all tensed up again.
What happened?”

“Break’s over. Back to
business.” She turned away from him, and was almost up the porch steps when he
caught up to her again.

“You got somethin’ against
kids?”

She felt the heat rise in
her cheeks. “Kids? As in your two children? Or as in you Bullet? I have no
problem with the former, it’s the latter that makes me shake my head.”

“What’s that supposed to
mean?”

“Never mind. None of my
business. See you later Bullet.” Tristan closed the front door behind her,
leaving him standing on the porch.

***

“Shit,” he kicked at the dirt. Between last night and just
now, he’d felt Tristan easing up on him. When he took her hand, she’d come
along willingly. She was smiling when they lay in the grass. And when he rested
his hand close enough that his pinky touched hers, she hadn’t moved it away.
Even when Grey barreled on top of him, she hadn’t tensed up. It wasn’t until
his phone call that she moved away from him.

It hadn’t occurred to him that she didn’t know he had a
daughter too. Was it really so bad that he did?

“Damn judgmental woman,” he mumbled.

“Damn, damn, damn,” Grey sang as he ran around Bullet’s legs.

“If I said a hundred words, you’d pick out the only curse
word, and make that your song, wouldn’t you Grey?”

His little boy smiled when Bullet picked him up. “Vroom,
vroom?”

“Yep, that sounds good. Time for you and me to go for a ride.”

Bullet strapped Grey into the buddy seat. “I gotta get away
from here for a bit.”

***

“Where’s he goin’?” Lyric asked Tristan.

“No idea. He got a phone call about meeting someone. Something
about picking up his daughter.”

“Finally. I called Pearl’s mother this morning and gave her a
piece of my mind. He hasn’t seen his daughter in almost two months. That wasn’t
the agreement. Not even close. But that isn’t where he’s headed now. She lives
in Texas. It’ll take a bit more plannin’ for that meet up.”

Tristan didn’t care. She’d given too much thought to Bullet as
it was. She didn’t want to know any other details about his life. Her first
impression had been spot on. What you saw with Bullet was what you got. Twenty
new riders were plenty for her to sponsor this year. Adding one more wouldn’t
be happening.

“Course callin’ her Pearl only made her mad. But I don’t care.
She can’t keep his little girl from him.”

Tristan wanted to put her hands over her ears. She didn’t want
to be curious about Bullet, or his kids. “Why did calling her Pearl make her
mother mad?” Dammit. Why had she asked?

“Her name is Hannah.”

“Then why does he call her Pearl?” Tristan shook her head
again. She was getting further into his business rather than out of it. What
was wrong with her?

“He wanted to name the baby Pearl. Her mother didn’t agree.
That was after he knew for sure the baby was his. I doubt he gave much thought
to it before the DNA test.”

He needed a DNA test to know the baby was his? Jeez. It was
even worse than she thought. She often wondered if the bull rider who broke her
heart had any kids. Probably. He and Bullet were so much alike. Hadn’t she
learned her lesson the first time?

“I can’t do this,” she said more to herself than to Lyric.
“We’ve got a meeting.” Tristan huffed off in the direction of the lower level
of the house, where the meetings were taking place.

Two hours later, the contracts were signed. Liv helped her
record the measurements of the barrel racers. Lyric was helping Jace record the
bronc and bull riders.

“Have you shown Lyric your new designs?” Liv asked quietly.

“No, just you so far. I don’t know…” She’d pulled her sketch
book out a half dozen times to show Lyric, as well as some of the barrel
racers, and then put it away moments later. Were her designs as good as Liv
said they were, or was her friend being polite?

“Show Lyric, at least.”

“Maybe later.”

“No, now.” Liv walked over to Lyric before Tristan could stop
her. “Ask Tristan to show you the new women’s line, the designs are fabulous.”
Liv smiled in Tristan’s direction.

“New designs? What? I’m so excited. Where are they?” Lyric
looked around as though she was looking for the actual pieces.

“Right here,” Tristan answered, holding up her sketchbook,
which Lyric snatched out of her hand.

Ten minutes later, Lyric and Liv were still flipping pages
back and forth, trying to decide their favorites. “When does production start?”

“I asked the same thing,” Liv answered Lyric. “And then I told
her to make one of each in my size.”

Lyric high-fived Liv. “Right on! For me too.”

“What are you looking at?” asked Bree, walking down the
stairs.

“New designs for Lost Cowboy.”

“Let me see.” She took the book out of Lyric’s hand the same
way Lyric had taken it from Tristan.

“Hey,” Lyric snipped. “You got a serious entitlement thing goin’
on. You think I won’t smack a pregnant woman? You’re wrong.”

“Give her a turn.” Liv beamed at Tristan. “See? I told you to
share them.”

“None of these will look any good on me,” groaned Bree. “Do
you have any designs for
bigger
women?”

“You’re pregnant, not big,” insisted Lyric. “Before you know
it, you’ll pop that kid out and be back to a size two.”

“I’ve
never
been a size
two.”

Liv followed Tristan when she walked in the direction of the
patio. “You should know Lyric well enough to realize she wouldn’t hesitate to
tell you her honest opinion. If she didn’t like what she saw, she’d tell you.
As I said, your designs are fabulous. Have you thought of a name for the line?”