Red Velvet Revenge (11 page)

“I got lucky.” Tate shrugged. “She’s a really nice lady.”

Mel saw Angie give Tate a quick frown, but the customers at the window commanded her attention, so anything she might have said was lost in the crowd.

Mel glanced over the two of them toward the barbecue pit. Neither Billy nor Bob looked particularly happy to see the ever-increasing line at Mel’s cupcake van.

She wanted to yell, “Who’s laughing now?” but she restrained herself. With several days to go, the bet was far from over.

Mercifully, there was enough of a lull after the breakfast crowd for Mel to stock the cooler with freshly frosted offerings. She had decided to carry only four types of cupcakes at the rodeo, and they were the bakery’s most popular: the Red Velvet, the Vanilla Vixen, the Death by Chocolate, and the Tinkerbell, a lemon cupcake with a raspberry buttercream. Thankfully, she had made enough vanilla cupcakes to get them through their new breakfast offering.

Marty and Oz arrived just before lunch to take their shift selling cupcakes. When Oz stepped into the van, Mel looked at him with a frown. On his shirt was a cartoon drawing of a cow with a big smile on its face and its arms
held out wide as if for a hug. She had seen this T-shirt before, but last time it had fake blood on it.

“What does your shirt say?” she asked.

Oz looked down as if he’d forgotten and had to check, but beneath his fringe of bangs, she saw his cheeks get suspiciously red.

“Nothing.” He shrugged. He quickly went to pull an apron over his head.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Mel said. She grabbed the apron before he pulled it on and studied his shirt. “Are you crazy?”

This brought the attention of everyone in the very crowded van around to Oz, making him flush an even deeper shade of red.

“What?” he asked. “It’s just a shirt.”

“Dude,” Angie said, and shook her head. “You are going to have your butt handed to you in a to-go bag.”

“I have to agree, my man,” Tate said. “Bad idea.”

Oz snatched the apron out of Mel’s hands. “I can handle it.”

“Oz, you’re wearing a shirt that says,
Cow Hugger
, at a rodeo,” Mel said. “Why don’t you just wear a shirt that says,
Please kick my a—”

“I get the idea,” Oz interrupted. “But it’s not just me. There’s a whole group of us here.”

“You mean that wacko we met at the gate the first night we got here?” Mel asked. “Marty, you were with him this morning. How could you let him wear this?”

“Oh, please, you’ve seen the hottie who asked him to put it on. How was he supposed to say no?” Marty said. “I’d have worn one, too, but she didn’t ask me.”

“Are you telling me that you’re wearing this because of that blond girl?” Angie asked. “I should have punched her.”

Oz tied the strings around his waist. “No! It’s not because of her. I happen to believe in the cause. Besides, that wacko is Slim’s other daughter, Shelby. I was trying to be polite.”

Marty gave a derisive snort and Mel blew out a breath. “If she asked you to dress up like chicken and squawk, would you?”

“No…” he protested.

No one believed him.

“Shelby is organizing an animal-rights demonstration,” Oz said. “And I said I’d help.”

“Are you insane?” Mel asked.

“I happen to believe in the sentiment,” Oz said. “I’m thinking of becoming a vegetarian.”

They were at a stalemate. Mel didn’t think she had the right to tell him what to do, but she couldn’t let his fascination for a girl disrupt the business.

“Look, you’re a big boy,” she said. “I can’t tell you what to wear, but there had better not be any protests anywhere near the van—got it?”

“Agreed,” Oz said, looking relieved.

Marty and Oz moved to take Tate and Angie’s place at the window, and Mel hopped out of the back of the van, with Tate and Angie right behind her.

“So, where to?” Angie asked. “I’m so hungry I could even eat the Bubbas’ barbecue.”

“Uh, I have plans,” Tate said. “I told Lily I’d meet her for lunch.”

Mel and Angie both glanced at him. “Well, when I was
looking for syrup, she was really helpful, and then we got to talking and she said she’d show me around.”

Mel wondered if he was aware of how lame he sounded.

“Well, don’t let us keep you,” Angie said. “Your beauty queen awaits.”

“She’s not a beauty queen,” Tate protested.

“Oh, please,” Angie snapped. “I saw her in the big, poufy dress on the rodeo queen float. If that’s not a beauty queen, I’ll eat my apron.”

“Start chewing,” Tate said, leaning over her as he spoke. “Because she happens to be the best barrel rider in the country, and she’s competing tonight, and I for one am going to watch her.”

“All righty, then,” Mel said. She stepped between them and spun Tate around. “You’d better get going. Angie, let’s go find something to eat.”

Angie stood glaring at Tate’s back. Mel started to walk in the other direction, knowing that Angie would follow when she was ready.

“Barrel rider,” Angie scoffed. “Like that’s so tough.”

Mel clamped her lips together, refusing to get drawn into the spat between her friends, especially since she thought barrel riding really did look hard and not a little dangerous.

“Where are we going?” Angie grumbled behind her.

“Taco stand,” Mel said. “I have a hankering for some carne asada tacos, and then I’m going to hunt down this Shelby Hazard and see what we’re dealing with. I don’t have a good feeling about her being Slim’s daughter and staging an animal-rights protest. That seems a wee bit conflicted to me, and I don’t want Oz getting sucked into something dangerous.”

Angie fell into step with her, and Mel glanced over to see Angie fingering the end of the long braid that hung over her shoulder. Her normally soft brown eyes had a low-banked fire in them, and Mel fervently hoped that they didn’t run into Lily and Tate.

She did not want to be kicked out of the rodeo until the only thing they had left was crumbs from all of the cupcakes they’d sold.

“Come on—you’ll feel better after you eat,” Mel said.

The throng of people seemed to be heading in the opposite direction, and Mel felt a bit like a salmon headed upstream. Luckily they had only a few booths left until they got to the taco stand. Once there, the line moved swiftly and Mel was delighted to park herself at a nearby picnic table and take a bite of the shredded beef taco with lettuce, cheese, and a squirt of hot sauce.

It was more restorative than a nap, so much so that she had three. She and Angie didn’t speak while they ate, and Mel was relieved. She didn’t know what to say to Angie about Tate and the rancher’s daughter.

She washed the tacos down with a frosty cold
horchata
, rice milk flavored with cinnamon and almonds, which was also sold at the taco stand and which complemented the spicy Mexican food perfectly.

“Okay, I think I’m functional again,” she said.

Angie finished her
horchata
with a slurp and asked, “Where to next?”

“We look for Shelby,” Mel said.

“Maybe she’s with the barrel riders,” Angie said.

“Nice try, but I think you should steer clear of Lily,” Mel said.

“Why?”

Mel looked at her friend. Did she really need to spell it out for her? Angie met her gaze with one eyebrow raised, as if daring Mel to accuse her of being jealous of Tate and Lily. Mel shook her head. She was not going there.

“Come on. We need to do some damage control before this woman sinks her claws any deeper into Oz.”

Twelve

While they walked the grounds, Mel took a moment to enjoy the warm sun and the cool breeze. It was a perfect day, and she wished Joe were here to share it with her.

She had called him late the night before to report in about their arrival. He’d not been happy to hear about the shooting but seemed to think that the sheriff was probably right and that an overzealous parade attendee had gotten carried away.

Mel was not sure she agreed, but she knew better than to say anything. She didn’t want Joe to worry. But she couldn’t help but remember watching the bloodstain appear on Slim’s shirt. If the bullet had come from above as everyone speculated, then why was it the front of Slim’s shoulder that had been shot? Shouldn’t it have been the top? And would it have gone clean through if it came from above? It seemed more likely that it would have lodged in his shoulder.

As they left the food area behind, they cut across a crowded path and entered the large tent that housed the vendors of Western wear. Jeans, boots, and cowboy hats filled the space along with saddles, gloves, and lassos.

Angie glanced around the tent and looked at Mel and said, “Maybe I should buy Roach some chaps. Then maybe he’d forgive me.”

“Because you came here instead of going to LA?” Mel asked.

“Yeah, he’s pretty unhappy,” Angie said.

“I guess he has a right to be mad,” Mel said, trying to be fair to Roach.

“He’s not mad; he’s disappointed,” Angie said. “Which is infinitely worse.”

Mel patted her shoulder. She had to agree. It was always better to make someone mad at you than to disappoint them. At least if they were mad, you could be mad back, but disappointment really left you with nothing but a grovel option, and who needed that?

“Hey, look at that.” Angie pointed across the room. “Talk about being mad—that’s a fight in the making if I ever saw one.”

Mel glanced up to see Slim, without his usual hat, standing nose to nose and arguing with the woman from the protest, the one who had gotten Oz to wear his cow T-shirt.

“I’m thinking we’ve found Shelby,” she said, and began to walk across the tented area, knowing Angie would follow.

“Young lady, you will take your protest out of this facility and stop disrespecting our vendors.” Slim’s voice was harsh, and Mel drew up short.

“It’s inhumane, Daddy, and I for one won’t stand for it,” said the young woman facing him. She was about six inches shorter than he was, and now that Mel could see her up close, she had to appreciate the woman’s long strawberry blond hair, startlingly pretty face, and generous curves. No wonder she’d managed to charm Oz.

Slim’s arm was still in a sling, and he looked pale as he ran his free hand over his face.

“Shelby, you know this is a bunch of malarkey. Why, Juniper Pass was the first rodeo in the country to stop steer roping, and we don’t allow the calves to be yanked backward during the calf roping. That was your own mother’s idea. We have never allowed the use of electric shock on any of our animals to get them to buck. You know your own grandfather beat the tar out of a rodeo competitor for doing just that.”

Shelby sniffed and looked away, refusing to acknowledge his argument.

“The Juniper Pass Rodeo is about more than a bunch of cowboys showcasing their ranching skills,” Slim said. “It’s what keeps this town alive every year. Without the rodeo, Juniper Pass would cease to exist.”

“Who cares?” Shelby snapped. “I hate this dump full of rednecks and losers.”

“Does that make us rednecks or losers?” Angie whispered to Mel, who shushed her.

“Is that so?” Slim asked. “Well, it seems to me that you owe all these redneck losers a thank-you. Just where do you think we got the money to pay for that fancy college of yours, anyway?”

“Blood money,” Shelby cried, sounding shrill.

Slim gritted his teeth, and Mel could tell he was losing his patience.

“And where do you think the money came from for your swank apartment in Los Angeles, your convertible, the head shots you needed for all of those auditions you’ve been going on, hmm?”

The handful of protesters behind Shelby began to mutter amongst themselves. Mel noted that the two women looked remarkably like Shelby, with big hair and big boobs and vacuous expressions, while the man looked impeccably groomed but also thoughtful.

“I didn’t know,” Shelby cried. She glanced at her fellow protesters with wide, innocent eyes. As if sensing she was losing them, Shelby went for the big drama.

“I didn’t know. As God is my witness, I didn’t know,” she cried, and put the back of her wrist to her forehead.

“Wow, her acting is so bad, it’s going to leave an odor,” Angie said.

“Major stinko,” Mel agreed.

“Shelby, stop it,” Slim said. His voice was weary. “You grew up on this ranch. You know how it works. You know that we make our living from cattle. Now, stop being such a brat. You’re not too big to turn over my knee, you know.”

The hat vendor nearby let loose with a snicker of muffled laughter, and Shelby glowered at him.

“You know something, Daddy,” she spat. “I’m only sorry that bullet didn’t hit you in the heart, but then, you’d have to have one, wouldn’t you?”

She spun on her heel and stormed out of the tent with her entourage on her heels. The only one who looked reluctant
to follow was the man. Mel met his gaze for just a moment, and he gave her a shrug as he turned to follow Shelby.

“Dad!” a young woman cried as she raced across the room. “Are you all right?”

She had the same lovely features as Shelby, but her hair was a deep, dark brown. Mel recognized her from the parade as the one who had thrown herself into Slim’s car. This had to be Lily. She glanced around, and sure enough Tate was following behind her with a lasso in his hands. Mel did a double take. A lasso?